NiOn Wednesday, August 19, 2026, one of the world’s most expensive job interviews officially commenced. The 150-day long march to choose Nigeria’s next president, governors and representatives has officially begun with the official campaign kick-off.
You would be forgiven for assuming that the process had since begun because, as far as anyone could tell, the country has been campaigning for quite a while now. Jingles on radios, inconveniently inserted political adverts into entertainment programming on YouTube and social media, actors and influencers advertising their preferred candidates, and some of them getting stoned and beaten already by angry mobs.
Wednesday, however, marks the official INEC-approved campaign commencement for elections that will deliver the country’s next president in 2027. The pretence is over. The gloves are off. A familiar spectacle, one that we have seen many times over the last 27 years, begins to fully unravel itself. This spectacle, in which politicians display the full range of their acting skills, showcases an impressive array of costumes and spills fantastic yarns, as TuFace Idibia’s 2004 political song, E Be Like Say, captures it when he sings: “E be like say you want to act another movie for me o.”
A few months ago, it had seemed like Nigeria was heading towards a one-party state, with a fractured and emasculated opposition (and some will argue that is still the case). It will surprise many to know that there are officially 19 candidates in the running for president. Of course, only three or four are being talked about as realistic options. Tinubu, as the incumbent, is the big kahuna, and his closest challengers, by some distance, will be the likes of Atiku Abubakar, whose name has been on every ballot in the history of this fourth republic, and the duopoly of Peter Obi and Rabiu Kwankwaso.
Perhaps one of the biggest surprises is that for the first time in our 27 years of democracy, no one is talking about the PDP as a political force of substance. The party, that 12 years ago had seemed indomitable, had quietly slipped into the B-tier of political parties and is fielding an unknown Sandy Onor as its candidate for president.
Between now and January 15, these candidates will traverse the country, make speeches, dance at rallies, wear asoebi, wave brooms and other contraptions that these parties have adopted as their logos and ask Nigerians to vote for them. While they have already been doing so informally, this is the time where proper campaigning starts and governance, or the little of it that has been done, stops. Every issue becomes a political spectacle to be played out in the theatre of the absurd that our political arena is, instead of being dealt with pragmatically. The Nigerian citizens become mere spectators, instead of beneficiaries. Even more so than they have been already. The only difference is that this time, this is an audience that is hungrier, angrier and more sceptical.
These are people who have lived through repeated promises of transformation. Promises of anti-corruption have blossomed overnight, like potted plants imported into a garden in the dark, not cultivated from the soil, only for the anti-corruption crusades to falter when it comes to the allies of those in power. These are people who have lived through endless promises of economic recovery plans that have left inflation high and Nigerians poorer. These are Nigerians who have lived through security pledges that have somehow translated into increased insecurity and continued fragmentation of the country. The question has never been about whether politicians can make promises, it is about whether these set of angrier, more sceptical Nigerians would believe them.
Unlike in previous campaigns, though, this time, information has become even more decentralised to the extent that political narratives are no longer solely controlled by parties and traditional media. We have seen the rise of “data boys” and political influencers who are being mobilised to harvest supporters, just like the pied piper, to lead the masses, like the lost children of Hamelin, in a particular direction the person who pays the piper desires. Yet political narratives are no longer controlled solely by the parties and the traditional media. The democratisation of the media and information dissemination means citizens can challenge the claims in real time. So while campaign messaging faces immediate scrutiny, it won’t change the desire of politicians to control the narratives through digital actors.
One thing that will remain the same though is the campaign rhetoric that will not change—with promises, ethnic and religious rhetoric and slander taking centre stage, the audience will remain the same too, just angrier. Will that make any difference? I am quite sceptical.
For one, the political terrain is heavily tilted in favour of the APC, no small thanks to the politicking of Tinubu, who has coerced and enticed politicians, causing mass defections that effectively nailed the coffin on what was left of the PDP. Today, 31 of the 36 states in the country are firmly in the grip of the ruling APC. The NDC, and ADP, hitherto B-tier parties are positioning themselves as alphas. They do not have the structures to challenge the ruling party and cannot bring themselves to form the alliance that would give them a realistic chance at the polls. Even though it is likely alliances will shift before January 16, it is unlikely they will shift significantly enough to change the status quo. If the alliance happens now, it may be a little too little and a little too late.
While voters may be angrier and more sceptical, early discourse on the election and the candidates have continued to revolve around the same issues. Instead of asking questions like why should I trust this candidate, what exactly will improve and how, how will these candidates pay for their promises and why did previous promises fail, the focus has remained on region, religion and on which political legion has the biggest war chest.
Though campaign strategists may be aware they are facing an angrier audience, they may also be aware that the same strategies that focus on ethnic mobilisation, incumbency guarantees may work. The times might have changed, but the reality is that yesterday’s strategies—including the spaghetti and soap politics—might prevail in Today’s elections. This means real issues like cost of living, security, energy, education, healthcare and institutional reforms that should be central will only be subjected to theatrical treatments.
The long-suffering Nigerian electorate deserves more than slogans, insults and quickly cobbled together manifestos that are as quickly discarded once elections are over. So while things might have changed for the electorate and some of the political parties, the political structure of the country is formed in a way that allows any realistic chance of using the elections as a measure of accountability for elected officials.
The Nigerian electorate may have become angrier, more sceptical and harder to fool, but it is entering another election in a political system designed to reward everything except accountability. The campaign has begun. The question is whether the voters can change the script, or whether, once again, the script will change them.
(Daily Trust)
