2025 with the journalistic eye: What we saw and what we never saw

BY OGUNGBILE EMMANUEL OLUDOTUN

The year 2025 forced Nigeria to confront itself in three mirrors at once: what we saw, what confronted us, whether we were ready or not, and what we stubbornly refused to acknowledge. The year began under a cloud of spiritual tension, economic strain, and political unease. From the very first days of January, prophetic warnings of disaster clashed with government assurances of recovery. Nigerians entered the year exhausted but hopeful, praying that stability might finally arrive.

Mid-year, rumours spread wildly across social media claiming that Nigeria had “narrowly escaped” a military coup. Anxiety surged nationwide. But the Defence Headquarters (DHQ) swiftly dismissed the claims, calling them “false, malicious and misleading.” What sparked the rumours, the cancellation of the 65th Independence Day parade and an internal probe into officer misconduct was later clarified as routine and unrelated to any plot to seize power. The story, though entirely unfounded, reminded citizens how fragile public trust had become.

However, while Nigeria debated phantom coups, a real one shook its neighbour. The attempted military overthrow in Cotonou jolted observers across West Africa. If Benin Republic, long regarded as a relatively stable state, could come so close to collapse, then the region’s democratic foundations were far more fragile than many had believed. The shockwave from Cotonou was not just foreign news; it was a warning.

Back home, the economic picture remained bleak despite improving macroeconomic indicators. International analysts spoke of “tentative stabilisation” and “gradual fiscal discipline.” But for the average trader in Ibadan, the civil servant in Minna, or the commuter in Lagos, the so-called recovery felt imaginary. Food prices soared, transport costs doubled, small businesses choked on forex instability, and salaries collapsed in value. What looked like progress on paper felt like recession on the ground.

Security also continued its slow, grinding assault on national stability. Insurgency lingered in the northeast, banditry persisted in the northwest and middle belt, kidnappings intensified in the south, and cult-related violence remained a menace in several cities. Military operations recorded periodic successes, but each gain carried a human cost: displacement, abandoned farmlands, and shattered communities. The insecurity was not always headline-grabbing; often, it was the steady erosion of the everyday safety Nigerians once took for granted.

Institutions struggled under the weight of public frustration. Workers across education, health, and the civil service repeatedly downed tools over unpaid salaries and declining welfare. Schools opened and closed unpredictably; hospitals operated in survival mode. Slowly, painfully, citizens began to question whether the government still meant what it promised and whether the state still existed for them at all.

Religion offered both refuge and conflict. Churches and mosques swelled as Nigerians sought comfort from hardship. But religious institutions themselves were not immune to turmoil, battles for leadership, scandals, and accusations of exploitation. For some communities, faith spaces shifted back and forth between sanctuaries of hope and arenas of disillusionment. If in doubt, ask NGBC in Ibadan.

On the global stage, Nigeria’s fortunes were tested. Shifting geopolitical winds, especially new U.S. foreign-policy priorities reduced opportunities for study visas, migration, and foreign investment. For many young Nigerians, the world felt as though its doors were slowly closing.

Yet, 2025 was not without cautious glimmers of hope. Toward the end of the year, former Chief of Defence Staff Christopher Musa was appointed minister of defence, a move interpreted as a deliberate attempt to restore professionalism and credibility to the security architecture. Likewise, a sweeping diplomatic reshuffle, including dozens of ambassadorial appointments, signalled renewed efforts to rebuild Nigeria’s international alliances and reposition the country globally.

These developments do not erase the failures or the suffering of the year. But they suggest a slow pivot toward institutional recalibration, strategic diplomacy, and perhaps a more grounded security strategy.

Ultimately, 2025 revealed a nation suspended between potential and peril. What we saw was widespread hardship and extraordinary resilience. What saw us was creeping instability, economic, social, and humanitarian. And what we never saw, or refused to see, was the urgency of structural reform, real accountability, and collective responsibility.

If Nigeria is to move forward in 2026, it must confront these mirrors with honesty. A country that refuses to see itself clearly cannot build the future it deserves. The coming year offers no guarantees, but it offers a choice. And nations are built not by prophecies or promises, but by the courage to reform what is broken and the discipline to sustain what works.

Ogungbile Emmanuel Oludotun can be contacted via [email protected]