Analysis
Examining Nigeria’s Health System and Preventable Deaths, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
Examining Nigeria’s Health System and Preventable Deaths, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
My last week’s column, ‘The Agony of a Columnist,’ was written from a place I never expected to occupy. It was not an attempt at catharsis, nor was it designed to elicit sympathy. It was simply an account of what happened when a citizen encountered the Nigerian healthcare system at its most critical moment and found it wanting. The death of my eight-month-old daughter occurred within a public hospital that, on paper, appeared functional. What followed exposed a gap between appearance and capacity that deserves closer scrutiny rather than sentiment.
This week’s column is broader. It is about structure, policy, and outcomes. It is about what the data says and what lived experience confirms about the state of healthcare delivery in Nigeria, a system that reflects not only underperformance but failure at its most consequential moments.
Considering another recent case that captured national attention, that of Ifunanya Lucy Nwangene, a 25-year-old Abuja-based singer who was bitten by a cobra in her home. She sought emergency care immediately, moving from one health facility to another, and struggled to obtain antivenom and appropriate treatment before it was too late.
Accounts vary on the specifics, but the tragedy is indisputable. Her death, amid circumstances that could have been preventable, echoes the avoidable loss of my own child and reflects the same systemic weaknesses that place ordinary citizens at risk every day. Reports indicate that approximately half of Nigerian hospitals lack the capacity to manage snakebite cases effectively and that nearly all facilities experience difficulties in administering antivenom, the only treatment recognized by the World Health Organization for venomous bites. Such deficits in treatment capacity, emergency response, essential medicines, and clinical training are not anomalies; they are the predictable outcome of chronic systemic weakness.
Nigeria’s healthcare system is structured across primary, secondary, and tertiary levels. According to the latest facility registry data, there are roughly thirty-eight thousand six hundred forty-five operational health facilities nationwide, a figure that includes both public and private establishments, translating to approximately eleven facilities per one hundred thousand people in a population exceeding two hundred and twenty million. Primary care facilities account for nearly eighty-eight per cent of all facilities, secondary care roughly twelve per cent, and tertiary facilities less than one per cent.
On paper, the distribution seems extensive, but quantity does not equal quality or functionality. The majority of primary healthcare centers, which form the first line of defence, are unable to deliver essential services consistently due to shortages of trained personnel, drugs, water, power, and equipment. Only about twenty per cent of primary facilities are considered fully functional, leaving millions of Nigerians dependent on emergency care that is often delayed or unavailable.
Health outcomes are determined by human resources as much as infrastructure, yet Nigeria’s health workforce is severely strained. The doctor-to-population ratio remains well below the World Health Organization’s recommended threshold of one doctor per six hundred people, with practical estimates ranging from one doctor per four thousand to one per five thousand citizens, and some areas experiencing ratios as low as one per nine thousand eight hundred.
Nurses and midwives are similarly scarce and unevenly distributed, favoring urban centers over rural and peri-urban areas. Absenteeism and burnout are systemic risks exacerbated by poor remuneration, unsafe working conditions, and limited career progression. The migration of trained health professionals abroad not only represents a loss of public investment but reduces the system’s capacity to respond to emergencies, increasing the likelihood that predictable crises result in preventable deaths.
Funding is a primary driver of these gaps. Nigeria is a signatory to the 2001 Abuja Declaration, committing to allocate at least fifteen per cent of annual budgets to health, yet the highest allocation recorded in any year remains below six per cent. By comparison, global benchmarks suggest public health spending should constitute at least five per cent of GDP to achieve basic universal health coverage, while Nigeria currently allocates approximately half a per cent. Per capita health expenditure ranges between ten and fifteen US dollars annually, which is insufficient to ensure functional hospitals, reliable emergency response, or the availability of essential drugs and equipment.
The inadequacy of public funding shifts the burden to households. Out-of-pocket payments account for nearly seventy to seventy-five per cent of total health spending, meaning that patients and families finance care at the point of illness rather than through pooled systems. Less than ten per cent of Nigerians are covered by any functional health insurance, and coverage is largely limited to formal sector employment. As a result, families often delay care, ration treatment, or avoid facilities altogether until conditions deteriorate beyond recovery.
