THE TRAGEDY OF A NATION THAT EMPOWERS ITS OWN OPPRESSORS
By Chris Okobah, PhD
Every morning, before the noise of the world competes for my attention, I kneel before God and offer two simple but profound prayers.
The first is for His divine protection. I ask Him to shield my family, preserve my life, and order my steps in a world filled with uncertainty.
The second prayer is one born not merely from faith but from experience.
I ask God to reveal my enemies.
Not because I desire revenge. Not because I seek their downfall. But because the most dangerous enemy is never the one who openly declares war against you. The most dangerous enemy is the one who smiles while quietly digging your grave. The one who shakes your hand while plotting your destruction. The one who convinces you that your suffering is normal while profiting from your pain.
An enemy you cannot identify is an enemy you cannot escape.
Yet, every election season in Nigeria, millions of our fellow citizens appear to pray a completely different prayer.
Instead of asking God to expose those who have repeatedly betrayed their trust, they embrace them.
Instead of rejecting those who have supervised decades of poverty, insecurity, corruption, unemployment, collapsing schools, failing hospitals, and hopelessness, they celebrate them with songs, dancing, and deafening applause.
Instead of running away from those who have consistently wounded the nation, they hand them greater authority.
It is as though an entire nation is saying to those responsible for its misery:
“Take these tools. Continue to determine our destiny. Continue to impoverish our children. Continue to mortgage our future.”
Nothing captures the tragedy of Nigeria more painfully than this.
We have become a nation where victims passionately defend those they accuse of victimizing them.
A nation where the oppressed sometimes become the greatest protectors of oppression.
History has repeatedly shown that tyranny does not survive merely because rulers are powerful.
It survives because too many people become accustomed to their chains.
For decades, many politicians have mastered the science of manipulation.
They understand our fears.
They understand our divisions.
They understand our poverty.
They know exactly when to invoke ethnicity, when to inflame religion, when to distribute bags of rice, when to share a few banknotes, and when to make grand promises they have absolutely no intention of keeping.
Election campaigns become festivals of deception.
Manifestoes become collections of forgotten promises.
Public service becomes private enrichment.
Politics becomes the fastest route to extraordinary wealth.
Meanwhile, ordinary Nigerians continue to bear the unbearable.
The farmer watches his harvest disappear because insecurity has made the farms unsafe.
The graduate submits hundreds of job applications only to discover that merit has been replaced by political connections.
Parents deny themselves food so their children can eat.
Hospitals lack essential equipment.
Schools produce graduates who are prepared for examinations but unprepared for life.
Young professionals leave the country in search of opportunities that should exist at home.
Entire communities remain without electricity, clean water, quality healthcare, or decent roads despite billions allocated for development.
Still, many citizens passionately defend those who presided over these failures.
Some are prepared to insult lifelong friends because of politicians.
Others destroy relationships over political parties.
Some even threaten violence for leaders who would not recognize them if they met on the street.
Perhaps the greatest achievement of bad leadership is not corruption itself.
It is convincing the victims to defend their own oppression.
Nigeria is blessed beyond imagination.
Our land is rich.
Our people are gifted.
Our entrepreneurs are among the most resilient in the world.
Our young people continue to excel globally in medicine, technology, engineering, law, academia, sports, business, and the creative industries.
The tragedy has never been a shortage of talent.
It has been a shortage of honest leadership, accountable institutions, and citizens willing to demand both.
Corruption is no longer viewed merely as a crime.
Too often, it appears to have become a ladder to greater influence.
Public officials accused of monumental financial misconduct continue to enjoy political relevance.
Some are rewarded with higher offices.
Some receive standing ovations at political gatherings.
Some are celebrated as statesmen before serious allegations against them are ever resolved.
The message this sends to young Nigerians is devastating.
It suggests that integrity is optional.
That honesty is naïve.
That public office exists to enrich individuals rather than serve the public.
No nation can flourish under such a dangerous value system.
Equally troubling is another painful contradiction.
Nigeria is among the most religious societies in the world.
Our skylines are decorated with magnificent churches and beautiful mosques.
Prayer meetings fill stadiums.
Religious gatherings attract millions.
Yet, despite our visible religiosity, poverty continues to crush millions of families.
Many worshippers struggle to feed their children.
Graduates remain unemployed.
Widows cry silently.
Young people lose hope.
While many religious leaders faithfully serve their communities with integrity, there is also a troubling tendency in some quarters to celebrate wealth without asking difficult questions about accountability, governance, justice, and the suffering of ordinary people.
Too often, influential politicians occupy places of honour while struggling citizens occupy the back rows.
Faith should comfort the afflicted.
Faith should challenge injustice.
Faith should remind those in authority that power belongs ultimately to God and that leadership is a sacred trust, not a personal inheritance.
Likewise, institutions created to fight corruption must earn public confidence by demonstrating impartiality, professionalism, courage, and consistency.
Justice must never depend on influence.
The law must never recognise political status before recognising truth.
Above all, Nigeria must rediscover the value of citizenship.
Democracy is not merely the freedom to vote.
It is the responsibility to vote wisely.
Every ballot cast is either an investment in the future or a mortgage placed upon it.
Every election is a decision about the kind of nation our children will inherit.
We cannot repeatedly elect those we believe have failed us and then express surprise when failure continues.
We cannot reward incompetence and expect excellence.
We cannot glorify corruption and expect prosperity.
We cannot trade our conscience for temporary gifts and expect permanent progress.
The future we desire cannot be built on yesterday’s mistakes.
There comes a moment in the life of every nation when silence becomes betrayal.
When excuses become dangerous.
When neutrality becomes complicity.
Perhaps Nigeria has reached that moment.
Our destiny will not ultimately be decided by politicians.
It will be decided by citizens.
The ballot paper remains stronger than the bullet.
The vote remains more powerful than propaganda.
The conscience of one determined citizen is more valuable than a thousand political slogans.
The Nigeria of our dreams is still possible.
But it will never emerge until Nigerians stop treating politics as entertainment and begin treating it as the most important civic responsibility they possess.
The day we reject ethnic manipulation…
The day we refuse to exchange our future for temporary inducements…
The day competence becomes more important than tribe…
The day integrity becomes more valuable than political patronage…
The day we demand accountability instead of empty promises…
That is the day Nigeria’s resurrection will begin.
Until then, we must continue asking ourselves the question that echoes through every generation:
When will this end?
Perhaps the answer does not lie in our politicians.
Perhaps it has always been waiting in the mirror.
Chris OkobahPhD
Award wining author
www.chrisokobahbook.com
