On the collapse of ethical limits, the death of shame, and the quiet normalization of boundless impunity in Nigerian public life.
“I was watching politics today yesterday, if there was any way for me to break the screen, I would’ve shot Seun”
This remark was made by Nigeria’s Minister of the Federal Capital Territory during a media chat in which he threatened to shoot a journalist, Seun Okinbaloye of Channels Television for expressing his views on the decimation of opposition parties in an attempt to establish a one-party dominant state. His attack received public condemnation, with 14 civil society groups calling on the minister to retract the statement and tender a public apology. This incident, among many others, brings to the fore a fundamental question that haunts Nigerian public life: Where, exactly, are the red lines? Where is the boundary that we dare not cross?
The honest answer is that the lines have been erased. Nigeria has drifted remarkably into a “no red line” culture where power, money, and status override values, institutions, and the rule of law. In healthy societies, there are clear boundaries that even the most powerful cannot cross. But the Nigerian case reveals a deeper moral fracture. In Nigeria, there is no price for crossing the line because there is no line. This pervasive culture destroys the moral fabric of society and it makes the country operate like a banana republic. Redrawing red lines is therefore the beginning of politics of accountability.
One is compelled to ask: how did we get to the point where judges are compromised that, in some instances, justice has become a commodity, ready to be purchased by the high and mighty in society? How did we get to the point where political leaders can loot, lie, and manipulate and still go unpunished simply because they enjoy the protection of the influential godfathers or have defected to the ruling party? What became of a society that once upheld shame as a social regulator but now celebrates opulence regardless of its source? And how did voters come to normalized selling their votes for immediate gratification, only to turn around and complain about bad governance?
The culture of no limits
The culture of no limits is not accidental; it was deliberately and gradually cultivated. Nigeria began lose its bearing when society succumbed to pressure from political elites to treat integrity as naivety and principled refusal as foolishness. Through quiet surrenders and small compromises, the country slid into a state of managed decay. The moment morality became negotiable, if the price was right, we lost it.
This culture was cultivated when electoral results were manufactured and the institution that conducts elections was treated as a department of the ruling party. It persists when the rule of law is selectively invoked against political opponents and applied to allies with brazen leniency. Party defections happen not on the basis of any principle, but in naked pursuit of proximity to power and patronage. Attempts to normalize betrayal and treachery as the logic of politics must be firmly resisted. Each time a norm was violated without consequence, the violation became the new norm. Each time a politician lied publicly, manipulated an election, and faced no reckoning, the message was reinforced: there are no red lines.
The complicity of silence
One of the most unfortunate aspects of the current state of affairs is that this trend is sustained by silence. It is the silence of traditional and religious leaders who refrain from speaking truth to power. The silence of the private sector and business elites who prefer to stay quiet rather than speak up or, at best, support civic initiatives. The silence of academics who have perfected the art of distant criticism. And the silence of a middle class that has accepted that public decency is a form of disadvantage it cannot afford.
This silence is a form of complicity. It is the passive complicity of those who understand the problem and do nothing to fix it. A society that cannot name its red lines has, in effect, abolished them. Naming them is the first act of resistance. It is the bold affirmation that some values are not negotiable.
The Stakes for Democracy
The absence of red lines in a democracy is catastrophic. Democracy is defined by norms and standards that confer legitimacy on democratic processes. When those norms erode, the procedures become empty rituals. Votes are cast but do not determine outcomes. Representatives are elected but do not represent. Parties contest elections but do not actually compete on the basis of ideas, programmes, or values.
What you get, in the end, is the form of democracy without its substance: an arrangement that allows those in power to claim legitimacy while being accountable to no one. Each election cycle that passes without accountability, each court that bends, and each institution that is captured narrows the space available for democratic recovery.
Where the lines must be drawn
Unarguably, the red lines have been erased. However, the task before us, however, is to redraw them especially in politics and public governance. Red lines are not written only in books nor . They are enforced in our daily lives. A voter who walks away from a bag of rice and votes for competence draws a line. A politician who refrains from using violent rhetoric as a campaign tool draws a line. An incumbent who refrains from interfering with electoral commissions and security agencies to ensure they deliver victory for his party draws a line. A judge who rejects bribery and upholds judicial integrity draws a line. A security agency that enforces the law impartially, regardless of political affiliation, draws a line.
The real question before us is stark: do we still want to be a country with standards, or are we content to be a place where anything goes as long as it benefits us? We cannot have both. A nation that refuses to draw red lines and enforce them will eventually see those lines drawn for it by chaos, violence, and decline. Through our actions, we must ensure that the arc of accountability consistently leans towards safeguarding ethics, values, and principles. Nigeria is not doomed. But we are running out of time. Every day we look away from one case of impunity, the red lines fade increasingly. The work before us is to insist on redrawing those lines. Only then can a different country from the one currently being constructed emerge.
Samson Itodo is an election, democracy, and public policy enthusiast. Itodo serves as the Executive Director of Yiaga Africa, Principal Partner of the Election Law Center and Chairperson of the African Union Advisory Group on AI in Peace, Security and Governance. He is also a member of the Kofi Annan Foundation board and the Board of Advisers of the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance (IDEA).
