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The Oracle: Dictatorship: Antithesis to Democracy (Pt 3)

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By Chief Mike Ozekhome

INTRODUCTION

Last week, we concluded our discourse on democracy as a form of government. Today, we shall x-ray the meaning, concept, causes and the possibility of having elective dictatorship in governance.

MEANING OF DICTATORSHIP

In all countries of the world, you won’t find a dictator who calls himself a dictator. Instead, dictators bear ordinary titles such as president, emperor, great leader and similar monikers. That’s because ‘dictator’ is a pejorative term assigned to certain rulers by other nations, particularly the developed nations of the West – that is, countries with thriving economies – such as the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom and many others.

To be considered a dictatorship means that a country is known to be run by one person without any checks and balances on his/her power. Dictators make unilateral decisions that affect their countries without having to consult any other branch of government. That is because there is no other branch of government that is not controlled by the dictator. Human nature being what it is, dictators do not rise to power for the good of their nations (though, they usually claim otherwise). They seize power to benefit themselves, their families and their close political allies.

Dictators usually come to power through some kind of violent struggle, rather than the peaceful passage of power that we take for granted in the United States. In cases such as the late Kim Jong-il in North Korea, the ruler is even worshiped as a demi-god.

CONCEPT OF DICTATORSHIP

The concept of dictatorship, in its origin and evolution, may be better appreciated both as a complementary and protective constitutional device and as a complete antithesis to the democratic constitutional state. Thus, Carl J. Friedrich (1937), in referring to the ancient Roman model, makes a distinction between constitutional and unrestricted dictatorship. Franz L. Neumann (1957, p. 248) comments that dictatorship may arise and function as “implementation of democracy,” “preparation for democracy,” or the “very negation of democracy.” Plato and Aristotle saw the origin of tyranny in the weaknesses and degeneration of democracy, and political theory has been based on the polarity of democracy and dictatorship ever since. However, the view that a revolutionary dictatorship necessarily presupposes the existence or the counterpart of a democratic constitution is disputed. Answers may be provided by the recent sociological and political research into the historical process of transition from a constitutional, restricted dictatorship to an unrestricted, total dictatorship.

CAUSES OF DICTATORSHIP

The inability to function and the internal weakness of democracy are undoubtedly among the main causes of the establishment of dictatorial rule. The totalitarian communist system of the Soviet Union arose in consequence of the crumbling away of tsarist autocracy, hastened along by a mass movement. In general, it can be shown that unresolved social tensions and economic crises, together with the undermining of constitutional order and the development of undemocratic power aggregates, are among the conditions that give rise to dictatorial regimes.

POSSIBILITY OF HAVING AN ELECTIVE DICTATORSHIP IN GOVERNANCE

Over the years, the executive arm of government has always been seen as the primary source of tyranny, and in Britain the Parliament was developed to control its power. After centuries of struggle, this control was finally achieved in the nineteenth century by making the executive government responsible to the Parliament.

The growth of disciplined political parties in the twentieth century has reversed this responsibility, and the executive government can now often control the parliament, resulting in a form of elective dictatorship.

There is nothing new about the concept of an elective dictatorship. After all, nearly 2500 years ago, the Roman Commonwealth instituted the office of dictator, the incumbent to be chosen by the Senate to deal with crises such as war, sedition and crime, which were too difficult for the two annually-elected and often mutually antagonistic consuls to deal with. The dictator initially held office for six months.

The Nazi government of Adolf Hitler is an extreme example of a modern elective dictatorship, but Hitler was elected and his dictatorship was legal under the Weimar Constitution. The Weimar Republic had responsible government, with a Chancellor as head of government. The president-the aged Field Marshal Hindenburg at the time of Hitler’s accession-had considerable authority, including dictatorial power if public order and security were threatened.

The Weimar Parliament was elected by proportional representation, with consequent difficulty in forming stable governments.

The constitutional tradition and the rule of law are much more firmly established there than they were in the Weimar Republic. Nevertheless there are disturbing common patterns in all elective dictatorships.

In modern times, attention was first called to the new elective dictatorships by Lord Hailsham, in a famous address on the BBC in 1976. He later wrote:

Disregard the fundamental human values of justice and morality and you will soon turn majority rule into unprincipled tyranny. But in practice, human nature being what it is, every human being and every human institution will tend to abuse its legitimate powers unless these are controlled by checks and balances, in which the holders of office are not merely encouraged but compelled to take account of interests and views which differ from their own.

