The way forward must begin with a change in how we view morality. We need to stop separating our values into two conflicting codes. Integrity must be applied consistently, whether someone is dealing with government funds or mosque donations. We must stop celebrating those who loot public resources and start demanding the same standards in all areas of life. We must no longer confuse generosity with virtue or silence with support.
I recently heard about someone I know who got arrested after trying to outsmart a bank. He walked into the banking hall, wrote a cheque for N100,00, and successfully cashed it. At that moment, the bank was unable to immediately debit the funds from his account. Realising this delay, he left the bank and quickly used a POS service to withdraw another N100,000. Now holding N200,000, he believed he had beaten the system. But the bank acted swiftly, and police officers were sent to arrest him. The moment he was picked up, he began looking for people to come to his rescue. I believe such people must go through the process and learn from the consequences of their actions. What struck me most, however, was how someone with that level of calculation and presence of mind could have lived a far more impactful life if he had used his ingenuity in a positive and constructive way. It is one of the many ironies of our society that brilliance is often wasted on deception, rather than to create value.
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This story is not isolated. In another instance, I was told about a WhatsApp group of former secondary school classmates that I no longer belong to. From time to time, the group is mobilised to “rescue” a former classmate who has found himself in trouble, often self-inflicted. One such case involved a former classmate who had been caught stealing a significant amount of money and was eventually locked up for this. The discussion in the group was not about the crime he committed or the moral wrong he had done. Instead, it focused entirely on how classmates should come together to rescue him. Nobody asked the right questions. No one spoke about the offense, the breach of trust or the consequences of theft. It was as if stealing was a minor inconvenience, not a serious issue.
This silence reflects something deeper, which is a societal tolerance for certain forms of wrongdoing, particularly when they involve institutions. Perhaps the money was stolen from a workplace or a government office. In our thinking, those are places where morality need not apply. To make matters more ironic, if someone involved in gathering the rescue funds were later found to have taken a portion for themselves, that person would likely be cast aside and condemned more harshly than the person who was originally jailed for stealing. This shows the split in our moral expectations, where we excuse theft in one sphere, but demand purity in another.
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A person may embezzle public funds, yet would be celebrated when he returns to his village to build a mosque, a church or even a community centre. The origin of the wealth is not questioned. What matters is that he gave back. Once the project is complete, the very same community will demand honesty from those managing the facility. The money used to build the mosque may be from corruption, but anyone caught mismanaging mosque funds will be called a disgrace.
Nigerian sociologist, late Professor Peter Ekeh provided an explanation for this behaviour in his landmark 1975 essay, where he introduced the theory of the two publics. According to Ekeh, African societies operate within two moral frameworks. The first is the civic public, which includes the state, government institutions and formal structures. In this realm, morality is largely absent. Stealing from public funds, inflating contracts and collecting kickbacks are seen as normal, even smart actions. A person who refuses to engage in such practices is often considered naive or even foolish. The second framework is the primordial public, which includes communities based on kinship, religion, ethnicity and other traditional affiliations. In this realm, people are expected to uphold moral standards, to be generous, honest and accountable. This is where the contradiction becomes glaring.
A person may embezzle public funds, yet would be celebrated when he returns to his village to build a mosque, a church or even a community centre. The origin of the wealth is not questioned. What matters is that he gave back. Once the project is complete, the very same community will demand honesty from those managing the facility. The money used to build the mosque may be from corruption, but anyone caught mismanaging mosque funds will be called a disgrace. Churches are not exempt from this dynamic.
We see this contradiction every day. A well-known mosque in Nigeria was built largely with funds donated by a man accused of corruption during his time in public service. Worshippers do not ask questions about where the money came from. But the same worshippers would never tolerate a single kobo being misused by those entrusted with the mosque’s finances. The same applies to churches, town unions and school associations. Someone who lives far beyond his legitimate means may be regarded as a pillar of the community, even as he continues to benefit from a broken moral code in his professional life.
We excuse immorality when it comes from someone close to us. We justify theft if it benefits our community. We call on classmates to defend someone who stole, but would frown at anyone who misuses money raised to help him. We are quick to forgive the big thief but incite mob action against the small one. This kind of moral confusion is one of the reasons Africa struggles with governance and development.
Ekeh believed this moral duality was unique to Africa. But over the years, other scholars have found similar patterns in other black communities in places like Papua New Guinea. Even Ekeh later acknowledged that this two-tiered morality may be more widespread than he initially thought. Then again, Nigerian-American historian, Professor Toyin Falola, recently argued that Nigeria has gone even further. While Ekeh’s theory, at least, acknowledged morality in the primordial sphere, Falola suggests that Nigeria now suffers from a total collapse of morality in both spheres. Not only do we tolerate dishonesty in public life, but we also allow it to creep into our religious and communal spaces.
This has led to a dangerous normalisation of wrongdoing. People no longer feel a consistent obligation to act with integrity. We excuse immorality when it comes from someone close to us. We justify theft if it benefits our community. We call on classmates to defend someone who stole, but would frown at anyone who misuses money raised to help him. We are quick to forgive the big thief but incite mob action against the small one. This kind of moral confusion is one of the reasons Africa struggles with governance and development. When morality is flexible and context-based, trust disappears. People lose faith in institutions, in leadership and in one another. In the end, no part of society is left standing on a firm moral foundation.
The way forward must begin with a change in how we view morality. We need to stop separating our values into two conflicting codes. Integrity must be applied consistently, whether someone is dealing with government funds or mosque donations. We must stop celebrating those who loot public resources and start demanding the same standards in all areas of life. We must no longer confuse generosity with virtue or silence with support. Until we unite our moral standards into one clear and consistent code, our institutions will remain weak, and our progress will be slow. Development is not just about policies or programmes. It is also about what we accept and what we reject as a society.
Mohammed Dahiru Aminu ([email protected]) wrote from Abuja, Nigeria.
