If you wish to understand the mind of a people, do not begin with their speeches. Study their roads.
Roads are among the most honest monuments any nation builds. They cannot be manipulated by press conferences, polished by political spin, or defended by eloquent spokespersons. A road tells the truth. It reveals what a government truly values, how it thinks, how it plans, and ultimately how much it respects the lives of its citizens.
Perhaps that explains why Nigerian roads have become one of the most accurate mirrors of our national psyche.
For decades, discussions about our deplorable road infrastructure have become almost ritualistic. Every administration inherits the blame. Every administration promises transformation. Every administration explains why the failure belongs to those before it. Somewhere between campaign promises and commissioning ceremonies, the roads remain exactly what they have always been: broken witnesses to broken governance.
This is not to deny that there are commendable exceptions. Some states, particularly around their capital cities, have made significant investments in road infrastructure. Yet across vast stretches of Nigeria, especially in rural communities and many local government areas, the story remains painfully familiar.
Interestingly, authorities frequently attribute road crashes to speeding or reckless driving. Drivers, on the other hand, often insist that one cannot reasonably maintain safe vehicle operation on roads that barely qualify as roads.
While human error undoubtedly contributes to accidents, it is intellectually dishonest to isolate driver behaviour from the environment within which that behaviour occurs. Infrastructure itself influences human conduct.
Urban theorist and writer Jane Jacobs argued that cities shape the behaviour of those who inhabit them. The same principle applies to roads. A dangerous environment repeatedly produces dangerous outcomes.
However, my concern extends beyond engineering and construction. It is more philosophical than rhetorical.
Look carefully at many Nigerian roads.
Notice the unexpected craters appearing without warning.
Observe the sudden bends that seem to defy logic.
See the hidden potholes waiting immediately after a curve. Watch the unmarked diversions that appear overnight.
Then consider how road repairs are carried out. Barricades emerge almost without notice, and a repair crew materialises from nowhere. The unsuspecting motorist encounters chaos with little or no warning. It feels less like organised public service and more like an ambush.
And then it hit me: this is precisely how many Nigerians experience leadership.
The surprises. The unpredictability. The absence of preparation. The reactive interventions. The lack of communication. The tendency to wait until a crisis has fully matured before responding.
Political scientist James C. Scott observed that states reveal themselves not only through laws but through the everyday ways citizens encounter government.
For most Nigerians, government is encountered less through constitutional theory than through potholes, traffic diversions, collapsed bridges, police checkpoints, and public utilities.
Infrastructure is governance made visible.
Every pothole says something.
Every abandoned project communicates a philosophy.
Every failed drainage system reflects a planning process, or the absence of one.
Nigerian roads resemble Nigerian politics.
Both are characterised by discontinuity.
Neither gives adequate warning.
Neither rewards careful planning.
Both force citizens into survival rather than progress.
One of the enduring insights of systems thinking is that every system is perfectly designed to produce the results it consistently produces. If disorder persists year after year, then disorder is no longer an accident. It has become systemic.
That observation should disturb us. Because roads do not deteriorate overnight. Neglect is cumulative.
Small cracks become large fractures because maintenance is postponed until reconstruction becomes inevitable. Leadership often follows the same pattern. Problems ignored in their infancy eventually become national emergencies requiring enormous political and financial capital.
The economist Douglass North argued that institutions determine the long-term performance of nations. Roads are among those institutions. They connect markets, schools, hospitals, farms, industries and communities.
A nation that cannot reliably move its people and goods eventually struggles to move its economy.
Poor roads therefore represent more than failed transportation.
They represent weakened productivity.
Delayed emergency response.
Higher transport costs.
Reduced investment.
Lost opportunities.
And, tragically, preventable deaths.
Yet there is another lesson hidden beneath the asphalt.
Roads also reveal how leadership sees human life.
When dangerous sections remain unattended for years despite repeated fatalities, citizens naturally begin to ask whether their lives carry sufficient value in the calculations of those entrusted with public office.
That question should trouble every leader.
Perhaps even more troubling is what our collective response has become.
We have normalised dysfunction.
We now celebrate roads simply because they are passable.
We praise projects that should have been routine governmental obligations.
We lower expectations until mediocrity appears exceptional. That may be the greatest danger of all.
Because nations seldom rise above what they collectively learn to tolerate.
Good roads are predictable.
They communicate clearly.
They minimise surprises.
They inspire confidence.
They help strangers arrive safely at destinations they have never visited before.
The same should be true of leadership.
Leadership ought not resemble an unexpected pothole.
It should resemble a well-engineered highway, clear in direction, intentional in design, dependable in execution, and safe enough that citizens can concentrate on building their lives rather than merely surviving the journey.
When our roads eventually begin to reflect those qualities, perhaps they will also reveal that our politics has finally taken the same route.
Until then, every pothole remains more than a hole in the ground.
It is a statement about the condition of the state.
Daniel Nwankwo anipr, mpmc manupa, is the Deputy Director Protocol, Federal University Lokoja
