In Nigeria, truth is rarely evaluated on its own merit—it is judged by who says it and where they come from. Tribalism, religious bias, and political alignment have become the lenses through which we see everything, even injustice.
A recent case involving a female senator proved this yet again. Her defenders came from across the country, united by perceived fairness. Her critics? Mostly drawn from regions loyal to certain power blocs—more concerned with allegiance than truth. And let’s be clear: most of these positions are political—either directly or indirectly.
Today, there’s uproar over alleged lopsided appointments favouring the South. It is a legitimate concern. But where were these voices during the last administration, when the North dominated federal appointments? Back then, silence was golden. Now, outrage is fashionable. In Nigeria, protest is not always about principle—it’sU often about political positioning.
When fuel subsidies were removed and hardship intensified, those most affected defended the pain—not out of understanding, but because it came from “their own.” During End SARS, a national call for reform was downplayed—not because it lacked merit, but because of who led it and where the movement drew strength.
This is Nigeria’s tragedy: people defend oppression as long as it wears their tribe’s face—or carries their party’s flag. They justify injustice, not because it is right, but because it serves their interest or threatens their rivals.
Not every slave hates his chains.
Some decorate theirs with tribal embroidery.
Some don’t seek justice—they want a turn at injustice.
Some don’t want freedom—they want familiar bondage.
Until we rise above tribal reflexes and political loyalty, and start demanding justice for all—regardless of who is in power—we will remain captives in our own country… clapping for our chains.
Abu can be reached via danjumaabu3750@gmail.com or +2348062380296
