Analysis
Trump’s Blacklist and the Burden of Nigeria’s Image, by Boniface Ihiasota
Trump’s Blacklist and the Burden of Nigeria’s Image, by Boniface Ihiasota
The recent controversy over alleged “Christian genocide” in Nigeria has once again dragged the country’s name into a diplomatic storm. U.S. President Donald Trump’s push for Nigeria’s redesignation as a “country of particular concern” for religious freedom, coupled with his fiery rhetoric about “Christian persecution,” has amplified an already delicate global perception of Nigeria. In the U.S., Christian advocacy groups cite years of killings in the Middle Belt and northern states as evidence of systematic extermination; in Nigeria, officials insist the claim is exaggerated, arguing that the violence is driven more by terrorism, banditry, and communal disputes than by religion. Between these extremes lies a complex, painful reality that demands honesty and nuance.
There is no denying that Christians have suffered devastating attacks, alongside Muslims and others, across Nigeria’s conflict zones. Human Rights Watch, the International Crisis Group, and the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED) have all documented repeated massacres of civilians. Between January 2024 and mid-2025, ACLED recorded over 6,200 civilian deaths across Nigeria’s northern states with Benue, Plateau, Kaduna, Zamfara, and Borno among the hardest hit. The U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF) has, for years, accused the Nigerian government of failing to adequately protect religious minorities or prosecute perpetrators of sectarian violence.
However, most conflict researchers and rights organisations stop short of describing the situation as “genocide.” The legal definition of genocide — requiring intent to destroy, in whole or part, a specific group is rarely met in Nigeria’s case. Boko Haram and Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) clearly target Christians and moderate Muslims, but their goal is ideological domination, not total extermination. In the Middle Belt, violence is often rooted in competition for land and water between mostly Muslim pastoralists and mostly Christian farmers, worsened by climate change and weak governance. In the Northwest, killings and kidnappings are driven by criminal banditry and ransom economies.
The genocide narrative, though emotionally powerful, risks flattening these distinctions. It can harden identity lines, fuel retaliatory cycles, and distract from addressing root causes such as poor policing, corruption, and the failure of justice institutions. Still, calling the violence merely “communal clashes” trivialises the scale of human loss. In 2024 alone, Open Doors USA estimated that nearly 5,000 Christians were killed for their faith in Nigeria more than in any other country while Intersociety, a Nigerian watchdog, put the number closer to 7,000. These are not mere statistics; they represent shattered families, displaced communities, and the slow erosion of coexistence.
The Trump-led pressure on Nigeria is therefore a double-edged sword. On one hand, it forces international attention on a crisis often met with domestic indifference. The U.S. redesignation could push Nigeria toward greater accountability if it comes with constructive engagement and verifiable benchmarks for justice and protection. On the other, it risks reducing Nigeria to a caricature of religious war, empowering extremist voices, and alienating allies. Diplomacy by blacklist rarely solves complex conflicts; it often deepens mistrust.
Nigeria’s official response so far has been defensive. The government points to military campaigns against insurgents, thousands of arrests, and new community policing initiatives. Yet the absence of transparent investigations and successful prosecutions undermines these claims. The National Human Rights Commission has repeatedly lamented the culture of impunity that allows mass killings to go unpunished. Moreover, humanitarian conditions remain dire. According to the International Organization for Migration, over 3.2 million people remain internally displaced across northern Nigeria as many living in conditions ripe for radicalisation or exploitation.
If Nigeria is to reclaim its image, the government must move beyond rhetoric. First, independent investigations into mass killings from Benue to Zamfara should be conducted and their findings made public. Second, justice must be visible. The prosecution of both insurgent leaders and complicit security agents is essential to rebuild trust. Third, early-warning and mediation mechanisms should be strengthened in flashpoint areas, with community-based peacebuilding initiatives supported by both federal and local authorities.
For the international community, punitive measures alone are not enough. Sanctions, visa bans, and blacklists make headlines but seldom yield reform. What Nigeria needs is sustained technical and humanitarian support, funding for evidence-based investigations, victim rehabilitation, and local governance reforms that address the economic roots of violence. The U.S., the European Union, and the African Union should coordinate to ensure that any pressure on Nigeria is balanced with assistance that strengthens, rather than isolates, state institutions.
