By Okechukwu Nwanguma

In a recent intervention, former Minister of Aviation, Osita Chidoka, raised alarm over the prohibitive cost of political party nomination forms in Nigeria. His concerns go beyond party politics. They speak to a deeper and more troubling reality: the deliberate monetisation of politics as a strategy for exclusion—and, ultimately, the criminalisation of democratic governance.

While the All Progressives Congress has since distanced itself from the widely circulated fees, the issue it has triggered remains urgent and undeniable. Across Nigeria’s political landscape, the cost of accessing public office has steadily risen to levels that are not only unjustifiable but fundamentally anti-democratic.

Let us be clear: this is not about administrative costs. It is about erecting financial barriers that systematically exclude the majority of Nigerians from political participation.

When nomination forms are priced in tens or hundreds of millions of naira in a country where the minimum wage is ₦70,000 and over 97% of citizens have less than ₦500,000 in their bank accounts, the message is unmistakable: political power is reserved for the wealthy, their sponsors, or those willing to compromise public interest to gain access.

This is not democracy. It is economic gatekeeping.
But the consequences go far beyond exclusion. When politics becomes a high-cost investment, it inevitably transforms into a high-return enterprise. Those who spend vast sums to secure party tickets do not enter public office to serve; they enter to recover investments, reward financiers, and consolidate power. In this way, monetisation fuels a cycle of corruption, patronage, and impunity.

The implications for governance are profound.
Public office becomes commodified. Elections become transactional. Accountability becomes optional. And citizens—especially young people, women, and other marginalized groups—are pushed further to the margins of political life.

More dangerously, this trend accelerates the criminalisation of politics.

As financial barriers rise, legitimate aspirants are crowded out, creating space for actors who can access illicit funds or deploy coercive means. Politics then attracts not the most competent or visionary leaders, but those most capable of navigating—and exploiting—a system driven by money. The line between politics and organised criminality becomes increasingly blurred.

This trajectory poses a direct threat to constitutional democracy. Section 14(2)(c) of the 1999 Constitution affirms that “the participation by the people in their government shall be ensured.” Similarly, Article 13 of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights guarantees every citizen the right to participate freely in government.

When access to the ballot is effectively priced beyond the reach of ordinary citizens, these provisions are rendered hollow.

Comparatively, Nigeria’s approach stands as an outlier. In many democracies, candidates emerge through internal party processes that prioritise merit, mobilisation, and ideas—not financial muscle. If the barriers we now normalise in Nigeria existed elsewhere, many globally recognised leaders would never have had the opportunity to serve.

We must therefore confront an uncomfortable truth: the monetisation of politics in Nigeria is not accidental. It is systemic. It is sustained. And it serves the interests of a narrow elite at the expense of democratic inclusion.

Reversing this trend requires deliberate action.
Political parties must fundamentally rethink their financing models. Sustainable funding should come from broad-based membership contributions and transparent fundraising—not from turning nomination processes into exclusive marketplaces.

Regulatory bodies and electoral institutions must also play a more assertive role in setting limits and enforcing transparency in party financing.

Civil society, the media, and citizens must intensify advocacy against these exclusionary practices, framing them not merely as political issues but as fundamental violations of democratic rights.

Ultimately, the struggle is about the soul of Nigeria’s democracy.

Will it remain a system where leadership is determined by ideas, competence, and service? Or will it degenerate further into a marketplace where power is auctioned to the highest bidder?

If we continue on the current path, we risk entrenching a democracy in name but oligarchy in practice—one where governance is captured, accountability is weakened, and public trust is eroded.

The warning signs are clear. The time to act is now.

Democracy must not be for sale.