Seeing Political Defectors As Betrayers Of Voter Trust In Nigeria’s Democracy -By Isaac Asabor

In the dynamic terrain of Nigerian politics, political parties have grown to become the channels through which democratic engagement thrives. As witnessed in the buildup to the 2023 presidential election and the final list of candidates released by the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), a diverse range of political parties were actively in the fray. These include Accord (A), Action Alliance (AA), Action Democratic Party (ADP), Action Peoples Party (APP), African Action Congress (AAC), African Democratic Congress (ADC), All Progressives Congress (APC), and the All Progressives Grand Alliance (APGA). Others are Allied Peoples Movement (APM), Boot Party (BP), Labour Party (LP), National Rescue Movement (NRM), New Nigeria Peoples Party (NNPP), Peoples Redemption Party (PRP), Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), Social Democratic Party (SDP), Young Progressive Party (YPP), and Zenith Labour Party (ZLP). These parties represent the multiplicity of ideologies and platforms available to the Nigerian electorate. However, a troubling trend has emerged: politicians switching allegiances post-election, leaving voters feeling used and betrayed.

In every electoral cycle, politicians affiliated with these various parties actively engage in campaign strategies that resemble the tactics of brand marketers. They sell their party platforms to the electorate with tailored messages, populist rhetoric, and carefully curated narratives. In this light, they are not just aspirants; they are salesmen of political dreams. Through town hall meetings, media engagements, rallies, and grassroots mobilization, these politicians convince thousands, sometimes millions, of Nigerians to believe in the vision of their parties. The electorate, often with little to hold on to in terms of governance dividends, rely heavily on the promises and personality of the candidates. In essence, party loyalty becomes secondary to personal loyalty to the candidate persuading them.

It is therefore not surprising that many voters pledge allegiance to a particular party simply because of the influence of a specific politician they trust. Whether it is the Labour Party’s rising popularity among young voters, the enduring structures of the APC and PDP, or the growing appeal of the NNPP and SDP in certain regions, much of the support garnered by these parties stems from individuals who successfully convinced others to join their camp. In a country with low institutional trust, especially among the youth, politicians act as bridges between the people and the political system. This makes it all the more disheartening when these same politicians turn around and jump ship after winning elections.

Political defections in Nigeria have become a normalized yet dangerous pattern. Elected officials, governors, senators, house members, and even local government chairpersons, routinely switch parties, often for reasons that are more self-serving than ideological. They cite internal wrangling, leadership crises, or the vague phrase “consultations with stakeholders” as reasons for abandoning the very parties they used to win the trust of their constituents. More often than not, these defections are about securing political survival, relevance, or access to power and patronage in the ruling party, rather than a genuine disagreement with party policies.

This trend is not just an insult to political integrity; it is a slap in the face of the electorate. Voters who cast their ballots for a particular candidate often do so with the understanding that they are also endorsing the candidate’s party. When the candidate defects post-election, the foundational agreement with the electorate is broken. Imagine a businessman convincing you to invest in a venture based on its strong leadership, only to disappear the moment your money is invested and join a rival firm. That is the kind of betrayal Nigerian voters experience when politicians defect.

The tragedy here is that Nigeria’s legal and constitutional framework permits such behavior with little to no consequences. Except in a few isolated court rulings where seats were declared vacant due to defection, most defectors get away with it. There is no institutionalized mechanism that requires a politician who defects from the party under which he or she was elected to vacate the seat and seek a fresh mandate under the new party. This legal vacuum has emboldened political opportunists and reduced party ideologies to mere labels.

Even more concerning is the message this trend sends to younger generations and emerging political aspirants. It reinforces a culture of political prostitution, where loyalty, ideology, and commitment to party manifestos are disposable. This lack of ideological discipline is a primary reason why Nigeria’s democracy remains weak and underdeveloped despite the multitude of political parties. Instead of strengthening party institutions and building long-term structures that can survive beyond individuals, politicians weaken the very parties they used to climb to power by using them as temporary ladders.

At this juncture, it is not out of place to suggest that the electorate must begin to demand accountability from politicians, not just during campaigns but also after elections. Civic awareness needs to grow to the point where voters can collectively insist that defectors must resign and re-contest if they wish to change parties. The judiciary too must play its part by interpreting defection laws in the interest of democratic consolidation. Electoral reform is urgently needed to protect the sanctity of the mandate given by voters.

The media and civil society also have a role to play in calling out such deceptive practices. Political defectors should not be celebrated or welcomed with fanfare, but scrutinized for the betrayal they have committed. This is not just about party loyalty, it is about respect for voters and the democratic process.

At the heart of democracy is representation. When someone is voted into office on a party platform, they are expected to uphold the values, promises, and policies that platform represents. Jumping ship midway, especially without consulting the people who voted them in, undermines this principle and erodes the thin thread of trust holding Nigeria’s democracy together. Until there is a cultural and legal shift that puts an end to this act of political betrayal, the electorate will continue to suffer the consequences of broken promises and compromised governance.

In conclusion, political parties in Nigeria are more than just platforms, they are social contracts. When politicians use these platforms to get elected and then abandon them without consequence, they break that contract. The electorate deserves better. Voters deserve politicians who stand by their word, respect the mandate they were given, and understand that leadership is not just about winning elections, but about upholding democratic values. Anything less is not just a political maneuver, it is a betrayal.