Nepotism is one of the most charged words in Nigeria’s public discourse. It evokes images of undeserved privilege, closed doors, and opportunities handed out based on surname rather than skill. And in many cases, that criticism is justified. Nigeria has suffered deeply from systems where access replaces competence and loyalty overrides excellence. Yet, within this reality exists a less discussed and uncomfortable truth: not every beneficiary of nepotism is undeserving, lazy, or incompetent. Some are genuinely talented, hardworking, and successful on merit, even if access gave them an early advantage.
This is the grey area Nigerians often struggle to acknowledge.
In Nigeria, access is everything. Being born into a connected family can mean exposure to better schools, safer environments, mentorship, capital, and networks. These advantages are real and should not be denied. But access alone does not automatically produce excellence. It can open the door, but it cannot keep you in the room. Talent, discipline, and consistency still matter.
Take Davido as a widely cited example. As the son of a billionaire, he undeniably had privileges many Nigerians will never experience. He had financial backing, exposure, and the freedom to pursue music without the immediate pressure of survival. But it is also true that Davido did not coast on his father’s wealth. He chose a path where money alone could not guarantee success. The Nigerian music industry, especially at the time he emerged, was brutal, competitive, and unforgiving. Many wealthy children have attempted music careers and failed spectacularly. Davido succeeded because he was talented, relentless, and deeply invested in his craft.
More importantly, he did not use his privilege to dominate a space where he lacked competence. He could easily have entered his father’s company and been installed as an executive over more qualified professionals. Instead, he stepped into a field where he had to compete with peers, earn public approval, and withstand criticism. His success was not automatic; it was earned through years of work, touring, production, and reinvention. Access gave him a head start, but merit sustained him.
This pattern appears beyond celebrity culture. Many Nigerians have worked in family-owned businesses or companies owned by relatives. An aunt’s furniture company, a cousin’s logistics firm, a parent’s law office. These environments often provide early exposure and opportunity. But those who last, grow, and build reputations within these spaces are rarely idle beneficiaries. They learn operations, manage pressure, deliver results, and sometimes outperform expectations precisely because they know their legitimacy will always be questioned.
This is where the conversation around nepotism must mature. The problem is not access itself; the problem is unearned power. When people with connections are placed in roles they are unqualified for and insulated from accountability, society suffers. But when access meets effort, skill, and responsibility, the outcome is different. That is not corruption; it is advantage responsibly used.
Nigeria’s mistake has often been collapsing all beneficiaries of privilege into one moral category. This creates a dishonest narrative that ignores individual agency. It also distracts from the real structural issue: systems that reward connection without enforcing standards. In healthier systems, access may help you enter, but performance determines whether you stay.
The goal, therefore, should not be to pretend privilege does not exist or to demonise everyone who has it. The goal should be to build institutions where merit is non-negotiable, regardless of background. Where a connected person must still prove competence, and an unconnected person has a fair chance to compete.
Davido and others like him represent a version of nepotism Nigeria should study closely, not to excuse inequality, but to understand responsibility. Privilege becomes dangerous when it replaces merit. It becomes less harmful, and sometimes even productive, when it amplifies genuine talent and hard work.
Nigeria does not need a fantasy of perfect equality to move forward. It needs honesty about its inequalities and courage to enforce standards within them. The grey area of merit is uncomfortable, but ignoring it does not make the problem clearer. It only makes the conversation louder and less truthful.
In the end, the question is not whether someone had access. The real question is what they did with it.
Culture Beyond the Mainstream 