If Nigerians must pay to be rescued, then our govt have already failed

By Zebulon Chinedum Obi

There are moments in the life of a nation when policy stops being an administrative issue and becomes a moral test.

This is one of those moments.
Somewhere in South Africa tonight, a Nigerian is awake when they should be asleep.

Not because they are chasing ambition or working toward a better future, but because fear has entered their daily life. Fear that their business may be attacked before sunrise.

Fear that the accent in their voice or the passport they carry may suddenly make them a target. Fear that in a foreign land, danger may arrive simply because they are Nigerian.

And in the middle of that fear comes a disturbing possibility that Nigerians caught in xenophobic unrest may be required to pay for their evacuation back home.

Even if framed as a policy option or logistical consideration, the implication is troubling. Because when citizens in distress are told that rescue may depend on their financial ability, the relationship between the state and its people begins to lose its meaning.

A nation is not merely defined by territory, flags, or speeches at international conferences. A nation is defined by the protection it offers its citizens, especially in moments when they are vulnerable and unable to protect themselves.

The Nigerian Constitution is explicit on this point. Section 14(2)(b) states clearly that “the security and welfare of the people shall be the primary purpose of government.”

That principle does not end at Nigeria’s borders. Citizenship does not expire once a Nigerian boards a plane to Johannesburg, Cape Town, London, or Dubai. The obligation of the state travels with its citizens.

This is why evacuation during a crisis cannot be treated like a commercial service. It is not a luxury. It is not a privilege reserved for those who can afford it. It is an emergency response rooted in the fundamental duty of government.

Imagine the Nigerian trader whose shop has just been destroyed in an attack. His goods are gone. His savings wiped out overnight. The same person who may have spent years contributing to Nigeria’s economy through remittances and investments is now expected to somehow produce money for an emergency flight home.

Or consider the young Nigerian professional trapped indoors, monitoring disturbing reports of violence and uncertainty, wondering whether help will come. In moments like these, citizens do not need invoices. They need assurance. They need to know that their country recognizes their humanity before calculating costs.

To ask distressed citizens to finance their own rescue is to place the burden of national failure on the shoulders of victims. It sends a dangerous message that protection is conditional and that citizenship itself may be measured by economic worth.

Supporters of such a position may argue that governments face financial pressures, that evacuation operations are expensive, and that public resources are limited. All of that may be true. But there are certain responsibilities a state cannot outsource without weakening its legitimacy.

Every serious nation understands this principle. Countries routinely mobilize resources to evacuate citizens during wars, pandemics, natural disasters, and political unrest. They do so not because it is cheap or convenient, but because the value of citizenship depends on the confidence that the state will stand by its people in times of danger.

This is particularly important for Nigeria, a country that frequently speaks of continental leadership and African solidarity. Leadership, however, is not demonstrated through diplomatic language alone.

It is demonstrated through action when citizens are exposed, endangered, and watching closely to see whether their country will respond.

The xenophobic tensions in South Africa are not new. Nigerians living there have repeatedly endured cycles of violence, threats, and hostility over the years. Many have suffered losses that go beyond economics. Businesses have been destroyed. Families traumatized.

Lives disrupted.
In such circumstances, evacuation is not merely transportation. It is a humanitarian responsibility.

If there are concerns about cost recovery, those discussions can happen later through structured, humane, and voluntary arrangements that do not deny immediate protection to those in danger.

Government can explore emergency funds, diplomatic partnerships, phased reimbursements, or private sector support. What should never happen is making payment a condition for safety during a crisis.

Because once rescue becomes transactional, something sacred about citizenship is diminished.

A citizen must never feel abandoned in the moment they most need their country. The strength of a nation is not measured only by GDP figures, military displays, or political rhetoric. It is measured by how it treats its people when they are afraid, stranded, and powerless.

The Nigerian in South Africa tonight is not asking for luxury. They are asking for reassurance that their homeland still sees them as its responsibility.
And Nigeria must answer carefully.

Because the response given in this moment will echo far beyond South Africa. It will shape how millions of Nigerians at home and abroad understand the meaning of their citizenship and whether, in moments of danger, their country truly stands with them.

If Nigerians must pay to be rescued, then the state has already failed in the one duty that matters most: protecting its people when protection is needed the most.

Obi ESQ, Principal Counsel,
08137892731
thelawview@gmail.com
Lagos, Nigeria