Joining the conversation on school alumni and old boys’ networks in pursuit of an ideal has, in recent days, taken on a fresh intensity, one that is as intellectually stimulating as it is emotionally revealing. A netizen with the username Bento-nite on social media and LinkedIn, Ugo Ben Nwauzor, has ignited a compelling stream of reflections through a series of thought-provoking posts. Beneath his words lies not just commentary, but a palpable urgency, a deep-seated conviction that something essential is being lost, misdirected, or misunderstood in the way alumni associations in Nigeria are conceived and run.
His interventions are not casual observations; they are, in many respects, a deliberate attempt to set an agenda, to provoke scrutiny, and to awaken a consciousness that questions the very soul and purpose of alumni engagement in our society.
In one of his widely circulated pieces titled “Are Nigerian Alumni Associations Losing Their True Purpose?” he poses a deceptively simple yet profoundly unsettling question: are we truly focusing on the right mission? Drawing from his experiences across institutions such as Command Secondary School Jos, King’s College Lagos, the University of Jos, the University of Lagos, and Monash University in Melbourne, he constructs a comparative narrative that places Nigerian alumni structures side by side with their counterparts in more developed societies. In those contexts, alumni networks are not merely social extensions of school life; they are institutional assets, carefully cultivated ecosystems embedded within the strategic framework of educational development. They function as reservoirs of mentorship, funding, influence, and continuity, reinforcing what scholars in organizational theory would describe as institutional capital, a network of enduring relationships that sustain growth and innovation.
Yet, in Nigeria, the story unfolds differently. Alumni associations often emerge organically, driven by passion but lacking structural anchorage within the institutions they seek to serve. Over time, as Ugo observes, this autonomy, initially a strength gradually morphs into a drift. Social engagements begin to overshadow institutional commitments, and what was once envisioned as a platform for impact subtly transforms into a theatre of personal milestones, emotional reconnections, and, at times, political maneuvering. From the lens of sociological theory, particularly Robert Putnam’s concept of social capital, one might argue that these associations excel in “bonding capital” by strengthening internal ties and friendships, but struggle with “bridging capital,” which connects members to broader opportunities and institutional advancement.
The politicization of alumni leadership, as he further notes, introduces another layer of complexity. Titles inflate, contests intensify, and the pursuit of leadership sometimes mirrors the very political systems these associations ought to transcend. Here, Max Weber’s theory of bureaucracy and rational-legal authority becomes relevant: where systems lack formalized structures and clear legitimacy, authority often becomes performative rather than functional, leading to inefficiencies and symbolic rather than substantive leadership.
There is, undeniably, a powerful vision embedded in Ugo’s reflections, a vision of alumni networks as engines of transformation, capable of mentoring future generations, funding innovation, and building enduring institutional legacies. His argument aligns with human capital theory, which posits that education and networks, when effectively harnessed, can yield exponential societal returns. In this idealized framework, alumni are not just former students; they are stakeholders in a continuous cycle of knowledge, opportunity, and reinvestment.
However, while his perspective is rich, informed, and undeniably compelling, it invites a necessary counterbalance, one that situates these aspirations within the socio-economic realities of Nigeria. It is here that the conversation deepens, becoming less about ideals in abstraction and more about feasibility within context. For if theory provides the blueprint, reality often determines the limits of construction.
A closer observation of alumni dynamics in Nigeria reveals a paradox that development economists and sociologists have long examined: the coexistence of high potential and constrained capacity. Many alumni members are not merely participants in these networks out of a desire to give back; rather, they are also seekers, the individuals navigating an economic landscape marked by uncertainty, unemployment, and systemic limitations.This aligns with dependency theory, which suggests that individuals and groups within constrained economies often rely on networks not just for contribution but for survival and mobility.
The past decade, spanning the administrations of former President Muhammadu Buhari and President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, has witnessed prolonged recruitment stagnation across many public institutions. The result is a swelling population of graduates with limited absorption capacity in the labor market. Even as selective waivers for recruitment emerge, they barely scratch the surface of accumulated demand. The consequence is a generation, indeed, multiple generations of alumni who, despite their qualifications, remain in search of economic stability. In such a context, expecting alumni networks to function primarily as sources of funding and institutional support may inadvertently overlook the lived realities of their members.
Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs offers a useful framework here. Before individuals can aspire to self-actualization, manifested in philanthropy, mentorship, and institutional contribution, they must first secure their physiological and safety needs. In a society where many struggle with basic economic security, alumni platforms naturally evolve into spaces of mutual aid, emotional support, and survival networking. What may appear as a deviation from purpose could, in fact, be an adaptive response to systemic pressures.
Empirical findings further illuminate this reality. Reports from institutions such as the World Bank and PwC consistently highlight rising poverty rates, declining household consumption, and increasing vulnerability among large segments of the Nigerian population. The removal of fuel subsidies, for instance, has exacerbated economic strain, pushing more households into precarious conditions. Within such an environment, the frequent calls for assistance in areas like medical bills, funeral contributions, emergency support are not anomalies; they are reflections of a broader socio-economic distress that inevitably permeates alumni spaces.
The burden does not rest solely on younger or unemployed members. Even those considered relatively stable, who are working professionals, retirees, or so-called “ancestors” within alumni groups are often stretched thin by extended family responsibilities and community obligations. The concept of the African extended family system, widely discussed in anthropological literature, underscores this phenomenon: individual income is rarely individual in its application; it is distributed across a web of social expectations and responsibilities.
Thus, the very activities criticized as distractions such as fundraising for personal needs, social gatherings, visible displays of success can also be interpreted through the lens of symbolic interactionism. They are not merely acts of indulgence but expressions shaped by societal norms that equate visibility with success, and success with worth. In a culture where perception often mediates respect and belonging, such behaviors become almost inevitable.
This does not invalidate Ugo’s concerns; rather, it situates them within a more nuanced understanding. The challenge, therefore, is not simply to redirect alumni associations toward institutional goals, but to reconcile aspiration with reality in order to design models that acknowledge economic constraints while gradually building capacity for impact.
Perhaps this is where innovation in approach becomes crucial. Instead of relying on a few financially capable members, a shift toward collective micro-contributions like crowd-based participation could distribute responsibility more equitably. Development studies have long shown that broad-based, small-scale contributions can, when aggregated, yield significant outcomes without imposing undue burden on individuals. It is a model that aligns with both economic pragmatism and social inclusivity.
No doubt, the conversation sparked by Ugo Ben is not just timely; it is necessary. It compels a re-examination of purpose, structure, and expectation. But more importantly, it challenges us to confront a deeper question: can alumni associations in Nigeria become instruments of transformation without first addressing the structural and economic realities that shape the lives of their members?
The answer may not lie in choosing between idealism and realism, but in weaving the two together by crafting a model of alumni engagement that is at once aspirational and grounded, visionary yet responsive, ambitious and humane. For in the end, the strength of any alumni network will not only be measured by what it gives back to institutions, but also by how well it understands and supports the people who constitute it.
Bagudu can be reached via bagudumohammed15197@gmail.com or 07034943575.