In pointing to the dangers of an elective dictatorship, Lord Hailsham was in fact echoing the views of a long tradition of political theorists, dating back to the times of ancient Greece. Even the expression ‘elective dictatorship’ was similar to Thomas Jefferson’s description of a type of government as elective despotism. He wrote

The concentrating [of all the powers of government] in the same hands is precisely the definition of despotic government. It will be no alleviation, that these powers will be exercised by a plurality of hands, and not by a single one. One hundred and seventy-three despots would surely be as oppressive as one … An elective despotism was not the government we fought for.

The founders of the United States of America, particularly Jefferson and Madison, brought remarkable intellectual rigour and imagination to the problems of creating a new democracy. They may have been somewhat misled by the French philosopher Montesquieu, who thought that the separation of the executive, legislative and judicial powers was the secret of the success of the English system after 1688, and the American system was modeled on that principle. ‘The Americans of 1787’, wrote Bagehot, ‘thought they were copying the English Constitution, but they were contriving a contrast to it.’ In fact what Montesquieu was emphasising was the importance of the independence of the judicial system from political forces (unlike the situation in France), and this separation of powers is common to both the British and American systems.

As Lord Acton put it: ‘Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ Edmund Burke was also aware of the dangers of untrammeled power. Two hundred years ago he wrote that ‘in a democracy the majority of citizens is capable of exercising the most cruel oppression upon the minority.’ His views were echoed nearly a century later by J.S. Mill when he wrote of:

‘the evil effect produced upon the mind of any holder of power, whether an individual or an assembly, by the consciousness of having only themselves to consider … A majority in a single assembly easily becomes despotic and overweening, if released from the necessity of considering whether its acts will be concurred in by another constituted authority. One of the most indispensable requisites in the practical conduct of politics, especially in the management of free institutions, is conciliation: a readiness to compromise; a willingness to concede something to opponents, and to shape good measures so as to be as little offensive as possible to persons of opposite views.’

He went on to say that, to control a government, it was essential to:

‘throw the light of publicity on its acts; to compel a full exposition and justification of all of them which anyone considers questionable’.

This attitude was totally different to that of Dicey three decades later. Dicey believed that the true source of the life and growth of the British Constitution was ‘the absolute omnipotence, the sovereignty of parliament’. It must be admitted, though, that when this sovereign Parliament was prepared to take action with which Dicey disagreed-as in Home Rule for Ireland, his respect for the Constitution seemed to vaporize. He recommended a referendum (so much for the sovereignty of Parliament) and, if a majority voted for Home Rule, he was prepared to see armed insurrection (so much for respect for the British Constitution).

None of the countries above has anything approaching responsible government in Bagehot’s sense, though all pretend they have. What they have is party government, where the party which wins the majority of seats in the lower house forms the government and its leader become prime minister. The government is responsible, not to the parliament, but to the caucus of the government party MPs. The lower house merely registers the laws proposed by the government, after discussions with the government party caucus. The caucus relies for its electoral success on the party organization, which in some of the parliaments may give orders to the parliamentary party.

There are also other constraints. The doctrine of the sovereignty of parliament, under which its enactments cannot be struck down by any court, now applies only in New Zealand. Canada and Australia are federations, with entrenched constitutions. The powers are divided between the federal and state governments, and any disputes are decided by the courts. The UK is a de facto provincial member of the European Federation, with laws enacted by its Parliament liable to be overridden by European Union laws on certain designated subjects, and disputes resolved by a Union court.

These restraints still leave formidable and effectively unreviewable powers in the hands of a government which controls the lower house. The only remaining barriers to party despotism are upper houses, but these barriers are of very uncertain strength. If the government party has the numbers in the upper house it is really no barrier at all for, except in the UK, where party members of both houses meet in a common caucus where the upper house members are usually heavily outnumbered by those from the lower house. The decisions of this caucus are usually binding on upper house members, even in cases where most of them actually oppose the decision. Cross voting is rare; it is effectively non-existent among Labor members in Australia. The House of Lords was a special case, for most of the peers did not accept party discipline. The answer was inevitable. Exploiting the non-elective character of the House of Lords, governments managed to reduce its power to a mere delaying role.

However, if the government party does not have the majority in the upper house-and this is becoming increasingly common, with four of the six elected upper houses using proportional representation-the upper house can be a formidable obstacle to an elective despotism, reviewing legislation thoroughly, and amending and sometimes rejecting it. Government activities may be closely and critically scrutinized and inquiries held into matters the government does not want investigated. If elected by proportional representation, upper houses can reasonably claim to be more reflective of actual community opinion than a lower house elected by single member constituencies. This claim should be slightly qualified, if only part of an upper house-usually half-retires at each election. This is deliberately done to make the upper house a continuing body, without violent fluctuations in balance caused by temporary changes in public opinion. (To be continued).

