Reclaiming the right to hold power accountable in Nigeria
One of the earliest lessons we were taught in law school was that the law is not a tool for silence, but a shield for freedom. That government exists at the mercy of the people, not the other way around. But in today’s Nigeria, this truth is being buried beneath a rising tide of deliberate gaslighting. Those who speak out against injustice, hardship, or official incompetence are no longer just dismissed; they are branded as unpatriotic.
The self-evident truth is that there is nothing patriotic about silence in the face of suffering.
In recent years, a sinister narrative has taken root. Citizens who express dissent are accused of “talking Nigeria down.” Social commentators are told they “hate the country.” Protesters are called “saboteurs.” Critics of bad policy are branded “enemies of progress.” And worst of all, those who demand accountability are met with the ultimate insult: “You are not patriotic.”
This distortion of patriotism is as dangerous as it is dishonest. It deliberately twists love for country into silence, and loyalty into servitude. But true patriotism is not blind obedience; it is fierce loyalty to the truth, even when the truth is uncomfortable.
We must ask: what is a patriot, if not someone who loves their country enough to want it to be better? Socrates, accused of corrupting the youth of Athens for asking too many questions, insisted that an unexamined life is not worth living. Likewise, an unexamined nation cannot grow. The citizen who refuses to speak up in the face of injustice is not preserving peace, they are enabling decay. In contrast, the citizen who dares to demand more of their leaders is enacting a higher form of loyalty, the kind that wants the country to rise, not stagnate in delusion.
Nowhere is this misuse of patriotism more visible than in the selective application of Section 24 of the Cybercrime (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, 2015, as amended in 2024. Originally designed to combat genuine cyber threats, such as fraud, identity theft, and digital harassment, this provision has increasingly been used as a political weapon.
Section 24 criminalizes the sending of messages deemed “grossly offensive,” “obscene,” “lewd,” “indecent,” or causing “annoyance,” “inconvenience,” or “ill will.” These terms remain alarmingly vague, even after the 2024 amendment, creating dangerous room for arbitrary interpretation.
In practice, this law has morphed into a convenient silencing tool for those in power. It is used not to address real cybercrime, but to suppress political criticism. From journalists to students, from whistleblowers to civic actors, many Nigerians have been arrested or detained for online comments that, by any democratic standard, should fall under protected speech.
Take the case of Daniel Ojukwu, a journalist with the Foundation for Investigative Journalism (FIJ), arrested in 2023 over a report on procurement irregularities. Charged under Section 24, he was detained for days without formal charges. These are not anomalies; they are examples of how the law has been distorted to punish dissent. This clashes directly with Section 39 of the 1999 Constitution, which guarantees freedom of expression, and it violates international standards such as Article 19 of the ICCPR and Article 9 of the ACHPR, as affirmed by the ECOWAS Court of Justice in SERAP v. Nigeria (ECW/CCJ/JUD/16/20). Yet despite that 2022 judgment, enforcement patterns on the ground remain unchanged.
The political consequence is the erosion of democratic space. When citizens begin to self-censor out of fear, when young people on social media hesitate to question authority, the very foundation of representative governance is at risk. A society that cannot tolerate dissent cannot evolve.
This is not just a legal or political issue; it is also an economic one. A government that punishes feedback cannot benefit from innovation. An economy that fears transparency cannot attract trust. Our development struggles are tied not just to global headwinds, but to a culture of suppression and selective listening. Leaders insulated from critique become blind to failure.
Let us not forget the role of fellow citizens who weaponize patriotism against their neighbours. These are those who defend poor governance with phrases like, “At least he’s better than the last one,” or “Give them time,” or “You don’t love Nigeria if you complain.” But this is not civic maturity; it is a shallow understanding of democracy.
Patriotism does not mean keeping quiet while bad roads kill our loved ones, while inflation crushes families, or while politicians live in obscene luxury as the people suffer. It does not mean watching hospitals decay, young people lose hope, or security fail while clapping for leaders based on party or tribe.
To speak out is to believe that Nigeria deserves better, that Nigerians deserve better. That is not hatred. That is hope wrapped in courage.
To those trying to shut others up: stop confusing loyalty to the government with loyalty to the country. The two are not the same. In fact, they are often in direct opposition, especially when the government abandons the people it swore to serve.
Loyalty to a country means holding leaders accountable, not worshipping them. It means loving Nigeria enough to challenge those mismanaging its future. It means saying, “This is not good enough” and demanding better. A loyal citizen does not shield power from scrutiny; they ensure that power serves the people.
To safeguard the 2027 elections and Nigeria’s democratic credibility, Section 24 must be urgently reformed. Its language should be tightened, its scope limited to genuine cyber threats, and its enforcement aligned with both constitutional guarantees and Nigeria’s international obligations.
But beyond legal reform, we need a shift in political culture. Law enforcement must exercise restraint. The judiciary must stand as a bulwark of rights. Civil society must remain vigilant. And most importantly, citizens must keep speaking, knowing that democracy thrives not on silence but on accountability.
Patriotism is not silence in the face of hardship; it is the refusal to normalize it. It is the insistence that poverty should not be permanent, that suffering should not be routine, and that bad governance should never be excused as destiny. It is the unyielding belief that Nigeria can and must be better, and that silence only prolongs the pain. Because silence helps no one, but a voice, spoken with courage, just might save a nation.
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John Onyeukwu, is a lawyer and public policy analyst with interdisciplinary expertise in law, governance, and institutional reform. He holds an LL.B (Hons) from Obafemi Awolowo University, an LL.M from the University of Lagos, and dual master’s degrees in Public Policy from the University of York and Central European University. He also earned a Mini-MBA. John has managed development projects on governance, public finance, civic engagement, and service delivery. He can be reached on john@apexlegal.com.ng
