Analysis
Understanding South Africa’s Xenophobic Violence, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
Understanding South Africa’s Xenophobic Violence, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
There is a tendency to explain xenophobic violence in South Africa as a spontaneous eruption of anger by frustrated citizens. That explanation is convenient, but it is incomplete. What has unfolded repeatedly across Johannesburg, Durban, Pretoria and other urban centres over the past three decades is not random. It is patterned, predictable, and rooted in deeper structural contradictions within South Africa’s post-apartheid society. To understand it fully is to confront an uncomfortable reality: xenophobia in South Africa is as much about internal failure as it is about external scapegoating, and as much about forgotten history.
Since the formal end of apartheid in 1994, South Africa has occupied a paradoxical position on the continent. It is Africa’s most industrialised economy, yet one of its most unequal societies. It is a democracy born out of global solidarity, yet one that has struggled to extend that same spirit to fellow Africans. These contradictions form the backdrop against which xenophobic violence has evolved.
The early years of democracy created powerful expectations. South Africa was imagined as a land of opportunity, and for many Africans, it became exactly that. Migrants from Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Somalia, Ethiopia and beyond moved into the country in search of economic advancement and stability. Nigerians, in particular, established themselves in commerce, education, entertainment and professional services, becoming one of the most visible African communities in the country.
South Africa’s structural inequality remained largely intact after apartheid. By the late 1990s, unemployment had become entrenched, especially among the youth. Informal settlements expanded, service delivery lagged, and frustration grew. In this environment, the presence of foreign nationals—many of whom operated small businesses in townships and informal markets—became a focal point for resentment.
The first major signal that this resentment could turn violent came in May 2008. What began as localised misunderstandings in Alexandra township near Johannesburg quickly escalated into nationwide attacks. Over the course of weeks, violence spread to multiple provinces, leaving at least 60 people dead and displacing tens of thousands. Shops owned by foreign nationals were looted, homes were destroyed, and entire communities were forced to flee. The victims were overwhelmingly African migrants, reflecting that the violence was not about race in the traditional South African sense, but about nationality and belonging.
The 2008 attacks were widely condemned, both domestically and internationally. The government responded with security deployments and humanitarian assistance, but the underlying causes were not resolved. Instead, the violence established a template that would be repeated in subsequent years.
In April 2015, xenophobic attacks erupted again, beginning in Durban and spreading to other parts of KwaZulu-Natal and Gauteng provinces. At least seven people were killed, and thousands were displaced. The violence followed controversial remarks attributed to Zulu King Goodwill Zwelithini, who was reported to have suggested that foreigners should leave South Africa. Regardless of the intended meaning, the statement resonated with existing anti-immigrant sentiment and contributed to the escalation.
By 2017, the pattern had become more targeted. Nigerian-owned businesses in Pretoria and Johannesburg were attacked, with shops looted and properties destroyed. Nigerians, already burdened by negative stereotypes linking them to crime, found themselves increasingly singled out. These stereotypes, often amplified by social media and sensational reporting, created a climate in which collective punishment was normalised.
The 2019 wave of violence marked another turning point. Attacks in Johannesburg and surrounding areas led to deaths, widespread looting, and renewed diplomatic rifts. The scale and intensity of the violence prompted strong reactions from affected countries, particularly Nigeria. The Nigerian government recalled its High Commissioner from Pretoria and boycotted the World Economic Forum on Africa in Cape Town. There were also retaliatory incidents in Nigeria, where South African-owned businesses were targeted by angry youths.
Behind these episodic eruptions lies a consistent pattern of human and economic loss. Over the years, hundreds of people have been killed, thousands displaced, and billions of naira worth of property destroyed. Nigerian victims alone have suffered disproportionately, with over a hundred deaths recorded within a short span between 2016 and 2018. These figures are not merely statistics; they represent lives disrupted, families broken, and dreams deferred.
Yet, to focus solely on the violence without examining its historical context is to miss a critical dimension of the story. South Africa’s liberation from apartheid was not achieved in isolation. It was the product of sustained international and continental support, in which Nigeria played a leading role.
From the 1960s through the early 1990s, Nigeria positioned itself as a central actor in the anti-apartheid struggle. It provided financial assistance to liberation movements such as the African National Congress, hosted South African exiles, and funded scholarships for thousands of students who could not pursue education at home due to apartheid restrictions. These efforts were not incidental; they were embedded in Nigeria’s foreign policy, which prioritised African liberation and unity.
The country’s commitment extended beyond financial support. In 1976, following the Soweto uprising, Nigeria intensified its diplomatic campaign against apartheid. By 1979, it had nationalised British Petroleum assets in protest against Western engagement with the apartheid regime. Nigeria also played a significant role at the United Nations, advocating for sanctions and contributing to the global isolation that eventually forced the apartheid government to negotiate.
