By Daniel Nwankwo
Every society eventually creates a word that tells the truth about itself. For Nigeria, that word may well be “anyhowness.”
It is not found in the Oxford English Dictionary. It was born on our streets, refined in our conversations, and popularised on social media. Yet few expressions capture the Nigerian condition more accurately.
Anyhowness is not simply carelessness. It is the normalisation of unseriousness — the practice of approaching matters that demand discipline, thought, and responsibility with the casualness of entertainment. It is the national habit of turning almost everything into “cruise.”
Somewhere along the line, we stopped distinguishing between what deserves laughter and what demands reflection. We discovered that if something can generate engagement, it need not generate sense. As long as it trends, it succeeds; as long as it is amusing, its consequences become secondary. The tragedy is that we have grown so accustomed to this disposition that seriousness itself has become suspicious.
Challenge a frivolous narrative, and someone immediately says, “You’re too serious.” Question a reckless joke made at the expense of a national tragedy, and you are accused of lacking a sense of humour. Ask for facts before celebration, and you are labelled negative. Demand accountability, and you are dismissed as bitter.
The conversation quickly shifts from examining the issue to examining the person who dared interrupt the entertainment. The dissenter becomes the problem; the conscience becomes the villain. The crowd laughs, not because the joke is profound, but because laughter has become easier than thought.
Many have therefore learned a painful lesson: if you cannot beat them, join them; if you cannot join them, remain silent. And if you choose neither, retreat into your own corner, where your insistence on truth will be dismissed as “spilling venom.”
This culture comes at a great cost. It weakens public accountability, because everything can be defended as “content.” It discourages critical thinking, because every serious observation risks becoming another object of mockery. It rewards spectacle over substance, replaces civic responsibility with viral engagement, and creates a generation that often confuses visibility with value.
Perhaps the greatest casualty is our collective moral compass.
A society survives because its people instinctively recognise that some things are sacred: that some moments demand silence instead of sarcasm, some events require reflection instead of reaction, and some issues deserve investigation instead of memes. Once that instinct is lost, almost everything becomes negotiable.
Even politics is not spared. Increasingly, we witness political gestures that appear designed more for attention than for any constitutional or practical reality.
A person may publicly unveil presidential campaign materials, brand themselves an ambassador, a representative of the people, a supreme leader, or even a General Overseer — taking on titles such as professor and saviour — with no real interest beyond turning serious national issues into mockery. These are mere media spectacles, unsupported by any legal or institutional framework that could make any of it possible. Is that not a joke?
Whether motivated by publicity, personal branding, or genuine ambition, the exercise inevitably raises an important question: are we participating in democratic politics, or merely consuming political entertainment? If actions with no realistic pathway to implementation are celebrated primarily because they dominate timelines, then politics itself risks becoming another branch of the entertainment industry.
The concern is not about ambition — every democracy needs dreamers. The concern is when symbolism completely overtakes substance, and performance becomes more important than process.
The same pattern appears across our national life. Policies are announced before they are designed. Projects are commissioned before they are completed. Promises are celebrated before they are fulfilled. Outrage lasts barely twenty-four hours before another trending topic replaces it. Nothing remains serious for long. Everything eventually becomes content.
This may explain why “anyhowness” has become one of the most profound social commentaries ever invented by ordinary Nigerians. In one word, it captures our tendency to trivialise what should concern us and normalise what should disturb us.
Ironically, every time a Nigerian exclaims, “This anyhowness must stop,” they acknowledge that there is, in fact, a proper way of doing things. They recognise that excellence exists, that order matters, and that responsibility is not an impossible standard.
Perhaps our greatest national challenge is not corruption alone, nor poverty, nor weak institutions. Perhaps it is this creeping culture of anyhowness that quietly teaches us to expect less, demand less, think less, and ultimately become less.
Nations rarely collapse because they run out of resources. They decline when they lose the ability to treat serious matters seriously.
Until we recover that ability, we may continue mistaking amusement for progress, performance for leadership, and noise for national conversation. And that may be the greatest cruise of all.
Daniel Nwankwo anipr, mpmc manupa, is the Deputy Director Protocol, Federal University Lokoja
