THERE was a time Nigerians believed freedom of speech was a right. Today, many people treat it like a risk.
You watch your words before posting online. You lower your voice when discussing politics in public. You think twice before criticizing those in power, not because you are wrong, but because somewhere deep down, you are afraid, afraid of consequences, intimidation, and disappearing.
The recent resurfacing of the Dadiyata case has once again reminded Nigerians of a question that has haunted this country for years: can citizens truly speak freely in Nigeria without fear?
Dadiyata disappeared in 2019, and since then, Nigerians have lived on rumours, accusations, denials, and silence. Now, fresh allegations have emerged claiming he may have been killed. Whether those allegations are eventually proven or not, the bigger tragedy is what this case represents in the minds of ordinary Nigerians.
FEAR!
Because when people can disappear without clear answers, society begins to police itself. Citizens become careful. Silence becomes survival. People stop expressing themselves freely, not because democracy exists, but because fear does.
Another lesson from all of this is that journalists and social media influencers should never allow themselves to be used by politicians. A recent example is the case of a northern journalist who leaked a video of a sitting governor allegedly stuffing dollars into his pocket, footage said to have been provided by members of the opposition.
What initially appeared to be a major whistleblowing moment eventually turned into a painful lesson. The journalist reportedly had to flee to the UK and live in exile, while today, the opposition figures and the former governor involved are now in the same political party and appear to be the best of friends. Meanwhile, the journalist remains on the run.
That is why Nigeria increasingly feels like Room 101.
In In George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, Room 101 was the place where people faced their deepest fears until they broke. It was not just physical punishment; it was psychological control, a system designed to make people surrender, obey, and remain silent.
Sound familiar?
Today, Nigerians are surviving inflation, insecurity, unemployment, and endless hardship. Yet beyond all these, there is another burden quietly growing among the people: the fear that speaking too loudly may attract trouble.
Criticize the government, and you are labelled bitter.
Question authority, and you are called disrespectful.
Demand accountability, and suddenly you become a target.
We claim to practice democracy, yet many citizens no longer feel free enough to speak honestly about their reality.
And this fear is dangerous.
A country where citizens are afraid to speak is a country slowly losing its soul. Progress cannot happen where people are punished for questioning leadership. Democracy cannot survive where silence becomes safer than truth.
The saddest part is that Nigerians are adapting to this condition. We are becoming used to unanswered disappearances, intimidation, and helplessness. We move on quickly because survival itself has become a full-time job.
Perhaps that is the real tragedy not just that people are afraid, but that fear is gradually becoming normal.
Nigeria was supposed to be home. For many citizens today, it feels more like Room 101.
Voice just cleared its throat.
- Kabara is a writer and public commentator. Her syndicated column, Voice, appears in News Point Nigeria newspaper on Monday. She can be reached at hafceekay01@gmail.com.