I Better Pass My Neighbour: The Toxic Superiority Complex Destroying the Nigerian Social Fabric.

By George Omagbemi Sylvester | Published by SaharaWeeklyNG.com

In Nigeria, the societal obsession with “I better pass my neighbour” is no longer just a joke tied to a noisy portable generator. It has become a deeply entrenched cultural mindset, festering across economic classes and bleeding into every corner of our interactions. From the university campus to the corridors of political power and even in the dusty streets of Ajegunle or the polished parlours of Ikoyi, this mentality thrives; silently yet destructively.

The average Nigerian isn’t interested in community progress as much as they are obsessed with individual advancement; not for survival, but for status. Status, in this context, doesn’t mean achievement through merit; it means appearing to be doing better than the next man. In a country where poverty, unemployment and insecurity are rife, many Nigerians have resorted to comparison as a means of self-validation. And what’s more tragic? This mindset has become generational.

A Society Obsessed with Appearances, Not Substance
The infamous phrase “I better pass my neighbour,” associated with a low-cost power generator, wasn’t just a brand gimmick; it was a mirror of Nigerian society. We laugh at it, but its popularity reflects the larger societal mindset: as long as I’m better off than you, I’m winning. No concern for collective good. No solidarity. No empathy. Just one goal ~ to appear more successful, even if it means going into debt, lying or oppressing others.

A few months ago, shortly after President Bola Ahmed Tinubu assumed office, a popular slogan emerged from many Nigerians: “ _This government will favour me and my family_.” That single statement, echoed in countless WhatsApp groups and street corners, revealed a chilling truth: _we no longer care about national good; all that matters is personal gain._

How can a country grow when its citizens only think in terms of “ _me and mine_”? How do we demand accountability when the average voter supports looters simply because they belong to the same tribe, party or religion?

Classism in Everyday Life
Let’s not deceive ourselves; Nigerians are deeply classist. We respect people based on their financial worth or material possessions. You can be wise, moral or kind, but in Nigeria, if you don’t drive a flashy car or have a prestigious job title, YOU’RE NOT RESPECTED. This toxic culture plays out in the smallest things, like when someone insists on walking you to the gate after a visit. Not out of hospitality, but to PEEP at your CAR and MEASURE your STATUS.

A wealthy man gets away with fraud and we say, “ _At least he helps people_.” A poor man commits the same crime, and he’s crucified. HYPOCRISY wears a Nigerian jersey.

Even among peers, standards are selectively enforced. A person from a lower socio-economic background is mocked for speaking poor English or dressing modestly. But if the same mistake is made by a rich person or someone of similar social standing, we look the other way.

The Uber Example: Misplaced Arrogance
Consider a 25-year-old lady, fresh out of NYSC, who hasn’t held a proper job, yet she sits in an Uber and speaks down at the driver like he’s trash. Why? Because society has taught her that being a passenger puts her above the driver (never mind that he’s probably more hardworking and better educated. In another setting, where social roles are reversed, say she’s on foot and he’s in a private car) she would suddenly find her manners.

As Chinua Achebe once said, ” _The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership._” But one might add, it’s also a failure of character, widespread across the citizenry. Leadership doesn’t exist in a vacuum; it reflects the people. The leader is often the loudest echo of the society that produced him.

Cultural Hypocrisy and the Nigerian Middle Class
The middle class (supposedly the moral compass of any democratic society) is no better. Rather than pushing for reforms, they engage in ostentatious displays of wealth, from social media brags to naming their kids after luxury cars. They rent expensive outfits for weddings, borrow money to fund birthdays and are obsessed with outshining their friends. Conversations in many Nigerian homes are filled with phrases like:

_“My friend just bought a Benz.”_

_“Why is your cousin still living in that area?”_

_“We can’t send our kids to that school; it’s for poor people.”_

Meanwhile, these same individuals will remain silent on governance failures, injustice or even inflation as long as they can still afford _SUYA,_ _DSTV_ and _WEEKEND DRINKS._

A Nation Divided by Petty Competition
This unhealthy rivalry isn’t limited to the elite or the educated. From the mechanic in Ibadan to the petty trader in Aba, everyone is competing, often against invisible enemies. Instead of lifting one another, we ridicule. Instead of mentoring, we mock. Nigerians build fences taller than their houses not just for security, but to hide what’s going on inside. It’s not just about being safe, it’s about being mysterious and envied.

According to a report by the World Inequality Database, Nigeria is one of the most unequal societies on earth, with the top 1% earning disproportionately more than the bottom 50%. Yet, even within the bottom 50%, the quest to “ _APPEAR BETTER_ ” persists, a sign that our value system is not just broken but dangerously inverted.

How Did We Get Here?
Post-colonial Nigeria inherited a distorted social structure, but what we’ve done with it is far worse. Decades of bad governance, corruption and social instability have made many Nigerians see survival as a game of one-upmanship. The social contract has broken down. Nobody trusts the system, so everyone looks out for themselves, even at the expense of others.

As Fela Kuti famously sang, “ _Suffer, suffer for world… enjoyment for heaven_!” Nigerians have been told to endure, aspire and dream (but the dreams are no longer about dignity or justice. They’re about owning iPhones, buying plots in Banana Island and being invited to exclusive weddings. The average man no longer dreams of a better Nigeria) he dreams of escaping it or at least looking like he already has.

The Way Forward: Reorienting Our Value System
It’s time we had difficult conversations. WHAT KIND OF SOCIETY DO WE WANT TO BUILD? DO WE WANT A NIGERIA WHERE SELF-WORTH IS MEASURED BY HOW MANY PEOPLE WE’RE BETTER THAN, OR ONE WHERE WE LIFT EACH OTHER UP?

As former Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan once said, “ _If you don’t value education, you will be ruled by ignorance._” Similarly, if we don’t value humility, empathy and collective progress, we will continue to be ruled by greed, classism and moral emptiness.

This is a call for social introspection. Let’s teach our children that drivers, cleaners and artisans are not beneath them. Let’s celebrate hard work over handouts, values over valuables. Let’s walk each other to the gate not to assess, but to appreciate. Let us normalize treating everyone with dignity not because of what they own, but because they are human.

Until then, _“I better pass my neighbour”_ will remain more than a noisy generator. It will continue to be the anthem of a decaying society.

Published by SaharaWeeklyNG.com
Written by George Omagbemi Sylvester
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