A man in distress nurses no pride. He goes wherever and to whomever necessary in search of help.
Earlier this year, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky made the long journey to the White House. There, he endured the discomfort of facing a skeptical audience and navigating tense optics in the Oval Office. But his country is at war with the ruthless Russian bear—it was a matter of survival. Zelensky took the bruises for the sake of his people and his presidency.
Similarly, South African President Cyril Ramaphosa defied the odds of a strained relationship with the United States under President Trump. He walked into the lion’s den, candidly stating, “We don’t have a jetliner to give.” He needed to mend a diplomatic fence buckling under the weight of American pressure. Ramaphosa swallowed the bitter pill for his country and for the office he holds.
Even former U.S. President Donald Trump, despite his bluster, flew to the Middle East with a wishlist. He returned with a super-luxury jet courtesy of the wealthy Qataris. Even rich nations, it seems, have urgent needs.
So, what does Nigeria need? And when will Nigeria’s president take the initiative to visit Washington and other world capitals in search of strategic support? Must we wait until the roof collapses before we seek shelter? Why does Nigeria’s presidential travel itinerary always end in Paris? What enduring value lies in aligning almost exclusively with a former colonial power still tethered to the resources of its former African territories?
If I were President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, I would have visited the United States months ago. I would have met with President Trump to express how Nigeria is hemorrhaging talent, losing its brightest minds and most skilled professionals to America. I would appeal for a mutually beneficial arrangement: support Nigeria in making home viable, so fewer of our people are forced to migrate.
Given Trump’s well-known anti-immigration stance—and his business-oriented mindset—a development-based partnership could prove attractive. He might even call it, “the best deal ever.”
I would emphasize the immense value Nigerian professionals bring to the U.S. economy—our doctors, nurses, engineers, and tech innovators. I would remind him of Phillip Emeagwali, whose work helped lay the groundwork for the internet, the very infrastructure that fuels today’s global economy.
I would also point to the tax contributions of Nigerians in the U.S. and underscore the fact that we are assets—not burdens—wherever we go.
While in America, I would convene a high-profile forum with Nigerian professionals in healthcare and tech. I would solicit their ideas on how to strengthen Nigeria’s systems. That meeting would showcase Nigeria’s human capital and raise respect for our contributions to the American success story.
To complement this strategy, I would travel with cultural ambassadors like Davido, Flavour, and Burna Boy—creative powerhouses who have propelled Nigerian music to global acclaim. Their presence would not only be a nod of recognition but also a marketing masterstroke to elevate Nigeria’s cultural diplomacy.
This is how to lead a nation of over 200 million energetic, talented people. This is how to harness excellence—wherever it may reside. Yet today, President Tinubu appears to be operating in a vacuum.
The United States offers vast opportunities for trade, collaboration, and growth. Ignoring such a relationship is not just short-sighted—it is counterproductive. The same logic applies to engaging other global powerhouses like China, India, and Brazil.
A “Renewed Hope” agenda without a practical roadmap for international economic cooperation is like dreaming of a sumptuous pot of soup in your sleep—you wake up hungry, but empty-handed. Only those willing to go to the market and cook will ever taste that dream.
♦ Dominic Ikeogu is a social and political commentator based in Minneapolis, USA.
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