By Isaac Asabor

In a democracy, true political power ultimately comes from the people, especially those at the grassroots level who determine electoral outcomes. Online applause, elite connections, and social influence may create visibility, but they cannot replace the trust earned through years of genuine community involvement.

There is a dangerous illusion that often flourishes within Nigeria’s celebrity culture, the belief that fame automatically translates into political relevance. Many public figures mistake social visibility for grassroots influence and assume that the admiration they receive online or in entertainment circles can easily convert into electoral support. The recent political disappointment of Cubana Chief Priest has once again exposed the wide gap between celebrity popularity and genuine political acceptance.

The nightlife entrepreneur and social media personality, born Pascal Chibuike Okechukwu, suffered a crushing defeat in the APC House of Representatives primary election for the Orsu/Orlu/Oru East Federal Constituency of Imo State. Despite his public profile, political connections, and strong involvement in the “City Boy Movement” he managed to secure only 14 votes. It was a harsh political reality check delivered by the very grassroots community he hoped would embrace him.

Beyond the online jokes and social media ridicule that followed his defeat lies a deeper and more important lesson, not just for him, but for the growing class of Nigerian celebrities seeking relevance in politics and governance.

Over the years, Nigeria has witnessed the emergence of celebrity figures who gradually transition from entertainment and social influence into politics. The pattern is familiar: public philanthropy, lavish empowerment programmes, visible political endorsements, and eventually, declarations about “serving the people” or “giving back to society.”

Cubana Chief Priest appeared to follow that exact script. Through his wealth, influence, and closeness to political elites, he seemed convinced that his popularity and generosity would naturally earn him political legitimacy. Like many before him, he appeared to believe that visibility alone could compensate for years of grassroots political engagement.

Following his defeat, he publicly expressed regret about trusting community elders who allegedly failed to support him. However, the real issue may not simply be misplaced trust. The deeper problem was the assumption that proximity to power equals political strength. It does not. Being celebrated in nightlife circles or commanding millions of followers online is entirely different from building lasting political trust within local communities.

What many celebrities fail to understand is that Nigerian grassroots politics follows its own logic,  one that social media influence rarely controls.

The ordinary people who shape political outcomes at ward and constituency levels are not necessarily impressed by celebrity lifestyles, designer fashion, expensive convoys, or online popularity. Delegates and local political actors are often more concerned with consistency, accessibility, and long-term community presence.

They ask practical questions: Where were you when the community faced hardship? What have you genuinely contributed beyond seasonal giveaways? Have you remained connected when there were no cameras or publicity involved? Did you build relationships before seeking political office? These questions matter far more than Instagram followers or viral videos.

For many grassroots voters, political representation is rooted in familiarity, sacrifice, and sustained involvement, not entertainment status. This reality appears to have worked against the Cubana Chief Priest despite his charisma and public generosity.

This political setback should serve as a serious warning to Nigerian celebrities nursing political ambitions.

Many entertainers and influencers now openly affiliate with political movements, like the City Boy Movement, believing that online support automatically translates into electoral strength. But elections in Nigeria, especially party primaries,  are not won through hashtags, fan loyalty, or celebrity endorsements. They are won through years of structure-building, local alliances, and direct grassroots engagement.

Likewise, philanthropy alone cannot substitute for governance. Communities may appreciate financial assistance, empowerment programmes, or festive donations, but such gestures do not necessarily create political trust. Voters often separate charity from leadership competence.

Celebrities must understand that the average Nigerian voter, particularly at the grassroots level, is far more politically aware than many assume. After decades of broken promises from politicians, people have become more careful about whom they trust with representation and leadership.

None of this suggests that celebrities should stay away from politics. Public figures can contribute positively to governance and national development. Their platforms, influence, and ability to shape conversations remain valuable assets in any democracy.

However, there is a major difference between being politically influential and being politically grounded.