The human consequences of these systemic failures are evident in national health indicators. Nigeria continues to have one of the highest maternal mortality ratios in the world, exceeding eight hundred deaths per one hundred thousand live births, and accounts for approximately twenty per cent of global maternal deaths despite representing less than three per cent of the world population. Infant and under-five mortality remain high, with recent surveys showing roughly sixty-seven deaths per one thousand live births and one hundred and ten per one thousand respectively. Many of these deaths result not from rare or complex conditions but from the inability of the health system to provide timely, skilled intervention for preventable or manageable illnesses. Malaria, pneumonia, childbirth complications, and neonatal distress often escalate into fatalities that could have been avoided had emergency care been available, adequately staffed, and well-supplied.
Infrastructure alone does not solve the problem. Hospitals are renovated, equipment procured, and wards repainted, but functionality depends on staffing, reliable power, water, supply chains, and governance. Electricity supply is particularly critical, as hospitals depend on continuous power for monitoring, oxygen delivery, laboratory diagnostics, and refrigeration of vaccines and essential medicines. Yet many facilities rely on intermittent generators with uncertain fuel supply, leaving patients exposed to system failures that no renovation or new building can correct.
Primary healthcare centers, despite their numbers, are frequently unable to provide preventive and early intervention services, meaning that conditions that should be addressed at the community level escalate to secondary facilities that themselves are overstretched.
Accountability within the health system is diffuse. Budget allocations are announced, but utilization and outcomes are weakly monitored. Staffing requirements are often unmet, and enforcement is inconsistent. Failures rarely attract consequences proportional to their impact, leaving citizens, including vulnerable infants and young adults, to bear the cost. Hospitals are frequently evaluated on the wrong metrics, such as bed count or physical infrastructure, rather than whether care is actually delivered. Time-sensitive emergencies cannot wait for policy announcements or cosmetic compliance; delays and absenteeism in these circumstances are measured in lives lost.
Both my personal experience and the case of the young singer illustrate these realities. My daughter was taken to Suleja General Hospital where initial symptoms did not appear severe, yet she required urgent intervention. Medical review was delayed, oxygen was administered without a definitive diagnosis or treatment plan, and a requested transfer to another facility was not effected in time. In the singer’s case, urgent antivenom administration was critical to survival, yet the system’s gaps prevented timely care, and the result was fatal. These outcomes are not anomalies; they are predictable expressions of systemic failure.
Nigeria does not lack reform frameworks. Initiatives exist to revitalize primary healthcare, expand health insurance, and improve maternal and child health outcomes. Some interventions have produced measurable gains in targeted areas, but they remain uneven and insufficiently scaled, often undermined by governance failures and weak operational oversight. The result is a system that prioritizes form over function, presenting the appearance of readiness while leaving emergency response and routine care vulnerable to failure. The consequences are borne not by policy-makers or administrators, but by citizens whose lives hang in the balance.
The purpose of revisiting last week’s column is not to relive personal grief but to insist on institutional reflection. Every preventable death, whether of a child in a public hospital or a young adult succumbing to a snakebite or otherwise, represents a failure of policy, funding, and governance. Healthcare is not an area where delays, absenteeism, or cosmetic compliance can be absorbed without consequence. Systems either respond, or they fail. In Nigeria, the record shows repeated, predictable failures. Mortality data, budget analyses, facility assessments, and lived experience all converge to the same conclusion: when the health system is tested, it often cannot deliver.
The crisis is visible, documented, and persistent. Nigeria’s hospitals function intermittently, supply chains are fragile, essential medicines are inconsistently available, and health workers are overstretched. Until outcomes, rather than infrastructure announcements, become the primary measure of success, preventable deaths will continue.
Tragically, the cost is measured not only in statistics but in lives that could have been saved. My daughter’s loss was personal, and the death of Ifunanya Nwangene was public. Both expose the same reality: a healthcare system that cannot guarantee timely, competent response in emergencies is not merely underperforming; it is failing its most fundamental obligation.
The reality requires less rhetoric and more reform, less emphasis on appearances and more attention to function. Budget allocations must be credible and linked to measurable outcomes, staffing requirements must be enforced, essential medicines and equipment must be reliably supplied, and emergency systems must be consistently operational. Until these conditions are met, Nigeria will continue to produce tragic but predictable stories of lives lost to systemic weakness, and citizens will continue to confront a healthcare system that appears reassuring until it is tested at its most critical moments.
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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