We live in a country where contradiction has become a coping mechanism. Where the truth of our lives—our hardship, our frustration, our unmet needs—sits quietly beside our loyalty to the very people and systems that created that pain. Somehow, we’ve learned to compartmentalize everything: what we know, what we feel, what we believe, and what we do. We’ve convinced ourselves these parts of our lives don’t need to align.

We say we want good roads, but we openly support politicians who have done nothing to build them. We talk about how unbearable the cost of living has become, yet we retweet and amplify the voices of those who engineered the policies that worsened it. We complain about hunger and rising prices, yet we celebrate leaders under whose watch the economy collapsed. When someone tries to draw the link between our hardship and the decisions that caused it, we fall back on that tired excuse: “It’s not that simple.”

But it is. It really is.

We Know Why Things Are Hard, But We Don’t Want to Admit It

We’re not suffering by accident. The cost of food didn’t rise out of nowhere. Inflation didn’t just fall from the sky. Our roads didn’t disappear overnight, and our hospitals didn’t suddenly become death traps. There are decisions—deliberate decisions—behind these failures. And we know who made them.

Yet instead of holding those responsible to account, we find ways to justify, excuse, or ignore. We separate our personal pain from political accountability. Why? Because someone we know got appointed to a board. Because our cousin works in Abuja now. Because the suffering hasn’t touched us as deeply as it has others—or at least not yet.

This is how we silence our conscience: by making excuses for the people we believe we’re connected to. Not because their policies helped us, but because we want to believe we’re on the winning side. Because someone from our community got a slice of the pie, we act like the whole country is being fed.

Ask Yourself: Is Your Life Better Than It Was?

This is the most important question. Forget the slogans. Forget the political parties. Forget the rhetoric. Ask yourself, honestly: Is your life better than it was before these people came into power?

If it’s not, why are you defending them?

Why are you silent while policies continue to crush your reality? Why are you giving your voice to people who have proven, again and again, that they don’t care about your life beyond your vote?

This refusal to connect our lived experience to those in power is the root of our national stagnation. We’ve created a culture where truth and responsibility have been divorced from each other. We claim to hate corruption, yet we worship corrupt leaders if they’re from our region. We say we want justice, yet we protect wrongdoers if they belong to our circle. We pretend to want change, but only when it doesn’t inconvenience our comfort or challenge our loyalties.

Selective Outrage Is Killing the Country

We speak up, but only when it’s convenient. We demand accountability, but only from people we don’t like. We criticise corruption, but only when the corrupt are on the other side of the aisle. We cheer for reforms, but only when they benefit our friends.

This is not how societies improve. No country in the world has made progress with people who are afraid to confront the truth. Real change requires honesty—especially when that honesty makes us uncomfortable. It means admitting when our leaders have failed, even if we once supported them. It means calling out bad decisions, even if our friends made them. It means recognising that what benefits a few individuals does not translate to national prosperity.

Power Shouldn’t Blind You to the Truth

There’s something intoxicating about feeling close to power. Even if we’re not directly benefiting, we still like to feel like we’re part of something bigger—something important. That’s why so many defend policies that don’t serve them. It’s not about the outcomes; it’s about identity. We defend failure just to feel like insiders.

But that’s a dangerous game. Power is supposed to serve the people, not hypnotise them. If your leaders are hurting you, it doesn’t matter where they come from or who they know—it’s your right and duty to speak up. Loyalty to a person or a party should never come before loyalty to truth.

It’s Time to Stop Looking Away

We’ve spent years normalising contradiction. We act like we can live in chaos and still expect order. Like we can suffer in silence and still dream of progress. But silence isn’t neutral—it’s a choice. A choice that allows bad governance to thrive.

If the economy is broken, say so. If health care has failed, say so. If your leaders aren’t leading, say so. Stop filtering your outrage through tribal, political, or emotional lenses. Stop pretending that your hardship isn’t connected to political failure. Stop giving your loyalty to people who have proven they don’t deserve it.

Because every time you defend failure, you reinforce it. Every time you stay quiet in the face of injustice, you enable it. Every time you say “It’s not that simple,” you help maintain a system built on excuses and impunity.

Speak Now, or Suffer More Later

We cannot continue to separate our reality from the decisions that shape it. The longer we pretend that governance and daily life are unrelated, the deeper the suffering will go. Nothing will improve if we keep lying to ourselves about who is responsible.

The country won’t get better on its own. There’s no miracle coming. It starts with citizens who are brave enough to say, “This isn’t working,” and demand better. It starts with telling the truth, even when it costs something. It starts with choosing principles over proximity to power.

If your life is worse today than it was before, stop defending the people who made it that way.

Speak. Stand. Challenge. Change. Because pretending doesn’t protect you. It only prolongs the pain.