One of the dominant assumptions in political discussions is that we alone are awakened to the truth behind the veil. We frame ourselves as the only ones who see clearly, so disagreement stops being about policy and becomes about morality. If you express a view that isn’t what is expected, you are labeled a sycophant, a blind supporter, corrupt, or complicit. You find this unfortunate position common on social media platforms in Nigeria.
This ideology sits at the heart of the intolerance that has corroded public discourse. Radically different political ideologies all claim to have discovered, known, and revealed the truth. But this contradicts what history has taught us. When we adopt this posture, we become intolerant of other views, opinions, and perspectives. Sooner or later, it leads to chasing rotten language to defend our conceived version of truth.
Political values and thoughts are mostly convictions, not eternal truths.
While you may feel that a road should not be the priority, but rather a healthcare delivery unit, someone else may be equally convinced that a road is needed to reach that unit. Both positions can be reasonable, depending on the weights we give to growth, access, and trade-offs. Calling the other side “evil” for prioritizing differently is where discourse dies. We must learn to accommodate divergent views without pretending they don’t exist.
Some believe that once a particular candidate is elected, bureaucracy, corruption, and “sex-for-marks” professors will vanish overnight. Others argue that it won’t happen that quickly. In fact, after the candidate takes office, no one can predict what will happen, because what looks simple outside the box is often different inside it. The campaigner who sells “magic fixes” often leaves office with 80% of those problems still there. This isn’t always bad faith—it’s the complexity of governance.
We often layer political discourse with resentment, outrage, insults, and ill-feeling for obvious reasons, in a way that suggests a kind of sadism. It trains us to see political opponents as enemies rather than fellow citizens with different trade-offs. We go to great lengths to demean them instead of intellectually testing our ideas against theirs. In this, both elites and academics are complicit.
Before elections, politicians mostly legitimize our hopes with the sentiment that once they assume office, they will set everything right—that a four-year term is enough to correct all wrongs. I’m not being prescient, but buying into these mantras rarely yields results, because political journeys are not events; they are processes. There is no magic.
We must separate our preconceived idea of truth from reality. That separation is what makes tolerance in political discourse possible.
We must learn to distinguish “my preferred possibility” from “the only objective truth.” If we can do that, we create space for fruitful political discussion.
Elections are not apocalypses. No single candidate in Nigeria can fix everything, and no single candidate can destroy everything. The nation will outlive them all. So there’s no point holding on to a fragile sense of certainty that degenerates into foul language. Why do we end up hating political opponents instead of concentrating on solving problems, even at the theoretical level?
The antidote to this intolerance is what I call intellectual humility. It is one of the ways we can stop political discourse from collapsing into war.
Elempe Dele, a journalist, wrote from Akoko-Edo.
