Once hailed as the conscience of the nation, Nigeria’s pro-democracy activists who once braved military guns, tear gas, and prison cells in the name of freedom and justice are now, ironically, among those enabling the very system they fought to dismantle. From Bola Ahmed Tinubu, who was once exiled for his fierce resistance against the military dictatorship of General Sani Abacha, to Senator Shehu Sani, who spent years in prison for daring to speak truth to power, the list of fallen angels of democracy continues to grow, leaving many Nigerians asking: what really changes when activists get into power?
Take Bola Tinubu. During the 1990s, he was at the forefront of the pro-democracy movement under the umbrella of the National Democratic Coalition (NADECO), demanding the restoration of MKO Abiola’s June 12 mandate. Tinubu’s exile, sacrifice, and vocal opposition to military rule won him the admiration of many. Fast forward to 2023, Tinubu is now Nigeria’s president, presiding over one of the most economically painful reforms in recent history. Under his administration, the fuel subsidy was removed without adequate palliatives, sending inflation skyrocketing to 33.95% as of May 2024, with food inflation hitting 40.66% — the highest in two decades. The naira has crashed past ₦1,500 to the dollar, while poverty and hunger have become more widespread. Civil liberties have increasingly come under pressure, with protests violently dispersed and dissenting voices labeled enemies of the state.
Another example is Babafemi Ojudu, a veteran journalist and rights advocate, known for his dogged resistance against dictatorship during the 1990s and his work at TheNEWS magazine. Once imprisoned by the Abacha regime, Ojudu would later become Special Adviser on Political Matters to the President during the Buhari administration — a government that saw clampdowns on #EndSARS protesters and the repression of media freedoms. His silence during these crackdowns was deafening.
Even Omoyele Sowore, publisher of Sahara Reporters and a perpetual thorn in the side of corrupt politicians, has not been spared scrutiny. While he remains largely outside mainstream government, critics argue that his increasingly aggressive political ambitions and controversial tactics have shifted focus from the ideals of collective liberation to self-styled radicalism with diminishing mass appeal.
Senator Shehu Sani, another former prisoner of conscience, was once the moral compass of the Nigerian Senate, constantly reminding his colleagues of the need to protect democratic ideals. Yet, since leaving the Senate in 2019, his impact has waned, and while his public commentary remains valuable, his time in office left many disappointed as legislative activism failed to match his earlier street credibility.
Then there’s Rauf Aregbesola, a former student union leader and protest organizer against military oppression. He later became Governor of Osun State under the APC banner and served as Minister of Interior under President Buhari, during which time the country witnessed multiple human rights abuses, prison breaks, and aggressive responses to public unrest — often with minimal accountability.
What unites all these figures is not just their past as fighters for justice, but their present as administrators of a broken system. What happened? The easy answer is that “Nigeria happened to them” — a phrase increasingly used to describe how noble ideals are swallowed by the machinery of patronage politics, entrenched corruption, and elite capture.
In truth, some were co-opted, others became pragmatic, and many simply found that ideals don’t pay bills in a country where the system is designed to reward conformity over conscience. The same institutions they fought to reform were never rebuilt, only repainted. Activists-turned-politicians often find themselves faced with a brutal choice: bend or break. And most bend.
This tragic arc from street radical to system insider raises important questions about the nature of political change in Nigeria. Is the system so corrupt and self-sustaining that even the best are inevitably compromised? Or were some of these figures never truly interested in systemic reform, using activism as a stepping stone to power?
The consequences are dire. A generation of young Nigerians who once looked up to these figures now feel betrayed. Cynicism is growing. Voter turnout continues to plummet — only 27% participated in the 2023 presidential elections. The disconnect between citizens and government has widened, and hope is fast becoming a scarce resource.
But perhaps this is not the end of the road. Nigeria still has genuine reformers. The challenge is building structures that do not just elevate individuals but institutionalize accountability. Real democracy must be people-centered, not personality-centered. Until then, the story of Nigeria’s fallen activists will remain a cautionary tale of how easy it is to lose one’s way — and soul — in the corridors of power.
