There was a time when contestation did not necessarily translate into animosity. It is in this context that the philosophy of “politics without bitterness,” associated with the late Waziri Ibrahim, assumes renewed significance. His approach was marked by restraint and an insistence on maintaining respect for one’s opponents, even in the midst of intense competition. Alongside figures such as Aminu Kano, Waziri represented a tradition of ideological politics that placed the welfare of the ordinary Nigerian at its centre.
By Shu’aibu Usman Leman
There are moments in the life of a nation when a deliberate pause becomes necessary—not as an admission of weakness, but as an act of collective responsibility. Nigeria, in its present condition, stands in urgent need of such reflection. As the gears of the 2027 electoral cycle begin to grind, what was once envisaged as a political culture capable of fostering unity is drifting into a space characterised by suspicion, hostility, and a deepening fragmentation.
The recent flurry of political defections has brought this into sharp focus, sparking a volatile reaction from both the public and the political class. While the movement of actors between parties is a known feature of our democracy, it is the accompanying lexicon of vitriol from all sides that is truly concerning. We are witnessing a surge in the use of “strong language” and personal insults to condemn or justify these migrations. Disagreement is now too easily interpreted as disloyalty, and the tone of public engagement has grown harsher as citizens and partisans alike resort to increasingly bellicose rhetoric.
The space for reasoned, respectful disagreement appears to be steadily shrinking. In its place, a culture of fluid allegiances has emerged, where ideological consistency is frequently sacrificed for the immediate acquisition or preservation of power. This pattern of shifting loyalties is often defended or attacked through the most intemperate of expressions, targeting the character of individuals rather than the substance of policy. Such a climate prioritises short-term tactical advantages over the long-term stability of the party system.
Drawing from my years in journalism and my tenure within the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ), I have observed our democratic evolution from a unique vantage point. These experiences have reinforced a simple but important truth, that our politics has not always been this way. There was a time when contestation did not necessarily translate into animosity.
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It is in this context that the philosophy of “politics without bitterness,” associated with the late Waziri Ibrahim, assumes renewed significance. His approach was marked by restraint and an insistence on maintaining respect for one’s opponents, even in the midst of intense competition. Alongside figures such as Aminu Kano, Waziri represented a tradition of ideological politics that placed the welfare of the ordinary Nigerian at its centre.
Although the Great Nigeria People’s Party (GNPP) and the People’s Redemption Party (PRP) did not secure federal power, their contributions extended far beyond electoral outcomes. They helped to define a political ethos rooted in conviction rather than expediency. The Nigeria of that era was by no means free from tension; ethnic divisions and institutional fragility were ever-present.
Yet, even within those constraints, there remained a conscious effort among many political actors to distinguish between rivalry and enmity. Seasoned journalists often recount stories of political opponents who could engage one another with a measure of civility. Such recollections are not merely nostalgic; they point to a standard that once existed and can exist again.
In contrast, contemporary political discourse often appears to reward aggression over substance. Debates that ought to revolve around national direction are frequently reduced to the mobilisation of identity. This transformation is not without consequence, as it fundamentally alters the psyche of the electorate.
When politics becomes excessively personalised, the capacity for compromise diminishes, and governance itself is weakened. A democratic system depends upon the ability of competing interests to find common ground. Where that ability is eroded, the system begins to falter, and the institutions designed to protect the people become tools of partisan warfare.
The implications of this shift extend beyond the political class and into the broader fabric of society. The tone set by leadership inevitably filters down, shaping interactions within our communities. In a country as diverse as ours, the erosion of civility risks fuelling wider social divisions that undermine national stability.
The media, to which I have devoted much of my professional life, must reckon with its role in this evolving landscape. As members of the Media profession, we have long regarded journalism as a cornerstone of democratic accountability. However, it would be disingenuous to ignore the ways in which the profession has sometimes contributed to the coarsening of public discourse.
The pressures associated with digital immediacy have occasionally encouraged sensationalism at the expense of balance and depth. Narratives, once amplified without sufficient scrutiny, can entrench division rather than promote understanding. This is a challenge that requires a renewed commitment to the core tenets of our craft.
Crucially, journalists should avoid jumping into the arena. When the press adopts the partisan language of the political class, it forfeits its role as an impartial arbiter. Our responsibility is to report the shift and analyse its impact, not to provide an amplified megaphone for personal insults and inflammatory rhetoric.
It is entirely possible to hold those in authority to account without resorting to corrosive language. The task before journalists is not merely to inform, but to do so in a manner that contributes to the health of the democratic process. We must be the gatekeepers who refuse to allow the “arena” to be flooded with toxicity.
Responsibility, however, cannot be confined to the media alone. Political leaders bear a particular obligation to model the kind of conduct that sustains democratic life. The example set by our forebears underscores the fact that civility is a discipline that requires moral clarity.
To practise politics without bitterness is to recognise that power is transient. It demands the capacity to disagree firmly while resisting the impulse to dehumanise. In a country as pluralistic as Nigeria, this approach is not simply desirable; it is essential for our survival as a united entity.
Our nation’s plurality—its varied cultures, languages, and beliefs—ought to serve as a source of strength. When these differences are manipulated for narrow political gain, they become fault lines. A politics grounded in moderation offers a means of managing this diversity constructively.
Citizens, too, play an indispensable role in shaping the character of public discourse. In the age of social media, every individual is a participant in the dissemination of information. A public that rewards sensationalism and hostility will inevitably receive more of the same from its leaders.
The stakes for the 2027 cycle are considerable. No democracy can function effectively in an atmosphere defined by persistent hostility and mutual distrust. Trust constitutes the foundation upon which our institutions operate, and its gradual weakening poses a significant risk to the progress of the republic.
For me, the choice lies with us. We must decide whether to allow division to define our trajectory or to make a conscious effort to uphold the values of civility and shared purpose. The opportunity to shape a legacy of “politics without bitterness” remains within reach, provided there is the resolve to act with wisdom and restraint.