FUN TIME

There are two sides to every coin. Life itself contains not only the good, but also the bad and the ugly. Let us now explore these.

“Yesterday, I attended a burial of a friend’s grandfather. But their tradition is that at every burial ceremony, an old man would come out and announce the next person to die. So this old man said the first person to leave the burial ground will be the next person to die. Since yesterday, we are still at the burial. Even one elderly man that is over 95years is asking me if my parents won’t be looking for me.  

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

“Dictatorship naturally arises out of democracy, and the most aggravated form of tyranny and slavery out of the most extreme liberty.” (Plato).

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Opinion

When Architecture of Policy Meets Architecture of Connection

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By Shakirat Akintola

For many political observers, the proposition of an Atiku-Momodu ticket represents a fascinating answer to Nigeria’s complex governance puzzle. The conversation is rapidly moving past the two personalities involved, evolving into a broader debate about national cohesion, credibility, and the precise qualities required to steady a fractured nation.

Atiku Abubakar, having recently emerged as the presidential candidate for the African Democratic Congress (ADC) following a fiercely contested and highly scrutinized nationwide primary election, remains one of the most resilient figures in Nigeria’s democratic journey. His institutional memory is vast. As the Vice President who chaired the National Economic Council during one of Nigeria’s most consequential eras of economic restructuring and privatization, he understands the levers of state policy.

Yet, in a nation fractured along regional, religious, and generational lines, policy blueprints alone are no longer enough. The opposition faces a distinct hurdle: Nigerians already know who Atiku is. The challenge is not building recognition, but establishing a genuine, empathetic connection with the deep frustrations of the grassroots. This is precisely where Aare Dele Momodu enters the equation.

To view Momodu strictly through the glamorous lens of Ovation International is to misunderstand the deliberate philosophy behind his media empire. While critics might initially mistake his chronicling of high society for elite insulation, his career has actually functioned as a masterclass in breaking down walls. For decades, Momodu did not just document success; he demystified it, bringing the corridors of power and privilege directly to the gaze of the ordinary citizen. More importantly, this deep social capital was forged in the fires of grassroots defiance. Long before he was a celebrated publisher, Momodu was a pro-democracy activist who faced detention and forced exile during the dark days of the Abacha regime for standing with the masses. His ability to navigate corporate boardrooms today is not a sign of detachment from the struggle, but a powerful asset. It means the opposition gains a communicator who can walk into spaces of immense privilege, speak truth to power in their own language, and channel that access directly back into the service of Nigeria’s markets, classrooms, and farming communities.

A Referendum on Lived Realities

The ongoing security and economic trials illustrate exactly why a balance of institutional experience and cultural reach matters. For a parent deciding between school fees and healthcare, or a trader calculating the risks of interstate highways, governance is not a theoretical debate.

The next election will not be won by campaign slogans or aggressive social media strategies. It will be decided by trust. While the ruling party scrambles to convince a strained populace that their sacrifices will yield future rewards, the opposition must present a credible, steady, and comforting alternative.

Nigeria’s future will ultimately be shaped by leaders who look beyond political echo chambers and actively listen to the markets, classrooms, and farming communities. As the country continues its difficult search for stability, the political figures capable of building a bridge between sound policy and genuine human empathy will inevitably command the attention of a nation eager to move forward.

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Why Dele Momodu May Be Atiku’s Smartest Running Mate Option Yet

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By Michael Abimboye

As the African Democratic Congress, ADC, gradually consolidates its coalition ahead of the 2027 presidential election, attention has inevitably shifted from the emergence of Atiku Abubakar as presidential candidate to the more delicate and strategic question of his running mate.

Several names have surfaced in political calculations and media speculation: Rotimi Amaechi, Emeka Ihedioha, and Dele Momodu, among them. Yet, beyond the noise of conventional political arithmetic lies a deeper electoral question: who among these options best expands Atiku’s coalition beyond traditional structures and into the modern political battlefield Nigeria has become?

Increasingly, the answer may well be Dele Momodu.

For years, Nigerian politics has operated under an outdated assumption that electoral victory is secured merely through governors, party leaders, and regional strongmen. The 2023 election disrupted that orthodoxy. The emergence of Peter Obi demonstrated that digital momentum, perception management, emotional resonance, and transregional appeal can significantly alter the political equation. Obi’s strongest weapon was not necessarily party structure. It was narrative dominance.

That reality has permanently changed Nigerian politics.

