By Paul Ezenwa
There is a fine line between journalism and activism. The moment that line is repeatedly crossed, a media platform gradually ceases to be an impartial observer and begins to look like an interested participant in the political contests it claims merely to cover. The recent commentary by Oseni Rufai on Arise Television concerning the excursion of young Scouts to the almost-completed Ramat Park Flyover in Benin City has once again brought this concern into sharp focus.
What exactly was the offence? That a group of young people visited a major infrastructure project in their city? That children, many of whom had only seen flyovers in movies and on television, expressed excitement at witnessing one in real life? Or that they openly appreciated a development they believe would positively impact their environment? Since when did learning become propaganda and curiosity become political theatre?
The facts are simple and verifiable. The Scouts were not assembled from a single school for a choreographed event. They were drawn from various schools across Benin City and attended in their capacity as members of the globally respected Scouts Movement. Their visit was an excursion, nothing more and nothing less. Across the world, excursions remain an essential part of learning, exposing young people to landmarks, institutions, engineering projects and places of historical or civic importance. To suggest that such an outing was orchestrated for political praise stretches credibility beyond reasonable limits.
Yet, rather than focus on the educational value of the exercise, Oseni Rufai and his co-analysts chose to frame the excursion through a political lens. Unfortunately, this has become a recurring pattern that many Nigerians increasingly associate with Arise Television. Every action of certain public officials appears to be viewed through a prism of suspicion, while similar actions elsewhere are often treated with remarkable generosity. The result is a growing perception that some commentators have become less interested in objective analysis and more invested in predetermined narratives.
This perception is dangerous for journalism. Credibility is the lifeblood of the profession. The public expects journalists to interrogate facts, not manufacture motives. They expect broadcasters to challenge assumptions, not substitute assumptions for evidence. Once audiences can accurately predict the position a platform will take before a discussion even begins, questions about objectivity become inevitable.
No serious person argues that public officials should be immune from criticism. Democracy thrives on scrutiny. Governors, presidents and public institutions must all be held accountable. However, accountability loses its moral force when criticism becomes reflexive rather than evidence-based. The role of the journalist is to illuminate facts, not to ensure that every development is squeezed into a pre-existing narrative of failure.
What makes the criticism of the scouts’ excursion particularly unfortunate is that it inadvertently diminishes the agency of the young people themselves. These were not political actors reading prepared scripts. They were children reacting naturally to what they saw. Their excitement was genuine. Their appreciation was spontaneous. To dismiss their reactions simply because they do not align with a preferred political narrative is to deny them the authenticity of their own experience.
If Oseni Rufai and Arise Television genuinely wish to determine how Edo people feel about Governor Monday Okpebholo, there is a straightforward and credible way to do so. Let them come to Benin City with their cameras and crew. Let them conduct a live, unscripted street credibility assessment. Let them visit markets, transport hubs, schools, business districts and communities. Let them stop ordinary citizens at random and ask them what they think about the governor, his reforms, the Ramat Park Flyover and the direction of the state. Most importantly, let the exercise be broadcast live and unedited for Nigerians to see.
The streets often tell a more honest story than television studios. They are less ideological, less scripted and less influenced by elite assumptions. If the governor enjoys no public goodwill, the people will say so. If his projects have made an impression, the people will say so. Either way, Nigerians deserve evidence, not conjecture.
This episode also raises a broader question about the conduct of some television anchors in contemporary Nigeria. The anchor is expected to be a moderator, a referee who guides debate and subjects all sides to equal scrutiny. When an anchor increasingly appears as a protagonist in the story, the distinction between journalism and political advocacy begins to blur. That blurring does no service to the profession and even less to the viewing public.
Arise Television remains one of the country’s most influential broadcast platforms. With that influence comes responsibility. The station must guard against the perception that it has become a political actor disguised as a media institution. The higher the platform, the greater the obligation to maintain fairness, balance and intellectual discipline.
Ultimately, this conversation is about more than a flyover, a scouting excursion or a television segment. It is about the integrity of journalism itself. The media’s constitutional role is to hold power accountable, not to become another contestant in the arena of political combat. Once journalism abandons the mirror of self-reflection and begins to see every event solely through partisan lenses, even a group of children admiring a bridge can be transformed into a controversy. And that should concern everyone who values the future of responsible journalism in Nigeria.
