The recent killing of Charlie Kirk is a chilling reminder that politics in Nigeria has sometimes become a battlefield where ideology masquerades as reason and rivalry becomes lethal. Our democracy, still young and fragile, is like a garden with tender seedlings — promises of growth everywhere — but easily trampled by the heavy boots of bitterness, revenge, and violence.
Young Nigerians, who hold the energy and hope of the nation, must recognise that political disagreement does not have to end in anger, resentment, or bloodshed. Yet, our history is littered with examples of political rivalry spilling into murder, intimidation, and endless war of words. Each heated debate, viral insult, and election season seems to stretch the fabric of unity thinner, like a river overflowing its banks, flooding communities with anger and distrust. Charlie Kirk’s death is a painful reminder that when ambition eclipses humanity, the garden of democracy suffers, and the soil of hope becomes hardened and barren.
Politics is meant to be a conversation about the future. It is the crafting of shared vision, not a war to settle old scores. Yet, when passion becomes unchecked, when ideology becomes armor, and when the temptation of “winner-takes-all” overshadows service, chaos emerges. Bridges of trust are burnt, communities are divided, and the labor of nation-building is wasted on bitterness rather than constructive dialogue. Nigeria’s democracy, young though it is, can only flourish when we learn to debate without dehumanising, disagree without destroying, and contest without killing.
The Bible offers a timeless metaphor: “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger” (Proverbs 15:1). Bitterness, especially in politics, is like acid — it corrodes relationships, institutions, and the conscience. Violence is the harvest of that neglect. Nigerian youth must understand that their voices, votes, and energies can shape the nation — but only if wielded with wisdom, patience, and integrity. Like rivers that can nourish farmland when contained, but destroy when uncontrolled, our political energies must be channeled carefully to cultivate rather than annihilate.
History also teaches that leaders who rule through fear and intimidation leave lands scorched and hearts scarred, while those who lead through dialogue, inclusion, and vision leave legacies that inspire generations. Politics without bloodshed is not weakness; it is strength. It is a tree planted by rivers of calm, whose branches provide shade and fruit for all, not a sword raised in rage, whose edge wounds indiscriminately. The young generation must see that the true harvest of democracy comes not from domination, but from nurturing the soil of society with empathy, respect, and discipline.
For Nigeria’s youth, the lesson is clear: passion is vital, but it must be disciplined; ideals are important, but they must be tempered with empathy. Engagement in politics is a form of stewardship, not a gladiatorial arena. We can disagree — vigorously, even passionately — but without dehumanising one another or resorting to violence. Like careful gardeners tending fragile seedlings, we must protect the structures of our democracy even as we nurture its growth. Neglected farmland produces weeds, not crops; likewise, neglected relationships in politics produce bitterness, not progress.
Charlie Kirk’s death, and the long history of political killings in Nigeria, is more than a headline; it is a mirror. It reflects the cost of letting bitterness dictate action and the danger of allowing ambition to eclipse humanity. Nigerian youth must rise above this cycle of destruction. They must champion debate over destruction, dialogue over division, and vision over vengeance. They must learn to rebuild burnt bridges and restore trust, turning charred pathways into highways of cooperation and hope.
The young generation, armed with wisdom, integrity, and courage, can ensure that Nigeria’s democracy remains a place of vision, not violence — unlike those armed with rifles, whose actions destroy rather than build. They can learn to channel energy like controlled rivers, rebuild what has been burned, and cultivate the neglected soil of civic engagement. In doing so, they can transform politics from a battlefield into a garden of opportunity, a space where differences are respected, voices are heard, and lives are protected.
Let us take this lesson to heart: politics can be passionate without being poisonous, competitive without being cruel, and visionary without being violent. Charlie Kirk’s life, and his tragic death, challenge us to rise above bitterness and bloodshed. If we heed this call, the garden of Nigeria’s democracy can blossom for generations to come.
Sunday Ogidigbo is the Pastor of Holyhill Church, Abuja. X, Instagram, Facebook: @SOgidigbo. Email: [email protected]