The ideals upon which Nigeria’s Federal Government Colleges were founded reflected a vision of national unity. Their students came from every region, ethnic group, religion, and social class, yet they shared the same
classrooms, wore the same uniforms, and grew up seeing one another first as Nigerians.
One alumnus of a Federal Government College who attended in the early 1970s recalls that the school’s motto, Pro Unitate (“For Unity”), was not merely symbolic. Students from families of civil servants, politicians, governors, artists, farmers, artisans, and business leaders lived and learned together without discrimination. More than five decades later, many of those friendships remain intact because differences of religion, ethnicity, and social status were largely overshadowed by a shared institutional identity.
Recent visits to the same school, however, present a striking contrast. Religious segregation has become increasingly visible. Boys and girls are separated in assembly halls, while students of different faiths can often be identified by distinct forms of dress and seating arrangements.
A late Muslim Air Commodore and fellow alumnus reportedly summed up the transformation with a simple but poignant observation: “We have lost the spirit of unity.” His remark captured what many alumni believe has gradually disappeared from institutions originally established to foster national integration.
The concern extends beyond one school. It raises broader questions about Nigeria’s commitment to the constitutional principle that all citizens are equal before the law.
George Orwell’s Animal Farm remains relevant because it illustrates how societies gradually drift from equality by creating different standards for different groups. The famous declaration that “all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others” serves as a warning against institutionalised double standards.
Critics argue that Nigeria has increasingly adopted policies that apply different rules to different categories of citizens. One example is the restriction on motorcycles below certain engine capacities on selected roads in Lagos, a policy challenged in court by riders who argued that it unfairly targeted poorer Nigerians by treating them as presumed criminals. Similar legal disputes have arisen over state governments charging different school fees to Nigerian students based solely on their state of origin.
Perhaps the most controversial example remains the quota system in admissions into federal educational institutions. Candidates competing for the same places are often assessed using different admission benchmarks depending on their state of origin. As a result, some applicants with relatively low scores secure admission while others with significantly higher scores are denied.
Supporters defend the policy as a mechanism for promoting national inclusion and balancing historical inequalities. Critics, however, contend that it weakens merit, lowers academic standards, and undermines public confidence in the fairness of federal institutions.
The debate also extends to institutional uniforms. A uniform traditionally represents equality, discipline, and collective identity. When official dress codes are modified to accommodate specific religious identities within public institutions, some observers argue that the concept of a common institutional identity begins to weaken.
They further contend that visible religious distinctions may encourage conscious or unconscious bias in recruitment, assessment, promotion, or service delivery. In periods of insecurity, they also argue that conspicuous religious identifiers could expose individuals to selective targeting by criminals or extremists.
For these critics, the central issue is not religious freedom but institutional neutrality. They maintain that while every Nigerian is constitutionally entitled to practise and express his or her religion, public institutions established and funded by the state should project a common civic identity rather than visibly distinguish citizens by faith.
Interestingly, similar controversies rarely emerge in private organisations, political parties, or social events, where organisers freely determine dress codes without prolonged legal disputes. This contrast has led some commentators to question why public institutions should be compelled to accommodate distinctions that private associations are generally free to regulate.
Nigeria’s diversity has never been its greatest challenge. The more enduring challenge has been building institutions that inspire every citizen to feel equally valued and equally protected under the law.
The country’s Constitution envisions equality before the law, not equality qualified by ethnicity, religion, or state of origin. Preserving that principle requires institutions that unite rather than divide, applying common standards to all citizens while respecting individual freedoms.
Orwell’s enduring warning remains relevant: societies begin to lose their moral and constitutional balance when some citizens become “more equal than others.”