By Eunice Nnachi
In Osun State, politics has stopped being just about posters, rallies and promises.
With days to the governorship election, the contest has become a battle of narratives, accusations and fears, leaving many residents wondering whether the state can get to the ballot box without being consumed by the bitterness that has increasingly characterised the campaign.
At the centre of it all is Governor Ademola Adeleke, a politician whose public image has always been difficult to separate from music, dancing and entertainment.
But beneath the dancing is a governor fighting for another term, a political opponent determined to reclaim power and an electorate watching closely as two major political camps trade accusations of intimidation, arrests, manipulation and federal interference.
Adeleke himself insists that dancing does not mean he is unserious about governance.
“I am a very prudent person, and I am a very serious person. There is time for everything. There is time to dance, and there is time to work,” he said in a recent appearance.
For him, the dancing is part of who he is.
But for his critics, it has become ammunition.
The governor’s response is simple: they may mock his dancing, but they cannot accuse him of abandoning his responsibilities.
“I can dance with you now. When you come to my office, I’m a very prudent person,” he said.
Yet, as the governor dances his way through campaign appearances, Osun is facing a much more serious question: Can political competition remain competition without becoming confrontation?
The state’s political temperature has risen sharply as Saturday’s election approaches.
The contest has particularly brought Adeleke into renewed confrontation with former governor Gboyega Oyetola, now a minister in the Federal Government. Adeleke has accused Oyetola and his political allies of using federal influence to intimidate his supporters and weaken his chances at the poll.
These are serious allegations, and they remain allegations.
The opposition has also rejected accusations against it, with the APC making its own claims against the Adeleke administration and warning security agencies over alleged plans involving its supporters.
That is how the political story of Osun has increasingly developed: accusation meets counter-accusation, and each side presents itself as the victim and the other as the aggressor.
In the middle are ordinary Osun residents.
They are the ones who will queue at polling units.
They are the ones who will travel from their homes to vote.
They are the ones who will remain in the state long after political rallies have ended and politicians have returned to Abuja.
For them, an election should not be a war.
But the language surrounding this election has become increasingly combative.
Adeleke claims that members and supporters of his political camp have been arrested. He said some were released while others remained in detention, and questioned why political opponents would need to rely on arrests and intimidation if they were confident of winning at the polls.
He also referred to one of his candidates who, according to him, was being held in Abuja.
The governor’s argument is essentially this: let the people decide.
It is a powerful democratic principle.
Elections are supposed to provide the peaceful mechanism through which citizens choose their leaders. Losing an election should mean returning to the opposition bench; winning should mean accepting responsibility for governing everyone, including those who voted against you.
But when political actors begin to see opponents as enemies rather than competitors, democracy becomes fragile.
Osun has seen enough political drama to understand this danger.
The current contest is also coloured by memories of the 2022 governorship election, when Adeleke defeated Oyetola in a closely fought contest. The political rivalry between the two men has therefore acquired a personal and historical dimension.
Now, four years later, the two political camps are again on opposite sides.
This time, however, the stakes appear even higher.
Adeleke is defending his administration and seeking another term.
The APC is seeking to take back the state.
Other political actors are also hoping to break the traditional two-way contest.
The result is a crowded political battlefield in which every statement, arrest, rally and accusation is interpreted through the lens of the coming election.
Recent reports have described the atmosphere as increasingly tense, with concerns about attacks, alleged intimidation and political violence dominating public discussion.
And that is where the story stops being about Adeleke, Oyetola or any political party.
It becomes a story about Osun.
What happens when a state begins to fear its own election?
What happens when citizens become more concerned about what could happen at the polling unit than about who has the better manifesto?
What happens when political competition becomes so bitter that supporters begin to believe that losing is no longer an option?
The answer should concern everyone.
Nigeria’s democracy cannot be measured only by the ability to conduct elections. It must also be measured by whether citizens can participate freely, whether political opponents can campaign without fear, whether security agencies remain professional and whether losers can accept defeat peacefully.
For Osun, the way forward begins with restraint.
Political leaders must lower the temperature.
The governor, as the state’s chief executive, has a special responsibility to reassure citizens that their safety comes before his political victory. His opponents have the same responsibility to discourage supporters from acts that could turn political disagreement into violence.
Security agencies must also remain neutral.
Every allegation of unlawful arrest, intimidation or political violence should be investigated transparently. If someone has committed an offence, the law should take its course. But political affiliation should never become evidence of guilt.
The Independent National Electoral Commission must ensure that every eligible voter can cast a ballot without intimidation.
Political parties should train their agents and supporters to understand one simple message: an election is not a battlefield.
And voters themselves must remember the power they possess.
They do not need to dance at rallies.
They do not need to fight for politicians.
They do not need to destroy another person’s property because they support a different candidate.
They simply need to vote.
At the end of the day, politicians will remain politicians. They will negotiate, defect, form alliances, exchange accusations and return to the negotiating table.
The ordinary citizen, however, must live with the consequences.
That is why Adeleke’s statement about dancing carries an unexpected lesson.
There may indeed be “a time to dance” and “a time to work.”
But there must also be a time to disagree without destroying one another.
There must be a time to campaign and a time to stop campaigning.
There must be a time to compete and a time to accept the people’s verdict.
Most importantly, there must be a time when every political actor remembers that Osun is bigger than any candidate.
On Saturday, the people will have their moment.
They will decide.
When the votes are counted, one candidate will celebrate, another will be disappointed, and political arguments will undoubtedly continue.
But the real victory should belong to Osun if citizens are able to vote freely, return home safely and wake up the following day still able to call one another neighbours.
That is the democracy Osun deserves.
Not democracy by intimidation.
Not democracy by federal might.
Not democracy by fear.
But democracy in which the people—not politicians, not security forces and not political godfathers—have the final word.
