The City Boys Movement,CBM, prominently associated with Mr. Seyi Tinubu, the son of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, is more than a political initiative — it is a glaring display of how wealth and social influence are being weaponised in Nigerian politics. Coordinators such as Obi Cubana for the South East, Cubana Chief Priest at state level, and entertainers like Yul Edochie and Eniola Badmus are front and centre of a movement that prioritises opulence, celebrity, and material influence over the struggles of ordinary Nigerians.
It is no secret that millions of Nigerians are suffering. Inflation remains rampant, unemployment has reached critical levels, and essential services are failing. Yet, instead of engaging citizens on these urgent issues, the City Boys Movement assembles elites and wealthy personalities, using their fame and fortune to dominate the political narrative. The implicit message is chilling: influence, not competence, governs access and attention.
The South East appointments, particularly Obi Cubana and Cubana Chief Priest, are illustrative of the movement’s reliance on wealth and prominence. These figures are not elected or accountable to the people in the traditional political sense. Their authority comes from affluence and social visibility, signalling to citizens that political relevance is increasingly tied to material power. Leadership is reduced to spectacle.
Entertainers like Yul Edochie and Eniola Badmus add glamour, media attention, and social media clout. But what they bring is not grassroots representation; it is influence by visibility. Nigeria’s politics is being reframed as a stage where those with money, fame, and access dictate engagement, while ordinary citizens remain observers, sidelined from meaningful participation.
This approach has dangerous implications. By assembling wealthy elites and celebrities, the movement subtly intimidates the masses. Citizens are reminded, often unconsciously, that compliance or support may be rewarded with access to material benefits, or withheld if allegiance is questioned. In a society where vote buying and clientelism are already pervasive, this model risks reinforcing coercive political culture.
The timing of the movement’s mobilisation — ahead of elections — underscores its strategic intent. Nigeria is a country where politics is intensely competitive. Using affluence and celebrity as instruments of persuasion and influence ahead of polls signals a troubling shift: politics as theatre, politics as display, politics as intimidation. The people’s voice risks being drowned out by material dominance.
Nigeria’s democratic structures, from polling units to party committees, are designed to ensure inclusion, accountability, and representation. Parallel mobilisation anchored in wealth and visibility undermines these mechanisms. It bypasses traditional structures, concentrates influence in the hands of a few, and risks eroding public trust in established institutions.
Furthermore, this strategy perpetuates inequality within political participation. Young Nigerians and aspiring leaders from modest backgrounds are excluded from meaningful engagement. The message is clear: without wealth, fame, or connections, your voice is secondary. Democracy is not supposed to operate on such terms.
The spectacle of elite assembly also distracts from policy discourse. The pressing challenges of insecurity, electricity deficits, youth unemployment, and inadequate healthcare are largely ignored in favour of photo opportunities and social media amplification. Politics becomes performance, citizens become spectators, and governance is reduced to material display.
By prioritising wealth and social prominence over ideas and competence, the City Boys Movement risks reinforcing patronage politics. This is a model that rewards the rich, intimidates the ordinary, and marginalises the capable. It sends a dangerous signal that Nigerian democracy can be shaped by opulence rather than merit, by spectacle rather than service.
Moreover, the psychological effect on the electorate is significant. Citizens observing this parade of affluence may feel powerless, alienated, or compelled to conform. Politics ceases to be about shared national vision and becomes about navigating material hierarchies. The movement risks deepening societal divisions at a time when inclusion and equity should be central.
Even at the structural level, the movement’s approach is questionable. Coordinators, selected for their wealth and celebrity, lack formal accountability to local party structures or communities. Leadership is top-down, performative, and increasingly disconnected from ordinary Nigerians’ concerns. A movement that fails to root itself in democratic structures is inherently fragile.
The ethical implications are stark. When political mobilisation is primarily a display of wealth and influence, it erodes civic norms, undermines trust in governance, and perpetuates inequality. Politics should empower the people, not intimidate them. Leadership should be earned through competence, integrity, and service, not bought with money or visibility.
In conclusion, the City Boys Movement exemplifies a worrying trend in Nigerian politics: the instrumentalisation of wealth and celebrity to influence, intimidate, and dominate the electorate. While it may generate short-term visibility and enthusiasm, it risks eroding democratic values, marginalising ordinary citizens, and entrenching elitism. True political mobilisation should be measured by inclusion, empathy, competence, and responsiveness — qualities that cannot be purchased or staged.
Nigeria’s democracy demands vigilance. Movements like the City Boys Movement must be critically examined for their structural and ethical implications. Citizens must ask: is this a platform for empowerment and meaningful engagement, or a display of elite dominance intended to impress, intimidate, and influence through material power? The answer will determine whether Nigeria’s political future is shaped by service or spectacle.
Akin Samuel KAYODE. Assistant Secretary, Monitoring and Feedback Committee, The Narrative Force.
