A REJOINDER TO A POLITELY WORDED MISCHIEF:WHEN “RESPECT” BECOMES A VEIL FOR POLITICAL AMNESIA.

A REJOINDER TO A POLITELY WORDED MISCHIEF:

WHEN “RESPECT” BECOMES A VEIL FOR POLITICAL AMNESIA.

By Umar Aliyu 

Open letters, by their very nature, are intended to enrich public discourse, clarify intentions, and elevate democratic debate. When properly deployed, they serve as instruments of civic engagement and political accountability. However, when an open letter merely cloaks contradiction, selective memory, and hidden anxiety in the language of courtesy, it ceases to be a contribution to democracy and becomes an exercise in polite mischief. The recent letter addressed to Hon. Abubakar Abubakar (BD), Dan Malikin Funakaye, unfortunately falls squarely into this troubling category.

At a superficial level, the letter attempts to project civility, restraint, and reverence. Its language is carefully curated to sound respectful and progressive. Yet beneath this polished surface lies a narrative riddled with inconsistencies, intellectual shortcuts, and an unmistakable attempt to delegitimize a former federal legislator while paradoxically relying on his relevance to make its case. This contradiction is not accidental; it is strategic. And it deserves interrogation.

The first and most glaring issue is the casual allegation that Hon. Abubakar Abubakar recorded “zero bills” during his tenure in the House of Representatives. This claim is presented as a conclusive indictment, devoid of evidence, context, or analytical rigor. It is a textbook example of political reductionism. Legislative effectiveness cannot be measured through the narrow lens of sponsored bills alone. Such a simplistic metric ignores the multifaceted nature of parliamentary work: committee participation, constituency advocacy, motions, oversight functions, intergovernmental mediation, and the often-unseen influence exerted within party and legislative structures.

To collapse years of representation into a single, unverified statistic is either a display of profound ignorance of legislative processes or a deliberate act of misrepresentation. Neither option enhances the credibility of the author. More troubling is the fact that this allegation is advanced by someone who purports to possess legal and intellectual authority. One would expect better rigor from anyone claiming to speak in the name of public accountability.

Even more perplexing is the letter’s attempt to hold two irreconcilable positions at once. On one hand, Hon. Abubakar Abubakar is portrayed as politically unproductive, outdated, and unfit for renewed representation. On the other hand, he is celebrated as a statesman with an “uneraseable legacy,” whose past contributions continue to shape political realities. This intellectual inconsistency undermines the entire argument. A political actor cannot simultaneously be irrelevant and indispensable. The author must choose a position and defend it honestly. Democracy thrives on debate, not on rhetorical acrobatics.

The letter’s obsession with age further exposes its conceptual weakness. The suggestion that leadership legitimacy is the exclusive preserve of youth is not only historically false but intellectually lazy. Nations do not fail because leaders are old; they fail because leaders are incompetent, corrupt, or disconnected from the people. Age, in itself, is neither a moral failing nor a constitutional disqualification. Nigeria’s democracy does not operate under a doctrine of biological expiration.

Indeed, history offers countless examples locally and globally—where experience, institutional memory, and political maturity have proven indispensable to governance. To reduce leadership selection to an age bracket is to insult the intelligence of the electorate and trivialize the complexity of governance. Youth inclusion is a noble objective, but it must not be weaponized as a tool for exclusion or entitlement.

Equally troubling is the presumption of authority embedded in the call for Hon. Abubakar Abubakar to “desist” from contesting. In a constitutional democracy, the right to seek elective office is not granted by opinion writers, pressure groups, or self-appointed moral arbiters. It is a right conferred by law and ultimately regulated by the will of the electorate. The audacity of issuing a political quit notice to a former federal legislator raises a fundamental question: who confers such authority?

Political ambition is not a sin. It is the lifeblood of representative democracy. To suggest that one individual must abandon ambition so that others may feel entitled to opportunity is not reform; it is political entitlement masquerading as civic virtue. If ambition were criminal, politics would be a graveyard, not a marketplace of ideas.

The argument about “youth representation” also collapses under scrutiny. Youth are not a monolithic voting bloc waiting to be handed power through moral persuasion. They are citizens with agency, diversity of thought, and the capacity to evaluate candidates on merit. If a younger aspirant truly embodies competence, vision, and credibility, the ballot box—not an open letter—will validate that claim. Fear of competition often disguises itself as moral concern, and insecurity frequently wears the mask of advice.

The letter also suffers from selective amnesia. The same political system that now celebrates youth inclusion did not reject Hon. Abubakar Abubakar when he was elected. He emerged through popular mandate, not imposition. To retrospectively delegitimize that mandate while enjoying the benefits of the political structures it produced is hypocrisy of the highest order.

Perhaps the most ironic admission in the letter is the assertion that Hon. Abubakar Abubakar’s “support and blessing” are more valuable than his ambition. This statement inadvertently concedes his enduring political relevance and influence. If he were truly obsolete, there would be no need for persuasion, pleading, or public letters. One does not lobby irrelevance.

It must be stated unequivocally: advocating for youth participation, renewal, and generational balance is commendable. However, these ideals must be pursued through competition, persuasion, organization, and credibility—not through subtle intimidation of elders who refuse to fade quietly into political obscurity. Politics is not a relay race where one runner unilaterally decides when another must drop the baton.

Hon. Abubakar Abubakar owes no individual or group an apology for choosing to seek elective office. His decision to contest or abstain is his constitutional prerogative, subject only to the judgment of the electorate. Those who believe they represent a superior alternative should demonstrate courage by stepping forward, articulating their vision, mobilizing support, and earning legitimacy through the democratic process.

History does not reward convenience; it rewards courage. Democracy does not accommodate arrogance disguised as counsel. When political actors spend more energy asking others to step aside than preparing themselves to step up, it is often a symptom of diminished confidence, not moral superiority.

In the final analysis, the open letter reveals more about the anxiety and strategic discomfort of its author than about the relevance of its recipient. Political maturity is measured not by how eloquently one demands space, but by how convincingly one earns it.

The people of Gombe, Kwami, and Funakaye deserve genuine choices, not manufactured consensus. They deserve a competitive political environment where ideas contend freely and candidates young or old submit themselves humbly to the judgment of the people.

That, and only that, is the language democracy understands.