In the melodramatic theatre of Nigerian politics, one act never fails to return to the national stage — the Great
Endorsement Parade. It is a ritualistic performance, often mistaken for genuine political support, where sycophants and political jobbers shower praise louder than the national anthem and pledge loyalty faster than campaign promises can be broken. What it lacks in substance, it compensates for in spectacle.
This phenomenon is far from new. A brief journey through our recent political history reveals a pattern of endorsements choreographed more for political optics than democratic value. It began in earnest during the authoritarian era of General Sani Abacha, Nigeria’s self-styled maximum ruler, who presided over the country from 1993 until his sudden death in 1998. During his reign, the country was awash with fawning support campaigns. Political groups with theatrical names like Youths Earnestly Ask for Abacha and Women for Abacha mushroomed nationwide. These campaigns weren’t spontaneous displays of grassroots affection but rather orchestrated showcases of loyalty, meant to build a façade of popular demand for a leader who had little patience for dissent or democratic ideals.
Abacha’s case was unique — his ambitions were ultimately curtailed by his untimely demise, sparing the country from a formal endorsement-to-election embarrassment. But the blueprint was set: surround the leader with enough noise, and perhaps the people will mistake it for a mandate.
The 2010s brought a more refined, if not subtler, iteration of this playbook. Goodluck Jonathan, then President of Nigeria, entered the 2015 election cycle wrapped in a velvet cloak of endorsements. From traditional rulers to business moguls, musicians to regional caucuses, Jonathan’s bid for re-election was buoyed by declarations that portrayed him as the only viable custodian of Nigeria’s destiny. Glossy campaigns and high-profile gatherings reinforced the illusion that the electorate had already made up its mind.
But the electorate, when it spoke, delivered a verdict that stunned the political class. Despite the thunderous endorsements, Jonathan was voted out — a historic moment that made him the first sitting Nigerian president to be defeated at the ballot box. The applause from elite circles had not translated into votes. The lesson? Endorsements do not vote; people do.
We now find ourselves in the early years of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration — a presidency also defined by a heavy dose of choreographed endorsements. Tinubu, revered by supporters as the “Jagaban of Nigerian Politics”, rode into Aso Rock on a tide of elite backing. His path to the presidency was lined with grand declarations of loyalty from political allies, traditional rulers, religious figures, and party stalwarts. The optics suggested inevitability — that Nigeria had collectively resolved to crown Tinubu before the people cast their votes.
Yet, as with his predecessors, there is a risk that the spectacle is being mistaken for substance. While Tinubu secured victory in 2023, his real test — should he seek a second term — is yet to come. Thus far, his administration has remained in a honeymoon phase with these courtiers of praise. But as economic hardship intensifies and public discontent simmers beneath the surface, it remains to be seen whether the applause will last or fade into the background noise of disillusionment.
There is a familiar danger here. Endorsements can be intoxicating. Surrounded by constant adulation, a leader may begin to believe in the myth of his invincibility. Dissent becomes betrayal. Governance becomes performance. And the critical voices needed for democratic correction are drowned out by the chorus of sycophancy.
This is not merely about political failure — it is about the erosion of democratic accountability. When leaders mistake clapping for consensus, they lose touch with the real indicators of national well-being. Policy decisions are shaped not by data or public need, but by what will earn a standing ovation from the nearest praise-singer.
The consequences of this are clear. With each cycle of overconfidence, Nigeria drifts further from genuine democracy and closer to performative politics. But Nigerians have shown time and again that their memory is sharp and their resolve intact. When the time comes, they return to the ballot to remind power that it is on lease, not ownership.
If President Tinubu and his advisers believe that the failures of the past cannot repeat themselves simply because the present has better optics, they would do well to revisit recent history. Neither the praises of political allies nor the endorsements of cultural custodians can replace real performance. The Nigerian electorate may be patient, but it is never permanently blind.
Psychophancy is not policy. Megalomania is not leadership. And eye service, no matter how extravagant, is not delivery.
As the nation moves gradually toward the next electoral cycle, the truth remains unchanged: a government of the people must always return to being by the people — regardless of how much its leaders attempt to script and stage-manage popular opinion. The performance may dazzle temporarily, but the people will have the final word.
To those still twirling in the carnival of endorsements: clap wisely. History is watching.
