1914 Amalgamation: The Unseen Hand That Scripted Nigeria’s Identity Crisis

By George Omagbemi Sylvester

In the beginning, there was no “Nigeria.” There was no shared anthem, no common tongue, no unified sense of nationhood. Instead, there were sovereign ethnic nations; the Yoruba in the West, the Igbo in the East, the Hausa-Fulani in the North and over 250 other distinct ethnicities scattered across the landmass now known as Nigeria. Each group had its own system of governance, religion, language and worldview. What tied them together was not history or consent; but a single act of colonial convenience on January 1, 1914: the amalgamation of the Northern and Southern Protectorates by the British colonial administration.

This unification, executed under the imperial direction of Lord Frederick Lugard and endorsed by the British Crown, was not an act of benevolence or foresight. It was an economic and administrative maneuver to cut costs and consolidate power. And in doing so, it laid the groundwork for over a century of conflict, suspicion and structural imbalance. The consequences of this act continue to haunt Nigeria like a recurring nightmare.

Over 110 years later, the fundamental question remains: Who signed the amalgamation on behalf of the Nigerian people?

The answer, quite disturbingly, is no one.

Let us look at the historical timeline.

Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, later the first President of Nigeria, was born in 1904. He was only 10 years old in 1914.
Chief Obafemi Awolowo, premier of the Western Region, was born in 1909; just 5 years old.
Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto and Premier of the Northern Region, was born in 1910; only 4 years old.
Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, Nigeria’s first Prime Minister, was born in 1912; a mere toddler of 2 years.
Michael Okpara, premier of the Eastern Region, hadn’t even been born yet; he came into the world in 1920.

These men, hailed as Nigeria’s founding fathers, had no hand in the creation of Nigeria. The 1914 amalgamation was not a pact between equal peoples or a dialogue of nations. It was a colonial decree; signed in London, drawn on British maps, and executed on African soil without consent, consultation or compassion.

Herbert Macaulay, born in 1864 and often revered as the father of Nigerian nationalism, was alive at the time but held no official power or authority to challenge the imperial decree. His protests, although prescient, were brushed aside. The amalgamation, thus, was no democratic creation. It was not a union forged by love, common purpose or mutual benefit; but by British imperial fiat.

As Nobel Laureate Prof. Wole Soyinka aptly put it, “There was no basis for Nigeria’s amalgamation other than administrative convenience. The failure to revisit the terms of that amalgamation is what has fueled most of the crises we face today.”

You cannot mix red oil and engine oil and expect a stable solution. Similarly, you cannot merge ethnic nations with separate histories, economies, cultures and religions and expect unity without negotiation. This is the tragedy of Nigeria: a forced marriage in which no vows were exchanged and no love was pledged.

From that fateful moment in 1914, Nigeria became an experiment in nation-building without the essential ingredients of trust and consensus. The British justified the amalgamation on grounds of administrative efficiency; the North was financially unviable, while the South was economically productive. By merging the regions, the British were able to use the surplus from the South to fund the North; a model of exploitation that persists to this day through lopsided federal allocations and centralized revenue control.

As historian Dr. Usman Bugaje observed, “There was never any document signed by Nigerian representatives to validate the amalgamation. It remains one of the most arbitrary acts in our history; and it set us up for division, not unity.”

Despite more than a century of cohabitation, Nigeria remains a house divided. The fault lines of 1914 have deepened into canyons; tribalism, nepotism, ethnic militancy and religious extremism dominate the political landscape. Unity, where it exists, is often cosmetic and brittle, breaking under the slightest pressure. Mutual distrust has become national currency.

Why?

Because Nigeria was not born in the delivery room of dialogue, but in the operating theatre of imperial surgery. There was no referendum, no negotiation, no cultural reconciliation. There was only the sound of British pens on paper and silence from the people whose lives would be altered forever.

Even our revered leaders admitted the shallowness of this unity.
Chief Awolowo once declared that “Nigeria is not a nation. It is a mere geographical expression.”
Dr. Azikiwe called Nigeria “a political experiment.”
Tafawa Balewa, in a rare moment of candor, confessed: “Since the amalgamation of 1914, Nigeria has existed as one country only on paper.”

Political economist Prof. Pat Utomi underscores this truth: “You cannot build a nation on injustice and expect peace. The failure to renegotiate the Nigerian federation is why we are constantly at war with ourselves.”

Today, Nigeria struggles with poverty in the midst of wealth, hunger amid arable land and darkness despite abundant natural gas. We import toothpicks, fuel and even the pencils used in our classrooms. Our hospitals are death traps, our schools are underfunded, our security forces are underpaid and our brightest minds are fleeing the country. The Nigerian space agency cannot locate missing schoolgirls in Sambisa Forest, yet it claims to monitor satellites orbiting thousands of kilometers above Earth.

What has this forced union achieved?

Rather than build a federal system that respects diversity and autonomy, we cling to a centralized structure that mimics colonial rule. Our so-called federalism is a fraud; a unitary government masquerading as federalism. States go cap in hand to Abuja every month, begging for a share of oil revenues they do not control. Resource control remains a taboo topic, even though it is the bedrock of true federalism.

Legal scholar Prof. Itse Sagay lays it bare: “Nigeria’s constitutional order is a farce. True federalism was abandoned. What we now have is a unitary system dressed up in federal garb and it is unsustainable.”

We must ask uncomfortable questions:
Where is the amalgamation document?
Who signed it?
Why should a forced union be treated as divine revelation?

In a true democracy, unity is not forced, it is negotiated. Identity is not imposed, it is chosen. Nigeria must now revisit its foundations. If the original union was imposed without consent, then today’s citizens must have the right to renegotiate that union.

Let it be clear: this is not a call for secession. It is a call for truth, for justice and for constitutional clarity. If the foundation is cracked, then the building must be reinforced or rebuilt. We must return to the table; not as tribes seeking supremacy, but as peoples seeking coexistence.

As Prof. Jibrin Ibrahim explains, “The Nigerian state was constructed as an extractive colonial machine. Post-independence leaders merely inherited the apparatus and they never deconstructed it.”

The solution lies in genuine restructuring; a return to regional autonomy, fiscal federalism and constitutional renegotiation. Let each region manage its resources, govern its people and contribute to the national purse fairly. Let unity be rooted in equity, not in exploitation.

The British may have scripted Nigeria’s beginning, but we must now take charge of its future. The time has come to reclaim the pen, rewrite the narrative and correct the errors of 1914. As the saying goes, “When the foundation is destroyed, what can the righteous do?” The righteous must rebuild.

Let us remember: empires fall, nations rise, but only truth endures. Nigeria must confront its past to shape its destiny. Until then, we remain a country in search of itself, a union in search of meaning, an identity still unsigned.

Sylvester is a political analyst, he writes from South Africa