The Cult of Wealth and the Death of Dignity
Nigeria has become a nation of barbarians, Odilim declares, where money reigns as a deity and integrity is a relic. “No one asks how you made it—only how much,” he writes. Steal billions, and you’re hailed as “Boss.” Speak truth, and you’re dismissed as unhinged. This is a land where criminals are crowned, con men dominate headlines, and pastors bow to thieves while scholars scrounge for survival.
Nigeria has become a nation of barbarians, Odilim declares, where money reigns as a deity and integrity is a relic. “No one asks how you made it—only how much,” he writes. Steal billions, and you’re hailed as “Boss.” Speak truth, and you’re dismissed as unhinged. This is a land where criminals are crowned, con men dominate headlines, and pastors bow to thieves while scholars scrounge for survival.
The evidence is everywhere. Social media, once a platform for ideas, is now a stage for sorrow—a parade of “clowns in designer suits” flaunting cars they can’t spell, alongside curated lives steeped in vanity. Their children, Odilim notes, are groomed to inherit not values but shamelessness. Meanwhile, the voices of heroes—those daring to challenge the status quo—are silenced, mocked, or erased entirely.
A Nation Misread
Odilim draws parallels to global narratives of decline, citing A Nation in Crisis by Larry Bates and All the Devils Are Here by Bethany McLean. These books, written about Western struggles, feel eerily prophetic in Nigeria’s context. Here, “devils in agbada” masquerade as leaders, wielding mangled English and titles like “Excellency” while occupying hallowed chambers. Their laws don’t protect the people—they shield looters and their conspirators.
Odilim draws parallels to global narratives of decline, citing A Nation in Crisis by Larry Bates and All the Devils Are Here by Bethany McLean. These books, written about Western struggles, feel eerily prophetic in Nigeria’s context. Here, “devils in agbada” masquerade as leaders, wielding mangled English and titles like “Excellency” while occupying hallowed chambers. Their laws don’t protect the people—they shield looters and their conspirators.
This is not the Nigeria envisioned by its forebears. Odilim invokes the ancestors, who “would not merely cringe—they would curse.” They died believing in a future of progress, but what stands today is a “palace of thieves,” where the crooked rule and the righteous flee.
A House on the Brink
The nation’s economy, tethered to vanishing oil wealth, has no Plan B. Industry is absent, vision is nonexistent, and shame is a foreign concept. Instead, Nigeria churns out noise—fake degrees, political theater, and corporate scams—all fueled by a desperate hunger for relevance in a world driven by intelligence and innovation. As artificial intelligence reshapes global economies, Nigeria, Odilim warns, clings to the delusion that it can “dance its way out of ignorance.”
The nation’s economy, tethered to vanishing oil wealth, has no Plan B. Industry is absent, vision is nonexistent, and shame is a foreign concept. Instead, Nigeria churns out noise—fake degrees, political theater, and corporate scams—all fueled by a desperate hunger for relevance in a world driven by intelligence and innovation. As artificial intelligence reshapes global economies, Nigeria, Odilim warns, clings to the delusion that it can “dance its way out of ignorance.”
The consequences are dire. A collapsing Nigeria won’t just harm itself—it will ripple across the globe. “The world will pay,” Odilim writes, “one refugee boat at a time. One terrorist cell at a time. One famine at a time.”
A Funeral Hymn for a Nation
This is not a warning, Odilim insists—it’s a requiem. Nigeria is bleeding, and no one is staunching the wound. Instead, the nation claps for its executioners, adorning T-shirts with their faces and chanting their names while they dismantle the future. The country has embarked on a voyage with no return, leaving only echoes of what could have been.
This is not a warning, Odilim insists—it’s a requiem. Nigeria is bleeding, and no one is staunching the wound. Instead, the nation claps for its executioners, adorning T-shirts with their faces and chanting their names while they dismantle the future. The country has embarked on a voyage with no return, leaving only echoes of what could have been.
Yet, even in this bleak diagnosis, Odilim’s prose crackles with urgency, daring readers to confront the truth. For stakeholders—policymakers, business leaders, and citizens alike—this is a clarion call. Nigeria stands at a crossroads. Will it continue its descent into chaos, or can it reclaim the promise of its past?
The answer lies in the choices made today. But time, Odilim warns, is running out.
Basil Odilim is a Nigerian writer and social critic whose work explores the intersections of culture, politics, and morality. His latest book, Echoes of a Lost Nation, is forthcoming.
