If you were a journalist in Lagos in the 1980s and 1990s, one of the most anticipated invitations was the election watch at the United States Information Service (USIS) on Broad Street. These evenings were more than just gatherings; they were experiences filled with the scent of coffee and cookies and the glow of television screens as we, Nigerian journalists, civil society members, and American officials, stayed up all night analyzing and making projections about the U.S. elections. We even cast mock votes and announce our own winners at the dusk of the following day.
At that time, democracy was almost an alien concept in Nigeria’s political landscape. We looked to America as the epitome of democracy, the paragon of freedom and civility where election campaigns were conducted with mutual respect and elections were seamless, without the shadow of doubt. To us, America was a land where democracy wasn’t just practiced but cherished as a beacon of hope and a model we longed to emulate. It inspired many young journalists of my generation to take bold stands against military rule, determined that one day our own people’s votes would count in choosing their leaders.
When our fight for democracy turned perilous, America stood as an ally. It provided asylum when threats loomed large and offered its institutions as places of refuge through fellowships that allowed activists to regroup and recharge. The America we envisioned was a fortress of liberty, a guardian of democratic ideals where institutions stood firm against the unimaginable.
But recent years have tested that perception, especially with the rise of Donald Trump. The unthinkable has become part of the American political reality: insults and personal attacks among candidates, unsubstantiated claims of rigged elections, acts of violence like the burning of ballot papers, and the most shocking of all the January 6th attack on the Capitol, fueled by the belief that the election was stolen.
Yes, racism has long existed in America, but it was often pushed into the background or confronted with efforts to bridge divides. Now, it has surfaced in ways that seem emboldened by political rhetoric, with some candidates openly ridiculing fellow citizens based on the color of their skin or their heritage. The divisive language and hostility have sown seeds of fear fear that dissenting voices may be harassed, that violence might erupt if election results do not favor certain factions, and that the pillars of democracy could be toppled by the forces of anarchy and fascism.
What was once a celebration of democracy at those USIS nights has taken a somber turn. Watching America today feels eerily similar to observing the contentious, often chaotic elections in places like Kenya or Nigeria. For those of us in emerging democracies, this decline in civility and the rise of electoral tension in America is deeply unsettling. It casts a shadow over the democratic world and questions whether the ideals we once aspired to are still achievable.
Yet, there is hope. America has faced moments of great trials in its history and emerged stronger. The resilience embedded in its institutions and the will of its people to defend democracy can still prevail. The current challenges, as daunting as they are, may ultimately serve as a wake-up call a reminder that democracy requires vigilance, nurturing, and an unyielding commitment to core principles.
America’s journey has not ended. It stands at a crossroads, and though the path ahead is fraught with uncertainty, the hope is that it will find its way back to being the leader of the democratic world. The world is watching, not just with apprehension but with an enduring belief that America will overcome, renewing its role as a beacon of freedom and a symbol of what democracy can be at its best.
By Babafemi Ojudu
