The entitlement mentality is not natural to Nigerians. It is the product of decades of corruption and the silent agreement between thieves and receivers. It thrives on guilt, poverty, false morality, and helplessness. And it is not permanent, because with moral clarity and firm accountability, the cycle can be broken. Nigerians must stop asking for crumbs and start demanding justice and real development. Until that shift happens, the dirty dance between thief and receiver will continue, and the country will keep sinking under the weight of its own deception.
Nigeria’s greatest burden is not only the corruption of its leaders but also the mindset that this corruption has planted in the wider society. The culture of entitlement thrives on theft, hypocrisy, and mutual deception between those who loot public wealth and those who demand a share of it. This mentality has weakened institutions and influenced how Nigerians see power and success. It has created a system where wrongdoing is rewarded, and honesty is punished. From the earliest years of independence, public officers in Nigeria looted government funds with little consequence. What began as isolated misconduct soon became entrenched. Offenders were rarely punished. Some who were caught even found their ways back into politics. The stigma that should have followed theft never took root. Instead, society often admired looters for their sudden wealth and their ability to “take care” of their people. Public office became synonymous with access to public money. Many Nigerians adjusted to this reality as if it were normal.
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Looters, however, carried guilt. Nigeria is a deeply religious country, and those who plundered the treasury feared divine judgment. To still their conscience, they embraced redistribution. They built mosques, funded churches, sponsored pilgrimages, donated food, and handed out cash at public gatherings. These acts were presented as generosity but in truth were attempts to mask theft with charity. The logic was simple but twisted: if they shared part of what they stole, perhaps God would forgive them. What they refused to confront was that giving away crumbs of stolen wealth never absolves the crime of looting the commonwealth. The people who accepted these handouts also developed their own justification. They believed the money belonged to them in the first place since it was stolen from the common purse. Instead of condemning the thief, they demanded a share. Families leaned on relatives in government for money.
Communities expected free boreholes, cash donations for weddings and funerals, or bags of rice during campaigns. Voters came to see elections as opportunities for immediate gain, rather than chances to demand long-term leadership. What emerged was a relationship built on pressure and blackmail. Politicians gave because they feared rejection if they did not, while the people demanded because they saw it as their right.
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This cycle hardened over time and became part of the political machinery. Politicians invested in elections the way businessmen invest in ventures. They spent heavily to get into office, looted once they were there, and distributed enough to maintain their support base. Elections became markets where loyalty was bought and sold. By 2019, reports of cash being shared openly at polling units were widespread. Bags of rice, clothing, and even packets of seasoning cubes were distributed during campaigns. For many voters, this was not bribery but their rightful share of the stolen wealth. Large-scale corruption reinforced this culture. General Sani Abacha, Nigeria’s former military ruler, looted billions of dollars during his years in power. Much of it was hidden abroad and it is still being recovered decades after his death. But even Abacha spread patronage while in office. He funded religious programmes, distributed contracts, and made gestures of generosity that helped shield him from moral condemnation. His example became a template, as state governors and ministers across the country followed the same script by stealing massively, then sprinkling crumbs to the people to appear benevolent.
In many states, governors turned festivals and community events into displays of cash handouts. Crowds cheered as money was sprayed in public squares. The spectacle created loyalty but destroyed accountability. Instead of rejecting looters, people sang their praises as long as some crumbs reached them. The looter and the receiver became bound in a dirty dance that benefited both in the short term but impoverished the country as a whole. The moral deception is tragic. The thief convinces himself that redistribution will cleanse him before God. The people convince themselves that taking a share is a form of justice. Both sides are deceived. The thief remains guilty, and the receiver becomes an enabler. Religion, which should speak the truth, often reinforces the lie. Clerics sometimes praise politicians for their donations without questioning their source. Communities bless thieves in exchange for gifts. In this way, corruption is baptised as kindness, and the line between morality and crime is blurred.
The cost of this culture is everywhere to see as the collapse of roads, while stolen funds build private mansions in London, Dubai, and Abuja. Hospitals decay while politicians sponsor extravagant ceremonies and schools rot while public resources vanish into offshore accounts. Nigerians die from preventable diseases while billions are siphoned out of the treasury. In one notorious case, a state governor was arrested in London with millions of dollars hidden in cash and properties. But at home, he was celebrated as a man of the people. The lesson passed on to young Nigerians is destructive as they grow up believing that true success comes not from effort or creativity but from gaining access to those who control stolen wealth. Honesty is treated as foolishness, while looting is admired if it is accompanied by sprinkling crumbs. This mindset breeds cynicism and a hunger for shortcuts.
Why does the system survive? Poverty makes a bag of rice, or a small sum of money seem more valuable than a promise of reform. Communities fear being cut off if they reject gifts. Many Nigerians have resigned themselves to the belief that nothing will change, so they take what they can in the moment. And the absence of credible punishment allows the cycle to continue unchecked. Politicians bribe because it works and voters accept because they feel entitled. Breaking this circle requires more than slogans. Nigerians must change how they evaluate leaders. Politicians should be judged not by the size of their donations but by how well they manage resources for the common good. People must learn to reject gifts that come from stolen wealth. Religion must recover its moral authority by condemning theft rather than blessing it. Clerics who celebrate looters must be confronted with truth. Education is another tool. Young Nigerians need to be taught that wealth comes from innovation and integrity. They need exposure to examples of societies where public resources are managed for development rather than private enrichment, so they can imagine a different path.
The law must also stop shielding the powerful. Without accountability, the cycle will never end. Punishment for corruption has to be swift and certain. When public officers know they will face consequences for looting, they will think twice. And when ordinary people see that thieves are punished, their sense of entitlement will weaken. The justice system cannot remain a tool that protects the rich, while punishing the powerless. It must become a true equaliser if Nigeria is to move forward. The entitlement mentality is not natural to Nigerians. It is the product of decades of corruption and the silent agreement between thieves and receivers. It thrives on guilt, poverty, false morality, and helplessness. And it is not permanent, because with moral clarity and firm accountability, the cycle can be broken. Nigerians must stop asking for crumbs and start demanding justice and real development. Until that shift happens, the dirty dance between thief and receiver will continue, and the country will keep sinking under the weight of its own deception.
Mohammed Dahiru Aminu ([email protected]) wrote from Abuja, Nigeria.
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