A Lesson from Hamzat Lawal’s Symposium

Nigeria came under the heel of a 31-year-old in 1966, and this has become an overused reference in the campaigns for youth inclusion in governance. About half a century after Yakubu Gowon’s nine-year reign as Nigeria’s military Head of State was disrupted by a military coup, Nigerians within that age bracket have been mobilizing to […]

Nigeria came under the heel of a 31-year-old in 1966, and this has become an overused reference in the campaigns for youth inclusion in governance. About half a century after Yakubu Gowon’s nine-year reign as Nigeria’s military Head of State was disrupted by a military coup, Nigerians within that age bracket have been mobilizing to find a seat at the political table again. But the worst tragedy is how office-seekers in their 40s and 50s have resorted to competing for the crumbs being thrown at the youths, having waited for too long and in vain to take charge. 

So, when, on March 12, Hamzat Lawal announced at a symposium in honour of his 35th birthday that’s he’s no longer a youth, I understood he’s protesting this reality of being held prisoners by our gerontocratic system. It’s a necessary caveat in a country where 40-something-year-olds still masquerade as “youths,” jumping on opportunities and dominating events designed for citizens outside their age bracket. The civic advocate and CEO of Connected Development (CODE) is transitioning, and I was utterly amused when he declared that his next station is partisan politics. 

What has set Mr. Lawal apart from the legion of youths being under-utilized in Nigeria’s political space by aging and overstaying politicians is his track record. He had functioned in the non-profit sector for over fifteen years, with a focus on advocacies around climate change, open data, and pursuing fiscal transparency in an institutionally corrupt environment. It’s not enough to be young, the capability to transition into the policy-making world must never be taken for granted in making a case for the youth in politics. 

This dilemma was once a subject of scrutiny at an event organised to address the place of the Nigerian youth in government: a speaker asked a thought-provoking question that seemed rhetorical at first. “Why do you want to be included in government?” And the responses were as chaotic as the perceptions of each youthful participant; from those who equated youth to visionary leadership, down through those who portrayed the youth as an agent of fresh and new ideas, to those whose only reason for advocating youth inclusion was over perceived marginalisation. 

But being young alone shouldn’t be the basis of inclusion, and this was restated by the speaker. It was a somewhat trans-generational interactive session, that involved sharing her insights as one who had passed through that phase and had had a chance to formulate policies upon which many lives depended. The calamitous outcome of governance experienced under incompetent septuagenarian leaders is the same under similarly ill-prepared youth. 

The examples of citizens like Mr. Lawal are to underline the place of experience and to counter romantic advocacy for inclusion, especially among those who rush to equate youth with new ideas and that old age is a phase of declining wisdom and capacity. But we must also agree that while youth does not necessarily mean new ideas, old age too isn’t wisdom. The young citizens interested in political offices must come prepared—either to learn on the job as a significantly engaged assistant or demonstrate their learning. 

The most convenient challenge has always been asking the youths to form an alliance and break down the walls of our gerontocracy. But the economic might and political capitals of the aging leaders can’t be neutralized through one-on-one political confrontations. We need more youths like Mr. Lawal, those who have been a key part of the civic space and understand its yearnings, to get involved and influence decisions and policies that recognize the essence of succession planning. 

What we expect from intending political actors like Mr. Lawal is, again, offering to the system more than the upstarts who’ve nothing other than their age to cite as a credential, and be the change they once advocated in their activism days. Political office is a long learning curve. Unfortunately, so many ridiculous ambitions are being overlooked in the name of youth inclusion, with those who ought to be Councillors in their wards based on their credentials preferring the Office of the President. 

US President Joe Biden, for instance, will be 80 this year, but he didn’t just wake up and embark on campaigning to be President as is the practice here. He was a senator at 30 and for 36 years, and then a Vice President for eight years. Biden is a product of a nation that has a succession plan and offers the young an opportunity, including jobs, to earn, learn, and grow. There’s indeed something here to teach a nation where 30-year-olds are reduced to glorified praise singers, and only qualified for PA and SA positions.

It’s not enough to be young—and that’s what Mr. Lawal’s career trajectory tells us. We must all pay our dues and have a fallback plan before taking charge. 

The mostly youthful Nigerian leaders who took over from colonial administrators and piloted the country to war are a lesson in such regard. Our political system must be designed to mentor, and emphasize the necessity of succession planning to offer this and next generations practical understanding of the burden of leadership beyond our theoretical projections.