Trust is in short supply in Africa. This was made painfully obvious during the recent Ebola virus outbreak, when significant numbers of Sierra Leoneans, Guineans and Liberians seemed convinced that the rapid spread of the disease in their countries was a western conspiracy or, worse still, a plan by their own governments to harm them.

Meanwhile, in Nigeria, where 17 cases of Ebola have been confirmed so far, the government is struggling to find doctors and nurses willing to care for the patients, despite offering daily wages of €280 (£221) and €210 respectively (well above standard pay), along with €140,000 in life insurance. Why the reluctance? “Because those financial promises cannot be trusted. The government is still owing medical personnel overdue allowances it seems unwilling to pay, so people fear risking their lives with no backup,” one Lagos-based doctor told me, preferring not to be named.

A collective memory of having been taken for a ride once too often has left Africans deeply mistrustful of their governments, and cynical about any promises they make. Of course, it is not only in Africa that people are cynical about politicians these days. For instance, only one in five Britons trust their MPs to tell the truth, according to a 2013 survey. Yet, it is hard to imagine UK doctors disbelieving a British government’s public commitment to pay them or provide insurance cover in a parallel situation.

Much less can one imagine (rational) British citizens believing their political leaders could be trying to infect them with a deadly virus. Despite the often harsh criticism that Britons, and Europeans in general, mete out to their politicians, they still harbour trust that the state will come to their aid in the event of an emergency, and that their governments are somewhat interested in their welfare. Africans have scant basis for such confidence. I know that many Nigerians wouldn’t put anything past their rulers.

Worse still, nowadays this cynicism and mistrust is not restricted to politicians alone. Each time I visit Nigeria (every couple of months), friends and family feel the need to advise me how careful I should be of those who might want to cheat, rob, kidnap or take advantage of me in one way or the other. Every time the list of dangers I’m presented with is longer than the last one. If only this was all just good old-fashioned paranoia. It’s not. Nigerians live under a tremendous amount of emotional strain because their government exhibits little interest in providing them with even the most minimal sense of security.

Violent crime is rampant, while policemen sit in their offices counting their take for the day from the bribes and extortion money they’ve collected. Call them for help while you are being robbed and they will probably tell you they have no fuel to make the trip. Citizens are left to fend for themselves against criminals.

Meanwhile, the newspapers are full of allegations about the embezzlement of billions by politicians. This year, Nigeria’s then central bank governor, Lamido Sanusi, said $20bn in oil revenue had gone “missing”. But Sanusi’s accusation then rebounded as the country’s president, Goodluck Jonathan, dismissed his claims and suspended him. The Nigerian government has said Sanusi’s “tenure [was] characterised by various acts of financial recklessness and misconduct”. Two years ago it emerged that top government officials in charge of pension funds had diverted $1.6bn into their pockets. The list goes on.

Injustice laughs you in the face on a daily basis. You see previously honest people adopting crooked ways in order to survive. Both the masses and the elite seem to have stopped believing in the Nigerian project. All of this makes a perfect breeding ground for cynicism, mistrust and fear. In fact, my wonder is that there are still Nigerians who are willing to trust anybody.

This lack of trust in the state and between citizens cannot but cost dearly.

In an atmosphere where people often assume the worst intentions in others, many potentially fruitful relationships are inevitably forgone, and possible business transactions never happen because no one wants to risk being shortchanged. People practise corruption because they are convinced others are doing the same. The cycle continues.

The worst legacy of the current crop of crooked African rulers is not the poor infrastructure, the lack of proper healthcare or even the corruption; it is the seed of doubt and mistrust that their actions have sown in people’s minds. Roads and highways can be built in the space of a few years and the Ebola outbreak will most likely be curbed within a few months, but the deep mistrust and cynicism pervasive in many African societies will continue to impede progress on the continent for decades to come.