By Dr. Dagogo Jack
There was a time, before 2023, when the mere hint of a political crisis anywhere in Nigeria would have summoned an unmistakable voice – Wole Soyinka’s. Unvarnished. Unafraid. Unsparing. He called a spade a spade, regardless of whose ox was gored, and his interventions carried the weight of a man who had seen power up close, resisted it when it turned tyrannical, and paid personal costs for speaking truth to authority.
In those years, a crisis like the one unfolding in Rivers State would not have escaped his scalpel. Soyinka @wolesoyinkaat90 would have dissected the actors, the institutions, the moral failings, and the dangers to democracy with the clarity of a writer who understood that silence, in the face of wrongdoing, is itself a political act.
Yet, since the inception of the Tinubu administration, many Nigerians have noticed an unsettling quiet. The once-fierce public intellectual appears reluctant to interrogate governance, politics, the economy, insecurity, corruption, or the perennial failure of electoral reform. To critics, it feels as though evil has become invisible, or at least unmentionable.
This perceived silence raises a deeper question about the purpose of elder statesmanship.
Why does providence spare the lives of such figures if not for moments like these? Nations do not merely honor their elders for longevity or past glories. They look to them as moral compasses, custodians of hard-earned truth who, having seen it all, should have nothing left to lose. Elder statesmen are meant to stand above the fray, immune to inducement, unafraid of access politics, and resistant to the small gifts and privileges that too often purchase big silences.
But today, the lament is widespread: elders are taking sides. Some, it is said, trade moral clarity for proximity to power. Others turn blind eyes to wrongdoing in the name of loyalty, ethnic solidarity, or political convenience. The cost of this compromise is not abstract. It is paid by society at large, as injustice hardens into normalcy and wrongdoing finds cover under respected names.
Evil thrives not only because of the audacity of those who perpetrate it, but because of the retreat of those who should confront it. When statesmen are compromised, wrongdoing gains confidence. The public square grows quieter, accountability weakens, and citizens are left without trusted voices to articulate their outrage and fears.
There is an old saying: he who sees evil and remains silent is aiding and abetting that evil. Another goes further, that anyone who picks stones for a madman is as guilty as the one throwing them. Silence, selective outrage, and strategic muteness are not neutral positions; they shape outcomes.
This is why the disappointment cuts deep. Wole Soyinka’s legacy was built on the refusal to be domesticated by power. His moral authority came not from perfection, but from consistency—an insistence that no government, no leader, no ethnic bloc, and no party was above scrutiny. When such a voice appears muted, the void is felt across the nation.
Ultimately, this moment is not about one man alone. It is about all who wear the title of elder statesman. History is relentless in its judgments, and it asks a simple, unforgiving question: What should I be remembered for?
For speaking truth when it was inconvenient or for finding reasons to look away?
Dr Dagogo Jack, a Political Analyst and Good Governance Crusader, writes in from Port Harcourt
