Nigeria is at a crossroads. For decades, the English language has been the dominant medium of instruction from primary school to university, treated as both a unifier and a badge of modernity. Yet educational outcomes, cultural alienation and the steady erosion of indigenous identities suggest that the one-size-fits-all “English-only” policy is doing more harm than good. Nations that cherish their languages and teach them while also mastering global languages frequently show better learning outcomes, stronger social cohesion and clearer national identities. Nigeria must urgently rebalance its policy: elevate mother-tongue instruction in early education, promote bilingual curricula and recognise indigenous languages as engines of learning, civic participation and diplomacy.

The case for mother-tongue-based education is not sentimental; it is evidence-based. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO) and a broad body of research show that children learn faster and retain more when they are taught in a language they already understand. Early instruction in a familiar language builds comprehension, critical thinking and confidence; it reduces drop-outs and narrows the gap between home and school learning environments. Where learners are forced to start school in a language they do not speak at home, their cognitive development and love of learning are often stunted. This is not merely theory; it is a policy imperative backed by international organisations and decades of research.

Nigeria already has a home-grown body of evidence that mother-tongue instruction works. Decades ago, Professor Afolabi (Babs) Fafunwa, one of the country’s foremost educationalists, documented the successes of mother-tongue programmes in Nigeria and argued persuasively that students taught in indigenous languages consistently outperform peers taught in a “borrowed” tongue. Fafunwa’s work, including the Ife Primary Education Research Project, demonstrated that curricula adapted to local languages and contexts raised literacy, numeracy and school retention. His scholarship remains a map for reform: not a romantic plea to abandon English, but a practical blueprint for stronger bilingual education.

Across the world, there are clear models to follow. Finland, routinely admired for its high-performing education system, recognises and uses its national languages in schooling and protects minority language rights through legislation; this bilingual approach has not hindered Finland’s global competitiveness, it has strengthened social inclusion and ensured high literacy rates. Similarly, Japan, South Korea and many East Asian nations place a premium on teaching through the national language at early stages while adding rigorous foreign-language instruction later; the result is students who master complex subjects in their mother tongue and still compete globally in science, technology and diplomacy. These countries show that prioritising the national language in teaching is compatible with, and often complementary to, global engagement.

A common objection is practical: English is the global lingua franca of commerce, science and diplomacy, so should not education be in English to prepare Nigerians for the world? The answer is yes and no. English competence is essential, but fluency in a second language is far easier when the first language foundation is solid. The United States offers an illuminating historical parallel. Although colonised by Britain, the American founders and educators deliberately shaped a distinct American English, most famously through Noah Webster’s spellers and dictionaries, a move that helped ordinary Americans learn in language forms that matched their speech and culture while still enabling international communication. The lesson is that linguistic independence need not sever global ties; rather, it can anchor a people in their own terms even as they engage the world.

For Nigeria, the benefits of embracing indigenous languages in teaching are many and mutually reinforcing. First, cognitive and educational gains: children learn basic literacy and numeracy faster in familiar languages. Second, cultural renewal: teaching in Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa, and other Nigerian languages instils pride, preserves oral histories and strengthens intergenerational bonds. Third, inclusivity and equity: pupils from rural or non-anglophone homes are less likely to be marginalised when their first language is respected. Fourth, identity and nationhood: a genuinely multilingual education policy can transform diversity from a governance headache into a national asset, giving citizens multiple linguistic tools rather than forcing cultural erasure.

Policy does matter. It was not long ago that many European and Asian states recognised the educational advantage of their own languages and enacted laws and curricula to reflect that truth. UNESCO’s recent pushes for mother-tongue-based multilingual education are not an attack on English; they are recommendations grounded in years of comparative studies and field experiments showing that pedagogical decisions made early have outsized downstream effects on national human capital. Adopting these principles would encourage Nigeria to produce teaching materials in indigenous languages, train teachers for bilingual instruction and reform assessment methods to value subject understanding over mere rote translation into English.

Practical concerns are solvable. Producing textbooks, training teachers and standardising orthographies are tasks for ministries, universities and public–private partnerships. Nigeria already has the intellectual capital: linguists, historians and educationists in our universities know how to develop curricula in local tongues; Fafunwa’s work can be scaled and updated for the digital era. Pilot programmes, model classrooms and regional teacher-training hubs would allow policy makers to refine approaches and measure outcomes. The cost of doing nothing — continuing to teach most subjects in a language many pupils barely understand — is far greater in wasted potential, social alienation and economic under-performance.

Diplomacy and international engagement also benefit from linguistic plurality. Nations that invest in their language schools abroad — Japan’s cultural and language institutes, France’s Alliance Française, and Spain’s Cervantes centres — use language as soft power: an authentic national voice that builds ties and shapes perceptions. Nigeria, with its enormous cultural export potential, should add indigenous languages to its diplomatic toolkit. Language institutes, scholarships and exchange programmes in Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa and other tongues would project a confident, plural Nigeria to the world while complementing English-language diplomacy.

Reforming Nigeria’s education policy will require political will and a shift in mindset. For too long, English has been conflated with modernity and upward mobility; in truth, it is the combination of a firm foundation in the mother tongue and strategic English instruction that produces truly competent citizens. Policy makers must stop viewing indigenous languages as obstacles and start treating them as pedagogical resources. Schools should adopt a model where early grades use the child’s first language for instruction and gradually introduce English as a second language, increasing English-medium content as learners demonstrate proficiency.

The stakes are national. Nigeria’s diversity is not a problem to be solved by linguistic uniformity but a strength to be mobilised through careful, evidence-based language policy. If we care about educational standards, equality of opportunity and cultural continuity, we must act: implement mother-tongue-based instruction in early schooling, develop bilingual curricula, invest in teacher training, and support research to monitor progress. This is not a call to jettison English; it is an argument for balance and for placing Nigerian children and identities at the centre of their education.

Fafunwa’s scholarship from decades past still rings true: students taught with indigenous languages learn better and are better positioned to succeed. UNESCO and other international bodies echo that conclusion. The lesson is clear and simple — teach children in the languages they know best, and give them English as a powerful second tool. In doing so, Nigeria will not only raise educational outcomes but will fashion a stronger, more confident national identity, one that speaks in many tongues and hears them too.

David Akinadewo-Adekahunsi is a journalist, author, and cleric based in Ondo State, Nigeria.  He writes on issues of faith, education, politics, governance, cultural preservation and social justice. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Nigerian Monitor.