Nigerians in the diaspora also have a role to play. We must defend our nation’s integrity while refusing to whitewash its failures. The diaspora can lobby for balanced international engagement by urging foreign partners to back truth commissions, judicial reforms, and development projects in affected regions, rather than merely echoing partisan narratives.
Ultimately, Nigeria’s burden is one of perception and performance. The world will believe what it sees and what it sees, for now, are images of grief, displacement, and unanswered questions. To cleanse its image, Nigeria must first confront its own reflection: the failure to protect its people, to tell its own story truthfully, and to act decisively against those who profit from chaos.
If Trump’s blacklist serves any purpose, it should be to jolt Nigeria into self-accountability, not self-pity. Only by facing facts — the killings, the displacement and the impunity can Nigeria rise above the noise of international accusation. A nation that values its pluralism must prove it in action. Anything less is an abdication of responsibility to both history and humanity.
Analysis
Donald Trump at 80: Assessing His Impact on Africa and Africans, by Boniface Ihiasota
Donald Trump at 80: Assessing His Impact on Africa and Africans, by Boniface Ihiasota
On June 14, 2026, President Donald J. Trump marked his 80th birthday, becoming one of the most consequential and controversial figures in modern American political history. Born on June 14, 1946, in Queens, New York, Trump has served as both the 45th and 47th President of the United States, returning to office on January 20, 2025, after winning the 2024 presidential election.
As Africans and members of the global African diaspora reflect on Trump’s legacy at 80, opinions remain sharply divided. Yet beyond the political debates, there are measurable developments in his administrations that have had direct implications for Africa and Africans.
Perhaps the most significant Africa-related achievement associated with Trump’s current presidency is the United States-brokered peace agreement between the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda. Signed in Washington, D.C., on June 27, 2025, the accord sought to end decades of instability and violence in eastern Congo, a conflict that has claimed millions of lives and displaced countless families across Central Africa.
The agreement involved key African leaders, including Congolese President Félix Tshisekedi and Rwandan President Paul Kagame, with mediation support from U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and presidential envoy Massad Boulos.
For many Africans, the significance of this diplomatic intervention cannot be understated. For over three decades, eastern Congo has remained one of the world’s deadliest conflict zones. While the long-term success of the peace accord will ultimately depend on implementation by the parties involved, the willingness of the Trump administration to invest diplomatic capital in resolving an African conflict represented a notable moment in U.S.-Africa relations.
Economic engagement has also featured prominently in Trump’s approach to Africa. Throughout both his first and second administrations, he emphasized private-sector investment over traditional aid models. His admirers argue that this philosophy encouraged a shift toward trade, entrepreneurship, infrastructure development and business partnerships rather than perpetual dependency on foreign assistance.
Several African governments welcomed greater American interest in strategic minerals, energy resources and manufacturing opportunities as competition intensified between the United States and China for influence on the continent.
Trump’s supporters further point to his administration’s emphasis on national sovereignty and bilateral partnerships. Many African leaders, particularly those advocating stronger national control over economic resources and immigration policies, found aspects of Trump’s political philosophy relatable. His “America First” doctrine, though designed for U.S. interests, sparked conversations across Africa about self-reliance, economic nationalism and the importance of prioritizing domestic development agendas.
For African entrepreneurs in the diaspora, Trump’s broader economic policies, including tax reforms during his first administration and deregulation efforts, were seen by some as creating a business environment that rewarded investment and wealth creation. African-owned businesses in the United States benefited from periods of economic expansion and lower corporate taxation, though economists continue to debate the overall impact of those policies.
Nevertheless, an honest assessment requires acknowledging that Trump’s relationship with Africa has not been without controversy. His immigration policies, visa restrictions and remarks about certain countries generated criticism across the continent and among African diaspora communities.
Critics argue that some policies negatively affected African students, professionals and families seeking opportunities in the United States. Others have questioned reductions in certain aid programmes and humanitarian initiatives.
Yet history often judges leaders not solely by rhetoric but by outcomes. At 80, Trump remains a central figure in global affairs. His role in facilitating the Congo-Rwanda peace process, his administration’s focus on trade and investment, and his influence on debates surrounding sovereignty and economic development have all left an imprint on Africa’s contemporary story.
