Opinion
Nigerian Politics: A Dwindling Representation Of Women
Expectations were high. Hopes of seeing more women being elected into different political positions were at its peak. Over the years, the poor representation of women in both elective and appointive positions at various levels of government in the country had been a source of concern for women groups and other stakeholders who had unrelentlessly clamoured for a positive change. Months before the just concluded general elections, some women groups presented five gender bills to the national assembly. These bills included, a bill to create additional seats for women to increase women’s representation in the national assembly; a bill to enable Nigerian women to transfer citizenship to foreign husbands; a bill to ensure affirmative action of at least 35 per cent in political party administration and appointive positions across federal and state levels; a bill to provide a minimum of 20 per cent of ministerial or commissioner nominees are women and a bill to allow a woman to become an indigene of her husband’s state after six years of marriage.
The rejection of the five gender bills by the lawmakers prompted protests by women at the entrance of the National Assembly in Abuja, who for days besieged the entrance of the National Assembly demanding the reversal of the rejections. The protest paid off as the House of Representatives rescinded its decisions on three out of the five bills vis a vis the bills on citizenship, indigeneship and 35 per cent affirmative action in party administration. The law makers were to have a second look at these bills and consider the women’s stance. The womenfolk may not have gotten the support of the lawmakers as they expected but a strong message was delivered, that Nigerian women were ready to take their destiny by their hands and that they were determined to do whatever it takes for inclusion of women in political leadership as well as deal with other issues of gender inequalities
Unfortunately, the results from the just concluded general elections dashed the hopes. Rather than an improvement in the current poor political status where women occupy only five percent seats in the national assembly – the senate has only eight female senators out of 109; only 13 female houses of representative’s members out of 360, and 44 out of 991 state legislators are females. There are 15 state houses of assembly out of 36 with no women as legislators and no female governors, there was an obvious decline both in the number of women that vied for various positions and those that emerged winners. Available data from the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) show that only nine percent of the over 4,000 national assembly candidates were women – 380 contested; 92 for senate and 288 for the house of representatives. Meanwhile, 3,840 men vied for national assembly seats – 1,008 for senate and 2,832 for the house of representatives.
Based on the results announced by INEC, only three female senatorial candidates in the persons of our own dear deputy governor, Dr. Ipalibo Banigo , Rivers West senatorial district, Ireti Kingibe, Federal Capital Territory and Adebule Idiat Oluranti, Lagos West, will make it to the 10th Assembly out of 109 senate seats. For the green chambers, there is a slight increase from current 13 to 14 females out of 360 members. Not even the dream of having a first female elected governor in the person of Aishatu Dahiru Ahmed Binani, the candidate of the All Progressives Congress in the recently held governorship election in Adamawa State was realised.The question then is, what went wrong? What stopped Madam Nonye Josephine Ezeanyaeche; Khadijah Okunnu-Lamidi of the Social Democratic Party, SDP; Ibinabo Joy Dokubo, APC; Patience Key of the Peoples Redemption Party, PRP; Olivia Diana Teriela, of the PDP; Angela Johnson of the APGA, who were in the presidential race and other women who vied for other positions in states across the nation from being elected? Why were fewer women in the race in 2023 elections compared to other elections?
The reasons may not be unconnected with the issues known to all. The deep-rooted bias against women in leadership positions; the burden of poverty on women; inadequate and unequal access to education and training for women among others. One of the most disturbing problems is that of pre, during and post-election violence against women. We recall the assassination of the vibrant Kaduna State Labour Party Woman leader, Victoria Chintex last year. The vibrant woman leader in Kaura LGA of the state, was reportedly killed after gunmen invaded her residence in Kaura and shot her. Not even the offer of money by her husband could make the criminals change their minds. Instead, they got the man wounded as well. What about the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) women leader, Salome Abuh, who was shot and set ablaze at her residence in the Ofu Local Government Area of Kogi State four years ago. One Ocholi Edicha, had long been convicted to 12 years and six months in prison for culpable homicide by the court.
Many other women especially in our rural communities who have dared to venture into the “male terrain” of politics especially when they choose to belong to political parties different from the ruling parties in their states, have similar ugly tales to tell. How can the quest for active and substantive female gender participation in politics be achieved when these life-threatening barriers are not addressed? Elections in the country are most often characterised by violence, thuggery, rigging, acrimony, blackmail and outright disregard for decency which is supposed to be the key element of leadership. The various political parties in the country are not even doing enough to address this challenge. Some political parties still considered women to be suitable only for the post of women leaders. Some place the prices of their nomination and expression of interest forms far beyond the reach of many women as was seen in the recently conducted party primaries. We have also seen situations where some women, despite meeting all the parties’ requirements, were asked to step down for the men, probably because they did not pay as high as the men.
All over the world, there is an increasing number of women who are serving in elected and appointed political positions. Nigeria’s case should not be different. Rwanda always comes to mind when talking of where more female involvement in politics and leadership is paying off. The county’s deliberate effort at balancing power between the genders by enforcing the 50 per cent affirmative action policy has led to the rapid development of the country, peaceful coexistence of the citizens and a more decent society. At this point in our national history where the country seems to have lost direction and hopelessness looms everywhere, should women known for their expertise in strategic planning, human and situation management not be encouraged to come on board to rescue our sinking ship of a nation? Should there not be deliberate efforts towards implementing the 35 per cent affirmative action both within political parties and in the larger political and leadership space in the country, so as to ensure more women contributing to the affairs of the country? The President-elect, Asiwaju Bola Tinubu, in his manifesto promised to work with the National Assembly to pass a law to increase women’s participation in government to at least 35 per cent, if elected; to ensure certain senior positions are reserved for women in the Federal Executive Council as well as encourage the private sector to do same among others. We keep our fingers crossed waiting for the fulfilment of these encouraging promises. Meanwhile, the women should not be deterred by the several obstacles on their way. They should continue pushing, encouraging one another, learning from their mistakes. Definitely Nigeria will be better one day.
By: Calista Ezeaku
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
