Nigeria stands at a dangerous crossroads, one defined not only by economic hardship and insecurity but also by an invisible epidemic eating away at its future: the mental health crisis among its youth. With 27% of the population aged between 15 and 35, and nearly 58% under 30, the psychological state of young Nigerians is not a niche concern; it is the lifeblood of the nation’s tomorrow.
Behind the energy, creativity, and resilience that define Nigerian youth lies a hidden struggle. Depression, anxiety, and substance abuse are spreading quietly, threatening to erode the very generation expected to rebuild the country. The signs are everywhere, on university campuses, in secondary schools, in bustling cities, and rural communities alike.
A June 2025 media report revealed alarming data from Enugu State: 30.7% of secondary school students showed signs of depression, 36.4% exhibited anxiety symptoms, and 8.4% admitted to suicidal thoughts. A 2025 preprint study estimated that behavioural disorders affect 15.1% of Nigerian adolescents, meaning roughly one in six young people are living with serious psychological distress.
Nigeria’s suicide rate, about 17 per 100,000 according to the WHO, remains among the highest in Africa. Yet over 90% of Nigerians with mental health conditions receive no treatment. Only about 250 psychiatrists serve a population of more than 200 million, a staggering ratio of one psychiatrist per 800,000 citizens. The WHO recommends one per 10,000.
The crisis is not merely medical; it is deeply social and economic. With youth unemployment and underemployment rising, many young Nigerians face a crushing sense of hopelessness. The repeated and ongoing strike by the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) have left countless students stranded, fueling despair and delaying their dreams.
Economic pressure meets emotional fragility in a toxic mix. Social media, while a tool of expression, often worsens this burden. A 2025 UNICEF report found that more than 80% of Nigerian youths feel greater pressure to succeed than previous generations, as curated images of wealth and success online amplify feelings of failure and inadequacy.
Substance abuse is both a symptom and a coping mechanism. The rise in the use of tramadol, codeine, and synthetic cannabinoids like “Colorado” reflects how many young people self-medicate their pain. A study among adolescent inmates in North-Central Nigeria found that 82.5% had at least one psychiatric disorder, and 15.8% had substance use disorders, illustrating how untreated trauma spirals into addiction.
Cultural stigma remains one of the greatest obstacles. Mental illness is still widely viewed as a sign of spiritual weakness, laziness, or moral failure. Families often choose prayers over treatment, while faith leaders dismiss clinical depression as a lack of faith. The language of “madness” silences those in pain and prevents timely help.
The state’s response has been tragically inadequate. Despite the Mental Health Act of 2021, which replaced the colonial-era Lunacy Act of 1958, implementation has been slow. Only Lagos and Ekiti States have domesticated the law, and the Mental Health Fund is yet to materialize. Less than 3.5% of Nigeria’s health budget is allocated to mental health, and over 90% of that goes to psychiatric hospitals, leaving almost nothing for community care.
The workforce crisis compounds the challenge. With fewer than 300 psychiatrists, limited psychologists, and minimal psychiatric nurses, most Nigerians, especially those outside Lagos, Abuja, and Port Harcourt, have no access to help. Rural communities are left in silence, often resorting to traditional or spiritual remedies that worsen rather than heal.
Yet, amidst the gloom, hope is emerging. Youth-led NGOs such as the Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI) are redefining help-seeking behaviour, offering counselling and suicide prevention services. Digital therapy platforms like MyTherapist.ng and SafeSpace are bridging the access gap through online consultations. On social media, young Nigerians are reclaiming the conversation, building peer-support communities and challenging stigma through storytelling and podcasts.
But these isolated efforts cannot replace a systemic response. Nigeria must act decisively and urgently. At least 10% of the national health budget should go to mental health, with a focus on prevention and community outreach. The Mental Health Act must be fully implemented nationwide. Psychiatrists, psychologists, and counsellors must be trained and retained, and mental health services integrated into primary healthcare.
Schools and universities should employ trained counsellors, establish safe spaces for therapy, and include mental health education in curricula. Digital platforms and mobile outreach units must reach rural areas, while communities and faith leaders should be sensitized to treat mental health as a legitimate medical concern, not a spiritual punishment.
Nigeria’s youth are its greatest national asset, but untreated mental illness is fast turning that asset into a liability. Ignoring their mental well-being is not only a moral failure but a developmental disaster.
With a life expectancy of just 54.9 years, Nigeria cannot afford to lose its young to despair. Healing the minds of the youth is not charity; it is a national emergency. The time to act is now before silence becomes the loudest sound of a broken generation.
Olasubomi Sangonuga is a student journalist with keen interest in storytelling and topical social issues. He writes from Ago-Iwoye, Ogun State.