And in the current ADC coalition conversation, Dele Momodu may be one of the few figures who intuitively understands this new political environment.

Unlike many career politicians whose influence remains confined to state structures or elite caucuses, Momodu operates in multiple political ecosystems simultaneously: media, diplomacy, youth engagement, elite networking, pan-African influence, and digital communication. In modern electoral politics, that multidimensional relevance matters enormously.

One of Momodu’s most understated assets is his continental reach. Through decades of media work, political engagement, and elite interaction across Africa, he has cultivated relationships with presidents, former presidents, business leaders, diplomats, and intellectual figures across the continent. His network is not speculative mythology. It is publicly visible and historically documented through his long-running engagements as publisher of Ovation International and participant in high-level African political circles.

At a time when Nigeria seeks to reassert itself diplomatically and economically within Africa, such soft-power capital becomes politically valuable. A vice-presidential candidate today is no longer merely a ceremonial electoral appendage. He must also communicate competence, cosmopolitanism, and international legitimacy.

Momodu fits that profile more naturally than many conventional politicians. There is also the geographical intelligence behind his potential candidacy.

Though widely perceived nationally as a South-West figure because of his strong Yoruba cultural identity and media dominance in Lagos and the South-West, Dele Momodu is fundamentally from the South-South axis through his Edo roots. Politically, this creates a rare advantage. It allows the ADC to potentially tap into two strategic regions simultaneously without provoking the sharp regional anxieties that often accompany vice-presidential selections.

Amaechi, for instance, undoubtedly possesses political experience and administrative depth. But his polarising history in Rivers politics, coupled with his own presidential ambitions, complicates the chemistry required of a running mate. Indeed, reports have repeatedly suggested Amaechi has little interest in a vice-presidential role.

Ihedioha, meanwhile, brings stability and technocratic moderation, but lacks the national media visibility and emotional connection necessary for a fiercely competitive national election. Elections are not won only by competence. They are won by energy, narrative, symbolism, and visibility.
Dele Momodu possesses all four.

Then comes perhaps the most important factor of all: communication.

The 2027 election is unlikely to resemble previous Nigerian elections. It will be heavily digitised, media-driven, youth-influenced, and psychologically contested online. The political establishment still underestimates how profoundly social media has altered electoral mobilisation. The Obi movement in 2023 proved that online enthusiasm can shape national conversation, pressure traditional media, influence undecided voters, and energise urban youth demographics.

Momodu enters this terrain with an already established digital infrastructure.

Unlike many politicians who outsource communication to media aides, Dele Momodu himself is a communication institution. He understands headlines, optics, timing, public emotion, narrative construction, and audience psychology. His social media platforms command enormous engagement across demographics that traditional politicians often struggle to reach organically.

That matters.

In a coalition environment where ADC must unify disillusioned PDP voters, attract soft Obidients, retain Northern numerical strength, and penetrate urban youth constituencies, communication sophistication becomes central to survival.

Momodu also carries an outsider-insider advantage. He is politically experienced enough to understand power, yet sufficiently detached from the toxic baggage of conventional Nigerian political warfare. He has not governed a state, which critics may see as a weakness, but which supporters may frame as insulation from corruption controversies and governance fatigue associated with many old political actors.

In an anti-establishment electoral climate, that distinction could become useful.

Perhaps most importantly, Dele Momodu brings cultural elasticity. He can comfortably engage traditional rulers in Kano, intellectuals in Abuja, media elites in Lagos, young digital audiences in Port Harcourt, diaspora professionals in London, and political moderates in the South-East. Very few Nigerian political figures possess that adaptive national reach without appearing artificial.

And politics, ultimately, is the management of coalitions.

Atiku’s greatest challenge is not merely winning Northern votes. He already possesses substantial Northern recognition. His real challenge is rebuilding emotional trust across sections of Southern Nigeria while simultaneously energising younger demographics sceptical of establishment politics.

A conventional politician may help him consolidate structures.

Dele Momodu, however, may help Atiku reshape perception. And in modern politics, perception is often the first battlefield victory.

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Dele Momodu: The Bridge Between Politics and the People

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By Adeoye Inioluwa

Across the Nigerian nation today, conversations have become remarkably similar. Whether in the crowded markets of Lagos, the farms of the North, the commercial centres of the East, or the towns and villages of the South-West and South-South, many Nigerians are asking the same questions. When will life become easier? When will the economy improve? When will businesses regain stability? When will citizens begin to feel safer and more secure in their daily lives?

The concerns are understandable.