These actions came at a cost. Nigeria sacrificed economic opportunities and diplomatic relationships in pursuit of a broader African cause. The expectation was not repayment, but recognition of a shared destiny. When Nelson Mandela was released in 1990 and later elected president in 1994, that expectation seemed justified.
However, the post-apartheid reality has complicated that narrative. Xenophobic violence has raised difficult questions about the durability of African solidarity. It has exposed the limits of historical memory in shaping contemporary behaviour.
To understand why xenophobia persists, one must examine the structural drivers within South Africa. Economic inequality remains central. The country consistently ranks among the most unequal in the world, with a Gini coefficient that reflects deep disparities in wealth and opportunity. Unemployment rates, particularly among young people, remain high. In such conditions, competition for resources becomes intense, and migrants are often perceived as competitors.
This perception is reinforced by political rhetoric. In times of economic stress, blaming foreigners can be politically expedient. It shifts attention away from governance failures and redirects public anger toward a vulnerable group. Over time, this narrative becomes entrenched, shaping public attitudes and legitimising hostility.
Law enforcement challenges further exacerbate the problem. While the South African government has condemned xenophobic violence and, at times, deployed security forces to restore order, the prosecution of perpetrators has been inconsistent. The result is a cycle of violence followed by temporary calm, without meaningful prosecution. This pattern creates a sense of impunity, encouraging future attacks.
There is also a psychological dimension that cannot be ignored. The transition from apartheid to democracy did not automatically resolve issues of identity and belonging. During apartheid, the struggle against a common oppressor created a sense of unity among black South Africans. In the post-apartheid era, that unifying force has dissipated, leaving space for new forms of exclusion.
Foreign Africans, despite their shared history, have been positioned as outsiders. The term “makwerekwere,” often used derogatorily to describe African migrants, reflects this sense of otherness. It is a linguistic marker of exclusion, one that reinforces the idea that not all Africans are equal within the African space.
For Nigerians, the challenge is compounded by perception. While many Nigerians in South Africa are law-abiding entrepreneurs, professionals and students, a minority involved in criminal activities has shaped public perception disproportionately. This perception has been amplified by media narratives and online discourse, creating a stereotype that is both persistent and damaging.
The result is a community that is simultaneously visible and vulnerable. Nigerian businesses are often among the first targets during xenophobic attacks, and Nigerian nationals frequently bear the brunt of violence. This dynamic reiterates the intersection of economic competition, social perception, and political narrative.
The implications extend beyond South Africa. Xenophobic violence has strained diplomatic relations, particularly between Nigeria and South Africa. These two countries are not just regional powers; they are central to the continent’s economic and political future. This issue between them have ripple effects across Africa, affecting trade, investment, and regional cooperation.
At a broader level, xenophobia challenges the very idea of Pan-Africanism. It raises fundamental questions about the feasibility of continental integration in the face of internal divisions. Initiatives such as the African Continental Free Trade Area depend on the free movement of people, goods, and services. Xenophobic violence undermines these goals, creating barriers where there should be bridges.
Addressing this crisis requires more than condemnation. It demands a comprehensive approach that tackles both immediate triggers and underlying causes. Economic reforms must prioritise inclusion, ensuring that growth translates into opportunities for all residents. Political leaders must exercise restraint in their rhetoric, avoiding narratives that scapegoat migrants.
Law enforcement must be strengthened to ensure proper prosecution. Without consequences, violence will continue to recur. At the same time, there is a need for sustained public education—an effort to reconnect South Africans with their own history and the role that other African nations played in their liberation.
For Nigeria, the response must be measured but firm. Protecting its citizens abroad is a fundamental responsibility, but so is maintaining diplomatic engagement. The relationship between Nigeria and South Africa remains too important to be defined by periodic crises.
In the final analysis, understanding South Africa’s xenophobic violence requires a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. It is not enough to attribute the problem to ignorance or anger. It is a product of structural inequality, political dynamics, and historical amnesia.
The tragedy lies not only in the violence itself, but in what it represents: a breakdown of the solidarity that once defined Africa’s struggle for freedom. If that solidarity is to be restored, it will require more than memory. It will require action, leadership, and a renewed commitment to the idea that Africa’s future is shared.
Until then, xenophobic violence will remain a recurring wound—one that continues to undermine both South Africa’s promise and Africa’s collective aspiration.
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
-
Milestone6 days agoGodchildren Honour Emmanuel and Joy Ojiribe at 40th Anniversary Celebration in US
-
Analysis6 days agoDonald Trump at 80: Assessing His Impact on Africa and Africans, by Boniface Ihiasota
-
Tech6 days agoTrump Announces Intel-Apple Chip Deal
-
Business6 days agoGhana eyes local takeover of Gold Fields’ Tarkwa mine
-
Analysis6 days agoAs Ilorin Sets the Pace Again, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
-
Features1 week agoDiaspora Watch Vol. 97
