For some Nigerian politicians, political office is not a call to serve. It is an investment, a gateway to wealth and a lifeline to a lifestyle that private enterprise may never have afforded them.
There is a troubling question Nigerians must confront: Why are some politicians so desperate to remain in power, even when their time in office has yielded little or nothing in terms of meaningful development for the people they claim to represent?
Perhaps the answer is simpler, and more disturbing, than we care to admit. For some, politics is not about developing Nigeria. It is about developing their pockets.
Political office has become, for certain individuals, a gateway to wealth, privilege and an extravagant lifestyle. It offers access to public funds, government contracts, patronage networks and the enormous opportunities that come with controlling state resources. Once inside the corridors of power, they acquire a taste for a lifestyle that their legitimate earnings or private enterprise might never have provided.
And therein lies the problem.
They build mansions, acquire fleets of luxury vehicles, maintain expensive entourages and cultivate lifestyles of extraordinary extravagance. Yet, where are the factories? Where are the industries? Where are the productive businesses that could employ thousands of Nigerians and generate wealth long after their political careers have ended?
They build personal fortunes, not productive economies. They accumulate wealth, but fail to create wealth-generating institutions. They enjoy the privileges of office without necessarily building anything capable of outliving their tenure.
But the real drama begins when they leave office.
Suddenly, the tap is turned off. Access to public resources disappears. The official privileges begin to evaporate. Political influence starts to diminish. The phone calls become fewer. The crowds that once surrounded them begin to thin out. Those who once scrambled for their attention gradually find new political benefactors.
For politicians whose wealth and lifestyle have become inseparable from the privileges of public office, this transition can be particularly uncomfortable.
They may have left office, but they have not left the lifestyle that office afforded them. And so, they must return.
For some, seeking another political position is not necessarily about a renewed commitment to public service. It may be about restoring access to the fountain of privilege. For others, the strategy is to install political proxies: loyal associates, family members, protégés or political godchildren who can occupy strategic positions while preserving the influence of those who have formally left office.
The faces may change, but the interests remain the same.
The office changes hands, but the control structure survives. Political succession becomes an exercise in protecting established interests rather than advancing the collective aspirations of the people.
This may explain the desperation, the endless political manoeuvring, the fierce battles for party tickets, the bitter struggles over succession and the determination of some political actors to remain relevant long after their tenures have expired.
Power, in such circumstances, is not merely an opportunity to govern. It is an economic asset to be protected.
And this is where Nigeria’s development crisis becomes particularly tragic.
A political class that sees public office primarily as a route to personal enrichment has little incentive to build a productive economy that can function independently of government patronage. Why build a factory when access to government contracts offers a quicker route to wealth? Why establish sustainable businesses when control of public resources provides immediate financial rewards? Why build strong institutions when weak institutions make it easier to exercise personal control?
Of course, not every Nigerian politician fits this description. There are public servants who genuinely seek to make a difference. But the persistence of corruption allegations, opaque public spending, patronage politics and the struggle for control of political structures makes this a question that cannot be ignored.
A country cannot develop sustainably when political office is treated as a personal investment, public funds as private dividends and political succession as a strategy for preserving access to state resources.
Nigeria must begin to rethink what political leadership means. Public office should be a temporary responsibility, not a permanent entitlement. Political power should be a means of building institutions, creating opportunities and improving lives, not a vehicle for financing private extravagance.
Perhaps the most revealing test of a politician’s commitment to public service is not how desperately he or she seeks to enter office, but what remains after leaving it.
What businesses have they built? What industries have they established? How many jobs have they created? What institutions have they strengthened? What legacy can they point to beyond the wealth and privileges accumulated while in power?
These are questions Nigerians should be asking.
Because a politician who leaves office with mansions, private jets and an impressive collection of luxury cars, but leaves behind a community without roads, hospitals, functioning schools or industries, may have succeeded personally while the country continues to fail collectively.
And perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of Nigerian politics: some people are getting extraordinarily wealthy from a system that continues to leave millions of citizens extraordinarily poor.
Until political office becomes a platform for creating public wealth rather than accumulating private fortunes, the desperate struggle to capture and retain power will continue. And Nigeria will remain the ultimate casualty.
By Emmanuel Emeke Asiwe(EEA), Publisher/Editor-in-Chief