In the heart of Nigeria’s bustling markets and vibrant churches, a quiet but powerful yearning lives: the desire to build a better life through faith, freedom, and hard work. It’s a desire I have seen in the eyes of young students in Enugu, in the determination of women trading tomatoes on the streets of Aba, and in the quiet prayers of fathers hoping to send their children to school.
In many ways, the spirit that Michael Novak describes in The Spirit of Democratic Capitalism is already alive in Africa, even if unnamed. What is missing is the moral and institutional framework that allows it to flourish. We see individuals acting by way of initiative, risk-taking, and moral conviction, yet doing so in systems that do not adequately reward or protect these values. The absence of enabling structures weakens the capacity for economic and social progress to scale.
Growing up in Nigeria, I learned early that the line between struggle and survival was thin. Government systems often failed, and when they did, it was not bureaucracy that caught us as we fell: It was family, community, church, and mosque. This is the moral-cultural bedrock Novak speaks of when describing a civil society rich with virtue, solidarity, and faith. But unlike in societies where these spheres are protected and balanced by political and economic freedom, in much of Africa they are often crowded out by a state that tries to do too much and delivers too little. Families are burdened with roles that institutions should fulfill, providing education, healthcare, and security. Communities bear the strain of inadequate infrastructure, and faith institutions often become the last refuge for justice and compassion.
We inherited systems shaped by colonial bureaucracy and post-colonial authoritarianism. For example, Nigeria’s civil service structure, heavily modeled after British administrative systems, remains bloated, centralized, and slow to adapt to citizens’ needs. Regulatory hurdles for starting and running a business, such as multiple overlapping agencies and unclear taxation rules, often reflect this inherited bureaucracy. These structural inefficiencies discourage enterprise and feed a culture of rent-seeking. Even today, too many young Nigerians are raised to see government as both master and savior, not the servant of a free people. The result is a moral confusion: We speak the language of freedom but fear its responsibilities. We long for wealth but look to politics, not enterprise, as the surest path.
But I believe something is changing.
Across Nigeria, young people are rejecting the old false choice between corruption and chaos. According to the Global Accelerator Learning Initiative, youth-led teams represented 58% of all applicants and 64% of participating ventures in accelerator programs in Nigeria in 2021. Many of these ventures are active in fintech, agriculture, and health. Platforms like Paystack, co-founded by Nigerian entrepreneurs in their 20s, show the power of young minds when free to innovate. In cities like Jos and Ibadan, youth-led initiatives are tackling food insecurity, offering vocational training, and hosting interfaith peace dialogues. These initiatives not only provide services and solutions but also instill confidence in self-governance, innovation, and collaboration. They are launching businesses, building civic movements, and returning to faith not just as personal salvation but as a source of community renewal and social transformation.
This generational awakening is no accident; it is shaped by Nigeria’s unique demographics. With over 60% of its population under the age of 25, Nigeria is one of the youngest countries in the world. By 2050, Nigeria is projected to become the third most populous nation in the world, exceeding 400 million souls. As of 2023, Nigeria’s population already stood at 227,882,945. This demographic reality represents both a challenge and an opportunity. If properly harnessed through education, employment, and civic inclusion, this youth bulge can fuel sustained economic growth and democratic resilience. But if neglected, it could deepen social unrest and migration pressures. The energy and entrepreneurial drive we see today among Nigerian youth are critical levers for transforming the nation’s future, not just economically, but morally and politically as well.
Yet this population is not just young; it is also deeply religious. Nigeria remains one of the most devout nations in the world, with over 90% of citizens identifying as either Christian or Muslim. Religious leaders command immense trust, and faith-based organizations play key roles in health, education, and humanitarian aid. This fusion of youthful energy and spiritual conviction offers a potent force for change, if steered toward constructive civic and economic engagement.
In Lagos, platforms like ThriveAgric and Farmcrowdy use mobile apps to connect smallholder farmers directly with investors and buyers, increasing productivity and bypassing middlemen. In Kaduna, startups like Yellow Electric are using solar technology to deliver off-grid energy solutions to rural communities. In Port Harcourt, CleanCyclers, a youth-led social enterprise, is addressing waste management through recycling and environmental education. Meanwhile, interfaith coalitions such as the Kukah Centre and the Interfaith Mediation Centre in Kaduna have brought together Christian and Muslim leaders to combat tribalism and promote peaceful coexistence. These efforts demonstrate a profound awareness among Nigeria’s youth that societal progress is not a gift to be received but a task to be undertaken.
The creativity and resilience of Nigerian youth suggest that the nation is lacking in neither talent nor vision but in enabling environments. We need to amplify these stories not just as exceptions but as the emerging norm of a new generation determined to shape its own destiny. And here is where Novak’s voice matters to us. He insists that capitalism, rightly ordered, is not the enemy of virtue but its ally. He challenges religious and intellectual leaders to look beyond their suspicion of markets and see them as instruments of human dignity. He reminds us that political freedom without economic liberty is a half-built bridge. Free markets, when grounded in moral values and civic responsibility, can create space for the human spirit to innovate and serve.
In Nigeria today, our challenge is not the absence of faith or ambition. It is the absence of a framework that protects the dignity of work, the sanctity of conscience, and the right to build and own. What we need is not more state control but more space for families, communities, and institutions of faith to thrive alongside free markets and accountable governance. This means reforming our legal systems to protect private property, improve contract enforcement, and reduce regulatory bottlenecks. It means creating avenues for civic participation that do not depend on party politics but on community voice and volunteerism.
It begins with reforming education—both curriculum and culture. We must teach that work is sacred, that profit can be virtuous, and that prosperity built on freedom is more enduring than wealth gained through connection or corruption. This cultural shift can be advanced through faith-based schools that integrate entrepreneurship and moral instruction, community mentorship programs that pair successful business leaders with young people, and NGOs that offer vocational and civic education rooted in ethical values. Education must extend beyond the classroom into the marketplace, the media, and the ministry. Religious institutions, which hold a very strong place in Nigerian society, must lead the way in restoring the moral clarity that bridges enterprise and ethics. Clerics and imams should preach about honest gain, diligence, and innovation as expressions of faith and service.
This is not a Western ideal imposed on African soil. It is a Nigerian reality yearning for structure. Our mothers were practicing democratic capitalism in the markets long before the term was coined. Our faiths preach stewardship, not statism. Our youth hunger not for handouts but for opportunity. Nigerian traditions often emphasize communal responsibility, integrity, and hard work, values that align well with a democratic capitalist ethos that respects individual dignity and collective well-being.
Michael Novak’s work gives us language for what many Nigerians already believe: that freedom is not just political but also spiritual and economic. And that a just society is one where the poor are not managed but empowered; where virtue is not preached by force but practiced in freedom. In this view, democratic capitalism is both an economic model and a moral vision, one in which every person has the opportunity and responsibility to contribute, to create, and to flourish.
As we rebuild Nigeria, may we resist the urge to mimic the institutional failures of the West and instead draw from our own deep wells of wisdom, where freedom is rooted in responsibility, and flourishing grows from faith, community, and moral courage. May our leaders, educators, and faith communities collaborate to nurture the next generation of builders who are as morally grounded as they are entrepreneurially daring. Let us write a new story of Nigeria, one where markets serve people, where power is accountable, and where freedom is not feared but embraced as the foundation of human dignity and social renewal.
