Wealth gained at expense of pain of innocents denied fruits of progress ultimately brings ruin” – Pat Utomi’s Scathing Reproach of Nigeria’s Political Culture
In a sobering series of public reflections that has stirred fresh national debate, Professor Pat Utomi, a respected political economist and former presidential aspirant, delivered a powerful critique of Nigeria’s broken political values system. Taking to the social media platform X (formerly Twitter), Utomi issued an unvarnished condemnation of the culture of opportunism, patronage, and unchecked avarice that, in his view, defines contemporary Nigerian politics.
His message was neither cryptic nor vague. It was as clear as it was cutting: a political culture that rewards power-seekers who enrich themselves at the expense of the people—especially the most vulnerable—will inevitably bring about collective ruin.
The former Lagos Business School professor, who has long advocated for a principled and service-based approach to governance, did not mince words. “Wealth gained at the expense of the pain of innocents denied the fruits of progress ultimately brings ruin and a sour taste in the mouth of history,” he wrote. With those words, he not only challenged Nigeria’s present-day political elite but also laid bare the spiritual and moral bankruptcy at the heart of the country’s governance architecture.
Utomi’s reflections pull no punches in highlighting a disturbing reality: Nigeria’s politics has become a marketplace of transactional self-interest, where character, ideology, or public interest are secondary—if not irrelevant.
“In Nigerian politics,” Utomi wrote, “the flight from truth is largely because most politicians live off politics. Any unprincipled person who wants to manipulate them away from the common good can easily dangle the carrot and stick and be sure of the outcome.”
What he describes is not just elite betrayal but systemic rot—a self-replicating cycle where politicians are selected not for their service orientation or intellectual preparedness, but for their loyalty to moneybags and political godfathers. This, he suggests, is the reason why policies often fail and public officeholders feel no moral obligation to the citizenry.
Utomi points to how this lack of personal economic independence among politicians renders them vulnerable to manipulation. “All must have alternative addresses,” he stated, insisting that anyone seeking political office must have an established, legitimate means of livelihood outside the corridors of power. In his estimation, politicians who cannot survive without public funds are bound to become pawns of power and agents of corruption.
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To rescue the nation, Utomi argues, Nigeria must radically rethink the criteria for political recruitment. Public office should not be a last resort for failed businessmen or a safe haven for those fleeing accountability in other sectors.
“Critical for allowing anyone near public office include character, competence, a history of service, disposition to reason over emotion, courage of conviction, a developmental state commitment and a big sense of judgment of history,” he wrote.
His emphasis on the “judgment of history” is particularly revealing. Utomi seems to be urging Nigeria’s political class to look beyond the next election cycle, urging a shift from short-term gains to long-term national stewardship. In a political culture dominated by survivalism and winner-takes-all calculations, the appeal to posterity and legacy comes across as a refreshing but painfully ignored voice in the wilderness.
Utomi did not just theorize; he illustrated his point by invoking examples from Nigeria’s political history—specifically the generation of leaders who governed shortly after independence and before the full entrenchment of military-era corruption.
“Even after the pollution of military rule, Shagari lived in a bungalow built for him by Sokoto State when I visited in 2007. His VP, a millionaire architect and housing developer before politics, did not grow richer. I can even add myself,” he wrote.
In those words, Utomi made a stark comparison between leaders of yesteryear and those of today. He invoked the name of Dr. Michael Okpara, Premier of the Eastern Region during the First Republic, who reportedly did not have a roof over his head after leaving office. He also referenced Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, who allegedly died with little more than a few traditional garments to his name.
Such examples serve to underscore Utomi’s central thesis: that political power should be a vehicle for service, not wealth accumulation. By contrasting this ethos with today’s norm—where governors, ministers, and legislators amass obscene personal fortunes—he paints a damning picture of how far Nigeria has strayed from its foundational ideals.
Today’s political reality stands in stark contrast to the modest lives of past leaders. Utomi hinted at this when he mentioned “You may ask Governor of Lagos from 1999,” a likely allusion to former governor and now President Bola Tinubu, whose rise from governorship to national prominence has often been scrutinized through the lens of alleged wealth accumulation and political dominance.
Whether directly naming names or not, Utomi’s point remains unambiguous: today’s political elite have weaponized public office for personal aggrandizement, and the result has been widespread poverty, public disillusionment, and a legitimacy crisis for the Nigerian state.
He also expressed frustration at how calls for selfless leadership are met with cynicism in modern Nigeria. “I have seen cynical reaction to my call for shedding self for common good,” Utomi lamented. “It actually used to be that way.”
