Every May 29, and now, June 12, Nigerians celebrate Democracy Day in honour of the struggles that ended military rule and restored civilian government. It is a day that commemorates the courage of pro-democracy activists, journalists, labour leaders, and ordinary citizens who resisted the military and demanded a political system accountable to the people. Yet Democracy Day should not merely be a ritual of remembrance. It should be an occasion for evaluating the health of Nigerian democracy itself.
Three decades after the historic June 12 election and twenty-seven years after the return to civilian rule, Nigeria faces a troubling paradox. Democratic institutions remain formally intact, but many of the values that give democracy meaning appear increasingly fragile. Elections are held, courts function, and political parties compete. Yet beneath these formal structures are signs of what political scientists describe as democratic backsliding which denotes the gradual weakening of democratic norms and institutions by elected leaders operating within the framework of democracy itself.
Unlike military coups, democratic backsliding rarely occurs through dramatic constitutional ruptures and this haappens incrementally. Opposition parties become weaker and institutions become more politically dependent. Citizens lose confidence in elections and dissent becomes more costly. The ruling party accumulates disproportionate influence over the political system. Democracy survives in form while diminishes in substance.
Nigeria under President Tinubu increasingly exhibits some of these characteristics. One of the most visible developments has been the progressive weakening of opposition politics. Since the 2023 elections, opposition parties have struggled with internal crises, leadership disputes, defections, and declining cohesion. The Labour Party, which mobilized millions of young voters and emerged as a significant political force, has spent much of the post-election period entangled in leadership battles and litigation. The PDP, once Nigeria’s dominant political force, continues to experience factional disputes and the departure of key figures.
At the same time, the ruling APC has expanded its political reach through a steady influx of defectors from opposition parties. While party switching is a legitimate feature of democratic politics, the cumulative effect has been the concentration of political power around a single party. The danger is not just electoral advantage. The danger is the emergence of a political environment in which opposition becomes increasingly fragmented, ineffective, and incapable of serving as a meaningful check on executive power.
Political scientists refer to such systems as dominant-party democracies. Elections continue to take place, but competition becomes progressively uneven. The ruling party develops structural advantages that make political alternation increasingly difficult.
This pattern bears uncomfortable similarities to developments that unfolded in Zimbabwe under ZANU-PF. Zimbabwe did not cease to hold elections. Opposition parties were not formally outlawed. Courts continued to exist. Parliament continued to function. Yet over time, political competition became increasingly distorted by the overwhelming dominance of the ruling party, the strategic use of state institutions, and the fragmentation of opposition forces.
The comparison should not be overstated. Nigeria remains more politically pluralistic than Zimbabwe at the height of ZANU-PF dominance. Its media environment is more diverse, its civil society more vibrant, and its federal structure provides important counterweights to central power. Nevertheless, the trajectory deserves attention because democratic erosion begins long before a system becomes overtly authoritarian.
Another indicator of democratic backsliding is the treatment of dissent. Democracy requires more than the right to vote. It requires the freedom to criticize those who govern. The nationwide protests against economic hardship in 2024 highlighted growing tensions between citizens and the state. Many protesters viewed their actions as a legitimate democratic response to worsening living conditions. Yet the arrests, restrictions, and confrontations with security agencies raised concerns about the shrinking tolerance for dissent in public life.
The economic dimension of the crisis cannot be ignored. Democratic legitimacy depends not only on electoral procedures but also on citizens’ perceptions of fairness and responsiveness. The removal of fuel subsidies and the floating of the naira were presented as necessary economic reforms. Yet for more than 200 million Nigerians, the consequences have been devastating. Food inflation, rising transportation costs, declining purchasing power, and worsening economic insecurity have transformed everyday survival into a struggle.
Equally concerning is the growing perception of institutional imbalance. In theory, the legislature, judiciary, electoral commission, and other state institutions exist to provide checks and balances. In practice, many Nigerians increasingly believe, and in fact conclude, these institutions possess sufficient independence to constrain executive power effectively. Democracy weakens when institutions become dependent on political patronage rather than constitutional principle.
The lesson from Zimbabwe is not that Nigeria is destined to follow the same path. Rather, it is that democratic decline occurs gradually and also “legally”. Citizens wake up one day to discover that opposition parties are weaker, institutions are less independent, elections inspire less confidence, and power has become increasingly concentrated. By then, the damage has already been done.
The central question facing Nigeria today is not whether democracy exists, for it does. The more important question is whether Nigerian democracy is deepening or merely surviving. If opposition parties continue to weaken, if public trust in institutions continues to decline, if dissent becomes increasingly constrained, and if political power becomes ever more concentrated, then Democracy Day risks becoming a commemoration of democratic aspirations rather than a celebration of democratic achievements.
The greatest threat to democracy is rarely a sudden coup. More often, it is the slow normalization of practices that gradually empty democracy of its substance while preserving its appearance. That is the danger Nigerians must confront today, not tomorrow.
