While one can hardly tell for a fact the first Nigerian to describe their electoral loss as “a rape on democracy,” it is not strange that the expression has become a go-to metaphor for Nigerian politicians who need to process the reality that hits them at the polling stations. It is consistent with the character of our politics that people will frequently trot out the phrase, and news reporters will mindlessly reproduce it as headlines. Neither side pauses to ask why—of all possible word choices in the dictionary to capture a violation of democratic norms—they had to keep using that term.

Following the Edo governorship election on Saturday, Adamawa governor Ahmadu Fintiri described the long list of crimes (nothing new, just the usual vote-buying, overcounting and undercounting of votes, and voter intimidation) allegedly committed by the APC as a “rape of democracy.” Hours after he put out a statement, the Ondo state PDP also issued a statement where their Media and Publicity Special Adviser also described the series of untoward development that arose from the election as “another rape of democracy.”

They are not the first to reach for that word to describe an election whose outcome has been unfavorable for them. After the PDP candidate Atiku Abubakar lost his presidential election contest last year, he issued a statement decrying the contest saying, “The manipulation and fraud that attended this election was unprecedented in the history of our nation. It was, indeed, a rape of democracy.” He was not alone in capturing that election in the language of sexual violation. When the National Chairman of Labour Party, Julius Abure would condemn the outcome of the same election, he too had to say it was a “rape of Nigeria’s democracy.” And just to prove to you that Abure is a man who seriously loves the metaphor, he also noted the police disruption of the peaceful rally by Labor Party members in Ebonyi State in 2022 was “a rape of democracy.”

In case those examples are not enough, I have more to share to prove that Nigerian male politicians are stuck on rape. From Femi Gbajabiamila’s reporting the blockade of the National Assembly as a “rape of democracy” in 2018, to Osun SDP state Chairman, Dr Dele Ekunola calling the Supreme Court judgment that validated Biodun Oyebanji’s electoral victory as a “rape of democracy” 2023, to National Vice Chairman of the PDP, Eddy Olafeso, rejecting the election that Kayode Fayemi won as “a rape of democracy” 2018, to the Niger PDP officials screaming that the police’s teargassing of Ekiti governor Ayodele Fayose was “a rape on democracy” in 2018, to Fayose himself describing the Appeal Court’s ruling affirming Ali Modu Sheriff as the PDP Chairman as a “rape on democracy” 2017, the rape metaphor has become a cliché in Nigerian politics. And that is the problem. Rape is not supposed to be a platitude.

Someone might say that their use of the word is just a metaphor, yes, but rape should not be reduced to a mere analogy. Rape is a brutal crime and ought not to be turned into an everyday speak, an impotent word that Nigerian men with varying degrees of political influence cheaply pull out whenever they need to sensationalize their painful electoral experiences. By turning rape into a commonplace metaphor, they not only end up desensitizing sexual assault, but they also trivialize the impact on those who have experienced it.

The word, as metaphors are supposed to function, should conjure images of a criminal assault, but I am certain that was not what happened when you heard “rape on democracy” back-to-back on Sunday after the Edo election. It meant nothing because the word itself has been violated to death by politicians who have seized on it to account for their losses. I can bet most of those who heard politicians use the term a “rape of democracy” after a series of bad electoral outings had no visceral reaction to the word either when they heard or read it. The term has lost much of its force, no thanks to those who overuse it.

In a culture where sexual violence is not always taken seriously, where the judicial mechanisms to address the crime are barely available, these men contribute to the public desensitization of what should be a serious matter. They have probably never thought of it, but by bringing up the “rape of democracy” each time an electoral outcome does not go your way, you are turning what is essentially a matter of vile violation of another’s autonomy into an act of titillation. No matter how pained they might be that they lost an election, either because they were robbed through sheer brute force or were just not as popular as they imagined, what happened to them (and which they consciously project on “democracy”) was not a “rape.”

One also cannot entirely overlook the problematic aspect of this banalization of rape: the people glibly mouthing “rape” in all the instances I have listed are men. It makes me wonder if this is the way they think about rape. Is there some perverse underlying fantasy at play somewhere in their subconscious each time these men bring up the word to describe their experience at the polls or in the hands of some abusive authority? There is a part of me that also wonders if this subtle feminization of democracy, their seeing it as a passive and therefore violable thing, reflects a deeper psychological malaise. One cannot just assume that this is merely an issue of people speaking without reflecting on their language choices.

All of which brings me to another issue: these instances of men yelling “rape!” to characterise their bad outings during election seasons have virtually nothing to do with the culture of democracy itself. They only know that democracy and its norms are being violated when confronted with unfavorable electoral outcomes, as if democracy begins and ends with mere elections. The only time you hear complaints about a violation of democracy is when things do not go their way during an election they had wished to win, and they need to express their disappointment. If they cared so much about democracy, where do they put their voices outside elections? What are their contributions toward deepening the habit of democracy in our society? The only thing that animates them is an election. That is when they suddenly realise that democracy is being threatened and then drag out the bad metaphors to complain.

Look at Gbajabiamila, who is currently the president’s chief of staff. This was a man in whose name a journalist was recently arrested, illegally detained, and tortured for days. What was his offense? He ruffled Gbajabiamila’s small feathers with his professional report. Yet, when you saw the same Gbajabiamila talking about the “rape of democracy” some years ago, it would have been forgivable if you imagined his concerns were sincere. As soon as he got enough power, he showed he was no better.

Gbajabiamila reminds me of the clowns unleashed in the wake of last year’s election and were all over the place, yelling “fascism!” because some people online criticized the election outcome. One court jester even wrote an article comparing the Obi-dients to Mussolini. Meanwhile, before their very eyes, journalists have been detained, protesters harassed, and the security agencies—from the police to the EFCC and DSS—are going crazy. You do not hear them anymore, why? The anti-fascists are witnessing real abuse of power play out in the numbing violation of democratic norms, human rights abuse, and institutional corruption, but they are suspiciously quiet. If they care so much about democracy, should this not be their time to shine? So, why are they silent?