Thursday, April 2, 2026
By Abdulazeez Elemonsho
There was a time in Nigeria when safety was not bought, it was free.
Growing up, the poorest communities were often the safest. The masses lived with a kind of freedom that today feels almost unreal. Children played freely in the rain, building castles from sand, laughing without fear. When the moon appeared, families gathered outside to tell stories, fables of animals, wisdom, and tradition. Villages were not just places; they were living communities, filled with joy, simplicity, and connection.
Ironically, it was the wealthy who lived in fear. High walls, locked gates, and security guards defined their lives. The rich protected themselves from armed robbers and urban crime, while the poor found safety in community, familiarity, and trust.
But something has changed suddenly, deeply, and almost silently.
Today, that natural order has been reversed.
The same masses who once lived freely now live in constant uncertainty. Villages that were once peaceful are now vulnerable to violent attacks. Communities are raided, lives are lost, and fear has replaced freedom. Terrorism and insecurity have spread like termites quietly, persistently, and destructively; eating away at the very foundation of the poor.
And yet, the response remains slow.
Government actions often appear reactive rather than decisive. Security structures seem overstretched or unevenly distributed, leaving many communities exposed. What was once a shared national concern is increasingly becoming a burden carried disproportionately by the poor.
In today's Nigeria, safety is no longer a right, it is becoming a privilege.
To feel secure, one must now be financially stable beyond the middle class. Private security, gated environments, and alternative power sources such as solar energy are no longer luxuries, they are necessities for those who can afford them. Meanwhile, the majority struggle with unstable electricity, rising costs of living, and a very limited access to basic infrastructure.
The economic reality has also shifted significantly.
Food prices have increased sharply, making basic nutrition a challenge for many households. Inflation continues to erode purchasing power, and the minimum wage is no longer sufficient to sustain a less than decent standard of living. Employment opportunities are limited, and in all cases, access to jobs depends more on connections than merit.
Small businesses, once the backbone of local economies, are finding it increasingly difficult to survive. Access to finance is restricted, and economic systems often favour those who already have capital and influence. This creates a cycle where wealth remains concentrated, and opportunities for upward mobility become scarce.
At the same time, there is a growing perception that security and institutional protection are unevenly distributed. While affluent individuals can afford private security arrangements, many communities lack adequate protection. This imbalance raises important questions about equity, governance, and national priorities.
The strain is also visible within the security forces themselves.
Many junior personnel face difficult working conditions, with limited resources and significant risks. When losses occur, support systems for their families are often insufficient. This has long-term social consequences, affecting not just individual households but the broader stability of society.
In the midst of these challenges, a cultural shift is also taking place.
Where communities once upheld strong values of integrity and collective responsibility, there is now a growing tolerance for practices that were previously discouraged. Survival has, in many cases, replaced principle. This is not simply a moral issue, it is a reflection of systemic pressure.
Nigeria today stands at a critical point.
The signs of strain are visible across multiple sectors like security, economy, governance, and social structure. Yet, many people have adapted so quickly to these changes that they no longer pause to question them.
This is perhaps the most concerning part:
when abnormal conditions begin to feel normal.
Nigeria is not beyond recovery. The country remains rich in human capital, culture, and potential. However, meaningful progress will require intentional action from leadership, institutions, and citizens alike. It will require a renewed commitment to fairness, accountability, and inclusive development.
Because a nation does not decline overnight.
It changes gradually until one day, the difference becomes impossible to ignore.
Nigeria is changing.
And it is time we all start paying attention.
The system of government we all craved is now the strongest enemy of Nigerian political system.
