When the restoration of democracy happened in 1999, Nigeria turned a new page, one many hoped would finally tell the story of a nation that had wrestled long and hard with the fists of dictatorship and emerged victorious. Democracy had arrived or so we thought. There were fireworks of hope in the air, chants of freedom in the streets, and a collective belief that, at last, the people would have a voice. Not a whisper, but a real voice.

However, 26 years down the line, that voice sounds hoarse, tired, and strained.

For many Nigerians today, democracy feels like a distant relative familiar in theory, but absent in practice. It shows up only during elections, makes grand promises, and disappears when it is time to deliver. Democracy, in its truest sense, was supposed to empower the people, to reflect our will, protect our rights, and guarantee the dignity of life. Instead, what we have feels like a ghost of the dream we once carried with such pride.

June 12 is more than a date. It is a symbol, a memory, and a movement. It represents the people’s mandate, the day Nigerians voted in what was widely regarded as the fairest election in our history, the 1993 election, which saw MKO Abiola emerge as the winner. However, that victory was never honoured. It was annulled and put simply, stolen.

So, when democracy was eventually restored in 1999, the people clung to it with the same hunger that drives a thirsty man to water. It was a chance to right the wrongs, a shot at rewriting history. But like most things in Nigeria, the script started well and quickly lost its plot.

Today, democracy in Nigeria feels performative. Yes, we vote but our votes do not always count. We speak but we are often silenced and never heard. We protest but we are met with teargas, bullets, and bans.

We have all the structures of a democracy; elections, political parties, constitutions, and courts but very little of the substance. The will of the people is routinely ignored. Corruption festers, insecurity rages, and institutions collapse. The gap between the leaders and the led has never been wider.

For young people especially, democracy is almost a myth. Most of us were either toddlers or not yet born in 1999. All we have ever known is this version of democracy, the one that promises jobs but delivers JAMB rejections and unemployment queues. The one that tells us to work hard, get educated, and dream big, yet leaves our passports dusty and our dreams deferred.

It is common knowledge that true democracy puts power in the hands of the people. But in Nigeria, power often feels hereditary, continuously recycled between the same old names, the same tired ideologies, and the same tone-deaf policies. Even the few who make it into positions of power with good intentions often become swallowed by the system. The rot is deep and it is discouraging. Yet somehow, we still try. We still organise, campaign, and believe.

In recent years, the youth have shown they are not entirely hopeless. From the #EndSARS movement to active participation in electoral processes, young Nigerians are reclaiming their voices. They are asking harder questions, demanding better governance, and creating platforms of their own but the pushback is brutal. Peaceful protests are branded as threats. Activists are arrested. Voters are suppressed. Online voices are monitored. And yet, despite the fear, many still rise. There is a collective fire slowly burning, but burning still.

Democracy was supposed to be a system that reflects our values, amplifies our voices, and builds a nation where everyone not just the privileged few can thrive. Yet in 2025, we are still asking for basic necessities, still begging for light, roads, hospitals, safety, and justice. And this makes June 12 less of a celebration and more of a reminder of the work left undone, promises unkept, leaders who forgot, and people still waiting.

As we mark another Democracy Day, let us resist the temptation to romanticise the moment. Yes, we have come far from the days of military rule but let us not settle for survival when we were promised progress. Let us not accept crumbs when the table belongs to us too.

Democracy is not just about casting ballots every four years. It is about accountability, transparency, justice, fairness, and freedom. It is about knowing that your voice matters, your life matters, and your dreams are valid. If democracy is truly about the people, then the people must be the priority not just during elections, but every single day.

We owe it to ourselves and to the memory of those who died fighting for this democracy not to give up. To keep dreaming, keep demanding, and keep building. The promise of June 12 has not yet been fulfilled but it still can be, if we all decide that it must.

Let us not wait another 26 years to find out.