THE ACCORD AS DEMOCRACY RETREATS 

Politicians do not need ceremonial promises to behave democratically, argues PAT ONUKWULI 

Nigerian election seasons begin with a ritual: handshakes, cameras, signatures and promises of peace. Ahead of the 2027 elections, parties and candidates have endorsed a National Peace Accord, pledging non-violence and issue-based campaigning. 

The intention is admirable, the symbolism reassuring. Yet the ceremony contains a contradiction. Why must politicians repeatedly sign agreements merely to obey the law, respect opponents and refrain from violence? If democratic behaviour requires exceptional promises before every election, perhaps democracy is not advancing so much as retreating into ritual. 

Since 2015, the National Peace Committee has facilitated 30 peace accords. That persistence also highlights the problem. A peace accord should be an emergency bridge across political tension, not a permanent fixture on the electoral calendar. 

After decades of civilian rule, contestants should no longer need persuasion to resist intimidation or coercion. Democracy should move from intervention to institution, from ceremony to convention, and from negotiated restraint to normal conduct. Instead, repeated accords suggest a system that appears stable even as its foundations weaken. 

The same retreat is evident within political parties. Parties should be more than coloured vehicles carrying ambitious passengers towards whichever destination offers power. They should represent philosophies and competing visions of government. 

A voter should know what a party stands for before choosing its candidate. Conservatism should confront progressivism; market-led solutions should compete with social protection; centralisation should be challenged by devolution. When ideology becomes an inconvenience and manifestos mere decoration, politics ceases to be a contest of ideas and becomes a contest for access and survival. 

That is why “coalition” deserves scrutiny. Coalitions can strengthen democracy when groups negotiate over programmes and principles. But an arrangement built mainly to remove an incumbent, distribute offices, or preserve relevance is something else. Is that democratic pragmatism, or anti-party behaviour dressed up in respectable language? 

Nigeria increasingly presents politicians who retain one party identity while supporting another, endorsing rivals and preserving escape routes. Government and opposition can then coexist within the same political personality, leaving accountability visible yet elusive. 

Osun captures the difficulty. After winning re-election, Governor Ademola Adeleke thanked President Bola Tinubu for allowing a free and fair contest and reaffirmed support for Tinubu’s 2027 ambition. 

Courtesy is not the issue. The concern is why electoral fairness should depend on presidential restraint. An elected governor should not appear indebted to the President for properly counted votes. A free election must be a constitutional entitlement, protected by institutions, not a favour granted from Abuja. That separates rights from permission, citizenship from patronage and democracy from benevolence. 

Nyesom Wike’s declaration that the Osun result could have been different if Tinubu had chosen to win “at all costs” sharpened the contradiction. Wike remains a PDP member while supporting an APC president. Charles Soludo remains in APGA while backing Tinubu’s re-election. 

Such arrangements may be defended in the national interest. But where does realism end and party indiscipline begin? If senior politicians can campaign against their own parties’ presidential interests, what is the voter choosing on election day: an ideology, an individual, a network of influence, or merely proximity to power? 

Some may call this statesmanship, arguing that leaders put the country above party. Yet citizens are entitled to ask whether such cooperation stems from conviction or self-preservation in a system where political actors may fear the referees almost as much as their opponents. 

When calculations centre on INEC, presidential influence and litigation, the ballot risks becoming merely the opening stage of a larger struggle. The judiciary remains indispensable as an arbiter, but it can begin to appear less like the guardian of the vote and more like another arena where political fortunes are settled, redirected or overturned. 

The greater danger is that democratic retreat rarely announces itself dramatically. It arrives gradually: party boundaries blur, opposition weakens, institutions defer to personalities, and voters become uncertain about what their choices mean. 

Yesterday’s adversary becomes today’s ally without explanation. Manifestos become disposable, loyalty transactional, and politics detached from principle. Presidents are praised for “allowing” opponents to win; individuals grow larger while institutions shrink. An election may remain peaceful even as democracy recedes amid weakened accountability and public cynicism. 

Nigeria needs peace, but peace alone does not amount to democratic progress. What it needs is democratic normality. The true Peace Accord is already enshrined in the Constitution, the Electoral Act, party rules and the civic duty to respect the voter. 

Politicians should not need ceremonial promises to behave democratically. Parties should not require ideological amnesia to remain relevant. Candidates should not depend on presidential goodwill for votes to count, and courts should never resemble alternative collation centres. 

Until institutions, rather than personalities, determine outcomes, Nigeria risks drifting from democracy toward “INECcracy” and “Judiocracy”; government shaped not by the sovereign voter, but by the referee and the courtroom. A democracy may survive a disputed ballot. What it cannot survive is voters who no longer believe the ballot matters. 

Dr. Onukwuli is a legal scholar and public affairs analyst. patonukwuli2003@yahoo.co.uk