Genuine political relevance requires patience, consistency, and sacrifice. It involves participating in community meetings, understanding local struggles, supporting party structures at the grassroots, and building relationships that extend beyond election periods.

Real politics is often slow, demanding, and unglamorous. It rarely delivers the instant validation that social media provides. Yet it is the only path toward building authentic political credibility.

Cubana Chief Priest’s defeat should not merely be viewed as an embarrassing political loss. It should be understood as a powerful reminder that celebrity status is not the same thing as political legitimacy.

In a democracy, true political power ultimately comes from the people, especially those at the grassroots level who determine electoral outcomes. Online applause, elite connections, and social influence may create visibility, but they cannot replace the trust earned through years of genuine community involvement.

For Nigerian celebrities hoping to venture into politics, the message is clear: fame may open doors, but only real grassroots engagement can sustain political ambition. And that is the lesson the “village boys” have once again delivered loud and clear.

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The Auctioning of Democracy, Godfathers, Stolen Wealth, and Citizens Are Silent in Nigeria’s Billion-Naira Nomination Circus

By Daniel Nduka Okonkwo

A critical transparency gap underlies all these figures: the most recent RMAFC remuneration document publicly available was drafted between 2007 and 2009. A 114% salary increase recommended by the Commission in 2023 was never enacted, leaving Nigeria operating on a two-decade-old pay structure, one In Nigeria today, the grotesque spectacle of politics has become a theatre of wealth without accountability. Public officials who once lived on modest government salaries now flaunt fortunes that even ten years of unspent wages could never accumulate. Campaign financing laws, riddled with loopholes and weakened by toothless enforcement, have transformed elections into auctions where only the highest bidders, often bankrolled by godfathers, syndicates, or diverted public funds, can participate. Nomination forms priced at levels that defy logic are purchased with alarming ease, while ordinary Nigerians remain silent, numbed by decades of corruption, hardship, and the struggle for survival.

It is the duty of every well-meaning Nigerian to castigate these officials and ask loudly and persistently: how can a man whose legitimate salary cannot afford a party nomination form in ten years suddenly purchase one overnight? Why are Nigerians not demanding answers or tearing down the veil of deceit that cloaks their democracy? Citizens should rise to challenge this charade, the cycle of impunity will continue, and the nation’s future will remain mortgaged to the greed of a privileged few.

In Nigeria, democracy is increasingly becoming a luxury reserved for the wealthy, politically connected, and financially compromised. The soaring cost of political nomination forms imposed by major political parties has sparked outrage among civil society organizations, human rights advocates, and ordinary citizens who argue that the system has effectively commercialized political participation while excluding competent and honest Nigerians from governance.

The ruling All Progressives Congress (APC), alongside other major parties, has, in recent election cycles, fixed presidential expression of interest and nomination forms at approximately ₦100 million. In a country where the national minimum wage hovers around ₦70,000 monthly, critics describe the development as not merely insensitive, but structurally corrupt.

For many Nigerians, the numbers simply do not add up, the cost of purchasing a single presidential nomination form exceeds the cumulative legitimate earnings of many public officials over several years in office. It is argued that an honest civil servant, career academic, entrepreneur, or professional without access to illicit wealth or political sponsorship would find it nearly impossible to raise such staggering sums legally.

Human rights advocates and democracy-focused organizations, including the Centre for Democracy and Development (CDD) Profiles International Human Rights Advocate, have repeatedly warned that the monetization of electoral participation fuels systemic corruption. Politicians who expend enormous sums merely to secure party tickets often enter office under immense pressure to recover their “investment” through inflated contracts, diversion of public resources, abuse of office, and patronage politics.

The implication is devastating: politics gradually transforms from public service into a high-risk commercial enterprise.

The nomination fees have created a political environment that automatically excludes young Nigerians, women, grassroots activists, reform-minded professionals, and average citizens from contesting for office. The process effectively hands political control to wealthy elites and influential godfathers capable of financing candidates in exchange for future political influence and access to state patronage.

