By Muiz Banire, SAN
After the Anthony Joshua incident, I have had cause to interrogate the missing link in road safety in Nigeria. In this discourse, permit me to return to one of the most tragic but least interrogated failures in our national life: the steady replacement of skill with mere certification, and competence with entitlement, behind the wheels. We speak endlessly about bad roads, faulty vehicles, and weak enforcement, yet we continue to avoid the uncomfortable truth that even on the smoothest highway, in the most mechanically sound vehicle, an incompetent or unprofessional driver remains a moving disaster waiting for the appointed hour.
In Nigeria today, we do not merely suffer from a shortage of drivers; we suffer from a frightening collapse of driver competence, and the consequences are written daily in blood, tears, hospital wards, courtrooms, and broken homes. A people who trivialise driving as a casual activity should not be surprised when death treats the road as its playground. Driving is not merely the act of moving a vehicle from point A to point B with relative or maximum comfort; it is a discipline, a responsibility, and indeed a moral undertaking, because at the centre of every journey lies the fragile value of human life.
The earlier we appreciate this, the better for us as a people. In more orderly societies, a driver’s licence is a badge of tested competence. It signifies that the bearer understands not only how to steer and accelerate, but how to anticipate danger, respect other road users, manage emotions, obey rules, and value life over speed.
In our clime, however, the licence has too often been reduced to a laminated entitlement, sometimes procured without rigorous testing, sometimes treated as a revenue instrument, and sometimes obtained as a mere formality. It is no news that the process of acquiring a driver’s licence in Nigeria is largely devoid of rigour. Beyond the fact that some obtain licences without any form of training or evaluation, even those who attempt some measure of compliance rarely go beyond rudimentary physical road tests. Unlike other jurisdictions where aspirants must undergo both theoretical and practical examinations, what passes for testing in Nigeria is, in most cases, limited to superficial road driving exercises. There are no meaningful hazard perception tests, nor adequate assessments of road signage knowledge.
This explains why no serious jurisdiction accords our driver’s licence the respect it ought to command. Compounding this failure is the issue of eyesight and medical fitness. A significant number of drivers on Nigerian roads today have poor eyesight, many without even knowing it. This represents a fundamental flaw in our certification process. Beyond initial eye tests, there ought to be periodic and routine medical and vision assessments for drivers.
When certification is divorced from competence, the road itself becomes the examination hall, and the public becomes unwilling candidates. It is therefore unsurprising that many who “drive” cannot truly be described as drivers in the proper sense of the word; they merely move machines, often blindly, arrogantly, or desperately. The tragedy is further deepened by the manner in which driving skills are acquired. For many Nigerians, driving is learned informally, from a friend, a relative, a motor park assistant, or an unlicensed “instructor” whose own knowledge is at best intuitive and at worst dangerously flawed. The learner may master reverse parking yet remain ignorant of road signs, right-of-way rules, safe braking distances, or defensive driving principles.
While a few driving schools exist and do commendable work, the ecosystem remains uneven, poorly regulated, and insufficiently standardised. Where training is optional and standards are elastic, incompetence flourishes quietly until it announces itself with sirens and coffins.
Our motor parks, which ought to be centres of organised mobility, often operate as pressure cookers of recklessness. The commercial driver is trapped in an unforgiving economic equation: daily tickets, union dues, fuel costs, vehicle hire arrangements, and informal levies that reward speed over safety. In such an environment, patience becomes expensive, rest becomes a luxury, and caution becomes an obstacle to survival.
The driver learns quickly that arriving early matters more than arriving safely, and that calculation alone explains why so many commercial vehicles are driven as if death were a negotiable inconvenience. As the elders say, when a man is pursued by hunger, he may forget that the road has no mercy. Even more alarming is the casual manner in which heavy-duty vehicles are handled.
Driving a trailer, tanker, or articulated truck requires specialised knowledge: load dynamics, extended stopping distances, blind spots, turning radii, and the catastrophic consequences of tyre bursts or brake failure. Yet we routinely place such lethal machines in the hands of inadequately trained individuals. We are all living witnesses to the daily devastation unleashed by poorly handled trucks and tankers.
