It’s 1960. Nigeria has exploded into joy — flags waved in school fields, fireworks lit the Lagos night sky, children marched in parades eating akara, and the Union Jack finally came down as the green-white-green rose in its place. A nation of 45 million people had been given independence, and for a moment the air was thick with the promise of freedom: freedom from decades of humiliation, from being treated as tenants in their own land, and from labouring in a system designed to enrich another empire.

Independence, in theory, would mean a Head of State answering only to Nigerians, power shared openly among regions, and full control of resources. Oil, cocoa, coal, and palm groves would serve Nigerian development first — building schools, factories, hospitals. Administration would be Nigerian at every level, policies crafted in Lagos, Ibadan, Kano, and Enugu. Foreign policy would reflect Africa’s giant standing tall, choosing allies based on shared aspirations. Independence, in its truest sense, was meant to be more than raising a new flag. It was supposed to mean stepping out of empire’s shadow to define Nigeria’s destiny on her own terms.

But the reality was the opposite. The Union Jack came down, yet British influence stayed. The constitution was drafted in London, imposing a Westminster model that kept the monarch as Head of State, with a Governor-General in Lagos. The balance of power was engineered to favour Britain’s allies in the conservative North, giving them a parliamentary majority. The more radical South, which had driven the nationalist struggle, was sidelined by design. Economically, Nigeria remained tethered to Britain: the Nigerian pound tied to sterling, foreign reserves held in London, and British firms — especially Shell-BP — still commanding oil and trade. Cash crops flowed along colonial routes, enriching foreign companies, while Nigerian development projects relied on British capital and expertise.

Administratively, the state was still staffed and overseen by Britons. The army was commanded by British officers until 1965 (two years later, the civil war broke out. Coincidence?), and senior civil servants were often expatriates. Nigerians held titles, but the machinery of governance still bore empire’s fingerprints. In foreign affairs, Nigeria stayed firmly aligned with London through Commonwealth ties, with leaders seeking validation, education, and even medical care abroad. The trappings of independence were there — a new flag, a Nigerian Governor-General, a Prime Minister — but sovereignty remained diluted. Independence in 1960 was not a clean break but a managed transition that kept Britain’s interests safe. Nigeria was still a colony, only this time in name alone. In subsequent articles, I’ll explain how it still is.

Independence Without Independence

Nigeria’s sovereignty in 1960 was carefully engineered to protect Britain’s stake. The parliamentary system looked Nigerian, but its bones were British. The Queen remained Head of State, her Governor-General ruled in Lagos, and the constitution was drafted in London, with Nigerians merely consulted. The clearest manipulation lay in the political arithmetic. Britain knew the South was radical — its leaders demanded true self-determination and spearheaded strikes, protests, and press campaigns. Parties like the NCNC (Azikiwe) and Action Group (Awolowo) mobilized coal miners, farmers, and intellectuals, while southern newspapers such as the West African Pilot and Nigerian Tribune agitated against colonialism. The South’s activism left Britain boxed in. Northern leaders, by contrast, were cautious. Ahmadu Bello and Tafawa Balewa of the NPC favoured gradualism, fearing that rapid independence would hand power to the more educated South. Benefiting from indirect rule, northern elites were reluctant to disrupt their arrangement with Britain which gave them power and prestige. Power and prestige they were unwilling to surrender. When Anthony Enahoro (NCNC) moved for independence “by 1956,” northern members walked out, sparking riots in Kano. Bello was clear: Nigeria must move “as fast as the slowest horse.” Britain leaned on this caution to delay independence, insisting Nigeria was “not ready.”

To blunt the South’s radicalism, colonial officers tilted the scales by granting the North a parliamentary majority, despite population counts never being transparently verified. With the NPC dominant at the federal level, Nigeria was guaranteed a conservative centre aligned with Britain. Regional autonomy deepened the divide: North, West, and East controlled their own resources and institutions, while the federal government was deliberately weak. It looked like a federation, but in truth it was three uneasy regions glued together by Britain. For a short while, this held. The North governed at the centre, reassuring Britain. The South pursued regional dynamism in education and industry. Oil was just emerging, cash crops still sustained prosperity, and the balance — however fragile — survived.

But the design was poisoned from the start. Britain had sown mistrust by pitting regions against each other, ensuring each saw itself less as part of a whole and more as a rival. Political ambition and economic interest soon watered that seed, and Nigeria lurched toward its first great rupture — civil war.

