PART 1
THIS three-part series examines the deep contradictions at the heart of Nigeria’s democratic experiment. In Part One, we explore the painful irony of Democracy Day in light of the violence in Benue and the broader failure of the Nigerian state to protect its citizens. Democracy in Nigeria was ushered in after a prolonged period of military rule, with the 1999 return to civilian governance marking a hopeful transition, one of hope, promise, and the dawn of a new democratic era. After decades of military dictatorships, corruption, and political instability, the country was supposed to chart a new course toward transparency, governance, and the rule of law. Yet, since then, the country has faced multiple challenges that have undermined the spirit of democracy. Rather than strengthening the nation’s democratic fabric, the political system has often been marked by corruption, electoral fraud, inadequate representation, and poor governance. These issues have led many to question whether Nigeria’s democracy is truly a government “by the people, for the people,” or simply democracy in name only.
In the 1960s, I was a young man freshly graduated from college in the United Kingdom. I remember the excitement I felt, how eager I was to return home to Nigeria, my beloved country. It was a time of unity and promise; an emerging nation poised to compete with the rest of the world and, perhaps, even lead Africa. The future seemed limitless. I vividly recall telling my friends in the UK that if any continent had the potential to mirror America’s rise, it would be Africa, with Nigeria at its helm. Nigeria had it all; human capital, fertile land for agriculture, oil, gas, gold, diamonds, and more. It was hard not to get swept up in that excitement, especially as my friends wished me well and spoke of visiting Nigeria soon. Once again, I find myself lost in memories that linger with a bittersweet flavor, reminding me of the hopes and disappointments that come with being Nigerian. For many Nigerians, the celebrations of June 12, often referred to as Democracy Day, have become little more than a perfunctory ritual. The streets are adorned with flags, national symbols are paraded, and speeches are made by politicians who wax eloquent about the virtues of democracy. However, the reality for the average Nigerian is often far from the democratic ideal. The disparity between what democracy is supposed to represent and the lived experience of many citizens is staggering.
However, just days after the country marked the 2025 Democracy Day, the heart-wrenching tragedy of fresh bloodshed in Benue State has once again cast a dark shadow over Nigeria’s claims of progress and peace under its democratic system. The recent violence that erupted in Benue, one of Nigeria’s Middle-Belt states exposes the brutal reality of a nation still grappling with deep-seated issues of insecurity, ethnic strife, and inadequate governance. What was supposed to be a time of celebration turned into a grim reminder that for many Nigerians, democracy remains a distant dream, overshadowed by the harshness of violence and the failure of the state to protect its citizens. According to reports, the bloodshed began on June 16, 2025, just four days after Democracy Day, when armed assailants suspected to be Fulani herders attacked several communities in the Guma and Logo Local Government Areas of Benue State. The attackers believed to have been involved in previous clashes with local farmers, invaded villages in the dead of night, killing dozens and leaving many more injured.
The violence is not a new occurrence; it is part of a long-standing conflict between farmers and herders over land, water, and resources. In the case of Benue, the situation has worsened over the years due to a lack of effective government intervention, escalating ethnic tensions, and the proliferation of armed groups.
However, the scale and brutality of the latest attack stand out because it happened just days after the country celebrated its democracy. The contrast between the jubilant speeches about freedom and democracy and the horror unfolding in Benue is jarring. While politicians paraded their achievements in Abuja, innocent civilians in rural Nigeria were being slaughtered reminding the public that the promises of security and protection remain far from realized.
Benue has long been caught in the crossfire of Nigeria’s broader security crisis. Known as the “Food Basket of the Nation” for its vast agricultural output, the state has been home to decades of violent clashes between local farmers, who predominantly belong to ethnic groups like the Tiv and Idoma, and nomadic herders, mainly from the Fulani ethnic group. The roots of this conflict are complex, with factors such as competition for fertile land, climate change, the proliferation of small arms, and political instability playing significant roles.