When such vehicles err, the margin for correction is slim, and the consequences are usually fatal. Each inferno on the highway, each crushed minibus, each mass burial following a single crash is a grim reminder that size without skill is a public threat. Our road environment itself has trained drivers in the wrong school. Poor signage, bad markings, potholes, weak lighting, and chaotic traffic patterns have normalised survival driving. I have previously observed that vehicles on Nigerian roads can hardly be roadworthy when the roads they ply are themselves unworthy of being called roads. Improvisation therefore replaces discipline, aggression replaces patience, and cunning is mistaken for competence.
Over time, this distortion hardens into culture. The driver who obeys rules is mocked as slow or foolish, while the one who beats traffic by breaking every law is celebrated as smart. I recall an instance where a colleague’s eight-year-old daughter, observing other motorists shunting recklessly while her mother patiently queued, remarked that those reckless motorists were smarter. That innocent observation captures the depth of the challenge before us, as we unconsciously teach younger ones that misbehaviour is intelligence. This is how much our society have sunk. A society that applauds recklessness should not be shocked when recklessness multiplies. Law enforcement, regrettably, has not provided the corrective spine required.
Where enforcement is inconsistent, selective, or negotiable, deterrence collapses. Many drivers believe that consequences can be avoided through persuasion or settlement. Some assume that status confers immunity, while others think enforcement is reserved only for the powerless. Once such beliefs take root, traffic law loses moral authority and becomes a nuisance to be managed rather than a standard to be obeyed. The road then becomes a classroom of impunity, graduating new drivers daily with honours in lawlessness.
Strangely, commercial drivers, often operating rickety and dangerous vehicles with appalling driving culture, appear to enjoy special indulgence, having compromised enforcement agents who look the other way. They are hardly accosted for misconduct, as the ground seems perpetually wet ahead of them. There is also the silent menace of impaired driving. Alcohol, stimulants, fatigue, and stress are common companions of long-distance and commercial drivers. Prolonged driving hours, unrealistic delivery expectations, and poor welfare structures push many into dangerous coping mechanisms. Fatigue, as science teaches us, impairs judgment just as surely as intoxication, yet it is rarely treated with the seriousness it deserves. Similarly, neglect of vehicle maintenance turns drivers into unwilling accomplices of mechanical failure.
Worn tyres, faulty brakes, broken lights, and compromised steering systems are daily realities on our roads, and even the most well-meaning driver is rendered helpless when the machine betrays him. The consequences of this competence deficit are far-reaching. Beyond the immediate carnage of crashes lies a heavy public health burden: overcrowded emergency rooms, long-term disability, psychological trauma, and families plunged into poverty by the loss of breadwinners.
Economically, inefficient and dangerous driving raises transport costs, disrupts supply chains, damages goods, and weakens national productivity. Socially, routine violation of traffic laws corrodes respect for rules generally, teaching citizens that order is optional and that negotiation is superior to compliance. Legally, accidents fuel endless litigation, insurance disputes, and criminal cases, further burdening an already strained justice system. In security terms, the mishandling of hazardous cargo and mass-transit vehicles exposes the nation to avoidable disasters.
Yet this gloom need not be permanent. Societies do not drift into safety by accident; they organise their way into it. Licensing must return to its true purpose as a certification of competence, not a transactional document created for mere revenue generation. The current confusion and overlap among the various tiers of government regarding responsibility for certification and issuance of drivers’ licences must urgently be resolved in the collective interest of all.
Driving education must be standardised, rigorous, and continuously monitored. Commercial and heavy-duty drivers must undergo specialised training and periodic recertification. Employers and fleet owners must be held accountable for the drivers they engage and the conditions under which they operate. Unions must see safety not as an inconvenience but as a collective obligation. Enforcement must be consistent, technology-driven where possible, and immune to negotiation.
Above all, society must change its attitude and stop celebrating recklessness as skill. Until we do so, we will continue to blame fate for what is actually failure, and destiny for what is clearly negligence. The road, after all, is a mirror of our values. If we treat rules with contempt, life with impatience, and competence with indifference, the asphalt will faithfully reflect that moral disorder. As our people say, when a drumbeat changes, the dancer must adjust his steps. If Nigeria is tired of mourning on the highways, then the drummer must change the rhythm, and the driver must finally learn that the steering wheel is not a crown, but a trust.
