By Emameh Gabriel
The recent furore surrounding Governor Monday Okpebholo’s insistence on proper protocols for political visits to Edo State reveals much about our peculiar national pathology– the tendency to privilege abstract principles over concrete realities, to favour theatrical outrage over responsibility in governance. While the chattering classes clutch their pearls about “constitutional rights”, those actually charged with maintaining public order understand the delicate balancing measure required to keep society from tipping into chaos.
One must first appreciate the context. Edo State has been a tinderbox of political tensions for years, with a history of electoral violence that has left permanent scars on communities. The governor’s position emerges not from some capricious exercise of power, but from bitter experience –the kind of experience that comes from having to console bereaved families after yet another preventable tragedy sparked by political grandstanding. When a state has seen its markets burned, its citizens maimed, and its social fabric torn apart by the incendiary atmosphere of unchecked political rallies, is it really unreasonable for its chief security officer to insist on basic precautions?
The constitutional guarantee of free movement, so passionately invoked by critics, was never intended to be absolute. Even the most progressive democracies recognise that rights exist in tension with responsibilities. In Britain, for instance, the Public Order Act requires advance notice of processions precisely because mature societies understand that public safety cannot be left to chance. The governor is not prohibiting movement – he is insisting on coordination. There is a world of difference between saying “you may not come” and saying “if you are coming, let us ensure it is done safely”. The former would indeed be indefensible; the latter is simply responsible governance.
Consider the alternative. Were high profile politicians free to descend upon communities without warning, without security preparations, without any consideration for local dynamics, we would rightly condemn the ensuing chaos as a failure of the government of the state. The same critics now crying authoritarianism would be first to demand why proper safety measures were not put in place when– God forbid– violence erupts. This is the impossible bind in which we place our public officials: damned if they take preventive measures, damned if they don’t.
The particular focus on Peter Obi misses the forest for the trees. This is not about one politician or party – it is about establishing sensible norms that apply equally to all. If the Labour Party standard-bearer wishes to visit, he is perfectly entitled to do so. But is it really too much to ask that such a visit be conducted in consultation with those responsible for maintaining order? The suggestion that this constitutes some grave infringement on democratic rights betrays either shocking naivety about Nigeria’s volatile political climate or deliberate obtuseness for partisan ends.
One detects more than a whiff of hypocrisy in the outrage. Many of those now pontificating about constitutional principles were conspicuously silent when similar measures were employed by governors of other political stripes. Our commentariat’s selective amnesia does the nation no favours. Either we believe in orderly political engagement across the board, or we admit that our principles are merely weapons to be deployed when convenient.
People have quickly forgotten that Peter Obi, as Anambra governor, once restricted Nasir El-Rufai (then Kaduna governor) to a hotel for entering the state to monitor an election on behalf of his party. At the time, many defended Obi’s actions as protecting state interests. Yet now, those same voices are condemning Governor Okpebholo for saying the right should be done.
At its core, this controversy exposes our collective failure to evolve a political culture that marries robust debate with civic responsibility. In mature democracies, politicians understand that with platform comes responsibility – that their right to campaign doesn’t supersede the public’s right to safety. Until we develop similar maturity, until our political actors demonstrate they can be trusted not to turn every gathering into a potential flashpoint, measures like Governor Okpebholo’s will remain necessary.
This is not the suppression of democracy; it is its preservation. Anarchy is not freedom, and chaos serves no one’s interests except perhaps those who thrive on instability. The governor’s position reflects the unglamorous truth of governance: that leadership sometimes means making unpopular decisions to prevent unthinkable consequences.
Those who disagree would do better to propose constructive alternatives rather than indulging in facile condemnations. How might we balance political freedoms with public safety? What protocols could satisfy both democratic principles and security needs? These are the conversations we should be having, not another round of performative outrage that does nothing to address the underlying challenges.
In the final analysis, Governor Okpebholo’s stance deserves measured support – not as an ideal solution, but as a pragmatic response to our current realities. When Nigeria develops a political culture that prioritises substance over spectacle, when our politicians demonstrate they can rally supporters without endangering bystanders, then we can revisit these protocols. Until then, the responsible course is clear: public safety must come first.
The mark of a serious society is not its ability to recite constitutional provisions by rote, but its wisdom to apply them in ways that sustain rather than undermine social order. On this count, Edo State’s approach, however imperfect, points in the right direction. One can only hope the rest of the nation takes notice.
Discussion about this post