For the people of Benue, this bloodshed has become a way of life, with the state’s farmers fearing for their lives as they attempt to cultivate the land that feeds much of Nigeria. Over the past decade, the state has seen numerous attacks, with villages destroyed, homes burned, and hundreds of lives lost. Despite the repeated calls for action, the government’s response has been inadequate, with security forces often slow to intervene or unable to provide lasting solutions. The 2025 attack serves as a painful reminder that these unresolved issues continue to plague the state, and for many, the celebration of Democracy Day felt empty and hollow. In a democratic society, the government’s first responsibility is to protect its citizens, yet the people of Benue are left to fend for themselves as they live under the constant threat of violence.
The events in Benue starkly expose the irony of Nigeria’s Democracy Day. While the government celebrates its success in holding elections and maintaining a democratic framework, the reality on the ground tells a different story. Democracy Day is meant to honor the principles of justice, peace, and freedom, but for those living in conflict-ridden states like Benue, it is hard to see the democracy they are supposed to celebrate.
The government’s failure to curb the violence in Benue and across other parts of the country reflects a broader pattern of neglect in addressing the security challenges facing Nigeria. Despite claims of military operations and security reforms, the situation has only worsened in the last few years, leaving the Nigerian populace increasingly distrustful of the authorities.
Nigeria’s Democracy Day celebrations must evolve from mere symbolic acts to meaningful reflections on the nation’s true democratic journey. For many, democracy is not just about voting every four years or passing laws in the National Assembly; it is about security, justice, and the right to live without fear. Until the Nigerian government can guarantee these basic rights to its citizens, especially in conflict-prone regions, the celebration of democracy will remain nothing more than a hollow exercise in irony.
“A system is corrupt when it is strictly profit-driven, not driven to serve the best interest of its people.”- Suzy Kassem.
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PART 2
IN Part Two of this three-part series, we build on the themes introduced in Democracy in Name Only by examining a core promise that democracy is supposed to deliver: the dividends of democracy. This installment explores how, instead of equitable benefits for all citizens, Nigeria’s version of democracy has become skewed, serving primarily the political class and their inner circles while sidelining the very people whose votes legitimize power. Drawing a sharp analogy between democratic participation and financial investment, this piece challenges us to question whether Nigerians are receiving fair returns on the civic “capital” they invest every election cycle.
We believe that democracy must be more than a ritual of voting; it must yield real, tangible outcomes that improve the quality of life for the majority, not just a privileged few. Until the dividends of democracy are shared equitably, our democratic project remains unfulfilled and unjust.
As I outlined in my previous article, ‘Dividends of Democracy,’ the following points were highlighted:
Democracy defined in its simplest form means, the government of the people, for the people, and by the people. This definition simply means that the people, the citizens are the major stakeholders in decision making, and all issues of national importance are decided in accordance with their wishes and aspirations. What happens is that the people vote and send their representatives to take up the office, where they are genuinely represented without any bias or personal considerations. These representatives are supposed to be selfless and true custodians of national interests; owing allegiance only to the country, not to themselves or their respective parties and financial supporters; thus, they must consider themselves bound to contribute in the best interest of the country.
When we embraced democracy in Nigeria, this is the fantastic deal we signed up for, but sadly, we have continually received the opposite. Therefore, I hope to pass across a message that will encourage my fellow Nigerians to ponder over the state of our democracy, and I hope you will agree with me when I say we need to evaluate the democratic agreement we have made with our political leaders.
Some time ago, a governor made a speech assuring the people of his State that his administration would continue in its efforts to develop the State and deliver “the dividends of democracy to all.” This phrase got me thinking about what was implied as against what often happens. Many of us have come across the word ‘dividend’ on many occasions. The word, as used in business terms, is defined as “payment made by a corporation to its shareholders to distribute the profit.” As noted above, democracy is a government elected by the people and obligated to govern with the interest of the masses at heart. Therefore, the dividends of democracy are simply the benefits enjoyed by the masses who voted for the government in power.
