Why Young People Are Disengaged from Politics

The Growing Apathy: A Silent Rebellion?

Imagine scrolling through your phone late at night in Lagos, past videos of yet another political rally where promises fly thicker than the humid air. You sigh, switch to memes, and wonder why it all feels so distant. If this sounds familiar, you're not alone. Across Nigeria, young people—those under 35, who make up over 60% of our population—are increasingly tuning out politics. It's not laziness; it's a deep-seated disengagement born from years of dashed hopes. But why is this happening, and what can we do about it? Let's dive in, drawing from the streets of Abuja to the markets of Kano, to uncover the roots of this quiet disconnect.

Broken Promises and the Weight of Corruption

At the heart of this disengagement is a profound loss of trust. For many young Nigerians, politics isn't a path to progress; it's a reminder of betrayal. Take the 2015 elections, when the then-opposition APC swept in on waves of anti-corruption rhetoric. Youth turnout was high, fueled by hope for change. Fast forward to today, and scandals like the ones involving high-profile politicians siphoning billions meant for infrastructure leave a bitter taste. A 2023 survey by the Yiaga Africa organization found that only 28% of Nigerian youth believe elections can bring real change—down from 45% a decade ago.

Picture Aisha, a 24-year-old graduate from Kaduna, who queued for hours to vote in 2019. She believed in the mantra of 'change.' But three years later, unemployment still hovers at 53% for her age group, per National Bureau of Statistics data. Her japa dreams—heading to Canada for better prospects—feel more real than any ballot box. This isn't abstract; it's personal. When leaders promise jobs but deliver ghost projects, like the infamous ones in the Niger Delta where billions vanished into thin air, why would you engage? It's like investing in a leaky bucket—your effort just drains away.

Economic Struggles: Politics Feels Like a Luxury

In a country where inflation hit 34% in mid-2024, surviving day-to-day trumps debating policies. Politics becomes a distant noise when you're hustling for your next meal. Young people in Nigeria face a perfect storm: soaring fuel prices after subsidy removal, naira devaluation making imports unaffordable, and a job market that favors connections over qualifications. The World Bank notes that youth unemployment isn't just a statistic—it's a crisis driving over 70,000 young Nigerians to emigrate monthly.

Consider Chinedu, a tech-savvy 22-year-old in Enugu. He spends his days coding freelance gigs on Upwork because local opportunities are scarce. When elections roll around, he thinks, 'How does this help me pay rent?' Politics feels elitist, run by older generations who don't grasp the gig economy or the grind of okada riders in Abuja's traffic. During the 2023 elections, voter turnout among 18-35-year-olds dropped to 20%, according to INEC reports. Why vote when the system seems rigged against you? It's not disinterest; it's survival mode.

Lack of Representation: Voices That Echo in the Void

Who speaks for us? That's the nagging question. Nigeria's National Assembly has fewer than 10% youth representation, despite our demographic dominance. Leaders in their 60s and 70s discuss issues like pensions and oil rents, while we grapple with ASUU strikes that delay our degrees and banditry that disrupts our futures in the North. The EndSARS protests of 2020 were a wake-up call—a youth-led cry against police brutality that showed our power but ended in tear gas and disillusionment.

Sarah, a 19-year-old student in Ibadan, recalls marching with friends, chanting for justice. 'We felt alive, like our voices mattered,' she says. But post-protest, the same old faces dominated headlines, and reforms stalled. Now, she avoids political discussions altogether. This erasure breeds apathy. When parties like PDP or APC nominate recycled candidates, ignoring fresh voices like those from the #EndSARS movement or emerging activists, it signals: 'Your turn comes later—if at all.' Social media amplifies this; algorithms feed us outrage but rarely solutions, turning engagement into exhaustion.

The Digital Divide and Information Overload

We're the most connected generation, yet that connectivity cuts both ways. Platforms like Twitter (now X) and Instagram burst with political hot takes, from fake news about election rigging to deepfakes of candidates. In Nigeria, where internet penetration among youth is over 70%, this flood drowns out meaningful discourse. A study by the Centre for Democracy and Development highlighted how misinformation during the 2023 polls discouraged 40% of young voters, fearing their vote wouldn't count anyway.

Think of it like this: You're bombarded with clips of governors clashing over allocations while your community's pothole-filled roads stay ignored. It breeds cynicism. Plus, the echo chambers—where you're only seeing posts from like-minded friends—make the political landscape feel even more polarized and hopeless. For many, logging off politics is self-preservation.

Reclaiming the Narrative: Steps to Re-Engage

So, how do we bridge this gap? Disengagement isn't inevitable; it's a symptom we can treat. First, start small and local. Join community town halls or youth forums in your LGA—places like the ones organized by the National Youth Council of Nigeria. These aren't glamorous, but they're where real change brews, like the youth-led initiatives in Lagos that pushed for better street lighting post-EndSARS.

Educate yourself beyond headlines. Follow credible sources like Premium Times or The Cable, and fact-check with tools like Dubawa. Dive into policy: Understand how the budget affects your pocket, like the 2024 allocation of N1.2 trillion to education—meager, but knowing the details empowers you to demand more.

Get involved creatively. Form or join youth political groups, perhaps inspired by models like the Nigerian Youth Parliament. Run for local office if you're bold; even school elections build skills. Vote strategically—research candidates' track records, not just party logos. In the 2023 elections, independent candidates like those in Anambra showed youth can disrupt the status quo.

Finally, talk it out. Share stories like Aisha's or Chinedu's with friends; build a support network that turns apathy into action. Remember, the 1993 elections, annulled but unforgettable, showed youth power can shake the nation. Your disengagement is their win—don't give it to them.

By weaving back in, one conversation, one vote at a time, we reclaim politics as ours. Nigeria's future isn't inherited; it's built by us.