Nigerian Politicians and the Art of Campaign Deception: Why Voters Must Look Beyond the Theatre
Nigerian Politicians and the Art of Campaign Deception: Why Voters Must Look Beyond the Theatre
By Akin Alade
As another election season approaches, Nigerians must begin to ask a fundamental question: Are politicians seeking the people’s votes with genuine plans for governance, or are they simply becoming better actors for the campaign season? Across the political landscape, election campaigns have increasingly become periods when carefully manufactured images are presented to voters, sometimes bearing little resemblance to the lifestyles, priorities and governing records of the politicians involved.
For many politicians, the transformation begins long before election day. A politician who ordinarily moves within an exclusive circle of wealthy associates may suddenly appear at roadside gatherings, eat with ordinary citizens and drink sachet water in front of television cameras. Another who rarely interacts with people at the grassroots may suddenly become a regular visitor to markets, motor parks and impoverished communities. The message is carefully constructed: “I am one of you.”
Religion can also become part of the campaign theatre. A politician who is publicly identified with one faith may suddenly make carefully publicised appearances at gatherings associated with another religion, sometimes adopting its traditional clothing and participating in symbolic activities. There is absolutely nothing wrong with interfaith engagement; indeed, religious tolerance is essential in a diverse country like Nigeria. The problem arises when genuine tolerance is replaced by electoral choreography designed primarily to manufacture an image.
The same political theatre can be seen during Ramadan and other religious seasons. Politicians break fast with Almajiris, visit Muslim communities and distribute food while cameras capture every moment. During Christian celebrations, similar politicians may appear at churches and religious events. Again, the concern is not about politicians engaging with citizens or respecting different faiths. It is about whether these gestures represent a genuine commitment to the people or simply disappear once the ballots have been counted.
Perhaps one of the most amusing aspects of campaign politics is the sudden discovery of “poverty” by politicians who have spent years living comfortably. A politician may stand before a crowd and speak about owning only a few pairs of shoes, watches or clothes, while displaying accessories whose market value could exceed what many families earn in several years. The issue is not that successful Nigerians should not own expensive possessions. Rather, voters should be wary when personal wealth is deliberately disguised as evidence of simplicity.
There is also the contradiction between political speeches and the lifestyles of some political families. A politician may campaign against extravagance and condemn ostentatious living, while members of his household publicly display designer fashion, expensive jewellery and luxury accessories. Nigerians should therefore look beyond speeches and ask a more important question: Does the lifestyle surrounding the politician reflect the values being preached to the electorate?
Another popular campaign promise concerns the reduction of government extravagance. Politicians sometimes promise that they will reduce the size of official convoys, use fewer vehicles and cut unnecessary expenses. Such promises may sound attractive to citizens struggling with economic hardship. But the real test comes after assuming office. Did the convoy actually become smaller? Were government expenses reduced? Were savings redirected into healthcare, education, infrastructure or social protection?
Then comes the famous roadside campaign. A politician who ordinarily enjoys expensive meals may suddenly purchase roasted corn from a roadside seller and eat it before cameras. Another may buy sachet water from a street vendor and drink it publicly while wearing a luxury wristwatch. These moments are often presented as evidence of humility. But Nigerians must ask whether eating roadside corn during a campaign is more important than creating policies that ensure the person selling that corn can earn a decent and sustainable income.
The same applies to the politician who suddenly wears the same few outfits repeatedly during the campaign. Repetition may be presented as evidence of modesty, discipline and identification with ordinary people. There is nothing wrong with simplicity, but voters should not confuse costume with character. Wearing simple clothes for several weeks does not automatically demonstrate integrity, competence or good governance.
Unfortunately, political image-making can be remarkably effective. Some voters see these carefully choreographed appearances as proof that a politician is humble, compassionate and trustworthy. Others interpret the ability to eat with the poor, dress modestly or attend different religious gatherings as evidence of leadership qualities. But humility is not merely about what a politician does when television cameras are present; it is also about how public resources are managed when nobody is watching.
Nigeria’s electorate must therefore learn to distinguish political symbolism from political substance. A candidate may be able to speak beautifully, dress modestly, hug children, eat with market women and visit poor communities, yet still lack the capacity to manage a state, ministry or national economy effectively. Leadership requires far more than creating a favourable personal image.
One of the greatest dangers of Nigerian politics is the tendency to confuse popularity with competence. A politician who performed poorly in a previous elective or administrative position may return years later with a completely redesigned public image. Instead of asking what was achieved previously, voters may become fascinated by speeches, social-media videos and carefully produced campaign photographs.
The question should be simple: What did you do with the last opportunity Nigerians gave you? How many schools were improved? How many hospitals became functional? What happened to roads? How many jobs were created? What happened to internally generated revenue? Were public contracts transparently awarded? Did the people experience measurable improvement in their standard of living?
Another disturbing feature of election-season politics is what could be described as cosmetic philanthropy. Motorcycles, wheelbarrows, refrigerators, sewing machines and other items may be distributed to young people and poor families as empowerment programmes. Such interventions can be useful when properly designed, but handing someone equipment without electricity, working capital, training, markets or infrastructure does not necessarily constitute sustainable empowerment.
Giving refrigerators to entrepreneurs in communities suffering from unreliable electricity, for example, raises an obvious question: How will the beneficiaries operate the equipment? Similarly, distributing motorcycles without considering maintenance costs, road safety, financing and sustainable income opportunities may produce photographs for campaign publicity without solving the underlying economic problem.
True empowerment should go beyond the distribution of physical items. It should include access to affordable finance, reliable electricity, skills acquisition, education, healthcare, infrastructure, technology and markets. A serious government should seek to create an environment in which citizens can build businesses that survive long after the politician who launched the programme has left office.
The Nigerian voter must also understand that politicians do not need to pretend to be poor to deserve votes. Wealth is not automatically a crime, just as poverty is not proof of integrity. What matters is how wealth was acquired, how public resources are managed and whether the politician has the competence and character required to serve the people.
The electorate should therefore move away from personality-driven politics and begin demanding evidence. Before voting, citizens should examine the candidate’s previous record, legislative contributions, projects, policy positions, financial disclosures where available, public statements and performance in previous offices. Political parties should also be challenged to present measurable programmes rather than slogans and personality cults.
Nigeria is a country of more than 200 million people with enormous economic potential and equally enormous challenges. Such a country cannot be transformed by roadside photographs, campaign costumes, religious appearances or temporary acts of political humility. It requires competent institutions, sound policies, accountability, investment and leaders who understand that public office is a responsibility rather than a personal reward.
The time has therefore come for Nigerians to wake up from the politics of performance. Let politicians eat with the poor if they genuinely wish to. Let them drink sachet water if that is their preference. Let them visit markets, mosques, churches and rural communities. But after the cameras disappear, Nigerians must ask the questions that matter: What is your plan? What have you achieved? How will you fund your promises? What is your record? And how will ordinary Nigerians benefit?
Ultimately, the power to end political deception does not rest entirely with politicians; it rests significantly with the electorate. Politicians will continue to provide whatever voters reward. If Nigerians reward theatrical humility without demanding performance, political theatre will continue. But if voters begin rewarding competence, integrity, accountability and measurable results, the political marketplace will gradually change.
The ballot paper should therefore become more than a choice between personalities. It should be a referendum on performance, credibility and vision. Nigeria does not need politicians who merely know how to look humble for the camera. The country needs leaders who can remain accountable when the cameras are gone, keep their promises after the elections and use public power to improve the lives of the people they asked to trust them.
