Opinion
By Chukwudi George Ozalla
“Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote.” – George Jean Nathan
Nathan was a sharp-tongued American drama critic and editor known for his biting commentary on public life and civic responsibility.
His piercing observations about public life, carry a warning that stretches beyond his time. He wrote about theatre, society, and politics with a blunt clarity that left little room for comfort. That clarity speaks directly to Nigeria’s present condition, where the problem is not only how leaders emerge, but how the process itself is steadily being narrowed.
Nigeria’s democracy is being quietly reshaped, not by constitutional changes, but by a habit that has settled into the political culture. Outgoing governors and presidents increasingly move to determine who succeeds them long before party members and voters are given a fair chance to decide. What should be a contest of ideas and popularity is often reduced to a managed process, one in which outcomes are guided from the top rather than decided through open engagement.
The country has walked this path before. The emergence of Umaru Musa Yar’Adua did not come from a field of equal contenders testing their strength in an open contest. It followed a process in which the then out-going President Olusegun Obasanjo was widely seen as having played a decisive role in shaping the outcome. That moment did more than produce a president. It introduced a pattern that has since echoed across the states and continues to influence political behavior at different levels of governance.
From one region to another, the script is familiar. A sitting governor begins early to position a preferred successor. Party structures gradually align in one direction. Delegates take cues from the seat of power. Aspirants who lack access to that inner circle find themselves pushed to the margins, not necessarily because they lack support among the people, but because the process has already been tilted. Even before campaigns begin in earnest, the outcome is often assumed, quietly accepted in political circles as though it were already settled.
This attitude of presidents and governors has not remained confined to succession at the top. It has steadily crept into other elective offices across the states. What began as influence over who becomes governor or president has extended to legislative seats, local government positions, and even party offices. Incumbent leaders, seen as party leaders with enormous financial and political weight, now shape outcomes across multiple layers of the system. In many cases, to question or resist such decisions is to be branded disloyal. Aspirants who attempt to challenge the direction set by those in power are often treated as rebels within their own political family, marked out as though they are pointing accusing fingers at the very structure that should protect fairness.
This culture does not announce itself loudly. It operates quietly through influence, loyalty tests, and control of party machinery. Those who align with the preferred direction move forward with ease. Those who do not often find the ground shifting beneath them. Over time, political ambition becomes less about public support and more about approval from a small circle of power brokers. The idea of a level playing field becomes less visible, even as it remains spoken about in party constitutions and public speeches.
What follows is predictable. Primaries lose their meaning. They become ceremonies rather than contests. The electorate is then presented with candidates who have already passed through a narrow filter, leaving little room for genuine choice. In such a system, popularity among citizens is no longer the decisive factor. Acceptance within a controlled political structure becomes the real currency. Elections, which should represent the moment of decision, begin to feel like formal confirmations of choices already made elsewhere.
The consequences run deeper than electoral outcomes. Leadership that emerges from imposition carries a different kind of obligation. It is often tied more closely to those who cleared the path than to the wider expectations of the public. Accountability weakens because political survival is no longer rooted in the people alone. Public trust declines gradually, not in sudden collapse but in quiet withdrawal. Citizens begin to feel that participation changes little, and that elections are no longer true contests of choice.
There is also a generational effect that is shaping the future of politics in subtle ways. Younger aspirants observe how the system works and adjust accordingly. Instead of focusing on ideas, grassroots engagement, or public trust, many begin to prioritise proximity to power as the main route to political relevance. Over time, this reshapes the political culture itself. Merit and popularity slowly give way to alignment and endorsement. The system begins to reward those who can navigate influence rather than those who can earn broad public confidence.
The impact also extends to political parties. Parties are meant to be platforms where ideas compete and leaders are tested. When internal processes are heavily influenced by a single dominant voice, that internal democracy weakens. Debate reduces. Contestation fades. Decisions are anticipated rather than discussed. What remains is a structure that functions more as a conveyor belt for predetermined outcomes than as a living institution of democratic engagement.
There is a deeper risk that comes with this pattern. When leadership succession becomes overly controlled, governance itself begins to reflect narrow interests. Policy direction can tilt towards preservation of influence rather than expansion of public good. Institutions gradually bend towards personalities instead of principles. Over time, the system risks becoming less responsive to citizens and more protective of established power networks.
This is not an argument against political influence or leadership support. Politics will always involve alliances, preferences, and strategic positioning. The issue is timing and fairness. When influence is applied after a credible and competitive process, it reflects democratic choice. When it is used before that process fully unfolds, it undermines the very foundation of competition.
If Nigeria is to strengthen its democratic culture, the internal life of political parties must be protected. Primaries must be more than formalities. Delegates must be free to decide without pressure. Aspirants must be allowed to compete on the strength of their ideas and support. Institutions must be stronger than individuals if the system is to maintain credibility.
The responsibility does not rest with political actors alone. Citizens, civil society, and the media must continue to insist on fairness and transparency. Silence has a way of reinforcing patterns that should be challenged. Consistent scrutiny and engagement remain essential if the system is to move towards greater openness.
The question remains unavoidable. Who really chooses Nigeria’s leaders, the people at the ballot box, or the few who shape the race long before it begins?
Publisher and Editor-in-Chief, NEWSCOUNT
