Nigeria at a crossroads: Defending democratic pluralism
By Sonny Ogulewe
Nathan Sharansky, the Jewish author and former Soviet political prisoner, posed an evocative question in his book The Case for Democracy: “Why do so many of those who have always lived in liberty fail to appreciate the enormous power of freedom?” Having spent nine years in a Soviet prison for exercising a fundamental right available only in a democracy, he wondered why anyone would toy with such a precious system of government. His question remains profoundly relevant today.
The greatest threat to democracy is not always the dictator who abolishes elections. Sometimes, it is the elected government that gradually renders elections meaningless by systematically eliminating credible alternatives. That is where democracy begins to decline.
Nigeria appears to be approaching one of the most dangerous crossroads in its democratic history. What should ordinarily be a vibrant contest of ideas is increasingly becoming a struggle for political survival. The signs are troubling. The democratic space is shrinking, opposition voices are becoming increasingly vulnerable, and the institutions expected to safeguard constitutional democracy are, in the eyes of many Nigerians, steadily losing public confidence.
Democracy rarely dies in one dramatic moment. It dies gradually. It dies when institutions particularly the judiciary appear partisan. It dies when dissent is criminalised. It dies when political opponents are weakened, not primarily through the ballot box, but through a combination of legal, administrative, and coercive pressures.
Across the country, there is a growing perception that the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) is pursuing a strategy aimed not merely at winning elections at all costs, but at substantially weakening the opposition landscape ahead of the 2027 general elections.
The conduct of the 10th National Assembly has further amplified these concerns. To many observers, it appears to have surrendered much of its constitutional independence to the Executive, thereby diluting one of the cardinal principles of constitutional democracy, the separation of powers. Rather than vigorously exercising its oversight responsibilities, the legislature is increasingly perceived as being more concerned with political self-preservation than with upholding the constitutional doctrine of checks and balances.
The recent amendment to the Electoral Act has further heightened public anxiety. Of particular concern is the amendment to Section 63 of the Electoral Act 2022. Section 63(1) provides that a ballot paper which does not bear the official mark prescribed by the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) shall not be counted. However, subsection (2) creates an exception by empowering a Returning Officer to count such a ballot paper if satisfied that it originated from an official booklet supplied to the Presiding Officer for that polling unit.
While supporters argue that this provision is intended to prevent genuine votes from being invalidated due to administrative errors, critics contend that it introduces an avoidable element of subjectivity into the electoral process. They argue that, in the absence of the prescribed official mark, the determination of validity becomes largely dependent on the discretion of an election official, thereby creating room for manipulation. In an era of sophisticated electoral technology, many Nigerians are asking whether such discretion strengthens or weakens the integrity of the electoral process.
Other recent political developments have reinforced these concerns. Court decisions affecting opposition parties, particularly those with potentially far-reaching electoral consequences, have generated intense public debate and accusations of judicial overreach from opposition leaders, even as supporters of those judgments insist that they are firmly grounded in law.
Likewise, the legal and political challenges involving former Kaduna State Governor Nasir el-Rufai have further fuelled public suspicion. While government agencies and supporters of the APC maintain that the actions taken against him are based on allegations of criminal conduct, many opposition figures view them as politically selective. To critics, some of the bail conditions imposed have done little to dispel the perception that legal processes are increasingly being deployed as instruments of political pressure.
Similarly, Peter Obi has repeatedly alleged intimidation and the misuse of state institutions against opposition politics. His criticisms have resonated with many Nigerians, while government officials have consistently rejected claims that he is being unfairly targeted.
Whether every allegation ultimately proves correct is almost secondary to the larger issue. In constitutional democracies, perception matters. When substantial numbers of citizens begin to believe that institutions no longer administer justice impartially, or that state power is deployed selectively against political opponents, public confidence in democracy itself begins to erode.
The irony is unmistakable. The APC itself is perhaps the greatest beneficiary of Nigeria’s multiparty democracy. It emerged from a coalition of opposition parties that successfully defeated an incumbent government in 2015. That historic victory was celebrated across Africa as evidence that democratic power could change hands peacefully through the ballot box. It demonstrated that no government should become politically invincible.
It would therefore be deeply ironic if a party born out of democratic competition is now perceived as presiding over an environment in which that very competition is steadily being diminished.
History offers sobering lessons. In 1969, another renowned Soviet dissident, Andrei Amalrik, warned in his celebrated book Will the Soviet Union Survive Until 1984? that “any state forced to devote so much of its energies to physically and psychologically controlling millions of its own subjects could not survive indefinitely.” His warning transcended the Soviet experience. Political monopolies rarely produce better governance. They often breed arrogance, complacency, corruption, and abuse of power.
Without a strong opposition, governments lose the incentive to perform. Legislatures become less effective in oversight. Public institutions become susceptible to political capture. Elections gradually become rituals rather than genuine democratic contests.
The framers of Nigeria’s Constitution did not envisage a one-party state. They deliberately created a pluralistic political system because they understood that no political party possesses a monopoly of wisdom. Competition produces accountability, and accountability produces better governance.
A strong opposition is not an obstacle to government; it is one of democracy’s greatest assets. Every successful democracy from the United Kingdom to India, South Africa, Ghana, and the United States, owes much of its institutional resilience to the existence of credible opposition parties capable of scrutinising government policies and presenting alternative visions for national development.
The temptation to weaken political opponents may appear rewarding in the short term, but it is ultimately self-defeating. Governments change. Political fortunes reverse. Institutions, however, endure. Those who weaponize institutions today may someday depend upon those same institutions for justice.
Even more dangerous is the message being sent to young Nigerians. When citizens begin to conclude that elections no longer provide genuine choices, faith in constitutional politics inevitably diminishes. Political apathy grows. Cynicism replaces hope. Democracy loses not only credibility but also legitimacy.
This is not an appeal for perpetual confrontation between government and the opposition. Governments deserve the opportunity to govern. Opposition parties equally have a responsibility to strengthen their internal democracy, articulate credible alternatives, and earn the confidence of the electorate. Political superiority should, however, be established through ideas, performance, persuasion, and the ballot not through the perceived weakening of competitors by institutional means.
Nigeria’s democratic future is greater than the fortunes of any political party whether the APC, ADC, Labour Party, PDP, or any other platform. Governments are temporary. Democracy must be permanent.
As the nation approaches the 2027 general elections, those entrusted with political power must remember that history is invariably kinder to leaders who strengthen democratic institutions than to those who merely consolidate political power.
Let democracy flourish. The APC must resist the temptation to drift towards a dominant-party state. Nathan Sharansky’s timeless warning deserves careful reflection, for nations that cease to cherish political freedom often awaken too late to discover that they have lost it.
