[THE MONDAY WEEKLY COLUMN] Silence as surrender: How complacency forged power without accountability in Nigeria, By Emmah Uhieneh

There is a quiet danger more corrosive than tyranny itself—an acquiescent people. Complacency and docility are not mere passive traits; they are active enablers of decline, silent architects of dysfunction, and willing accomplices in the erosion of collective destiny. No society, no institution, no nation has ever risen to greatness on the back of indifference. Progress demands vigilance; prosperity requires resistance; and dignity is sustained only by those who are willing to question, challenge, and act.

Nigeria today stands at a troubling intersection where the will of the people appears to have been gradually traded for convenience, fear, or fatigue. A nation once vibrant with political consciousness now drifts precariously toward a culture of resigned acceptance. The populace, weighed down by years of economic hardship, insecurity, and institutional distrust, seems to have reached a boiling point—not of revolt, but of surrender. In that surrender lies the true crisis.

The political trajectory that ushered in the administration of Muhammadu Buhari offers a telling reflection. His eventual rise to power, after multiple unsuccessful attempts, was not merely a testament to persistence but also to a people willing to invest hope without sustained scrutiny. His military pedigree inspired confidence; many believed discipline and order would be restored, that insecurity would be curtailed, and that economic stability would follow. Yet, the reality proved far more sobering. Insecurity deepened, even in regions once considered relatively stable, including his home state of Katsina. Economic policies faltered, often perceived as inconsistent or selectively applied.

Still, the response of the populace remained largely subdued. Complaints echoed in private spaces, frustrations simmered in everyday conversations, but organized, sustained civic resistance was minimal. Even when anomalies emerged—such as a sitting Central Bank Governor openly pursuing presidential ambition while in office—public outrage failed to crystallize into decisive action. The abnormal gradually became normalized, not because it was accepted as right, but because it was tolerated.

Advertisement

Then came the transition of influence and ambition to Bola Ahmed Tinubu, a central figure in the political machinery that brought Buhari to power. His declaration—“Emilokan,” meaning “it is my turn”—was both a bold assertion and a revealing moment in Nigeria’s democratic evolution. It raised fundamental questions: When did leadership become a matter of turn-taking? When did governance shift from collective responsibility to personal entitlement?

Yet again, the silence was deafening. A handful of voices questioned the implications, but the broader public response remained muted. The political process unfolded, alliances shifted, ambitions clashed, and ultimately, Tinubu emerged victorious. His resilience, strategic depth, and political acumen are undeniable. However, the circumstances surrounding his rise—and the public’s largely passive observation of it—underscore a deeper issue: a weakening culture of accountability driven by civic disengagement.

Today, expectations hang heavily in the air, yet they are increasingly laced with skepticism. Economic pressures intensify daily; inflation erodes livelihoods; insecurity persists across regions; and governance often appears distant from the lived realities of ordinary Nigerians. The President himself has projected an image of unyielding resolve, one forged through political battles and hardened by survival against formidable odds. But strength in leadership, when unchecked by active citizen engagement, risks evolving into unresponsiveness.

A government, no matter how powerful, ultimately derives its legitimacy from the people. When that same people retreat into silence—when they fail to question inconsistencies, challenge excesses, or demand transparency—they inadvertently expand the very power they later lament. Authority grows strongest where scrutiny is weakest.

“No money, we want arrests”: Slain Kogi student’s family defies settlement as DSS, Police storm Okpo

This is the paradox Nigeria now faces: a politically sophisticated elite operating within a system where the masses have gradually abdicated their role as vigilant stakeholders. The consequences are evident—not merely in policy outcomes or economic indices, but in the psychological shift of a nation learning to endure rather than to engage.

To complain after the fact is human; to remain silent before and during critical moments is costly. Civic responsibility does not begin at the point of suffering—it begins at the point of decision. Elections, policy debates, institutional conduct, and leadership choices all demand active participation, not passive observation.

If there is a lesson to be drawn, it is neither cynical nor defeatist—it is urgent. A complacent and docile society does not merely risk bad leadership; it guarantees it. Power, left unchecked, rarely moderates itself. It is shaped, constrained, and refined only by an alert and assertive citizenry.

Nigeria’s future, therefore, does not rest solely in the hands of its leaders, but equally in the resolve of its people. Silence must give way to scrutiny. Acceptance must yield to accountability. And complacency must be replaced by conscious, deliberate engagement.

For in the end, nations are not only governed by those in power—they are defined by the courage, or absence of it, in those who are governed.