By Uzu Okagbue
There is something profoundly disturbing about the spectacle at the NDC gathering in Lagos, where Peter Obi, a man seeking the highest political office in Nigeria, lent himself to a theatrical rejection of the country’s legally recognised national anthem and joined supporters in singing a superseded version.
This is not about whether Nigerians like the old anthem better than the current one. It is not even about whether the process that produced the change in 2024 was sufficiently consultative. Those are legitimate subjects for public debate. The issue is much more fundamental: *What happens to a country when those seeking to govern it begin to treat its laws and institutions as optional, depending on the mood of their supporters?*
Nigeria is not governed by applause. Neither is it governed by the emotional preferences of political gatherings.
The National Anthem Act, 2024, was passed by the National Assembly and signed into law on May 29, 2024. It expressly establishes Nigeria, We Hail Thee as the national anthem of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. Section 2 further recognises the anthem as a national symbol and sign of authority and requires all persons to respect it and preserve its dignity. Section 4 requires its performance and singing to follow the lyrics prescribed by the Federal Government.
One may disagree with the law. One may campaign against it. One may even promise Nigerians that, if elected, one would pursue its amendment or repeal through the appropriate constitutional and legislative processes. That is democracy.
But what one cannot reasonably expect from a serious presidential aspirant is a public performance of institutional disregard simply because a crowd finds it politically attractive.
*A presidential candidate is supposed to lead public opinion, not become its hostage.*
This is where the Lagos spectacle becomes particularly revealing.
Presidential leadership is not a popularity contest conducted in real time. It is the capacity to exercise judgment even when that judgment is unpopular. It is the discipline to distinguish between what a crowd wants and what the responsibility of leadership demands.
A president must sometimes tell his supporters what they do not want to hear. He must defend institutions even when doing so offers no immediate political advantage. He must demonstrate that the country’s collective interest is greater than the excitement of a partisan gathering.
What exactly was being communicated in Lagos? That the national anthem can be substituted at a political event whenever the crowd prefers another version? That legislation becomes disposable when it conflicts with the sentiment of a political constituency? Or that national symbols are legitimate only when they align with the preferences of a particular political movement?
These are dangerous signals from anyone aspiring to govern a complex, diverse federation. And there is a deeper contradiction here.
The old anthem itself spoke of Nigerians standing together despite differences in tribe and tongue. The current anthem also speaks directly to brotherhood, national service and the aspiration to build a country where no one is oppressed.
Both are patriotic compositions. Neither belongs to a political party. But only one is currently recognised by Nigerian law.
Patriotism cannot be reduced to choosing whichever national symbol generates the loudest emotional response. It must also include respect for the institutions through which a country makes collective decisions.
It is perfectly legitimate to question the wisdom of the National Assembly in restoring the old anthem. Indeed, the speed of the legislative process attracted criticism, and the public is entitled to demand better consultation on matters of national identity. But the remedy for a law one dislikes is not political theatre. It is lawful democratic engagement.
If Peter Obi believes the 2024 Act was wrong, he should tell Nigerians why he would seek its amendment. He should explain the legislative process he intends to pursue. He should make his argument before the National Assembly and the Nigerian people. That is what presidential leadership looks like.
What it does not look like is allowing a political gathering to become an alternative parliament, with the crowd effectively deciding which national symbols deserve recognition.
There is a recurring problem with politics that thrives on the emotional temperature of its audience. It gradually loses the ability to distinguish conviction from performance. Every occasion becomes an opportunity to validate the crowd, every disagreement becomes a spectacle, and every applause becomes mistaken for a mandate.
But Nigeria needs a president who can govern beyond the applause.
A country of more than 200 million people, with its complicated ethnic, religious, economic and political interests, cannot be managed by constantly taking cues from the loudest voices in the room. Leadership requires restraint, institutional respect, courage and the capacity to make decisions that transcend immediate political gratification.
*The presidency is not a microphone for amplifying crowd sentiment. It is an institution entrusted with the responsibility of protecting the Republic.*
And this is precisely why the Lagos incident should not be dismissed as a harmless display of nostalgia. It raises a legitimate question about the temperament and institutional disposition of a man seeking to become Commander-in-Chief.
If a presidential candidate struggles to demonstrate respect for an existing national law when surrounded by enthusiastic supporters, what assurance does the country have that he will exercise independent judgment when confronted with more difficult national decisions?
What happens when the crowd demands something constitutionally questionable? What happens when popular sentiment collides with national security? What happens when the demands of a political constituency threaten the interests of other Nigerians?
Will the president lead, or will he follow?
This is not an argument that every law is perfect or that every legislative decision must escape criticism. Far from it. Laws can be challenged, reviewed and repealed. But the legitimacy of democratic governance depends on the understanding that disagreement does not confer a personal licence to disregard the law.
A presidential aspirant should understand this better than anyone.
There is a difference between being a popular politician and possessing presidential temperament. One requires the ability to connect with a crowd. The other requires the discipline to rise above it.
Nigeria cannot afford a presidency in which political theatre takes precedence over institutional responsibility, where emotional validation becomes a substitute for judgment, and where the applause of supporters becomes the compass of national leadership.
*The ultimate test of a president is not how enthusiastically his supporters sing along with him. It is whether he possesses the courage to lead them when the occasion demands something different.*
Peter Obi owes Nigerians more than political symbolism. He owes them an explanation of the judgment that informed his conduct in Lagos.
Because the business of becoming President of Nigeria is considerably more serious than winning the approval of a cheering crowd.
And the Republic must always be bigger than the gathering.
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