As Africa continues its rise in the twenty-first century, the continent’s relationship with the United States will remain important regardless of who occupies the White House. Donald Trump’s eightieth birthday provides an opportunity not for partisan celebration or criticism alone, but for thoughtful reflection on a leader whose policies, decisions and diplomacy have shaped conversations far beyond America’s borders.
Analysis
As Ilorin Sets the Pace Again, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
As Ilorin Sets the Pace Again, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
When history is written about the evolution of Islamic leadership in Nigeria, the city of Ilorin will always occupy a prominent chapter. Long before modern political boundaries emerged, Ilorin had established itself as a citadel of Islamic scholarship, jurisprudence, learning and spiritual leadership. It is a city where the mosque and the madrasa are not merely institutions but foundations upon which communal life is built. It is therefore unsurprising that the emergence of a new Chief Imam in the ancient emirate has once again demonstrated why Ilorin remains a model of religious harmony, institutional continuity and leadership succession.
The emergence of Sheikh Muhammad Bashir Dasuki Imam Fulani as the 13th Chief Imam of Ilorin is one development that deserves attention beyond the confines of religious circles. It is a significant event in the history of the Ilorin Emirate, not simply because a new spiritual leader has assumed office, but because of the manner in which the transition occurred and what it says about the enduring character of a city that has, for generations, distinguished itself as a centre of Islamic scholarship, institutional stability and communal harmony.
As a proud son of the Ilorin Emirate, I find immense satisfaction in the events that have unfolded since the appointment of the new Chief Imam by the Emir of Ilorin, Maimartaba Sarkin Ilori, Alhaji (Dr.) Ibrahim Sulu-Gambari, CFR, on June 10, 2026. His appointment came after a rigorous selection process involving eminent Islamic scholars from across the emirate. Yet what has attracted even greater attention than the appointment itself is the remarkable atmosphere of consensus that has followed it. In an era when leadership transitions often generate disputes, litigation and factional rivalry, Ilorin has once again shown that established institutions, respect for tradition and commitment to collective interest can triumph over personal ambition
The new Chief Imam is not a stranger to either scholarship or the traditions of the emirate. At 42, Sheikh Dasuki comes from one of the most distinguished clerical lineages in Ilorin. He is the grandson of Sheikh Ibrahim Dasuki Imam Fulani Agaka, the eighth Chief Imam of Ilorin, and the son of Sheikh Maliki bn Dasuki Agaka, who also occupied the revered office.
Before his appointment, he founded Darul Bisharah Arabic and Islamic Studies in Egbejila and served as Imam at the Afusat Oloriegbe Memorial Mosque in Oko-Olowo. His academic credentials include studies at Al-Azhar University, Ahmadu Bello University and Al-Hikmah University. Such a blend of traditional and contemporary Islamic education reflects the very character of Ilorin itself.
Although the passing of his predecessor, Sheikh Muhammad Bashir Soliu, OON, on January 19, 2026, naturally created a vacuum. For forty-three years, beginning from 1983, he occupied one of the most revered religious positions in Northern Nigeria. His tenure was marked by scholarship, moderation and a commitment to preserving the religious heritage of the emirate. Many younger residents of Ilorin grew up knowing no other Chief Imam. His death therefore raised questions about succession and continuity.
Those concerns have since been answered in a manner that should make every son and daughter of the emirate proud.
Rather than generating division, the emergence of Sheikh Muhammad Bashir Dasuki Imam Fulani attracted widespread acceptance. What followed was even more remarkable. The new Chief Imam embarked on visits to leading Islamic scholars and respected clerics across Ilorin. From one part of the city to another, he met prominent religious leaders, sought their prayers and reaffirmed the spirit of brotherhood that has always defined Ilorin’s scholarly community. The responses were overwhelmingly positive. He was received warmly and embraced by scholars whose influence extends across the emirate and beyond. That development is important because it reflects a culture that has been carefully nurtured over centuries.
To appreciate its significance, one must understand what Ilorin represents within the broader Nigerian landscape. Ilorin is not merely the capital of Kwara State. It is one of the most important centres of Islamic learning in West Africa. Historically situated at the intersection of the Northern and Southwestern regions of Nigeria, the city evolved into a meeting point of cultures, languages and traditions. The result was the emergence of a distinct identity that combined Yoruba heritage, Fulani political organisation and Islamic intellectualism. The uniqueness can only be found in Ilorin.
