The videos are everywhere, and they should unsettle every Nigerian.Young men—often barely out of their teens—are caught, stripped, forced to dance with stolen goods, eat raw pepper, or endure public beatings while crowds film and cheer. “99 days for the thief” has become a grim social-media refrain.
These are not isolated spectacles. They reflect a society under strain, where petty and opportunistic theft among youths has surged in visibility, and where ordinary citizens have lost patience with formal systems of justice.
This pattern is not mysterious. It is a direct reflection of Nigeria’s economic realities.
Years of hardship—fuelled by subsidy removal, currency adjustments, inflation that shredded purchasing power, and stubbornly high underemployment—have pushed many young people into desperation.
Studies and community surveys link economic pressure to rises in theft, burglary, fraud, and the informal trade in stolen goods.
Official unemployment figures may appear modest under revised methodologies, yet the lived experience for millions of youths remains one of informal hustling, limited formal jobs, and a daily fight for survival.
When three to four million young people enter the labour market each year with few productive outlets, and when poverty rates hover around 60 percent or higher according to recent World Bank and IMF assessments, crime becomes, for some, a perceived pathway out of destitution.
Compounding this is the profound erosion of trust in the judiciary and policing. Surveys consistently show low public confidence: only about a quarter of Nigerians express meaningful trust in the courts, with widespread perceptions of delays, political influence, and selective enforcement.
When suspects are arrested only to reappear in the community, or when cases drag for years while ordinary people suffer immediate losses, the social contract frays.
Citizens conclude that the system will not deliver timely or impartial outcomes. The result is self-help.
Parading alleged thieves, humiliating them on camera, and administering “instant justice” becomes a distorted form of accountability. This is not justice; it is a symptom of institutional failure.
Mob actions risk wrongful punishment, escalate violence, and further normalise lawlessness. They also create a climate in which false accusations can turn deadly, as recent tragic cases have shown.
Society cannot afford to look away. The proliferation of these videos signals more than opportunistic crime; it signals a generation of young people for whom legitimate opportunity feels distant, and a citizenry that no longer believes the state will protect property or punish fairly.
Moral lectures alone will not reverse this. Neither will endless cycles of public humiliation. What is required is a serious response to the economic drivers—skills that match market needs, scalable job creation beyond rhetoric, and social safety nets that actually reach the vulnerable—alongside urgent reforms that restore credibility to investigation, prosecution, and adjudication.
Police must be professional and accountable; courts must be faster, more transparent, and insulated from undue influence. Without these, the videos will keep circulating, and the underlying rot will deepen.
Nigeria’s challenges predate any single administration, and macroeconomic stabilisation efforts have produced measurable gains in reserves, revenue, and certain growth indicators.
Yet for many ordinary citizens the lived experience remains one of hardship, insecurity, and institutional distrust.
If the present trajectory of rising visible desperation among the young, persistent poverty metrics, and declining faith in formal justice continues without decisive course correction, the social fabric will fray further. Continuity without results that citizens can feel risks compounding the sense that the country is drifting.
Accountability at the ballot box in 2027 is the democratic mechanism for demanding better. Doom is not inevitable, but neither is progress automatic.
The videos on our phones are a warning. Ignoring the economic and institutional roots they expose would be the greater folly.
-Pamela O.
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