The Next Generation of Politicians: A New Face, An Old Playbook, and a Worse Version of the Same
We often console ourselves with a dangerous assumption: that the problem with Nigerian governance is a generational one. We point to the “old brigade” and believe that once they are replaced by younger, tech-savvy, and supposedly more progressive minds, the tide will turn. We imagine that the new breeds—the special assistants, the media aides, the young advisers buzzing around power corridors—represent a break from the past.
This is a profound and costly delusion. The evidence mounting before us suggests a far more frightening reality: the next generation of Nigerian politicians is not an improvement; it is a more polished, digitally-enabled, and insidiously efficient version of the current failed leadership.
The core issue has never been merely about age; it is about a corrosive political culture that values loyalty over competence, sycophancy over truth, and tribalistic patronage over equitable governance. Sadly, the youth being groomed in the backrooms of all major political parties have become its most eager students. They are not learning to solve problems; they are mastering the art of obscuring them, creating more problems and gaslighting dissents!
Their primary tool is not policy but gaslighting. Dissenting voices, especially those pointing out clear deficiencies in governance, are not engaged with facts or arguments. Instead, they are branded as “opposition,” “haters,” or “enemies of progress.” The goal is to shift the conversation from the issue at hand to the critic’s motive, thereby avoiding accountability altogether.
I have felt this firsthand. In a discussion about governance in Osun State, one of these brash young things in government, armed with a WhatsApp group membership and unchecked arrogance, chose not to address the points raised. Instead, he questioned my source of living. His implication was clear: invalidating my right to an opinion by suggesting I had no legitimate means of livelihood and that I am living off the crumbs of anti-government moneybags.
The irony is devastating. A simple Google search would have revealed my life’s work: nearly four decades as a welder and metal fabricator, a trade of pride and sweat that was built by my father, Saka Jadesola Akanbi and turned to become a family business, contributing to the economy of all the states in Southern Nigeria and the FCT. But why bother with facts when a lazy ad hominem attack will do? This is their modus operandi and operational techniques.
And what is the truth they so desperately try to gaslight us into denying? In Osun, it is the glaringly lopsided nature of development under Governor Ademola Adeleke. The construction of infrastructure is overwhelmingly “Ede-centric.” To state this is not hate; it is a simple, observable fact. Roads, and projects are concentrated in and around the Governor’s hometown, while other zones watch and wait. No amount of social media branding, no well-edited video montages of a single project, and no army of online aides shouting “Let him work!” can exonerate this undeniable imbalance.
The appointments to key positions tell the same story—a story of nepotism and clannishness that we have seen before under the flamboyant late governor, now with a younger cast executing it. We are told we are “not ready for that conversation,” a patronising dismissal designed to shut down scrutiny. But we must be ready. We must have that conversation.
The tragedy is that these young aides are not all foolish. Some are often brilliant. But they have chosen to channel their intellect not into solving the core issues of healthcare, education, and unemployment, but into the elaborate theatre of political defence. They are trying every means necessary, including deliberate lies and propaganda, to impress the elderly party lords they serve, hoping to be anointed as the next in line. In doing so, they are proving they are custodians of the very rot they claim to oppose.
We must therefore shed the naive belief that youth in power automatically means progress. We must judge them not by their age or their social media followings, but by their character, their commitment to equity, and their tangible results.
We must continue to say the truth, even when we know the appointed Rottweilers, with their sometimes terrible usage of English and vociferous trending, will be unleashed to come after us. We must speak for the welder in Ikirun, the balm producer in Iragbiji, the teacher in Iwo, the farmer in Ife, and the trader in Ilesa, who all see the disparity but are bullied into silence. Our voices, grounded in truth and lived experience, are the only antidote to their gaslighting. The future of our state, and indeed our nation, depends on it.
We have a long way to go…
Waheed Saka, wrote from 2 Obale’s compound Oke AAfo street Ikirun.