His sadness is understandable. In a country where idealism is often dismissed as naivety, and reformers are labelled “noisemakers,” it is easy for a figure like Utomi to feel alienated. Yet, his resolve to keep speaking truth to power seems undiminished.
Utomi’s criticism is not limited to the executive or the legislature; it encompasses the full spectrum of Nigeria’s elite capture. From judiciary complicity in electoral fraud to public procurement abuse in government agencies, he sees a culture of normalized wrongdoing that reproduces itself across generations.
This institutional decay is one reason why credible individuals often avoid public office, fearing reputational damage or entrapment in a system that punishes integrity and rewards cunning.
Utomi’s view is that the solution cannot be ad hoc reforms or new political parties alone, but a fundamental realignment of societal values—starting with what Nigerians accept as “normal” in public life.
The true tragedy of Nigeria’s political dysfunction is not just what it costs in public funds, but what it denies the ordinary citizen. Roads remain death traps. Power supply is erratic. Healthcare is a luxury. Education is underfunded. Yet, the wealth of public officials—often accumulated through opaque means—grows by the day.
When Pat Utomi warns that “wealth gained at the expense of the pain of innocents denied the fruits of progress brings ruin,” he is pointing not just to moral decay, but to the eventual consequences: state collapse, social unrest, economic implosion, and intergenerational trauma.
Nigeria’s staggering youth unemployment, widening inequality, and rising emigration are not accidents—they are symptoms of systemic elite capture. The very people who should have built bridges to opportunity have erected walls of exclusion, using wealth and power to insulate themselves from the suffering they perpetuate.
The Recruitment Crisis: Political Parties as Gatekeepers of Mediocrity
Another focus of Utomi’s critique is Nigeria’s political parties, which he believes have become gatekeepers of mediocrity rather than incubators of vision and integrity.
“It is important that criteria and principles that undergird recruitment into public life be laid out up front for parties of the future,” he said.
His suggestion is radical in its simplicity: establish enforceable standards that make political participation contingent on competence, integrity, and demonstrable public service. This contrasts sharply with the current model, where tickets are bought and sold, and godfather endorsements often matter more than community trust or public vision.
Though not explicitly stated, Utomi’s commentary points toward the urgent need for a values-based political movement—one that transcends ethnicity, religion, or geopolitical alignments and unites citizens around shared principles of honesty, competence, service, and national pride.
This is not his first foray into such advocacy. Utomi has previously championed third-force politics and coalition-building among smaller parties and civic groups. His voice remains one of the most consistent and intellectually rigorous in the call for a new national consensus.
However, he now seems more focused on the underlying value system than on the immediate mechanics of elections. In his worldview, a nation cannot be reformed unless its people first recalibrate what they consider “normal.”
Following his posts on X, reactions poured in from Nigerians across the spectrum. Some praised his courage and consistency, recalling his long-standing advocacy since the days of Concerned Professionals in the 1990s. Others, however, expressed deep skepticism, suggesting that such high-minded ideals may no longer be tenable in a country where political corruption is both systemic and normalized.
Still, others questioned whether Utomi’s message, though well-articulated, could gain political traction in the context of Nigeria’s flawed electoral processes and elite dominance.
Yet, Utomi seems unshaken. His interventions are not merely political—they are moral. He is not selling a manifesto; he is defending a vision of public life that many Nigerians fear may be permanently lost.
The question remains: Can Nigeria truly be reborn through a values-based political awakening? Is there enough civic energy, youth mobilization, and elite self-reflection to steer the country away from the cliff edge?
Pat Utomi’s reflections do not claim to have all the answers, but they do pose the right questions. And in a society saturated with propaganda, distraction, and moral relativism, that in itself is a form of resistance.
If ignored, Utomi warns, the continued commodification of politics will not just destroy Nigeria’s future—it will poison its past. The memory of what could have been—a prosperous, equitable, and just Nigeria—will hang like an accusation over every generation that failed to act.
And perhaps that is the deepest truth behind his now-viral warning:
“Wealth gained at the expense of the pain of innocents denied the fruits of progress ultimately brings ruin and a sour taste in the mouth of history.”
It is a sentence not just for Nigeria’s current rulers, but a moral indictment that history will one day read aloud—either in shame or as a call to redemption.
Alternative addresses matter. In Nigerian politics the flight from truth is largely because most politicians live off politics. Any unprincipled person who wants to manipulate them away from the common good can easily dangle the carrot and stick and be sure of the outcome
I have seen cynical reaction to my call for shedding self for common good. It actually used to be that way. Dr Michael Okpara, Premier of Eastern Region did not have a roof over his head when he was done. The Sardauna, Premier of the North had but a few Babanrigas when he died