There is an old saying that when the fish begins to rot, it starts from the head. In today’s Nigeria, particularly in the South-East, the stench of failed leadership and manipulative religion is no longer something we can ignore. The rise of money rituals—infamously dubbed “Okeite”—among Igbo youths is not just a matter of moral collapse; it is a mirror reflecting the deeper rot within governance and the abuse of religion.
Submissions made by different religious leaders and stakeholders during the 2025 South-East Colloquium on “The Rise of Neo-Religious Practices, Self-Acclaimed Prophets, Ndi Eze-Nwoke and Ndi-Eze-Nwanyi; their effects on Ndi Igbo, their Faith and Traditional Ethos” on Friday in Enugu are both damning and eye-opening.
Bishop Godfrey Onah did not mince words when he declared that bad governance is the fertile soil upon which manipulative religion flourishes. He is right. A government that cannot provide jobs, cannot secure lives, and cannot guarantee a future for its young people leaves them clutching at straws. In their desperation, some fall prey to smooth-talking prophets who sell hope like counterfeit drugs—sweet to the taste but deadly in effect.
It is no surprise then that poverty and despair have driven young people into the arms of false prophets and the grip of strange practices. When the table of leadership is set with crumbs, youths will scavenge from the dustbin of desperation. They are told that wealth can be conjured through charms, rituals, and blood sacrifices. In the absence of opportunity, these lies sound like music to hungry ears.
But government alone cannot bear all the blame. The pulpit, once the sanctuary of truth, has become a stage for theatrics. Many religious leaders, rather than preaching sacrifice and contentment, now promise miracle bank alerts, instant jobs, and breakthrough marriages. They bind demons on Sunday, only to unleash greed on Monday. Bishop Onah hit the nail on the head: religion has been reduced to a game of casting and binding until congregants, disillusioned, turn away to invent their own idols.
And what of our traditional and cultural gatekeepers? Dr. Oliver Aba of the Methodist Church exposed another bitter truth—many traditional and religious leaders endorse wealth without asking where it came from. Like watchmen who sleep on duty, they applaud flashy cars and mansions without questioning the bloodstains that financed them. When evil is applauded, what incentive remains for good?
Professor Sam Amadi rightly noted that this trend is not merely a religious fad but a cultural distortion. Igbo society once celebrated integrity, hard work, and communal pride. Today, wealth—no matter how ill-gotten—has been enthroned as king. The church, once the custodian of moral formation, has surrendered its authority to prosperity preachers and neo-pagan practices. A society that worships money without conscience should not be surprised when its youths exchange morality for morgues.
The danger is not abstract; it is already around us. Bishop Christopher Edeh warned that these self-invented religions are eroding values, fueling insecurity, and normalizing kidnappings and ritual killings. When neighbors become targets, when blood becomes currency, when rituals replace honest labor, then the very soul of a people is at risk.
The truth is bitter, but it must be swallowed: both government and religion have failed the youth. One has failed to create pathways to survival, while the other has failed to guide souls toward truth. Together, they have left the youth vulnerable to deception and destruction.
Governor Peter Mbah spoke about accountability and meritocracy, promising to punish offenders. Noble words, yes, but Nigerians have heard enough of promises. What the youth need are not more speeches but tangible opportunities—jobs that restore dignity, schools that shape futures, and policies that offer hope instead of despair. Empty rhetoric cannot compete with the loud promises of false prophets.
The Igbo nation, and Nigeria at large, stand at a dangerous crossroads. The choice is clear: either revive our cultural pride and stigmatize ill-gotten wealth or continue to dance to the drumbeat of destruction. We cannot clap for thieves in the daytime and cry for justice at night. We cannot exalt prosperity without process and then lament when our children embrace shortcuts to the grave.
If leadership fails to act decisively, the future will be held hostage by a generation deceived into thinking that bloodshed is a ladder to success. And when that day comes, the cries of widows, orphans, and victims will echo not just against the youths who carried out the rituals, but against the leaders—political, religious, and traditional—who laid the foundation for this tragedy.
It is time to speak truth to power. Governance must rise above corruption, religion must return to truth, and society must restore integrity. Otherwise, we are merely painting cracks while the house collapses. The youth are not the problem—they are the victims. The real problem lies with those entrusted to lead but chose instead to mislead.
Stanley Ugagbe is a seasoned journalist with a passion for exposing social issues and advocating for justice. With years of experience in the media industry, he has written extensively on governance, human rights, and societal challenges, crafting powerful narratives that inspire change. He can be reached via stanleyakomeno@gmail.com
