There is an old saying, drawn from the 1959 documentary “The Hate That Hate Produced” that cycles of resentment rarely die; they merely reproduce themselves in new forms. The documentary examined how decades of racial oppression in America gave birth to radical resistance movements. But more importantly, it revealed a universal truth: hate breeds more hate, often blinding people to facts, context, and fairness.
In Nigeria today, this pattern is alive and thriving. Our national discourse, particularly around political controversies, shows that most citizens do not choose sides based on logic or evidence, but on a deep-seated emotional alignment that has been shaped by previous grievances. We rarely interrogate issues; rather, we attack personalities. We don’t analyze events; we inherit sentiments. The result is that public opinion in Nigeria is often less a reflection of truth and more a reflection of accumulated bitterness.
This dynamic became especially visible during the recent altercation between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Nyesom Wike, and Lt. Yerima, the naval officer who stood his ground while carrying out a direct order from his superior. The public reaction was swift, heated, and telling. Overnight, Lt. Yerima became a national hero, the face of “standing up to power,” while Wike became the villain of the moment.
But many of those who swore loyalty to Yerima were not doing so because they had objectively assessed the institutional hierarchy, the chain of command, or the duties of a Minister acting on behalf of the Commander-in-Chief. No. They were reacting to an older, deeper dislike for Wike; stemming from his political battles in Rivers State, his famed clash with Governor Sim Fubara, and the perception that he contributed to destabilizing the PDP in ways that impacted national politics.
In other words: the hate they hurled at Wike was produced by the hate they believed he produced in others.
A perfect Nigerian adaptation of Lomax and Wallace’s thesis.
It did not matter to these commentators that, in that particular moment, Wike was on official assignment; nor did they care that the Minister represents the President, whose instructions supersede those of Yerima’s commanding officer. Once hate enters the bloodstream of public sentiment, context becomes irrelevant; facts lose their power; and judgement becomes clouded by emotion.
The 19th century German Philosopher Friedrich Hebbel once warned: “In a controversy, the instant we feel anger, we have already ceased striving for the truth and begun striving only for ourselves.”
This was precisely the case. The outrage was not about the incident, it was about the man. Nigerians were not defending Yerima; they were denouncing Wike. And the incident simply became a convenient stage upon which old resentments were reenacted.
To be clear, we have every right to critique our leaders. Public accountability is the heartbeat of democracy. But when criticisms are propelled not by reason but by recycled resentment, we lose the ability to analyze issues objectively. Our emotions take the driver’s seat, and our civic judgement bows to the theatre of bias.
This emotional bigotry around political figures is now a staple of Nigeria’s socio-political landscape. People no longer evaluate issues; they evaluate personalities. They don’t ask, “What happened?” They ask, “Who is involved?” And depending on their pre-existing love or hatred for that person, their verdict is predetermined.
As the French thinker Joseph Joubert once said: “The aim of argument is truth, not victory.”
Yet in our current clime, the aim of argument has long since shifted. It is now about settling old scores, protecting political saints, or punishing perceived sinners.
This is why many citizens who opposed Wike’s handling of Rivers State politics automatically sided with Yerima, regardless of the legal or administrative realities. Their anger from the Rivers crisis bled into a new, unrelated scenario. And thus, the cycle continued: hate producing more hate, each layer feeding the next.
But we must confront this tendency with honesty. A nation cannot grow when its citizens approach public issues through the lens of emotional baggage. We cannot build a just society when our opinions are drafted by past grievances. And we cannot nurture democratic maturity if we applaud institutional insubordination today simply because we dislike the official on the receiving end, only to cry foul when the same principle is misused tomorrow.
Nigeria desperately needs civic sobriety, a political culture where citizens evaluate incidents impersonally, separate issues from individuals, and resist the seductive power of emotional bandwagoning.
To break the cycle, we must acknowledge a simple truth:
The hate we recycle today is the hate that will consume us tomorrow.
Let Nigerians disagree… Yes, but let us disagree with reason and with fairness. Because until we learn to separate personal feelings from public judgement, the nation will remain trapped in an endless loop of emotional reactions masquerading as political analysis.
Or as the documentary, which formed the title of this piece taught us many decades ago:
When hate becomes a lens, truth becomes invisible.
May daylight spare us!
Jude Eze.