This unique history explains why Ilorin occupies a special place in discussions about Islam in Nigeria. For generations, students travelled from different parts of the country and beyond to study under renowned scholars in the city. Arabic education flourished long before the arrival of formal Western education. Mosques, learning centres and scholarly families became central institutions within society.
The city produced respected scholars whose influence reached far beyond the emirate. The late Sheikh Adam Abdullah Al-Ilory became one of the most influential Islamic scholars of his generation. Sheikh Kamaludeen Al-Adaby pioneered modern approaches to Islamic education. Numerous scholars from Ilorin established schools, wrote books and trained generations of students who later became religious leaders across Nigeria and other parts of West Africa.
The office of Chief Imam has always occupied a central place within this tradition. Successive holders of the office provided spiritual guidance while helping to preserve the intellectual and moral foundations upon which the emirate was built. The institution has survived political transitions, colonial rule, independence and modernisation because it enjoys legitimacy rooted in scholarship and public confidence.
The new Chief Imam himself embodies many aspects of that tradition. Born into a distinguished family of scholars. His emergence therefore represents both continuity and renewal. He inherits a respected institution but also assumes office at a time when religious leadership faces new challenges. The growth of social media, the spread of misinformation among young scholars, declining interest in serious scholarship and increasing pressures on traditional institutions require thoughtful leadership and intellectual depth.
His inaugural khutbah on June 19, 2026, offered some indication of the direction he intends to pursue, having said “I am not perfect. Whenever you see me going astray, do not hesitate to call me back to the right path. Your support, prayers, and cooperation will make my assignment as Chief Imam easier and more successful.” This is thought provoking if I may say.
Those present at the Ilorin Central Mosque observed a recurring emphasis on gratitude to Allah, unity among Muslims, respect for knowledge and the responsibilities associated with leadership. He acknowledged the contributions of his predecessors and stressed the need for cooperation among scholars and members of the community. It is important that this spirit is sustained.
The goodwill that greeted his appointment should become the foundation for a new phase in the development of Islamic scholarship within the emirate. The city already possesses enormous intellectual capital. What is required now is greater investment in preserving historical records, strengthening Arabic education, mentoring younger scholars and ensuring that the traditions of Ilorin remain relevant to contemporary realities.
The preservation of history deserves urgent attention. One of the greatest ironies of Ilorin is that despite its enormous contribution to Islamic civilisation in Nigeria, much of its history remains undocumented. Stories of great scholars, jurists, teachers and community leaders are still preserved largely through oral tradition. The names are known, the achievements remembered, but the records are scattered. Future generations deserve better. A city that produced scholars whose influence reached Saudi, Cairo, Dakar, Khartoum, Mali, Sudan and beyond cannot afford to leave its history at the mercy of memory alone.
This is where the new Chief Imam, the Emirate Council, traditional title holders, Islamic institutions and wealthy sons and daughters of the emirate must find common purpose. The task before them is not merely religious. It is civilisational. The heritage of Ilorin deserves preservation. Its manuscripts deserve protection. Its scholarly traditions deserve documentation. Its intellectual contributions deserve wider recognition.
The scholars of Ilorin also have a responsibility at this critical moment. The city has always been respected because of the quality of its scholarship. Respect was earned through knowledge, discipline, humility and service. The scholars who built the reputation of Ilorin were not men who sought popularity. They sought learning. They did not measure success by applause but by impact. They did not compete for influence on social media platforms. They competed in knowledge, character and service to Islam. That tradition must not be lost.
The challenge facing contemporary scholarship is different from what previous generations confronted. Today, information travels faster than knowledge. Visibility is often mistaken for scholarship. Opinions sometimes compete with learning. Yet the answer remains what it has always been: sound education, intellectual discipline and adherence to the values that distinguished the giants who came before us. If Ilorin is to retain its standing as a centre of learning, its scholars must continue to prioritise substance over popularity and scholarship over sensationalism.
The new Chief Imam himself appears conscious of these realities. Perhaps this explains why one of the most remarkable moments in his inaugural khutbah was his humility. The expectations surrounding his appointment are understandably high. He inherits an office that carries enormous moral authority.
As Sheikh Muhammad Bashir Dasuki Imam Fulani settles fully into his responsibilities, one can only pray that Allaah grants him wisdom, patience, sound health and the strength required for the enormous task ahead. May Allaah guide his judgments, illuminate his path, increase him in knowledge and make him an instrument of unity within the emirate and the wider Muslim community.
