As I reflect on Democracy Day today, my mind goes back to the chairman of my local government, a fine gentleman and a practicing lawyer, whom I will call Mr. Boniface. By all appearances, Mr. Boniface understood the tenets of democracy better than most in his constituency. He spoke eloquently about justice, governance, and community empowerment, and many saw in him the hope of a functional, grassroots leader.
Mr. Boniface has served as chairman for five years and is now in the penultimate year of his tenure. Yet, in all that time, not a single classroom block has been constructed. There has been no noticeable improvement in school attendance by teachers, and no new health centre has been built to serve the local community.
The only tangible project credited to his administration? A 20-kilometre cement-paved road that leads directly to his father’s compound. Ironically, the stretch of road leading to that paved section remains untarred, forcing residents to navigate rough, red earth before accessing the only smooth portion, a road built out of convenience, not conscience.
While infrastructure development has stalled, Mr. Boniface’s personal fortune has not. Today, he’s said to own a mansion in Enugu and a five-star hotel in Port Harcourt, both acquired within five years. The source of this sudden wealth is an open secret.
This is not democracy. At least not in the way we were told it should work.
Democracy is meant to be a government of the people, by the people, and for the people—a system where the ultimate authority resides with the electorate, not with those elected. Yet in Nigeria today, that authority appears to vanish the moment elections conclude. From that point on, the elected official often acts not in the interest of the people, but in loyalty to his political party and personal ambition.
The political party system, in its current form, has hijacked the will of the people. Parties act as gatekeepers, deciding who runs for office, who receives backing, and ultimately, who wields power. This arrangement has bred a dangerous cycle of unaccountability, where the party’s interest supersedes that of the community.
This systemic flaw explains why politicians like Mr. Boniface can remain in office despite gross underperformance. It is also why citizens who dare to challenge the status quo face retribution. A recent Afrobarometer report revealed that 88% of Nigerians believe they risk retaliation if they expose corruption. For many, the legal system offers little refuge. Courts often rule in favour of politicians, either out of fear, bias, or financial incentive.
Take, for instance, the recent national uproar over the imposition of emergency rule in Rivers State by President Bola Tinubu. Rather than act as a check on executive overreach, the legislature, largely loyal to the ruling party, voted in favour, disregarding constitutional concerns and public outcry. This episode underscored how far removed our current system is from genuine democratic principles.
At every level, Nigeria’s democratic practice has created an exclusive political and economic elite. Rather than promoting participation and accountability, our system enables a small group to thrive at the expense of the majority. After 26 years of uninterrupted civilian rule, Nigeria has little to show in terms of inclusive growth or political innovation.
And so, we must ask: Is Western-style democracy truly suitable for Nigeria?
From Nigeria to Ethiopia, Kigali to Cape Town, Africa’s democratic experiment has produced mixed results. In multicultural and multiethnic societies like ours, blind adoption of Western systems without contextual adaptation may be part of the problem. African scholars, political scientists, and civic leaders must begin the hard work of evolving governance models that draw from indigenous systems, emphasising community, equity, and participatory leadership.
I am not advocating for authoritarianism or a wholesale rejection of democracy. But I am calling for a sincere reexamination of the version we’ve adopted, a version that continues to alienate the very people it claims to empower.
We must also dismantle the false notion that citizens’ power ends at the ballot box. Civic education, grassroots mobilisation, and accountability structures must become core to our political culture. Until an elected representative fears the people’s judgement more than their party’s nod, we will continue to recycle the same failure.
Mr. Boniface’s story is not unique; it is replicated in LGAs, states, and federal institutions across the country. And while it may be tempting to see this as an individual failure, it is, in truth, a systemic one. A failure not just of policy, but of the very architecture that underpins our democracy.
As we mark another Democracy Day, let us do more than commemorate it. Let it be a call to action, a moment of reflection and reckoning.
Nigeria’s future does not lie in abandoning democracy, but in reinventing it. We must build a system that serves the people, not just the powerful. And that work begins now.
Happy Democracy Day, Nigeria!
Jonah Nwokpoku, a writer and public affairs analyst, writes from Lagos, Nigeria.
