A Reflection on Politics, Peace, Democracy, and the Sanctity of Human Life in the State of the Living Spring.
As I sit quietly in the corner of my room here in Croydon, thousand of miles away from the land that shaped my childhood, my thoughts keep returning to Osun State.
Indeed, distance has a peculiar way of making one appreciate home differently. I was enjoying the political arguments, the campaign songs, familiar streets, alignment and realignment of political actors until the creeping embers of violence, killing, and fears runs wildfire in the once peaceful state, threathening the peaceful coexistence of our people. I am therefore inspire to to write this piece, appealing to every men of good conscience to thread soft in the larger interest of the state, hoping that it would positively lighting the spark in the dark of Osun political landscape.
I am not writing as a politician, nor as a representative of any political party, but as simply as a proud son of Osun State wishing the state greater prosperity. A son who cares about the people, communities, heritage and future of our dear state. From this quiet corner of my room , I ask only one question:
When the sun rises the morning after the election, what kind of Osun will we have left for ourselves and our children?
May it be an Osun where political differences end at the ballot box, not the one stained by political violence, broken relationships, grieving families and communities by partisan political allegiance. May defeat never become a justification for destruction
Or will Osun remain like a still lake at dawn- peaceful, dignified, and reflective of the hopes and aspirations of its people? Well, the choice is ultimately ours.
An election is temporary; the tenure is fleeting; power is also temporary. Osun is permanent, and the consequences of destroying our social fabric can endure for generations. A political office has a constitutional tenure. A human life has no replacement. An election can be won or lost. A political career can rise and fall. A disputed result can be challenged through lawful means. Electoral disputes could be resolved through constitutional, and democratic process. But when a life is lost to political violence, there is no appeal, no rerun, and no second chance. Either way, your political victories will eventually become history, but the Osun you leave behind will be our enduring legacy.
Politics is not war; it is rather an instrument of negotiation, persuasion, and winning over people’s trust. Negotiation, alignment, and realignment are legitimate features of democratic politics, provided they are conducted within the law and in the interest of the people. Yes, political alliances may change; loyalties can shift. Parties may negotiate and renegotiate. We have also seen politicians in recent times cross political boundaries. That is politics. But politics must never become a justification for taking human lives. Killings, shootings, intimidation, and the counter-accusations of threats emanating from rival political camps are completely against the Omoluabi ethos for which the people of Osun should be known. The Omoluabi ethos teaches us about character, dignity, restraint, responsibility, respect, and integrity. Even our respected father and custodian of our most revered traditional institutions, the Ooni of Ife, Oba Adeyeye Enitan Ogunwusi, acknowledged recently the escalating tension in the state ahead of the gubernatorial poll. That should be a wake-up call to every political actor, supporter(s), and citizen. Please, Osun state is bigger than you or your political party.
Reports that dozens of lives have been lost or affected by political violence over the past nine months should trouble every well-meaning citizen of Osun. Particularly disturbing are reports of killings, shootings, and allegations of politically motivated violence since October 2025. Whatever the political affiliation of those involved, every avoidable casualty is one casualty too many.No political victory is worth the blood of an Osun citizen. I hope we pause and reflect.
Yes, political parties may accuse one another. Candidates may vigorously pursue their ambitions. Supporters may passionately disagree. But when political competition begins to produce dead bodies, broken families, traumatised communities, and fear among ordinary citizens, we have crossed a line that no political ambition should permit. To those who recruit, finance, encourage or orchestrate political bandits in the name of politics, I appeal to your conscience: look beyond the ballot paper; look beyond the campaign poster; look beyond the temporary excitement of political victory. Somewhere, there is a mother who does not care which candidate wins; she simply wants her child to return home safely. There is a father who has spent years educating his son and does not want that son to become another casualty of political violence. There is a wife waiting for her husband. There are children waiting for their father. And there is a family whose entire future could be shattered because someone decided that political victory must be achieved “at all costs.” No political victory is worth the blood of an Osun citizen. Let the voice of the people ring out. Democracy thrives on differing choices.
Let everyone exercise their civic responsibilities peacefully. And on Saturday, when the people speak, let the institutions empowered by law do their work. Give the people the rein.
Let their votes speak. Let their choice prevail. Whoever emerges victorious must remember that the mandate belongs to the people. Those who do not prevail must equally remember that an electoral setback is not the end of their contribution to Osun State and act statemanly like Pres. Goodluck Jonathan, Gov. Kayode Fayemi by congratulating the winner to douse the potential tension, and proof the doomsday predictor wrong. We must demonstrate that political competition can coexist with civility. The followers must understand that disagreement does not have to become hatred; political opponents are not necessarily an enemy; the person or people campaigning for opposing candidate is still our neighbour; the person voting differently from us still has a right to live, work and raise a family peacefully in Osun.
Some lines from the works of reggae artists such as Richie Spice and Bob Marley remind us that human beings ultimately bear the consequences when violence and injustice are normalised.The message behind Bob Marley’s “Crisis”, in particular, resonates with me: societies must confront the human consequences of conflict rather than allow violence to become an accepted instrument of power. And that message deserves reflection in Osun today: The bullet does not recognise political parties. It does not ask whether its victim supports one candidate or another. Violence has no party card. Stop the trigger. When violence is unleashed, nobody can guarantee where it will stop.
At this point, I urge the rival parties, their candidates, campaign organisations and supporters to exercise the greatest possible restraint, especially in the coming days. For those with genuine issues, let accusations be investigated, tested by evidence, channelled through lawful institutions. Because the consequences of today’s political roforofo may extend far beyond election day.The reputation of Osun is at stake. Our investment prospects, tourism, businesses, cultural ties, social cohesion and economic fortunes can all suffer when a state becomes associated with political violence and insecurity. Investors do not invest confidently in places where political violence becomes normal. Businesses cannot thrive where people fear instability. And no government can effectively develop a state whose social fabric has been torn apart by political hatred.
I asked again, what kind of Osun do we want at dawn? Imagine Osogbo, Ile-Ife, Ilesa, Ede, Iwo, Ikire, Ikirun, Ila-Orangun and every community across Osun waking up peacefully after the election. Markets open. Businesses opening offices. Mosques and churches filled with worshippers. Political opponents greeting one another without fear. That is the Osun worth fighting for. Not an Osun painted red with blood. But an Osun still and peaceful like a lake at dawn, reflecting the first light of another day.
Lukman Oyebisi, reflecting from the corner of my room in Croydon.
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