EDITORIAL: Natasha vs. The Senate – Why Soft Pedals Serve Stronger Politics

The confrontation between Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan and the Nigerian Senate has snowballed into one of the most contentious political dramas of the year.

It began with her scathing accusations that Senate President Godswill Akpabio was sexually harassing her as well as shielding vested interests and presiding over a chamber more loyal to political elites than to the Nigerian people.

Moreso, her open disregard for the new sitting arrangement in the chamber added fuel to the fire, underscoring her unwillingness to yield ground.

Her defiant stand provoked the ire of colleagues, culminating in her suspension from the Senate for six months. In most recently, Natasha was accused of threatening the Clerk of the Senate – a development that has widened the gulf between her and the institution she represents.

There is no doubt that Natasha embodies courage. From her activism as a lawyer to her role as senator for Kogi Central, she has never shied away from speaking truth to power. For Nigerians weary of corruption and backroom deals, her defiance has been a breath of fresh air. Yet, politics is not a solo sport. It is a game of numbers, of compromise, and of long-term strategy.

By taking on the Senate President head-on and escalating tensions to the point of suspension, Natasha now faces a risk greater than temporary exile from the chamber: political isolation. Without a seat at the table, her ability to sponsor motions, influence committees, or secure developmental projects for her constituency grinds to a halt. The very people who sent her to Abuja – the farmers, traders, and youth of Kogi Central – are the ones who suffer when their representative becomes a political outcast.

Her alleged threat to the Clerk further complicates matters. While she may have felt frustrated at what she perceived as bureaucratic stonewalling, such actions only feed the narrative painted by her opponents: that she is combative, disruptive, and unfit for collaborative governance. If her ultimate goal is reform, then such missteps are counterproductive.

To be clear, Natasha raises valid points. Transparency in the Senate is weak, accountability mechanisms are porous, and the leadership often appears more concerned with self-preservation than national progress. These are not issues to be silenced; they are issues Nigerians desperately want debated. But the manner of engagement matters. A fiery speech may win applause on social media, but diplomacy and coalition-building are what move bills through parliament and secure budgetary allocations.

Soft-pedalling does not mean abandoning her convictions. It means recalibrating her strategy. Instead of perpetual confrontation, Natasha can frame her criticisms in policy language, work quietly within committees, and build alliances across party lines. History shows that reformers who mastered this balance – from Dora Akunyili’s dogged but tactical fight against counterfeit drugs to Chuba Okadigbo’s intellectual sparring in the Senate – achieved impact without alienating allies.

The Senate, for its part, also bears responsibility. A six-month suspension, while technically within its powers, appears heavy-handed and vindictive. In a democracy, dissenting voices should be engaged, not silenced. If Natasha has crossed ethical lines, due process and transparent disciplinary measures should be applied – not politically charged punishments that erode public confidence in the chamber.

Still, the burden of strategy falls on Natasha. Her constituents expect both boldness and results. They want a senator who will fight corruption, yes, but also one who can bring federal presence to Kogi Central. That cannot be achieved from the sidelines of a suspension or under the cloud of allegations of threats to parliamentary staff.

The standoff has already distracted from urgent national challenges – insecurity, hunger, inflation, and constitutional reform. If Natasha can temper her rhetoric, rebuild bridges, and reposition herself as a constructive voice rather than a perpetual rebel, she will not only preserve her political relevance but also amplify her effectiveness. Nigerians already admire her courage; they would admire her more if she demonstrates the political maturity to match it.

Ultimately, reform in Nigeria’s political system will not come from grandstanding alone. It will come from smart manoeuvring, calculated alliances, and persistence within the system. For Senator Natasha, soft-pedalling now is not weakness; it is strategy. And in politics, strategy wins the battles that courage alone cannot.