By Musa Bakare
Some voices in Nigeria’s public discourse no longer critique with conscience but attack with venom. Their opposition to reform is not born of conviction but of inner wounds disguised as activism.
In every society, critics are vital. They keep leaders accountable, expose wrongs, and help shape public conscience. But on Nigeria today, there is a dangerous breed of critics, those whose voices are not born of conviction but of bitterness. When a social critic is a product of a wounded past, their message ceases to enlighten and begins to poison.
Such critics do not speak from reason but from resentment. Their anger is not against injustice but against life itself, a life they feel has cheated them. Their tone is harsh and rude; their words venomous.
Every leader is corrupt, every policy is evil, every progress a lie. Even when truth occasionally passes through their lips, it comes clothed in too much hostility to be taken seriously.
Bitterness is a silent disease of the soul. It clouds perception and turns valid arguments into vendettas. The bitter critic believes that shouting louder makes one more courageous. But courage without balance is recklessness. Many who claim to fight for the people are, in truth, fighting their own inner battles, using the microphone of activism to echo personal pain.
You can always tell the difference between a critic who wants reform and one who seeks revenge. The reformer uses facts, logic, and evidence; the bitter critic relies on insults, exaggeration, and cynicism. One seeks to heal, the other seeks to hurt.
In this age of social media, bitterness spreads faster than wisdom. Many online commentators have turned public discourse into a theatre of anger. They weaponize half truths, ridicule progress, and dismiss every policy, reform and achievements simply because it wasn’t their idea. Their influence is loud but hollow.
A society that celebrates bitterness soon loses its moral compass. Constructive criticism builds democracy; destructive criticism destroys faith in democracy itself. When citizens hear only outrage, they stop believing in reform altogether.
There’s a clear difference between reformers and rebels. A reformer corrects with love; a rebel condemns with hate. Great leaders like Nelson Mandela and Wole Soyinka suffered injustice, yet emerged as voices of healing, not hostility. They proved that one can confront wrong without becoming consumed by it.
Bitter critics mirror what they hate. They attack corruption with contempt, oppose oppression with arrogance, and demand change without character. And because they are vindictive, they can never truly reform.
Nigeria needs critics, but not bitter ones. We need thinkers who can challenge leaders with facts, not fury; who can applaud what works and expose what fails without bias.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu himself has faced waves of criticism throughout his political life, yet he never allowed anger to define his purpose. He understands that progress requires both courage and composure. That is why he is, and will always be a winner.
Today’s critics must learn that opposition is not enmity. You don’t have to hate your country to correct it. True patriotism is the ability to speak truth without poisoning hope.
Before one seeks to correct society, one must first confront one’s own wounds. A healed heart speaks with clarity; a bitter heart speaks with vengeance. The critic who has not healed becomes a danger to truth itself.
Nigeria’s democracy does not need more noise; it needs more nobility. We need critics who can build bridges, not burn them, those who correct without cursing, and question without hatred.
– Musa Asiru Bakare, political analyst and public affairs commentator, writes from Lokoja, Kogi State.
