Photo: Femi Fani-Kayode, former aviation minister – Nigeria
By Gabriel Efe
Everywhere you turn in Nigeria today, anger seems to be the first language. From street confrontations caught on camera to viral clips of uniformed officers clashing with citizens, we are increasingly meeting one another with hostility. The past weeks alone have thrown up troubling reminders: the spat between KWAM 1 and KWAM 2, the controversial case of an Anambra youth corps member, the video of FRSC officers brutalising a motorist, and another clip of a woman at an FRSC office threatening to beat everyone in sight.
In August 2020, Femi Fani-Kayode, a former Minister of Aviation, launched a verbal attack on Eyo Charles, a journalist. The reporter’s crime? Doing his job. These are not isolated cases. They point to a deeper mood-shift. Nigerians appear to have become an angry people. The question is why.
The Weight of the Economy
The first and most obvious culprit is the economy. Nigerians are dealing with biting inflation, unemployment, and a cost-of-living crisis that has stripped many of dignity and hope. A hungry man, they say, is an angry man. Years of economic strain under Buhari’s government, carried forward into Tinubu’s reforms, have left people not just frustrated but on edge. The daily struggle to survive makes tempers short and responses harsh.
Beyond Hunger: The DNA of Bad Behaviour
But it is not just hunger. Some of what we see is rooted in behaviour and service delivery. Poor customer service, lack of respect from institutions, and everyday disregard for citizens all contribute to heightened aggression. In a country where basic systems often fail, people are conditioned to fight for everything. Over time, this survival mode mutates into hostility, even in simple encounters.
Culture, Language and Temperament
Culture also plays its role. Certain ethnic groups, like the Ijaws, are often described as naturally agitated in tone and temperament. Beyond stereotypes, there is truth in the idea that intonation and language shape how we express emotion. Communication in our local tongues often carries depth that English cannot replicate. For instance, telling a Yoruba man “Sorry” rarely calms as quickly as saying “E má bínú.” The latter draws from cultural roots, carrying empathy and acknowledgement in a way the former does not. Our languages carry the power to soothe, but they can just as easily inflame.
Are We Naturally Antagonistic?
There is another uncomfortable possibility: that we have cultivated a culture of antagonism. Nigeria’s history of resistance, survival, and suspicion of authority may have hardened into a reflex of hostility. We do not simply disagree, we confront. We do not simply express displeasure, we lash out. This posture may once have been necessary, but today it risks defining us in ways that corrode community and trust.
Anger as a Symptom
Anger itself is not the disease, it is the symptom. What we see daily is the outward sign of deeper fractures: broken trust between citizens and leaders, disconnection between customers and service providers, alienation between neighbours who no longer extend patience or empathy. Anger is the voice of a people who feel unseen, unheard, and often disrespected.
Finding Our Calm
If anger is the loudest sound in Nigeria today, it is only because hunger, frustration, and disconnection are playing the instruments. But a people cannot remain permanently on edge. To find calm, we must go beyond blaming culture or shrugging off bad behaviour as “just who we are.” We need to rebuild trust in our institutions, improve service delivery, and rediscover the empathy coded in our languages and traditions.
Nigeria cannot afford to be defined by fury. The challenge before us is to reclaim our calm before anger becomes our national identity.
