Nothing Wrong with Tinubu Wearing Suit in France -By Azuka Onwuka

During President Bola Tinubu’s recent visit to France, a minor issue arose. Photographs showed Tinubu in a jacket without a tie while standing beside the French President, Emmanuel Macron. Some Nigerians argued that Tinubu should have worn an agbada or other indigenous dress to assert cultural identity on the international stage. That sentiment is heartfelt and understandable: clothing is a powerful symbol of belonging. In addition, Nigerians have been known for their love for their indigenous attire. But to measure patriotism primarily by fabric is to miss the larger point. Wearing Nigerian attire is a proud expression of identity; choosing a suit is not a rejection of that identity.

Let’s break it down. Nigeria needs a broader, more practical definition of national pride – one that looks beyond symbolic gestures to the tangible choices and policies that build a stronger country. Symbols rally people and create memorable images, yet the deeper work of nationhood is material: the goods we produce, the hospitals and schools we build, the manufacturing jobs we create, and the institutions we strengthen. Those are the things that transform lives and sustain national dignity.

Consider the examples of China, Japan, and South Korea. These are civilisations with histories stretching back thousands of years – far older than the Scottish civilisation from which the modern suit emerged in the 1850s. Yet, despite their ancient traditions, their leaders and citizens wear suits as formal attire in both domestic and international settings. This does not make them any less patriotic. On the contrary, these countries are among the most patriotic in the world, proudly showcasing their culture, language, cuisine, and products on the global stage.

Think about it: karate (Japan), kung fu (China), and taekwondo (South Korea) have become global household names. These countries have exported language, martial arts, film and cuisine, and produced world-class technology and consumer brands. None of these achievements required their leaders to wear traditional kimonos, changshans or hanboks during foreign visits. Their leaders’ attire did not diminish national pride; their policies and investments in industry and culture amplified it.

In contrast, political leaders of India and the United Arab Emirates never wear suits while on national duties at home or abroad. Just like their Nigerian counterparts, members of the Indian parliament are rarely seen in suits while in session. Indian men are known for their sherwani and kurta, while the women are known for their saree. Emirati men are known for their kandura (or dishdasha), while the women are known for their abaya. Both countries are experiencing progress in their national lives, but wearing their national attire has not made them produce more machines and technological tools than Japan, China and South Korea. Whether a country wears a suit or its indigenous attire does not make it grow faster. Nigeria is an example. Even before our independence in 1960, our political leaders were known to have been attending international events in indigenous attire. How has that changed the fortunes of Nigeria?

Although the suit originated from the UK, it has been adopted in most parts of the world as the outfit for business. The Chinese, for example, have never been allies of the West, but China adopted the suit as its official attire because it is a pragmatic country.

The suit has practical uses: it signals seriousness and aligns leaders with international diplomatic norms. But wearing Western-style formal attire need not be taken as cultural capitulation. A leader can wear a suit and simultaneously support local enterprise by choosing Nigerian-made vehicles when available, commissioning domestic designers for official events, insisting that state banquets feature Nigerian cuisine, and receiving care in our hospitals. Those decisions are direct market signals that create demand and foster confidence in local capacity.
True patriotism shows up in policy and procurement. If government procurement prioritises locally made goods like cars, furniture, electronics, and medical equipment, this creates guaranteed demand that helps companies scale, reduce unit costs, and compete abroad. Public investment in technical and tertiary education produces the skilled workforce that manufacturers and tech firms need. Research and development incentives and targeted tax breaks can catalyse innovation. When put together, these measures make “Made in Nigeria” a credible claim rather than an aspirational slogan.

Cultural exports show how identity and industry reinforce each other. Nollywood, Afrobeats and Nigerian fashion are already conversation starters on global platforms. Our stories, sounds and styles open doors and create curiosity about other Nigerian products, from cosmetics to garments to food. But culture alone needs infrastructure to translate into a sustainable industry. Reliable electricity, efficient logistics, quality control, and access to finance are necessary if our studios, garment makers and creative entrepreneurs are to scale and reach international markets.

Leadership choices about health and education matter immensely. When leaders routinely seek medical care or education abroad because local options are inadequate, it signals a lack of confidence in national institutions. On the other hand, when leaders invest in and use local hospitals, research centres and universities, they show that they have faith in Nigeria’s institutions. That kind of leadership reduces brain drain, strengthens professional ecosystems, and gives citizens tangible reasons to trust and invest in their country.

The Nigerian diaspora is a powerful force for brand-building and investment. Nigerians abroad often act as ambassadors for our culture and products, and they can be mobilised to open new markets, attract capital, and share technical know-how. Governments and businesses should work together to reduce export friction, provide quality certification for exports, and create marketing campaigns that connect local makers with global buyers. Trade missions and partnerships with diaspora networks can energise exports and attract partnerships.

Citizens and the private sector also have roles to play. A sustained “buy local” movement led by consumers can shift demand towards domestic products, and business leaders can partner with vocational schools to create apprenticeship programmes. Local and foreign investors love stable and predictable policy environments. Therefore, when governments genuinely display commitment to industry through clear incentives and infrastructure, investment follows. Small steps by many Nigerians, like choosing local brands, mentoring young entrepreneurs, and supporting vocational training, add up to systemic change.

That does not mean that wearing our indigenous attire should be discarded. No. Symbolism matters. Wearing an agbada at cultural events, honouring traditional artisans, or showcasing local textiles at state functions boosts identity and morale. Such gestures are meaningful and should continue. But symbols without substance can ring hollow. The most lasting patriotism is shown through policies and practices that expand opportunity for millions of citizens: industrial strategies that create manufacturing jobs, education reforms that build skills, and investments in health and infrastructure that improve everyday life.

Measuring progress matters. Concrete indicators help hold leaders accountable. This includes the share of procurement spent locally, manufacturing employment, export volumes, patents filed, and improvements in health and education. The government should set targets and publish results so citizens can judge whether symbolic acts match substance.

Media, schools and civic institutions must echo this expanded patriotism. Teach entrepreneurship and vocational skills. Profile successful manufacturers and innovators. Support public-private pilots for industrial clusters. Patriotism is not a costume contest. It is the discipline of building and choosing to trust and improve our institutions. Let our pride be measured in humming factories, saving hospitals, world-class universities and exported culture and jobs. That is a patriotism worth defending.

Wearing an agbada on a state visit may warm the heart and celebrate our heritage; wearing a suit can ease diplomatic conversation and business relations. Both choices can coexist with a deeper, more consequential patriotism: the deliberate effort to build a nation whose products, institutions and culture the world respects. That is the patriotism Nigeria needs now.

X: @BrandAzuka