The Beer Test Vs The Market Test: Why Relatability Fails in Nigerian Politics.
In American politics, the ultimate litmus test is often the simplest: would you have a beer with this person? It is a quest for the reliable neighbour - a leader who feels like a peer. But across the Atlantic, in Nigeria, this same ‘man of the people’ energy frequently hits a wall of cultural resistance. Instead of being charmed by a presidential candidate haggling with a market woman over a bottle of peanuts ( groundnuts), many Nigerian voters are instinctively repelled. This stark contrast raises a provocative question: “why does one culture crave a neighbour, while the other demands a king?”
In a nation where 133 million people face multidimensional poverty, the practice of diverting scarce revenue to buy votes rather than investing in grassroots development is a profound failure of fiscal responsibility. While a tiny fraction of the population ( the political class)consumes 70% of the budget, poverty continues to surge - from 34.7% in 2018 to an alarming 41.8% in 2024. With rural poverty projected to hit 53.4% this year, there is no longer room for bloated government overheads and political appointmentee! True governance now requires a radical shift : slashing the cost of the bureaucracy to free up funds for the real economy, infrastructure, and the survival of the majority.
Lately, some Nigerians have spoken enthusiastically about certain “supposed” colourful “Igbo millionaires” joining the campaign of the ruling party. They claim that these individuals are switching sides because the opposition is not investing more money in its campaign. To support their claim, they point to Donald Trump, who famously spent a staggering 66 million dollars of his private funds during his initial US presidential run, as reason why Nigeria's opposition party should spend more. They forget that Nigeria with a GDP per capita income of 1,300 dollars cannot afford to compete with a country with a capita income of 85,800 dollars in buying elections. These assembly of flamboyant figures, now embedded in the ruling party's youth wing, perfectly mirrors what the late author, Chinua Achebe decried as “noisy exhibitionists” - those who have “total disregard for humility and quiet dignity.” Talk about a blow to the ego, one of the self-proclaimed political heavyweights was recently captured on a viral video kneeling at the feet of the vice president Kashim Shetima, only to be met with total indifference as the VP stayed busy on his mobile device! The irony of this public display of shame has never been more obvious. These individuals have mastered the art of professional sycophancy, operating as career hustlers and opportunists who have traded genuine empathy for a seat at the table of power. The cringe worthy optics of their subservience - epitomised by performative act of kneeling before leadership - is not a sign of respect, but a desperate plea for a share of the country's exhausted and severely devalued resources.
Their primary objective is the cold accumulation of wealth to fund a “big man” persona in their home communities. By focusing on private enrichment, they seek to project an image of enormous success in their villages, often masking their greed with shallow philanthropic gestures. Distribution of bags of rice to the very poor people they have helped to impoverish is a cruel distraction from the massive public wealth they have extracted for themselves.
Nigeria often say they want leaders who understand their struggles, but their voting habits tell a different story. In the West, relativity is a superpower, in Nigeria, it can be a political death sentence. While America seek out the ‘everyman’ who can share a drink at a local pub, Nigerians often view a candidate's proximity to the grassroots - like bargaining in a dusty market as a sign of weakness rather than solidarity. It's a haunting paradox : a people defined by their resilience in poverty, yet often found despising, the very imagery of their own reality in those who wish to lead them.
Whether it's a pint in a pub or a glass of peanuts in a local market, how we judge our candidates says more about us that it says about them. In Nigeria, the ‘big man’ remains the gold standard, but as long as we despise the imagery of the poor, we may continue to find ourselves led by those who never truly understand our reality. It's time to decide if we want a leader we can relate to, or support one we can fear!
