Opinion
Relevance Of Democracy Tenets In Africa
The year 2021 went down in history as the year when military coups returned to Africa.
In just a few months, the African continent witnessed dozens of coups and attempted coups in Mali, Guinea, Sudan and Chad. So far, 2022 has been no different. In February, a military junta took power in Burkina Faso.
For people who were around in the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s — the heyday of coups across the continent — it feels a bit like deja vu.
Many in Africa are questioning the tenets of democracy and are asking whether it is still relevant in the continent today.
Across different social media platforms, I have come across many anti-democracy and anti-Western sentiments. Much of the frustration seems to be directed at democratically elected leaders who were hiding an autocratic streak, living extravagant lifestyles despite their poorer populaces. It is not uncommon for these leaders to change their constitutions for political gain and shutter civic space to block dissenting views.
This is all happening under the watchful eyes of the pioneers of democratic governance — Western Europe and North America. But, instead of taking action, these Western nations legitimise the dirty habits of these democratic-turned-autocratic rulers by prioritising their own economic interests over rights abuses and corruption.
On one hand, Europe and North America pour billions into the continent to promote good governance and support the fight against poverty and corruption. But, on the other hand, they also offer financial backing to Africa’s dictatorial leaders in exchange for unfettered access to natural resources.
The United States, France, Germany and Norway openly criticise the arbitrary arrests of opposition politicians in Uganda and police brutality in Cameroon, Kenya and Nigeria. But they continue to import their raw materials from those countries. The Democratic Republic of Congo is embroiled in a protracted war in which the biggest victims are civilians. But that is no problem for the West — as long as the supply of cobalt and coltan continues to flow and power their smartphones, smart cars and smart homes.
These double standards have consequences. After 60 years of development aid, Africa remains the poorest continent in the world and still suffers the highest number of protracted civil wars.
I know: It is better to work with the devil you know than the angel you do not, right?
But many Africans are growing sick and tired of this line. They have finally lost their patience. So they are making their voices heard with the biggest and most influential tool at their disposal: the internet. Politically ambitious military colonels have heard their cries, and they are responding.
African scholars such as former International Monetary Fund executive Dambisa Moyo and the continentally renowned Kenyan political professor, Patrick Loch Otieno (PLO) Lumumba have lauded the benefits of strongman leadership unbound by terms or age limits.
Against the backdrop of failed multiparty democracies across the continent, this idea has fallen on attentive ears.
Some of the world’s most famous strongman leaders — from Russia’s Vladimir Putin to Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdogan — have become political rock stars among African millennials, despite their utter disregard for human rights and their routine silencing of journalists and opposition politicians.
Amid this resurgence of coups, I believe that democratic governance is more needed than ever in Africa. Not benevolent dictators. People should be able to make fun of a president’s funny hat without getting thrown in jail. As someone who grew up in Sierra Leone in the 1980s, I knew all too well what would happen if you even mentioned dictator Joseph Saidu Momoh’s name in simple conversation.
From communism to monarchy, the very fabric of modern-day nations hinge on the nuance of politics. With all its flaws, democracy has emerged as a strong global system.
Nearly all African states have tried this form of governance after their independence from colonial Europe. But generation after generation has achieved little since.
The existing regional economic bodies have failed to deliver to or meet the interest of Africans. The African Union is not held in high regard either. In fact, many now view these institutions as support clubs for dictatorial regimes.
Western nations also lost their moral high ground when they chose to “hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.”
But all is not lost. I believe that the coup trend can be bucked and democratic governance can return to Mali, Guinea, Chad, Sudan and Burkina Faso.
But African elites need to rethink what multiparty democracy means for them and what form it should take in order for it to prevail on the continent.
Western nations must also be ready to form new partnerships with African leaders that are visibly helping their people. They must also be prepared and willing to cut ties with leaders who fail their nations. Even if that hurts their political and economic interests.
By: Abu-Bakarr Jalloh
Jalloh is a commentator on Political and Economic affairs.
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