This has entrenched a dangerous cycle in which public offices become repayment mechanisms for political debts rather than platforms for governance and national development.

The issue becomes even more controversial when compared with the official earnings of Nigerian public office holders.

The President’s official monthly earnings stand at approximately ₦1.17 million in salary. The Vice President receives roughly ₦1.01 million monthly, while state governors take home a disclosed minimum of ₦648,580 per month, with additional allowances unpublished. Senators earn about ₦1.06 million monthly in total, though their basic salary alone is only ₦168,867 — the bulk being made up of constituency and other allowances.

A critical transparency gap underlies all these figures: the most recent RMAFC remuneration document publicly available was drafted between 2007 and 2009. A 114% salary increase recommended by the Commission in 2023 was never enacted, leaving Nigeria operating on a two-decade-old pay structure, one that is poorly understood by the public and inconsistently reported by the media.

However, the reality of political earnings extends far beyond official salaries.

Allowances such as constituency allocations, hardship benefits, accommodation packages, estacodes, leave grants, wardrobe allowances, and unofficial running costs significantly inflate actual take-home earnings. Former lawmakers and political insiders have repeatedly suggested that some legislators receive monthly packages running into tens of millions of naira when all benefits are included.

Yet, despite these inflated earnings, many Nigerians still question how candidates legally generate the hundreds of millions of naira required for party nomination forms, campaign logistics, political mobilization, and delegate inducements.

The source of political financing in Nigeria remains one of the country’s biggest untold scandals. Many candidates do not personally finance their political ambitions. Instead, they allegedly rely on wealthy political sponsors, contractors, business syndicates, and entrenched political financiers who invest heavily in candidates with expectations of future rewards once power is secured. Officials may periodically reclaim resources previously allocated to allies, consolidating them for reallocation toward emergent fiscal priorities. This reflects a cyclical process of distribution and retrieval within governance structures

These rewards often come in the form of inflated government contracts, strategic appointments, access to state resources, policy manipulation, and protection from investigation.

This dangerous relationship between money and politics weakens democratic institutions while strengthening corruption networks.

Civil society observers have repeatedly questioned why anti-corruption agencies rarely conduct aggressive financial scrutiny into how politicians acquire enormous sums for nomination forms and campaign spending.

Nigeria’s electoral financing system is also criticized for lacking transparency and effective enforcement mechanisms.

The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) has spending limits and disclosure requirements on paper, but enforcement remains weak. Political actors frequently bypass financial regulations through cash transactions, proxy donations, undeclared sponsorships, and informal funding channels that are almost impossible to trace.

INEC lacks sufficient prosecutorial powers to independently investigate and punish complex electoral financial crimes, often depending on collaboration with agencies such as the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC).

Disclosure reports are frequently submitted retroactively and manually, creating opportunities for manipulation, concealment of illicit funding, and falsification of financial records.

Billions of naira circulate within Nigeria’s political system through opaque networks that evade meaningful oversight.

After decades of repeated scandals, economic hardship, and political disappointment, many Nigerians appear increasingly resigned to the status quo. Analysts say survival pressures, unemployment, inflation, insecurity, and distrust in institutions have weakened public resistance against political corruption.

For younger Nigerians especially, the message appears clear: leadership is not necessarily earned through competence, integrity, or vision, but increasingly through wealth, sponsorship, and political connections.

Democracy advocates warn that unless meaningful electoral financing reforms are introduced, Nigeria risks further institutionalizing a system where public office is effectively auctioned to the highest bidder.

These consequences, they argue, go far beyond politics. They affect governance quality, public trust, national development, anti-corruption efforts, and ultimately the survival of democratic accountability itself.

In the eyes of many Nigerians, the central question remains painfully unresolved

How can a country genuinely fight corruption while simultaneously operating a political system that appears designed to reward the corrupt?

• Daniel Okonkwo writes from Abuja and can be reached at [email protected].