If we draw parallels between Nigeria and a company listed on the Nigerian Stock Exchange, we will be able to see how terrible the pay-out on our investments in the country is. The last thing a smart businessperson will do is invest money in a business that rarely pays dividends, has a terrible balance sheet, records capital losses year after year and finally, shows no room or definite plans for growth. When a company like this exists, the board of directors will usually come together to discuss a way forward so that the shareholders will move to replace the members of the board who have proven incompetent at running a successful company.
If an entrepreneur is a person who habitually creates and innovates to build something of recognized value around perceived opportunities; how will we define a political entrepreneur? He or she must be one who understands and uses the opportunity to create and innovate something of value for himself or herself with capital raised by the masses.
Every election year we go to vote in new officials, we must remember that we are investing in a government that will either return a favorable dividend to us or not. We should not settle for the little gifts and pay-outs during the campaigns because, as shareholders of this country, we deserve to reap the full benefits of our democracy. In their usual fashion, politicians would be seen making grand gestures in the communities six months before the elections. Why do they do this? Is it because they have tunnel vision and can only see what benefits them, or is it because they believe the little gifts and handouts are the dividends of democracy the masses should expect from them.
The inequality in the country is at an all-time high. Our middle class is evaporating, and many people are one major illness or financial burden away from poverty. Alas, the dividends of democracy are not equally shared. You will be forgiven if you, like me , had once thought to describe the “dividends of democracy” as the presence of good roads, potable water supply, accessible and affordable education, affordable quality healthcare, constant power supply, high employment rates, good transport system, affordable housing, and favorable economy for trade and investment, just to mention a few. Forgiven for being highly mistaken. As for the politicians, power is the greatest dividend, and numerous other benefits accompany that power. Foreign trips, flashy cars, extravagant lifestyles, are just some of the benefits waiting for a politician and those who have invested in them when they win the election. The majority shareholders with their ‘perceived measly votes’ are left with bad roads, weak infrastructure, poor electricity, lousy governance, etc.
That is why it baffles me that some people still don’t vote. You matter more than you think in the landscape of Nigerian democracy. Every great successful revolution was won primarily by perseverance. It is unwise to sit back and lament that one’s vote doesn’t count in the hope that someday that will change miraculously without having to raise a finger. Your greatest weapon as a citizen is your vote, and that should be wielded with valour and strength. We are a nation of hardworking, ambitious people that can often be found almost anywhere in the world involved in one business or the other and doing well. Nigerians are known as, in colloquial lingua, ‘hustlers’, yet in the one thing that is probably the most important, most of us choose to be unlike what we are known for.
Dr. Kingsley Ozumba Mbadiwe coined the term “men of timber and calibre”, and became famously known by that, in one of his many colourful speeches as a member of the House of Representatives, former Minister of Lands, Minister of Trade and commerce, and Minister of Aviation. Perhaps at that time, he meant it as a way to describe men who were steady and of strong character like the timber, though I am still trying to understand what the calibre connotes. But in all, we have come to accept it as the norm when describing politicians during campaign rallies and other ego fanning functions. Somehow, I feel Mbadiwe would be appalled at its current use.
It shouldn’t be a matter of debate that a democratic government is one that exists primarily to protect, provide basic goods and services, and increase the quality of life of every member of the society it serves. It shouldn’t, but as we have come to see, this is many times not the case for our “men of timber and calibre.” So, the next time one of our dear politicians uses the phrase, “dividends of democracy,” can he be so kind as to explain what he truly means, so we are not disappointed or confused when the outcome doesn’t align with our expectations.
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PART 3
IN this final installment of the series, we shift our focus from diagnosis to direction. Having explored the disillusionment behind our so-called democratic celebrations and questioned the value of the “dividends” returned to citizens, we now turn to the heart of the matter reclaiming the republic. This part is not about assigning blame but about charting a path forward. It is about recognizing that the task of national renewal cannot rest on one leader, one region, or one political party. It must be a collective undertaking driven by a shared commitment to rebuild the institutions, values, and systems that give true meaning to democracy. We believe that the strength to revive Nigeria lies not in division or escape, but in unity, courage, and the resolve to make democracy work for all. The question is no longer whether democracy has failed us, it is whether we are ready to fight for the democracy we deserve.