May Allaah also preserve the Emir of Ilorin, Alhaji (Dr.) Ibrahim Sulu-Gambari, CFR, whose reign has continued to strengthen the institutions of the emirate. May He preserve the scholars of Ilorin, bless their efforts and reward their sacrifices. May He continue to make Ilorin a beacon of learning, moderation and spiritual excellence for generations yet unborn.
For those of us who call this city home, whether by birth, ancestry or affection, may Allaah be with us in all ramifications.
Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com
Analysis
Nigeria’s Democracy and the Aluta Continua, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
Nigeria’s Democracy and the Aluta Continua, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
On June 12 every year, Nigerians are invited to celebrate democracy, reflect on the nation’s political journey and renew faith in the ideals upon which the country was founded. Yet beyond the ceremonies and speeches lies a deeper question: what exactly does democracy mean in the Nigerian context?
More than six decades after independence and twenty-seven years after the restoration of civil rule, democracy remains both an achievement and an aspiration. It is an achievement because generations of Nigerians fought, sacrificed and, in some cases, paid the ultimate price to secure the right of self-government. It remains an aspiration because the promise of democracy is yet to be fully realised in the lives of millions of citizens.
This contradiction explains why the phrase “Aluta Continua” continues to resonate. The struggle did not end with independence in 1960. It did not end with the departure of military rulers in 1999. It continues wherever Nigerians seek justice, accountability, opportunity and dignity.
The story of Nigerian democracy cannot be understood without revisiting the long road to independence. British colonial rule, formally consolidated through the amalgamation of the Northern and Southern Protectorates by Lord Frederick Lugard in 1914, created a political entity that brought together hundreds of ethnic nationalities under a single administrative framework. While colonial authorities justified their presence as a civilising mission, the primary objective was economic and strategic.
Nigerians were largely excluded from meaningful participation in governance, while political and economic decisions were taken in the interest of the colonial power. Resistance emerged gradually but steadily. Early nationalists recognised that political freedom was essential if Nigerians were to determine their own destiny.
Among the pioneers of this struggle was Herbert Macaulay, whose political activism laid the foundation for organised nationalism. He challenged colonial policies and inspired a generation of political thinkers who believed that Nigerians deserved self-rule. His efforts were later advanced by figures such as Nnamdi Azikiwe, Obafemi Awolowo and Ahmadu Bello, whose influence shaped the political landscape of the emerging nation. Azikiwe used journalism and political mobilisation to awaken nationalist consciousness. Awolowo articulated a vision of federalism, social welfare and regional development that remains influential today. Ahmadu Bello championed political modernisation in Northern Nigeria while seeking to preserve cultural identity within a rapidly changing environment.
The struggle for independence was not the work of politicians alone. Women, labour leaders, students and intellectuals played indispensable roles. Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti became a formidable voice against colonial oppression and social injustice. Margaret Ekpo mobilised women in the Eastern Region and expanded political participation beyond elite circles. Labour leader Michael Imoudu demonstrated the power of collective action through workers’ movements that challenged exploitative conditions. Anthony Enahoro’s historic motion for self-government in 1953 accelerated constitutional negotiations that eventually culminated in independence. These individuals represented different regions, ideologies and social classes, yet they were united by the conviction that Nigerians should govern themselves.
When independence finally arrived on October 1, 1960, it generated enormous optimism. The lowering of the British flag and the raising of Nigeria’s green-white-green banner symbolised the triumph of self-determination. However, political independence did not automatically translate into democratic consolidation. The years that followed revealed the difficulties of nation-building in a diverse society struggling to reconcile competing interests. Ethnic crises, electoral controversies and regional rivalries undermined the stability of the First Republic. The military coup of January 15, 1966 abruptly ended Nigeria’s first democratic experiment and ushered in a prolonged era of military intervention.
The consequences were profound. The Nigerian Civil War, fought between 1967 and 1970, tested the very survival of the federation. Although the war ended with the preservation of national unity, it exposed deep fractures that continue to influence political discourse. Military governments that followed promised order, discipline and development, yet their rule often concentrated power in ways that weakened democratic institutions. Successive regimes governed through decrees rather than popular consent. Civil liberties were restricted, political opposition was suppressed and public accountability diminished. While some military administrations pursued ambitious development projects, they could not substitute authoritarian command for democratic legitimacy.
