Soludo On Economic Reforms: Beyond The Chorus Of Woes
By Christian Aburime
In a country where conversations often begin with a roll call of failures and end in collective lamentation, Anambra State Governor, Professor Chukwuma Charles Soludo, CFR, brings a refreshing perspective: the audacity to view Nigeria’s glass as half full.
In his Democracy Day address, Governor Soludo challenges Nigeria’s entrenched culture of despair, urging instead a mindset anchored in solutions, not just sorrow. His approach is neither naïve optimism nor blind loyalty it is what he aptly terms “strategic hope.”
Soludo is under no illusions about Nigeria’s challenges. As he rightly observes, “every Nigerian has his or her long list of what is wrong with Nigeria.” But he refuses to be caught in the endless cycle of complaints that rarely lead to constructive action.
His position marks a significant shift in how leaders might engage with Nigeria’s many problems by embracing responsibility and possibility, rather than perpetuating helplessness.
Perhaps the most compelling aspect of Governor Soludo’s intervention is his defence of President Bola Tinubu’s economic reforms. In a political landscape where criticism of government is often viewed as the default patriotic stance, his endorsement is striking.
Not because he is towing the official line far from it but because Soludo has long been a critic of the very institutions now praising Nigeria’s current economic trajectory.
He reminds us that he once “made a living criticising the World Bank and the IMF” and even turned down a World Bank loan as Anambra Governor. It is precisely this history that gives weight to his present stance.
When someone with a record of scepticism towards international financial institutions acknowledges their positive assessment of Nigeria’s reforms, it deserves serious reflection.
His metaphor describing the Nigerian economy in 2023 as a “standing dead horse” is particularly evocative. Soludo paints a dire picture: a country on the edge of insolvency, with looming threats of mass retrenchment and unpaid salaries and pensions.
In this context, the current reform trajectory under the Tinubu administration becomes more than a political talking point—it represents a critical intervention.
Soludo also calls attention to a peculiar Nigerian paradox: the selective acceptance of international validation. When the World Bank or IMF criticises the country, their reports are welcomed as irrefutable proof of failure. But when the same institutions commend progress, they are swiftly dismissed as out-of-touch or driven by foreign agendas.
This intellectual inconsistency highlights a deeper malaise within Nigerian political discourse—the tendency to cherry-pick evidence to suit predetermined narratives. By calling for “rigorous counterfactual analysis” and the presentation of “credible alternatives,” Soludo is setting a higher standard for national debate—one that prioritises facts over feelings.
He also critiques Nigeria’s unhealthy obsession with the past. According to him, “every year, people celebrate the previous year(s) as the ‘good old days,’ and every new regime claims to be the first to bring real change.” This cycle of nostalgia clouds judgement, distorts progress, and reinforces a false sense of regression. When each new administration insists it inherited nothing but ruins, it undermines the very continuity that governance requires.
Governor Soludo goes on to list familiar reform priorities: restructuring, fighting corruption, ensuring security, improving infrastructure—the usual checklist. Yet his point is not about the lack of ideas, but the chasm between ideas and implementation. “The real challenge,” he implies, *“is not in knowing what to do, but in how to do it”—*especially when resources are limited and the distribution of reforms carries political and social implications.
This gap between rhetoric and reality is where most reforms falter. It’s easy to offer textbook solutions from the sidelines; it’s far harder to execute them amid resistance, expectations, and systemic constraints.
That is why Soludo’s choice to “focus more on what is right with or working in Nigeria” is not just philosophical—it is strategic. In a space dominated by doom and gloom, someone must document the progress, however modest. This is not about ignoring the cracks in the system, but about recognising the foundation on which better structures can be built.
Crucially, his insistence on constructive criticism, backed by intellectual rigour, helps elevate national conversations beyond shallow outrage. It is no longer enough to say, “this is bad.” If one is to be taken seriously, one must also explain how it can be done better and at what cost.
His reminder that “the task is always easy, especially if you are not the one doing it” is a challenge to armchair critics who underestimate the weight of leadership. Real accountability requires moving beyond criticism to contribution.
Ultimately, what Governor Soludo calls for is a cultural shift—from a nation defined by lamentation to one guided by solutions. This requires deliberate effort not only from those in power but also from citizens, civil society, and the media.
As Nigeria continues its journey towards lasting progress, it would do well to heed Soludo’s reminder: “We must appreciate how far we have come,” even as we admit “we still have a very long way to go.” Whether one chooses to see Nigeria’s glass as half full or half empty is more than a matter of attitude it reflects the kind of future we are prepared to build.
Countries that define themselves solely by their failures rarely rise above them. But those that acknowledge both progress and potential set the stage for meaningful, sustainable transformation.
