Lolu Akinwunmi
Recently, I watched as a celebrated public thief and a known supporter of corruption lecture Nigerians on ethics and integrity.
I was torn between laughing and crying. Was this an act of repentance? Or was it just another performance?
In Nigeria, corruption doesn’t thrive solely on those who partake directly; it’s sustained by a more insidious group: the silent partners, the enablers.
By their quiet complicity, they uphold a culture of impunity that permits the rot to deepen.
This problem isn’t confined to the obvious corrupt politicians, government officials, or private sector opportunists.
It extends to educated and influential individuals who, though they see the wrongdoing, choose to look the other way—or worse, defend, justify, and excuse it. These enablers, often beneficiaries in one form or another, expose a troubling truth: that education and influence don’t always align with integrity.
Their actions weave corruption into the fabric of society, inspiring even the innocent to watch and learn from these “successful” but unethical paths to wealth. Every excuse, spin, silent nod, bewildering defense, and hollow accolade strengthens a system fiercely resistant to reform.
What never ceases to amaze is the hypocrisy. Corrupt individuals and their enablers gather in churches, mosques, exclusive clubs, and, with straight faces, decry, “Corruption has ruined Nigeria,” or “There’s no hope for this country.”
Meanwhile, they indulge in luxury bought with ill-gotten gains, sipping champagne and feasting—ironically, they fuel the very decay they lament.
When we discuss corruption, we tend to point fingers at politicians, civil servants, and corporate players.
Yet, these figures thrive because society not only allows but celebrates them. We offer them front pews in our religious gatherings, award honorary degrees, bestow traditional titles, and name streets after them.
This acceptance has branded us internationally with a culture of impunity—for all the wrong reasons.
This culture has spawned a new generation of young, flamboyant “spiritual leaders” who exploit religious devotion with empty promises, mimicking American “faith preachers” who move in the luxury of Rolls Royces and fly private jets, use armed security et al while preaching that the Lord will keep watch over us. Jokers.
And yet we expect our judges to rise above this and deliver justice, our police to uphold the law, our tax officials to act with integrity, and our election supervisors to ensure “free and fair” elections. Are we not deceiving ourselves? Doesn’t the apple fall close to the tree?
Time and again, we’ve watched once-outspoken union leaders, religious figures, and prominent journalists—the very people we counted on as moral voices—turn into accomplices once invited to the table of sleaze.
Principles are abandoned, hands are soiled, and their figures swell with indulgence as they join the feeding frenzy.
Until we confront this cancer within, we’ll keep doing what we do best: point fingers at others while ignoring our own complicity.
And in doing so, we will continue our descent into the abyss.