Today, June 12, 2025, is the day Nigerians in every state across the country and in the Diaspora mark yet another Democracy Day in the annals of their wonderful country. June 12 has always been a date that embodies deep historical and symbolic significance. June 12 has always been a day for reflection. It is a day all Nigerians should always set aside for national self-assessment, a day for re-dedication to the ideals of democratic governance. It is also a very special day to remember and honour the indelible legacy of Chief Moshood Kashimawo Olawale (M.K.O.) Abiola, the acclaimed winner of the June 12, 1993 presidential election, widely adjudged to be the freest and fairest in the history of the country.
The journey from military rule to democracy has not been easy at all. It has been a long and painful race, punctuated by betrayals, bloodshed, political intimidation, stolen mandates and broken promises. But at the heart of this journey, June 12 stands out as a date that Nigerians collectively wrestled the national conscience from the jaws of official authoritarianism and elevated it to the level of a national monument. And so, as Nigerians celebrate Democracy Day today, it is worth asking ourselves this pertinent but uncomfortable question: what does democracy really mean to the average Nigerian?
The seeds of Nigeria’s modern democratic experience were sown on June 12, 1993. On that day, millions of Nigerians, from all walks of life, came out to vote for a new direction, in an election that cut across ethnic, religious, and regional boundaries. The man they chose was Bashorun M.K.O. Abiola, a man who represented a break from the divisive politics of the past. Running under the banner of the Social Democratic Party (SDP), his campaign was driven by the now-iconic slogan: "Hope '93."
However, the people's hope was short-lived. The military regime of General Ibrahim Babangida annulled the overall result, vaguely citing "security concerns," and plunging the country into political turmoil. Protests erupted. Civil society groups, professional associations, journalists, and everyday Nigerians took to the streets demanding justice. Abiola himself declared, “I won the election, and I will claim my mandate.” He was arrested and imprisoned. Ultimately, he died in detention under very suspicious circumstances on July 7, 1998.
After his exit, June 12 became more than just a date. It became a metaphor for Nigeria’s interrupted dreams, for political injustice, for the price of freedom. For years, it was ignored by successive governments until 2018, when it was officially recognized as Nigeria’s Democracy Day, replacing the May 29 date previously used to mark the return of civilian rule in 1999. But beyond the symbolism, has Nigeria truly internalized the meaning of democracy?
Since 1999, Nigeria has had six general elections in 2003, 2007, 2011, 2015, 2019, and 2023. Each had come with its unique challenges: rigging, violence, voter suppression, judicial controversy, and the overbearing influence of money. Yet, each election had also offered moments of national pride and democratic growth. One of such moments came in 2015, when President Goodluck Jonathan set a historic precedent. As results of the election began trickling in and it became clear that his party, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), was heading for defeat, President Jonathan made a phone call that changed Nigerian democracy forever. He called his rival, General Muhammadu Buhari of the All Progressives Congress (APC), and congratulating him, conceded defeat even before the final results were officially announced. That singular act shocked the world and calmed a nation bracing for post-election violence.
In his words, President Jonathan declared: "My political ambition is not worth the blood of any Nigerian."
Those few words, spoken in humility and patriotism, marked a critical turning point in Nigeria’s democratic journey. For the first time in Nigeria’s history, an incumbent president voluntarily handed over power to an opposition candidate. It showed that Nigerian democracy was beginning to mature, that leadership was about service, not desperation or entitlement. Unfortunately, President Jonathan’s gesture has remained an exception rather than the rule in Nigerian politics. The political arena today still bears the hallmarks of desperation and impunity. Elections are too often still a “do-or-die” affair, driven by personal ambition, ethnic loyalty, and access to wealth, rather than service to the people. To many Nigerians, public office has become a route to power, finance and influence, not responsibility and service. These days, privileges of office are pursued with unmatched aggression, while the obligations are largely ignored. From local government chairmen to governors and national legislators, politics is often reduced to a contest for personal gain rather than for the public good.
