Nigeria, morality on the cross

Nigeria is a country drenched in sunlight yet cloaked in darkness. Not the darkness of failed electricity, though power cuts have become a wearying cliché, but the deeper and more dangerous darkness of dying morality.

The moral fabric of a nation is not torn in a single day. It frays slowly, strand by strand, until one day it gives way completely.

Nigeria today stands dangerously close to that tipping point. From the pulpit to the barracks, from the classrooms to the marketplaces, from the statehouse to the streets, the evidence is unmistakable: morality is on the cross, alongside the conscience of a people who once prided themselves on communal values, integrity, and respect for human life.

Nothing illustrates this descent more chillingly than the recent case of a Nigerian soldier sentenced to death for murdering a man who had given him a ride. The victim’s only crime was kindness.  Yet, instead of showing gratitude, the soldier became a predator. He took the life of his benefactor and stole his car.

It is a crime so heinous, so senseless, that it shocks even a society inured by daily headlines of kidnapping, ritual killings, and political betrayals.

This singular act carries a heavy symbolism: What happens when the soldier’s uniform becomes camouflage for barbarity When the very people sworn to protect life become its greatest threat; when the soldier becomes the thief and the killer, then Nigeria has entered a new, chilling phase of moral inversion.

The story of the murderous soldier is not merely an isolated occurrence; it is symptomatic of a deeper malaise. That crime was not committed in a vacuum. It is part of a widening tapestry of depravity that marks contemporary Nigerian life

While thousands of men and women in uniform serve with distinction, it only takes a few such cases to poison the collective image. For a citizen to fear the soldier as much as, if not more than, the bandit, is a tragedy of historic proportions. It speaks to an institution where discipline has eroded, and where moral restraint no longer holds sway.

That a court-martial sentenced the soldier to death is itself a grim acknowledgment by the state that the institution cannot afford further rot. Yet, justice after the fact does little to comfort a society already numbed by endless streams of hideous crimes. A dead soldier after trial does not restore the life that was taken; nor does it heal the gaping wound of public trust.

But to single out the army would be intellectually dishonest. The truth is that the Nigerian society at large has normalised, even glamorised, depravity. Consider the now-routine phenomenon of ritual killings, where young men murder family members or unsuspecting lovers to procure “spiritual wealth.” In the marketplaces of cities and villages alike, rumours of missing persons linked to organ harvesting circulate with sickening regularity. Even pastors and self-proclaimed prophets have been caught in webs of fraud, exploitation, and abominable rituals.

e perversion is not confined to the underworld. The political class, too, has turned morality upside down. Men and women who loot billions from public coffers are not ostracised but celebrated. They sponsor festivals, sit in the front pews of churches and mosques, and are awarded chieftaincy titles. They are hailed as philanthropists for doling out crumbs from the very loot they stole.

In such an environment, why should a soldier hesitate to kill for a car? Why should a student not cheat in examinations? Why should a young man not believe he can “yahoo” his way to wealth by defrauding strangers abroad? Nigeria has created a culture where the end justifies the means, no matter how depraved those means may be.

At the heart of this crisis is the death of empathy. To kill a man who has offered you a ride requires not only criminal intent but a complete absence of conscience. Empathy, once nurtured by traditional African values of community and kinship, is now a scarce commodity. Poverty and desperation cannot fully explain this collapse. What we are witnessing today is not simply hardship; it is the corrosion of the soul.

This corrosion manifests in chilling ways. Videos circulate on social media of mobs lynching suspected thieves, sometimes on mere suspicion, without trial or investigation. Young men record themselves boasting of ritual exploits. Policemen extort motorists without shame in broad daylight. Religious leaders promise instant miracles for a fee, exploiting the gullible, and threaten repercussions if the greed is not massaged. Each of these acts testifies to a society where morality has not merely eroded but has been replaced by cynicism and brutality.

Morality does not die overnight at the national level; it begins in the smallest units. Nigerian families, once strict in discipline and value transmission, have grown permissive. Parents excuse or even encourage shortcuts, bribing teachers to inflate grades, celebrating children who return home with unexplained wealth, turning a blind eye to their vices. Schools, meant to be sanctuaries of character-building, have become hotbeds of examination malpractice and administrative corruption.

Religious institutions, traditionally the custodians of morality, are no better. Too many pulpits now peddle prosperity without ethics, miracles without sacrifice, wealth without work. What message does it send when a pastor boasts more about private jets than about service to the poor or souls won for the Kingdom? Or when an imam preaches piety on Friday but negotiates corrupt contracts by Monday?

When the family, the school, and the mosque or church all collapse as moral anchors, what remains for the nation? Only a hollow shell where evil festers unchecked.

What emboldens depravity in Nigeria is not merely desperation but impunity. The soldier who killed his benefactor might have believed he could get away with it, just as countless politicians, kidnappers, and fraudsters often do. Justice in Nigeria is notoriously selective and delayed. The rich and powerful are almost always shielded, while the poor face the full weight of the law.

This culture of impunity sends a dangerous message: crime pays, provided you are clever or connected enough. That message has been heard loud and clear by a generation that values “sharpness” over integrity. It is why “419” fraudsters were once celebrated in popular culture, why Internet fraud has been baptised as “hustle,” and why young men unabashedly display wealth with no visible means of livelihood.

When impunity reigns, morality dies.

If Nigeria is to survive as a cohesive entity, it must urgently confront this moral collapse. The sentencing of a murderous soldier is not enough. The problem requires a multi-pronged response.

First, there must be a deliberate revival of moral education. Schools must teach ethics as rigorously as they teach mathematics or English. History, long abandoned, must return, for no society can cultivate morality without a sense of identity and continuity.

Second, religious institutions must reclaim their role as moral beacons rather than prosperity clubs. Sermons must challenge congregations to integrity, compassion, and sacrifice. Leaders must live what they preach.

Third, the justice system must become impartial, swift, and credible. Impunity must end, no matter the social standing of the offender. If soldiers, politicians, and business moguls all face equal accountability, the culture of lawlessness will gradually recede.

Fourth, families must return to discipline. Parents cannot continue outsourcing value formation to social media, Nollywood or peer groups. The home must once again become the first school of morality. Also, taking discipline out of our schools while aping the West has created a brute generation for whom morality means nothing; this must stop forthwith.

Finally, Nigeria’s leaders must model morality. It is sheer hypocrisy to preach against corruption while looting the treasury. Citizens mirror their leaders, and when those in authority embody integrity, the ripple effect spreads downward.

Nigeria stands today at the threshold of anarchy. The story of a soldier killing a benefactor is more than a crime story; it is a metaphor for a nation where goodness is punished and evil is rewarded. If nothing changes, tomorrow’s headlines will be much darker.

But nations are not doomed to their worst instincts. They can choose renewal. Nigeria can yet rekindle the values of empathy, discipline, and communal solidarity that once defined its people. It requires courage from citizens, leaders, and institutions to say “enough” to the culture of depravity.

For if morality or conscience dies completely, Nigeria itself will not be far behind.