THE COST OF LOOKING AWAY
When Silence Becomes a National Habit
By Shae Bebeyi @ Curiously Yours Arena
There is a dangerous question Nigeria must ask itself: Are we victims of bad leadership, or have we also become participants in the culture that sustains it?
It is easy to blame the politician. It is harder to examine the citizen.
We complain about corruption while sometimes looking for the “right person” to help us bypass the system. We condemn electoral malpractice but celebrate politicians who distribute money on election day. We complain about poor leadership but defend incompetence when the offender is “our own.” We demand justice until justice threatens someone we know.
Perhaps our greatest problem is not simply that wrong things happen. It is that we have become remarkably good at finding reasons to excuse them.
We see the pothole and drive past it. We hear about stolen public funds and say, “What can I do?” We know a child is being cheated by a broken education system, but because the child is not ours, we look away. We hear of insecurity somewhere else and feel safe—until the violence reaches our street.
But national problems do not respect private boundaries.
The corruption we ignore today can become the hospital that cannot treat us tomorrow. The institution we allow to collapse may become the institution we desperately need tomorrow. The criminality we excuse because the criminal is “our person” may eventually produce a victim in our own family.
What we tolerate in the public space eventually enters the private space.
And perhaps that is the greatest cost of looking away.
We have created a dangerous vocabulary of excuses: “It is not my business.” “Everybody does it.” “That is how Nigeria works.” “If I don’t take it, someone else will.” “At least he is our man.”
But when did survival become an excuse for surrendering our conscience?
When did loyalty become more important than truth?
When did belonging to a political party, ethnic group, religious community or social circle become permission to defend the indefensible?
A society begins to decay when people stop asking whether something is right and start asking only whether it benefits their side.
That is how corruption becomes culture.
That is how impunity becomes normal.
That is how citizens become spectators in the destruction of their own country.
We should also be careful with the word “silence.” Silence is not always wisdom. Sometimes silence is fear. Sometimes it is exhaustion. Sometimes it is helplessness. And sometimes it is complicity.
A professional who sees malpractice and remains silent. A community that knows criminals but protects them. A political supporter who defends wrongdoing because it was committed by his party. A religious follower who refuses to question misconduct because the offender is a respected leader.
What are these, if not different expressions of the same national sickness?
Yet the responsibility does not belong to citizens alone.
A society cannot demand extraordinary courage from ordinary people while allowing institutions to punish those who speak truth. Whistleblowers need protection. Journalists need freedom. Law enforcement must be trusted. Courts must be credible. Public officials must understand that accountability is not persecution.
Citizens must speak, but institutions must listen.
Otherwise, we are merely asking courageous people to shout into a deaf system.
Nigeria does not lack people who know what is wrong. We lack enough people who are prepared to confront what is wrong when confrontation becomes inconvenient.
That is the uncomfortable truth.
We want good governance, but are we good citizens?
We want honest leaders, but do we reward honesty when it costs us something?
We want justice, but are we prepared to demand justice when the offender is our friend, relative, benefactor or political ally?
We want a better Nigeria, but are we willing to become better participants in Nigeria?
Every society eventually pays for what it tolerates.
The bill may arrive as insecurity. It may arrive as unemployment, poverty, failing schools, broken hospitals, corruption, environmental disasters or a generation that has stopped believing that integrity pays.
And when that bill arrives, we may discover that we were not innocent spectators after all.
We were there.
We saw it.
We knew it.
And we looked away.
Nigeria does not need citizens who are permanently angry. It needs citizens who are permanently awake.
Awake enough to question.
Awake enough to refuse.
Awake enough to report.
Awake enough to vote beyond sentiment.
Awake enough to hold our own side accountable.
Awake enough to understand that patriotism is not defending everything Nigeria does. Patriotism is having the courage to insist that Nigeria can do better.
The pothole is ours.
The school is ours.
The hospital is ours.
The institution is ours.
The democracy is ours.
The future is ours.
So is the responsibility.
Perhaps the question is no longer, “Who is destroying Nigeria?”
Perhaps the more uncomfortable question is: “What am I permitting to continue because I have chosen to look away?”
Because sometimes a nation does not collapse because evil becomes too powerful.
Sometimes, it collapses because too many good people decide that confronting evil is too inconvenient.
And the cost of looking away is that, eventually, there may be nowhere left to look.
The big question is “Are we victims of bad leadership, or have we also become participants in the culture that sustains it?”
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(DEMOCRACY NEWSLINE NEWSPAPER 9TH AUGUST, 2026)