It is no wonder that the average Nigerian, the trader in Aba, the farmer in Kachia, the teacher in Akure, the artisan in Calabar, feels disconnected from the democratic process. For them, democracy has not yet delivered. There is still poverty in the midst of plenty, still a widening gap between the rulers and the ruled, and still a lack of accountability in the management of public funds. So, what is democracy supposed to mean? At its core, democracy is not merely about holding elections. It is about people having a say in how they are governed. It is about the rule of law, the protection of human rights, and the participation of citizens in civic life. It is about ensuring that government serves the people, not the other way round.
In matured democracies, elections are just one of many tools used to check power. Others include free press, independent judiciary, civil society, strong institutions, and above all, an informed and active citizenry. In Nigeria, many of these elements are still weak. The judiciary is often compromised; the press is under attack; institutions are politicized; and civil society, though active, is frequently underfunded and vulnerable. Most worrying of all, perhaps, is the growing apathy among citizens, especially young people. Disillusioned by broken promises and rigged elections, many now view politics as a dirty game. Voter turnout remains low. Engagement is minimal. And when elections come, many sell their votes for a few thousand naira - not out of greed, but out of despair. Yet, all hope is not lost.
Democracy is not a destination: it is a journey. And for Nigeria, the journey must now move from form to substance. That means, it is no longer the issue of just conducting elections every four years, but that of building a culture of democracy in our homes, in our schools, in our workplaces, in our religious institutions, and in our communities every single day.
To achieve this, several steps have to be taken, and with utmost urgency. First is that Nigerians, especially those who live in rural areas, must be educated on their rights and responsibilities. A citizen who understands the power of the vote is less likely to sell it. Second is that the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) must be truly independent and technologically empowered to conduct credible, transparent elections. The third is that politicians must be held accountable for the political standards they set. The Jonathan model must be celebrated, emulated, and institutionalized. Fourth is that we must build institutions that are stronger than individuals. The judiciary, police, and the legislature must be free from political interference. Fifth is that public officials must be accountable to their constituents. Budgets must be open. Contract awards must be transparent. Corruption in any form or shape must be punished swiftly and fairly. And last but not least, our politicians must appreciate the fact that with over 60% of the population under 30 years of age, Nigeria’s future lies with its youths. We must give them a stake in the system, not just as voters, but as leaders, activists, and watchdogs.
As we celebrate Democracy Day in 2025, let us not reduce it to a public holiday, filled with empty wishes, thoughtless speeches and ceremonial pageantry. Let it be for all Nigerians, a day of national soul-searching. Let us ask ourselves if we are living up to the ideals of June 12. Are we honouring the sacrifice of Chief MKO Abiola? Are we building a nation where leadership is based on service, and power belongs to the people? In fact, President Jonathan’s quiet act of statesmanship in 2015 should be taught in schools, commemorated in civic textbooks, and upheld as a golden standard for democratic conduct. In contrast to the do-or-die politics that still plagues the country, his action demonstrated a better way for Nigeria, a system where integrity trumps ambition, and patriotism overrides partisanship.
Democracy is a mirror. It reflects not only our politics but our community values, our maturity, and our commitment to justice and fairness. As we stand before that mirror today, what do we see? Do we see a country full of potentials but still struggling to realize them? Do we see heroes, from Abiola to Jonathan, who have shown us the way. Do we see young people hungry for change? Do we see elders weary of broken promises? Do we see a nation crying out for leadership that listens, learns, and leads with humility?
Let June 12 remind us that democracy is not a gift from above, but a responsibility from below. It is what we make of it. And it will only thrive when we, the people, demand more from our leaders — and more from ourselves. So, let the celebration begin. And let it be a celebration of substance, not symbolism. A celebration of the collective efforts of all Nigerians to make true democracy happen in their country, more because of their differences in tribes and tongues to be able to stand firm in unity and commitment to One Nation Under God.
Happy Democracy Day, Nigeria.