It’s 1960. Nigeria has exploded into joy — flags waved in school fields, fireworks lit the Lagos night sky, children marched in parades eating akara, and the Union Jack finally came down as the green-white-green rose in its place. A nation of 45 million people had been given independence, and for a moment the air was thick with the promise of freedom: freedom from decades of humiliation, from being treated as tenants in their own land, and from labouring in a system designed to enrich another empire.

Independence, in theory, would mean a Head of State answering only to Nigerians, power shared openly among regions, and full control of resources. Oil, cocoa, coal, and palm groves would serve Nigerian development first — building schools, factories, hospitals. Administration would be Nigerian at every level, policies crafted in Lagos, Ibadan, Kano, and Enugu. Foreign policy would reflect Africa’s giant standing tall, choosing allies based on shared aspirations. Independence, in its truest sense, was meant to be more than raising a new flag. It was supposed to mean stepping out of empire’s shadow to define Nigeria’s destiny on her own terms.

But the reality was the opposite. The Union Jack came down, yet British influence stayed. The constitution was drafted in London, imposing a Westminster model that kept the monarch as Head of State, with a Governor-General in Lagos. The balance of power was engineered to favour Britain’s allies in the conservative North, giving them a parliamentary majority. The more radical South, which had driven the nationalist struggle, was sidelined by design. Economically, Nigeria remained tethered to Britain: the Nigerian pound tied to sterling, foreign reserves held in London, and British firms — especially Shell-BP — still commanding oil and trade. Cash crops flowed along colonial routes, enriching foreign companies, while Nigerian development projects relied on British capital and expertise.

Administratively, the state was still staffed and overseen by Britons. The army was commanded by British officers until 1965 (two years later, the civil war broke out. Coincidence?), and senior civil servants were often expatriates. Nigerians held titles, but the machinery of governance still bore empire’s fingerprints. In foreign affairs, Nigeria stayed firmly aligned with London through Commonwealth ties, with leaders seeking validation, education, and even medical care abroad. The trappings of independence were there — a new flag, a Nigerian Governor-General, a Prime Minister — but sovereignty remained diluted. Independence in 1960 was not a clean break but a managed transition that kept Britain’s interests safe. Nigeria was still a colony, only this time in name alone. In subsequent articles, I’ll explain how it still is.

Independence Without Independence

Nigeria’s sovereignty in 1960 was carefully engineered to protect Britain’s stake. The parliamentary system looked Nigerian, but its bones were British. The Queen remained Head of State, her Governor-General ruled in Lagos, and the constitution was drafted in London, with Nigerians merely consulted. The clearest manipulation lay in the political arithmetic. Britain knew the South was radical — its leaders demanded true self-determination and spearheaded strikes, protests, and press campaigns. Parties like the NCNC (Azikiwe) and Action Group (Awolowo) mobilized coal miners, farmers, and intellectuals, while southern newspapers such as the West African Pilot and Nigerian Tribune agitated against colonialism. The South’s activism left Britain boxed in. Northern leaders, by contrast, were cautious. Ahmadu Bello and Tafawa Balewa of the NPC favoured gradualism, fearing that rapid independence would hand power to the more educated South. Benefiting from indirect rule, northern elites were reluctant to disrupt their arrangement with Britain which gave them power and prestige. Power and prestige they were unwilling to surrender. When Anthony Enahoro (NCNC) moved for independence “by 1956,” northern members walked out, sparking riots in Kano. Bello was clear: Nigeria must move “as fast as the slowest horse.” Britain leaned on this caution to delay independence, insisting Nigeria was “not ready.”

To blunt the South’s radicalism, colonial officers tilted the scales by granting the North a parliamentary majority, despite population counts never being transparently verified. With the NPC dominant at the federal level, Nigeria was guaranteed a conservative centre aligned with Britain. Regional autonomy deepened the divide: North, West, and East controlled their own resources and institutions, while the federal government was deliberately weak. It looked like a federation, but in truth it was three uneasy regions glued together by Britain. For a short while, this held. The North governed at the centre, reassuring Britain. The South pursued regional dynamism in education and industry. Oil was just emerging, cash crops still sustained prosperity, and the balance — however fragile — survived.

But the design was poisoned from the start. Britain had sown mistrust by pitting regions against each other, ensuring each saw itself less as part of a whole and more as a rival. Political ambition and economic interest soon watered that seed, and Nigeria lurched toward its first great rupture — civil war.