Seye Abimbola

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A medical doctor turned academic and editor, Seye Abimbola examines the dynamics of power, knowledge, and equity in health systems. His latest book, The Foreign Gaze: Essays on Global Health1, explores how research often reflects the priorities of those in power, rather than the communities it is meant to serve.

Abimbola spoke to Nature Africa from the University of Sydney, in Australia, where he is a professor of health systems, reflecting on a career that spans medicine, public health, and global health scholarship.

Tell us about your career path.

Midway through medical school in Nigeria, I realised I didn’t want to be a clinician. I had enough time to plan my exit, and I chose public health. I went to the University of Sydney to study epidemiology, then returned to Nigeria to work at the National Primary Health Care Development Agency in Abuja under the executive director, now minister of health, Muhammad Ali Pate. Working there for three years, I saw how international actors could dominate meetings, and how easily local staff deferred to them even when we had better ideas. But I also noticed similar dynamics within the federal agency’s relationship with the communities they worked in.

That tension – being caught between these forms of power – sparked the ideas behind The Foreign Gaze.

What does your current role involve?

My PhD was on how communities govern themselves within Nigeria’s decentralised health system. That led to a full-time academic career in global health and health systems. I research how knowledge flows within these systems, including how decentralisation can empower or constrain local decision-making.

What drives your passion for global health?

Western academia often treats research as a conversation among elite researchers, disconnected from reality. My passion is to challenge that – to ensure research serves communities, not prestige, and to make people think differently about how knowledge is produced and applied.

Did your childhood influence your perspective on health systems?

My mother was a community midwife so I learned early about social determinants of health and how communities act independently to manage their lives. This shaped my understanding of the disconnect between national-level policy and local realities in Nigeria, and the need to centre research and interventions in the lived experiences of people.

How did The Foreign Gaze come together?

The book began as an essay. One chapter started as an editorial in BMJ Global Health, where I served as editor-in-chief from 2015 to 2024, responding to the narrow focus on authorship imbalance in global health research. Elite journals often give middle authorship to local researchers, which carries little power. I agreed with the critique but wanted it to go deeper. The real question is whether research actually serves local communities. If we focus only on authorship, we risk deferring to a ‘foreign gaze,’ where international actors or powerful local entities are disconnected from communities. That central idea became the throughline for the book.

What is the key takeaway from the book?

Those who hold power in public health – international or local – are often removed from the realities of the communities they serve. That recognition should shape decisions and interventions. The most important determinant of health is poverty, yet too often we ignore this. The book asks readers to confront uncomfortable truths and consider their role in addressing them.

How did you approach writing it?

I relied heavily on human stories help people feel the argument, not just think about it. The essays are designed to be persuasive, trying to make readers see themselves and their roles differently, to reflect on the power they wield. I wanted them to think independently, to feel the argument in their hearts, not just their heads.

What was the hardest part of putting the book together?

Convincing myself that the argument had been fully made. There’s a Yoruba saying: “A wise person really has to say half, give half the message.” I wanted the essays to provoke reflection rather than hand out conclusions.

Have you faced backlash for raising these issues?

I’m in a position where I can withstand that, and I feel a responsibility to carry the conversation because others may be more vulnerable. The book is partly to open space for discussions that are otherwise whispered.

What advice would you give to someone thinking of writing a book?

If you find yourself repeatedly explaining something and know there’s a better way to do it, write it down. Don’t expect career rewards – essays that clarify concepts are often work of passion, not measured in metrics. But they’re vital for teaching and shaping the field.