“Direct posting, special centre”: Nigeria and the naming of atrocities

Ganiu Bamgbose, PhD

There is something peculiar about the Nigerian way of naming wrongdoing. We sometimes engage in an act that deserves condemnation, investigation or even prosecution, but rather than call it by its proper name, we give it a softer, friendlier and almost harmless label. In Nigeria, corruption can become “settlement”, examination malpractice becomes “expo”, influence-peddling becomes “connection”, and a questionable intervention becomes “man-know-man”. Somehow, the name makes the offence appear less offensive.

Two expressions that deserve particular attention are “direct posting” and “special centre.” They are ordinary combinations of English words, but in contemporary Nigerian usage, they have acquired meanings that tell a disturbing story about how wrongdoing becomes normalised through language.

“Direct posting” has increasingly become a familiar expression in the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) context. It refers, in popular usage, to an arrangement whereby a prospective corps member pays a certain amount of money to have a preferred state secured for their NYSC service, rather than simply accepting the state assigned through the regular posting process. Someone who wants to avoid a particular state or secure a preferred one may therefore seek “direct posting”. The expression makes the transaction sound like a legitimate administrative service: you want a particular destination, someone can “post” you there—provided you pay.

But what happens to the principle of fairness when money determines who gets what? What happens to a system designed to distribute young Nigerians across the country when those with the financial capacity can effectively purchase their preferred destination? The linguistic question is important because “direct posting” conceals the transaction behind the vocabulary of routine administration.

The same linguistic sanitisation is evident in “special centre.” In the Nigerian examination environment, the expression has come to be associated with examination centres where candidates who have paid extra money are provided with answers or other forms of illicit assistance during public examinations. What could sound like a centre established for candidates requiring special arrangements is, in this usage, a euphemistic name for a system that compromises the integrity of examinations.

Imagine the absurdity of it: a student sits for a public examination, another student sits elsewhere, and both supposedly undergo the same assessment. Yet one has paid for a “special centre” where answers are made available. At the end, both may emerge with certificates that appear to communicate the same level of competence. This is not merely examination malpractice. It is an assault on the meaning of certification.

The troubling issue is therefore not only that such practices exist. It is that we have become so familiar with them that we have developed names for them.

Language has the remarkable ability to conceal as much as it reveals. When an unpleasant reality is given an attractive or neutral name, society can gradually lose its capacity to recognise the unpleasantness. “Expo” sounds playful, but it may mean obtaining answers illicitly. “Sorting” sounds like an administrative activity, but it can refer to improper payments for academic advantage. “Settlement” sounds like conflict resolution, but it may be a euphemism for bribery. “Connection” sounds like networking, but it can become a mechanism for nepotism and preferential treatment. The vocabulary is revealing.

A person who asks for “expo” may not describe himself as someone seeking to cheat. Someone looking for a “special centre” may see himself merely as someone trying to ensure success. A prospective corps member seeking “direct posting” may not regard the payment as an attempt to undermine the NYSC system. The language creates psychological distance between the person and the wrongdoing.

This is perhaps one of the most dangerous functions of euphemism: it makes misconduct easier to live with.

There is a progression worth examining. First, a rule is broken. Then the practice becomes recurrent. People give it a name. The name circulates. The practice becomes familiar. Familiarity produces acceptance. Eventually, what was once regarded as an aberration becomes something people simply learn how to navigate. This is how institutions are quietly destroyed.

The consequences go beyond the immediate beneficiaries. When “direct posting” allows money to determine NYSC destinations, the principle of equal treatment suffers. When “special centres” enable candidates to obtain answers in public examinations, the credibility of certificates suffers. When “sorting” becomes accepted, academic standards suffer. When “settlement” becomes a way of getting official duties performed, public trust suffers. And when all these practices acquire convenient names, our moral vocabulary itself begins to accommodate institutional decay.

We must therefore learn to call things what they are. If money is paid to manipulate an official posting, let us interrogate it as an improper influence or corrupt practice rather than hide it behind “direct posting”. If candidates are supplied with answers during a public examination because they have paid extra money, let us call it examination malpractice rather than “special centre”. If money is offered to influence an official decision, let us call it bribery, not “appreciation” or “settlement”.

This is not an argument against Nigerian creativity with language. Indeed, our ability to create expressions that capture social realities is one of the fascinating features of Nigerian English. The concern is what happens when our linguistic creativity becomes an accomplice to moral complacency.

Perhaps Nigeria does not only have a corruption problem; we also have a naming problem. We have become remarkably creative at giving ugly practices beautiful, funny or harmless names.

And sometimes, the first step towards confronting wrongdoing is refusing to give it a beautiful name. Call it what it is!

(c) 2026 Ganiu Bamgbose writes from Lagos.