The cost of living remains one of the most dominant issues confronting ordinary Nigerians. Food prices have become a source of daily anxiety for many families. Small businesses continue to struggle with rising operational costs. Young graduates face uncertainty about employment opportunities. For millions of citizens, conversations about economic indicators and policy reforms often feel distant from the realities they encounter every day.

Alongside these economic concerns are persistent security challenges. While progress may have been recorded in some areas, many communities still desire greater stability and peace. For ordinary citizens, security is not merely a policy issue. It is the ability to travel safely, conduct business confidently, and live without fear.

These realities inevitably shape the nation’s political mood.

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu assumed office at a time when difficult economic decisions were already looming over the country. His administration has argued that several of its reforms are necessary steps toward long-term economic recovery and sustainability. Supporters maintain that difficult transitions are sometimes required to achieve lasting change.

However, politics rarely rewards intentions alone.

Citizens ultimately judge governments through their lived experiences. They assess leadership not only through policy announcements but through the practical impact of those policies on their everyday lives. As Nigeria gradually moves closer to another election cycle, public perception of the economy, security, and governance will inevitably influence political conversations.
This reality presents both a challenge and an opportunity for the opposition.

Among the leading opposition figures remains former Vice President Atiku Abubakar, a politician whose name has become deeply woven into Nigeria’s democratic journey. Over the years, Atiku has built a reputation as one of the country’s most enduring political figures, participating in some of the most consequential electoral contests in modern Nigerian history.

Yet the challenge before Atiku today is different from the challenge he faced in previous elections.

Recognition is not the issue. Nigerians know who Atiku Abubakar is. They are familiar with his political history, his public service record, and his positions on national issues. The real question is whether opposition politics can successfully connect with the frustrations, hopes, and aspirations of ordinary Nigerians in a way that feels genuine and convincing.

For many citizens, the next election may not simply be a contest between political parties or personalities. It may become a referendum on who best understands the realities confronting everyday Nigerians.
This is why politics must move beyond publicity.

In a period marked by economic pressure and public anxiety, voters are becoming increasingly resistant to carefully crafted political narratives that appear disconnected from their lived experiences. What they seek are leaders who understand their concerns and individuals capable of translating those concerns into meaningful political engagement.

For Atiku, this may require something more valuable than conventional image management.

It requires access to voices that understand the mood of the nation.

It requires people who can move comfortably between boardrooms and marketplaces, between policy discussions and community conversations, between political strategy and public sentiment.
It requires individuals who possess not only influence but perspective.

This is where Aare Dele Momodu enters the conversation.

Perhaps what makes Aare Momodu’s position unique is that politics was never originally his defining platform. Unlike many public figures who built their reputations entirely within political structures, Momodu’s journey was shaped through journalism, publishing, entrepreneurship, and public engagement.

For decades, he cultivated relationships across various sectors of society. Through his work in the media, he interacted with presidents, governors, business leaders, diplomats, entertainers, academics, professionals, and ordinary citizens. His network was built long before his deeper involvement in political affairs.

That distinction matters.

Because it means his influence extends beyond party structures and political loyalties. It is rooted in years of listening, observing, documenting, and engaging with people from different backgrounds and perspectives.

In many ways, Momodu represents an increasingly rare asset in contemporary politics: someone capable of understanding both elite conversations and grassroots realities.

Perhaps this explains why a man who was never primarily known as a politician now finds himself at the forefront of some of the country’s most important political conversations.

His relevance is not merely a product of political ambition. It is the result of decades spent building relationships, understanding public sentiment, and maintaining connections across different segments of Nigerian society.

As the political landscape begins to evolve ahead of 2027, such qualities may become increasingly important.

The next election will not be won solely through campaign slogans, social media strategies, or political advertising. It will be influenced by trust, credibility, and the ability to connect with citizens who are searching for answers in uncertain times.

For President Tinubu, the challenge is to convince Nigerians that current sacrifices will ultimately lead to meaningful progress.
For Atiku Abubakar and the opposition, the challenge is to persuade Nigerians that they offer a credible and compelling alternative.
And for those who operate around the corridors of political influence, the challenge is to ensure that leaders remain connected to the people whose lives are affected by every policy decision.

Nigeria’s future will not be determined by image management alone. It will be shaped by ideas, solutions, trust, and meaningful engagement with the concerns of ordinary citizens.

In a nation yearning for reassurance, leaders need more than advisers who can polish their public image. They need people who can help them hear the voices that matter most.

Those voices are not found in political echo chambers. They are found in the markets, the classrooms, the farms, the offices, and the communities where Nigerians continue to navigate the realities of everyday life while hoping for a better future.

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