Beyond June 12: Youth, Democracy, and the Burden of Exclusion in Nigeria

 

June 12 is more than a date, it is a symbol of stolen hope and a stark reminder of the fragility of Nigeria’s democratic experiment. The annulment of the 1993 presidential election, widely regarded as the freest and fairest in our nation’s history, not only betrayed the will of the people, but also exposed the dangerous extent to which power can override democratic choice. It left a lasting scar on our national conscience and a legacy of distrust that still echoes through our political landscape today.

More than three decades later, Nigerian youth are still grappling with the enduring legacy of that democratic betrayal. Despite making up the majority of the population, young people remain largely sidelined from the corridors of power, excluded from decision-making, underrepresented in political office, and often absent from the spaces where national priorities are shaped and decisions that affect their future are made.

As we commemorate June 12, we must move beyond symbolic gestures and confront the hard questions. What does the persistent exclusion of young people mean for the future of Nigeria’s democracy? What lessons have we truly learned from the betrayal of June 12? And most importantly, how do we ensure that history does not repeat itself—this time, under the guise of democratic process?

The Burden of Exclusion: Challenges Facing Nigerian Youth in Democracy

Nigerian youth have consistently been at the forefront of national struggle, from the fight for independence to resistance against military rule, from #OccupyNigeria to the #EndSARS movement. Yet, despite their unwavering activism and sacrifice, these efforts have seldom translated into meaningful or sustained inclusion within the structures of power and governance.

Even with the passage of the Not Too Young To Run Act, political parties in Nigeria remain exclusive clubs, entrenched in patronage, godfatherism, and the dominance of money politics. Young people are still largely viewed as mobilisers, not decision-makers foot soldiers, not stakeholders. This exclusion is compounded by a troubling reality: with youth unemployment hovering around 40%, many young Nigerians simply lack the financial capacity to participate meaningfully in politics. The monetisation of our democratic process has effectively priced out a generation whose energy, insight, and innovation are urgently needed to drive national progress.

Much like the June 12 era, dissent in today’s Nigeria is often met with repression. Peaceful, youth-led protests—such as #EndSARS and #EndBadGovernance, have been violently suppressed, with participants facing arrests, intimidation, and coordinated smear campaigns. When young people rise to demand justice, accountability, and reform, the state frequently responds not with dialogue, but with fear and force.

Even when youth are invited to the table, their inclusion is often superficial. Appointments tend to be symbolic, devoid of real authority, budgets, or the leverage to challenge entrenched systems. This performative engagement only reinforces the structures that keep young voices on the margins.

June 12: A Mirror to the Present

The annulment of the June 12 election laid bare the fragility of Nigeria’s democracy when the will of the people is disregarded. It exposed how easily democratic institutions can be hijacked by entrenched elites for personal or political gain.

Today, Nigerian youth face a parallel betrayal, not of ballots, but of belief. They are promised inclusion, yet met with silence. They are hailed as the future, yet denied a place in the present. This quiet annulment of youth power, subtle but systemic, is no less dangerous than the overt suppression of votes. It erodes trust, fuels disillusionment, and threatens the very foundation of participatory democracy.

The message is unmistakable: a democracy that excludes its largest demographic is built on shaky ground. It fosters cynicism, fuels voter apathy, and invites unrest. When young people lose faith in the power of the ballot, they turn to the streets, or worse, retreat into silence and disengagement.

June 12 is more than a memory; it is a warning. A democracy that refuses to listen to its citizens, especially its youth, is destined to relive its darkest moments. Nigeria cannot chart a path forward by sidelining the very generation that holds its future.

The time for symbolic gestures is over. What we need now are bold reforms, systemic inclusion, and governance that places youth not just at the table, but in positions of real influence. Anything less is not just neglect, it is the quiet staging of another annulment.

Jonathan  Abakpa

Human Rights Lawyer and Youth Development Specialist