By Bem Terwase from Gwer-West
What does it mean to honor a nation's democratic journey? What legacy do we uphold when we gather in public spaces, protest placards in hand, on a day meant to commemorate the birth of our democracy? These are the questions we must ask ourselves as the "Take It Back Movement" prepares for a protest on June 12, a day sacred to the Nigerian spirit, a day born from struggle, sacrifice, and the hope of a brighter future. This protest, being frantically marketed across social media platforms, most notably on X, is no spontaneous expression of democratic will. It is a calculated disruption, with plans to ignite demonstrations in cities including Abuja, Lagos, and other business hubs, cloaking its agenda in the language of justice, but scratch beneath the surface, and what you find is not a demand for reform, but a risk of ruin.
Yes, Nigeria faces real challenges, economic hardship, insecurity, and a yearning for responsive governance. But can we honestly believe that massive public demonstrations, vulnerable to hijack by opportunists and agitators, will ease our burdens? Or will they deepen our wounds, threaten our stability, and open the floodgates to chaos?
Let us not be naive. We have seen this story before. In a nation already teetering under the weight of inflation and insecurity, protests of this scale do not always end in peaceful chants and handwritten signs. They often end in fire, in broken windows, in mourning families.
Even more troubling is the rhetoric that has given such protests a false sense of legitimacy. Professor Pat Utomi, a figure once respected in public discourse, now flirts with the reckless notion of a "shadow government." Is this what responsible leadership looks like? To toss volatile ideas into the public square at a time when our democratic institutions require reinforcement, not subversion?
Worse still, Utomi’s words have become ammunition for more radical voices, such as Omoyele Sowore and his allies, who have seized the opportunity to advocate for an uprising openly, on June 12, Democracy Day, the very day we should be coming together to celebrate progress, not tearing apart the fragile fabric that holds us together.
Let’s be clear: the call for an uprising is not noble. It is not patriotic. It is a direct threat to the very democracy we claim to cherish.
The Nigerian people know better. That is why, from city streets to village squares, many are condemning this dangerous turn of events, but demand accountability, not just for actions.
Yes, dissent is a pillar of democracy. But when dissent descends into disruption, when dialogue is replaced by disorder, it is the ordinary Nigerian who suffers. The market woman, the bus driver, the student, the elderly, those who cannot afford to have their lives thrown into turmoil, while the elite argue from podiums and studios.
True progress is not made by shouting in the streets or burning tyres on highways. It is built in town halls, at the ballot box, and through relentless civic engagement. It is won not through force, but through a focus on reforms, accountability, and inclusion.
June 12 is not just a date on the calendar. It is a monument to our resilience. A reminder of our collective struggle. A symbol of what we can achieve when we choose hope over hate, ballots over bullets, and unity over upheaval.
So let us not allow this day to be tarnished by selfish ambitions and misguided rage. Let us rise above the noise and remember who we are as a people. Let us stand united, not in protest, but in purpose. Let us choose peace, dialogue, and the enduring power of democratic action.
Nigeria belongs to all of us. Let’s not tear it down to prove a point. Let’s build it up, together.