Ironically, military rule also produced some of the most determined defenders of democracy. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, journalists, lawyers, academics, labour activists and students confronted authoritarian governments. Newspapers challenged censorship despite the risk of closure. Human rights advocates defended constitutional freedoms despite harassment and imprisonment. University campuses became centres of political resistance. The slogan “Aluta Continua” became a rallying cry for citizens who believed that freedom required constant vigilance. It reflected a collective understanding that democracy was not merely a constitutional arrangement but a moral and political struggle.
No event illustrates this struggle more vividly than the annulment of the June 12, 1993 presidential election. Widely regarded as Nigeria’s freest and fairest election, the poll was won by Moshood Kashimawo Olawale Abiola, a businessman and philanthropist whose victory transcended ethnic and religious divisions. The decision by the military government to cancel the election triggered widespread outrage. Demonstrations erupted across the country. Civil society organisations intensified their campaigns. Pro-democracy activists faced detention, exile and intimidation. Abiola himself was imprisoned after declaring his mandate and eventually died in custody in 1998. His sacrifice transformed him into an enduring symbol of democratic resistance.
The restoration of civilian rule in 1999 marked a turning point. For the first time since independence, Nigeria began to experience a prolonged period of constitutional governance. Elections were held regularly. Political parties competed for power. Civil society expanded its influence. Courts increasingly became arenas for resolving electoral disputes. The peaceful transfer of power from one political party to another in 2015 was particularly significant, demonstrating that democratic transitions could occur without violence or military intervention. Compared with many periods in its history, Nigeria today enjoys greater political openness and civic participation.
Yet democracy cannot be judged solely by institutional survival. For the average Nigerian, democracy is meaningful only when it improves daily life. A citizen struggling with unemployment, insecurity, daily survival et al is unlikely to be impressed.
According to democratic theory, democracy is government of the people, by the people and for the people. In practice, however, many Nigerians perceive democracy as government of politicians, by politicians and for politicians.
Democracy, in its truest sense, must extend beyond elections. It must create conditions under which citizens can pursue their aspirations with confidence. It must guarantee equal protection under the law. It must ensure that public resources are used for public benefit rather than private enrichment. It must translate political rights into social and economic opportunities.
This is where contemporary Nigeria confronts its greatest challenge. Many citizens feel disconnected from the democratic process because they perceive governance as serving elite interests. Corruption continues to undermine public trust. Infrastructure deficits constrain economic growth. Insecurity threatens lives and livelihoods across various regions. Youth unemployment remains a source of frustration despite the country’s immense human potential. These realities fuel scepticism about whether democracy has delivered on its promises. They also reveal the difference between democratic procedures and democratic outcomes.
Nevertheless, abandoning democracy is not the answer. The failures associated with democratic governance are often failures of leadership and institutions rather than failures of democracy itself. History demonstrates that authoritarian alternatives rarely produce sustainable solutions. The challenge is therefore to deepen democracy rather than retreat from it. This requires stronger institutions, greater transparency, an independent judiciary, credible elections and active citizenship. It requires leaders who understand that public office is a trust rather than an entitlement. It also requires citizens who remain engaged beyond election day and insist that government remains accountable.
The freedom fighters who challenged colonial rule understood that independence was not an end in itself. They envisioned a society in which liberty would create opportunities for development, justice and national progress. The pro-democracy activists who confronted military dictatorship shared a similar belief. They understood that democracy was valuable not because it guaranteed perfection but because it provided the framework through which citizens could peacefully pursue collective aspirations. Their struggles remain relevant because the central questions they confronted have not disappeared.
Nigeria’s democratic journey is therefore best understood as an unfinished project. The country has travelled a remarkable distance from colonial subjugation and military authoritarianism. Yet the destination envisioned by generations of patriots remains ahead. The true meaning of democracy for the ordinary Nigerian is not merely the right to vote every four years. It is the assurance that government exists to serve the people, protect their freedoms and expand their opportunities. Until that promise is fully realised, the spirit of resistance, engagement and hope embodied in “Aluta Continua” will remain essential. The struggle continues not because democracy has failed, but because its highest ideals have yet to be fully achieved.
Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com
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