A curious slogan has emerged in public discourse, one now casually deployed to brand certain nonconforming individuals as morally suspect: “pro-establishment activist.” It is often hurled at those who refuse to bow to popular narratives, groupthink, or the emotional comfort of prevailing sentiment.
Once branded, their motives are questioned, their integrity doubted, and their arguments dismissed, not because those arguments lack substance, but because they are presumed compromised. Any attempt to acknowledge merit in government policies, to introduce alternative explanations, or to shield authorities from simplistic accusations is quickly framed as ignoble. The strategy is familiar: ignore the message, discredit the messenger. Once labeled pro-establishment, the individual is cast as a villain whose ideas no longer deserve serious engagement.
By this logic, opposition becomes sacred, while agreement, even selective or evidence-based agreement with those in power, is treated as a moral failure.
Criticizing everything, including genuine achievements, is elevated as a higher civic duty than balanced judgment. To be anti-government is framed as enlightened and virtuous; to be pro-government, even conditionally, is portrayed as intellectually lazy or ethically corrupt. What makes this posture especially puzzling is its growing dominance among those who should know better. The academics, public commentators, and self-styled intellectuals expected to operate with nuance rather than absolutism.
This worldview rests on a troubling assumption: that governments and leaders in power are incapable of being right, while those seeking to replace them are invariably right about everything. Policies proposed by the opposition are presumed sound by default; candidates are assumed virtuous simply because they stand outside power.
Yet history repeatedly reminds us that opposition does not automatically confer wisdom, just as authority does not automatically negate it. Hannah Arendt once warned that the most dangerous form of political thinking is the refusal to judge particulars, choosing instead to think in rigid categories. That warning feels especially relevant here.
The irony deepens when we observe how today’s fiercest critics of so-called pro-establishment thinking were yesterday’s most enthusiastic establishment loyalists. Some once proudly identified as Buharists or champions of Kwankwasiyya when their preferred leaders held power, expressing no embarrassment at their alignment. Others now passionately defend foreign leaders such as Donald Trump, endorsing nearly every action out of emotional or ideological attachment. Still others openly support certain CEOs, institutions, or political officeholders they believe are performing well. Each of these positions, by definition, constitutes a form of pro-establishment support, yet the label becomes offensive only when applied selectively to others.
This selective outrage reveals the hollowness of the charge. When I recently asked whether praising the performance of a highly rated House of Representatives member constituted being pro-establishment, the question itself confused. The discomfort was telling. It exposed how the term has drifted from analytical description into a weapon of convenience, stripped of intellectual honesty and deployed mainly to silence inconvenient perspectives.
Reducing governance to a simple morality play, where the state is always evil and opposition always righteous, does violence to objectivity. Fairness, not stereotyping, is the foundation of moral judgment. To dismiss all government policies, institutions, or initiatives as inherently corrupt simply because they emanate from power is to abandon reason in favor of sentiment. It also ignores complexity. As Max Weber observed, politics is not the realm of absolute ethics but of responsibility, where intentions must be weighed against consequences.
This absolutist posture also produces a revolving door of heroes and villains. Leaders are condemned the moment they win elections, while those exiting power are rehabilitated as victims or visionaries. Tomorrow’s opposition becomes tomorrow’s establishment, inheriting the same distrust they once amplified. In this cycle, cynicism thrives, institutions weaken, and public trust erodes.
Yet no government can function without a basic level of trust, support, and goodwill, even from its critics. The benefit of the doubt is not blind loyalty; it is a civic necessity. Commending good performance, acknowledging constraints, or offering alternative narratives that recognize complexity does not amount to sycophancy. Rather, it guards against fanaticism, conspiracy thinking, and the tyranny of groupthink. Political psychologist Irving Janis famously showed how groupthink suppresses dissenting but valuable perspectives, often leading to disastrous decisions. The irony is that today, dissent increasingly takes the form of defending nuance against populist outrage.
Aligning with the masses is often presented as the highest form of moral and intellectual virtue. But when such alignment is driven by simplicity, emotion, or insincerity, it rarely serves the people’s long-term interests. Calling for free petrol or universally free education may sound compassionate, yet without confronting issues of sustainability, revenue, and economic trade-offs, such rhetoric risks pushing governments toward bankruptcy. Good intentions without rigorous thinking can cause more harm than the policies they seek to replace.
This is why even opposition has a patriotic duty to support what works, criticize what fails, and pray—yes, pray, for leaders to succeed. Many religious traditions emphasize praying for leaders rather than cursing them, not out of submission, but out of self-preservation. A society ultimately bears the cost of its leaders’ failures. Constructive criticism is essential, but it is not morally superior to conditional support. What is ignoble is hypocrisy: supporting certain regimes, aspirants, or institutions selectively while condemning the very idea of being pro-establishment as a flaw.
The paradox is striking. Many who now despise the label aspire to capture power tomorrow. When that day comes, they will expect patience, understanding, and support to govern effectively. The question then becomes unavoidable: will support suddenly become noble again once they are the establishment?
Being called a pro-establishment activist, in its truest sense, simply describes a posture toward existing institutions and power structures. It is neither a sin nor a virtue by default. It may reflect a belief in stability and incremental reform, or a pragmatic choice to work within the system rather than burn it down. As Antonio Gramsci noted, power is sustained not only through coercion but through ideas, and both reform from within and resistance from outside have their place. Social movement theory reinforces this insight: change is not monopolized by either the insider or the outsider.
Ultimately, the nobility of any political stance lies not in labels but in outcomes, intentions, and intellectual honesty. Pro-establishment and anti-establishment positions are tools, not moral identities. Their worth depends on context, evidence, and the genuine pursuit of the public good. To pretend otherwise is not radicalism; it is comfort dressed up as courage.
Bagudu can be reached at bagudumohammed15197@gmail.com or on 0703 494 3575.
