By Ewere Okonta
08037383019
eob.org.ng
There is a frightening epidemic spreading across Nigeria today. It is more dangerous than inflation, deadlier than insecurity, and perhaps even more destructive than corruption itself. The epidemic is the gradual collapse of character.
We are raising a generation of children who can operate artificial intelligence but struggle to tell the truth. We celebrate young people who can build mobile applications and write sophisticated computer programs, yet many of them cannot keep their word or stand by simple moral principles. Our universities continue to produce brilliant graduates with impressive certificates, but society is increasingly confronted with a shortage of integrity.
Every day, Nigerians direct their anger at politicians. We criticize presidents, governors, senators, ministers and local government chairmen for the poor state of the country. We accuse the political class of corruption, greed and abuse of power. Those criticisms are justified. However, there is an uncomfortable question that many of us are unwilling to ask.
Who raised these politicians?
They did not descend from heaven. They were born into families, attended our schools, worshipped in our churches and mosques, and grew up in the same communities we live in today. If we are completely honest with ourselves, many of the leadership failures we complain about today are rooted in parenting failures that began decades ago.
That statement may sound harsh, but harsh truths often lead to lasting change.
Somewhere along the journey, we changed our definition of success. Parents have gradually begun to celebrate achievements more than values. Today, many families are more interested in the size of a child's income than the legitimacy of its source.
A young man barely in his twenties suddenly arrives home with an expensive luxury vehicle. Instead of asking how he acquired such wealth, his family celebrates him. A young woman begins travelling around the world and living an extravagant lifestyle without any clear source of income, yet relatives organize thanksgiving services in her honour. During festive seasons, many communities applaud wealthy young people without ever questioning how they made their fortunes.
Years later, these same communities gather around television screens and social media platforms to complain about corruption in government.
The truth is that corruption does not suddenly appear in public office. It often begins quietly in our homes, where children learn that wealth is more important than honesty and that success matters more than integrity.
Many parents have unknowingly become investors in dishonesty. The first question they ask after their children graduate is no longer whether they have become responsible adults with good values. Instead, they ask when the first car will arrive, when a new house will be built, or when the family will begin enjoying the rewards of their education.
Children are therefore placed under enormous pressure to succeed financially, whether or not the means are legitimate. In such an environment, internet fraud becomes attractive, examination malpractice appears acceptable, certificate forgery becomes easier to justify, and public office is viewed as the quickest route to personal enrichment.
The pressure begins at home, society reinforces it, politicians exploit it, and the nation ultimately pays the price.
Leadership is nothing more than character entrusted with power. Power does not change people; it simply reveals who they have always been. An honest child who eventually occupies public office is more likely to govern with integrity. A dishonest child who gains political power merely finds greater opportunities to practise corruption on a larger scale.
This is why leadership recruitment actually begins inside the family.
Every dining table is preparing tomorrow's cabinet. Every classroom is shaping tomorrow's governors. Every playground is producing tomorrow's judges, while every church and mosque is nurturing tomorrow's public servants. Parents, whether they realize it or not, serve as the first electoral commission because they determine the quality of individuals society eventually produces.
Sadly, many homes have become obsessed with performance while neglecting principles.
Parents proudly announce that their child scored exceptionally high in examinations. Such academic success deserves celebration, but there are more important questions that should also be asked. Can that child admit when he is wrong? Will she return money that was mistakenly transferred into her account? Can that young person refuse to cheat even when nobody is watching?
Those questions reveal character, and character remains the true foundation of greatness.
Artificial intelligence is transforming the world at an unprecedented pace. Machines are becoming smarter every day, and many jobs will eventually disappear as technology continues to advance. Degrees alone may no longer guarantee employment because certificates will increasingly compete with algorithms and intelligent machines.
Yet there are qualities that technology cannot replace. Trust, honesty, compassion, integrity and self-discipline remain uniquely human virtues. Ironically, these are the very qualities that many families have stopped intentionally teaching.
Social media has further complicated the situation. Success is increasingly measured by appearance rather than substance. Expensive houses, luxury vehicles, designer clothing and exotic vacations have become the new symbols of achievement. Very few people stop to ask whether such lifestyles are sustainable or honestly acquired.
Celebrities display extravagant lifestyles, influencers shape public opinion, politicians flaunt wealth, young people compare themselves with unrealistic standards, and parents become anxious that their children are being left behind. In the process, society gradually loses its moral compass.
This unhealthy obsession with appearance has produced a generation that believes poverty is shameful and that wealth must be pursued at any cost.
The consequences are all around us. Kidnapping, cybercrime, political violence, cultism, drug abuse, ritual killings, contract inflation and academic dishonesty are not isolated social problems. They are branches growing from the same poisonous tree whose roots lie in the collapse of character.
Perhaps this explains why some of the wealthiest countries in the world continue to struggle with social problems despite their economic prosperity. True development is not measured only by skyscrapers, highways or technological advancement. It is also measured by the level of trust that exists among citizens.
When people trust one another, businesses flourish, investments increase, justice becomes more effective, democracy grows stronger and communities become safer.
Character is therefore a form of national infrastructure. Unlike roads and bridges, however, it cannot be constructed overnight. It is built patiently, one family at a time, one child at a time, and one value at a time.
Before we criticize another politician this week, perhaps we should first examine ourselves. What exactly are we teaching our children? Do they hear us condemn corruption while watching us celebrate unexplained wealth? Do they listen to us preach honesty while encouraging shortcuts? Do they hear us speak passionately about God while rewarding deception?
Children rarely become what we tell them to be. More often than not, they become what they consistently see us practise.
The future of Nigeria will not be determined solely by elections or constitutional amendments. It will also be shaped by conversations around family dining tables, by teachers who refuse to compromise examination standards, by religious leaders who preach righteousness above prosperity, by public officials who understand that leadership is a sacred trust, and by ordinary citizens who choose integrity over immediate gratification.
The greatest inheritance parents can leave their children is not land, houses, expensive schools or foreign passports. The most valuable legacy is a good name built on honesty and integrity because long after money has been spent, character continues to open doors.
As another week begins, perhaps it is time to stop asking our children only one question: "How much money did you make today?"
Instead, we should begin asking a far more important question: "Did you do the right thing today?"
The answer to that simple question may determine not only the future of our families but also the future of our politics, our society and our nation.
This is the Sunday sermon from my holy pulpit!
Ewere Okonta is the CEO of EOB Media. He is a family values advocate. He writes from the Department of Business Administration, University of Delta, Agbor.
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