The Desmond Elliot–Gbajabiamila episode and the dignity of democracy
By Akin Samuel KAYODE
There are political images that disappear with the news cycle, and there are those that force society to pause and look at itself. The sight of Desmond Elliot kneeling, prostrating and pleading for forgiveness before Femi Gbajabiamila is one such image. It has sparked debate not simply because of the personalities involved, but because it raises a fundamental question about Nigerian politics: when does respect for a political mentor become submission to a political godfather?
Let us be clear: there is nothing inherently wrong with apologising to an elder. In our culture, prostration can express humility, remorse and respect. If Elliot believed he had offended an elder he respects, seeking forgiveness is not, by itself, deserving of condemnation.
However, politics introduces another dimension.
The issue is not that Desmond Elliot apologised. The bigger question is what it means when an elected representative appears before another politician, prostrating and pleading for forgiveness after a political disagreement.
That is where the image becomes bigger than the individuals involved.
Elliot is an elected politician, while Gbajabiamila is a highly influential political figure with whom he has shared a long political relationship. Their encounter therefore cannot be viewed solely through the lens of family or cultural relations. It inevitably raises questions about political hierarchy, influence, loyalty and independence.
Who Owns the Political Mandate?
In a democracy, an elected representative derives his constitutional authority from the people. Political parties provide platforms, mentors offer guidance and political leaders may provide support, but none owns the mandate of the electorate.
The moment an individual becomes more important to a politician’s political survival than the people who elected him, democracy begins to lose something fundamental.
And that is the uncomfortable question the Elliot-Gbajabiamila episode presents:
Why should an elected politician ever feel that his political future depends on securing the forgiveness of another politician?
Perhaps the answer lies in Nigeria’s long and complicated relationship with political godfatherism.
Godfatherism does not always begin as something sinister. It can start with mentorship, political apprenticeship, financial support, networking and genuine assistance. Experienced politicians naturally help younger politicians navigate a difficult political environment.
There is nothing wrong with that.
The problem begins when mentorship becomes ownership.
A mentor teaches a younger politician how to navigate politics. A godfather expects political loyalty in return for political investment. A mentor encourages independent thinking. An unhealthy godfather expects obedience.
A mentor wants his protégé to become a stronger leader. A political controller wants the protégé to remain dependent.
That distinction lies at the heart of this debate.
The Surulere Question
Elliot’s apology should not be mocked, and Gbajabiamila should not automatically be condemned because of the image. Neither position addresses the deeper issue.
What deserves scrutiny is the political culture that makes such a spectacle possible and the power relationships that may exist beneath it.
Recent events surrounding the Surulere political contest have made those relationships particularly significant. Elliot sought another term, while Barakat Odunuga-Bakare emerged as the preferred candidate of the political structure associated with Gbajabiamila.
The ensuing dispute, Elliot’s objections and his eventual public apology have transformed what might otherwise have been an ordinary party disagreement into a wider conversation about political influence and independence.
Nobody should suggest that Gbajabiamila has no right to support a candidate. He does. Political leaders have every right to express preferences, mobilise support and participate actively in party politics.
But democracy demands that influence must never become ownership.
A political leader can influence a party without owning it. A mentor can guide a politician without owning his conscience. A benefactor can help someone enter politics without acquiring permanent ownership of his political destiny.
Once that boundary disappears, internal democracy becomes fragile.
When Accountability Changes Direction
The danger is that politicians may begin asking the wrong question.
Instead of asking, “What do my constituents expect from me?” they begin asking, “What does my political benefactor expect from me?”
Instead of worrying primarily about losing the confidence of the electorate, they become more concerned about losing the favour of the political establishment.
That is how political accountability quietly changes direction.
The representative who should be looking outward towards the people begins looking upward towards the powerful.
And when that happens, the voter becomes secondary.
This is why Elliot’s image should not become merely an object of social-media ridicule. It should become an opportunity for democratic reflection. Laughing at the picture is easy. Understanding what it potentially says about our political culture is much more important.
For generations, Nigerian politics has struggled with the excessive concentration of political influence around individuals. Powerful political figures have sometimes determined who gets tickets, who receives political protection, who rises and who falls.
The names and parties may change, but the structure remains familiar.
A young politician enters the system through the support of a powerful figure. He rises, gains public office and eventually develops ambitions of his own. When those ambitions collide with the interests of the political establishment, the relationship is tested.
If independence is interpreted as disloyalty, the protégé discovers that the same political machinery that lifted him can also become the machinery that constrains him.
That is the tragedy of political dependency.
Politicians Must Also Take Responsibility
But politicians themselves have a responsibility.
Anyone who enters public life must understand that political sponsorship cannot replace a genuine relationship with the people. A politician may be introduced to power by a godfather, but he must eventually build a constituency of his own through service, competence, integrity and trust.
Otherwise, he may occupy public office without ever becoming politically independent.
Our political elders also have a responsibility. If they genuinely want to develop the next generation, they must create leaders who can eventually stand on their own.
The greatest achievement of a political mentor should not be the number of loyal followers around him, but the number of independent leaders he has helped produce.
A mentor should be proud when his protégé becomes strong enough to disagree with him.
That is leadership.
If disagreement automatically becomes betrayal, then political mentorship has already crossed into political control.
Political parties must equally examine themselves. Internal democracy cannot simply mean holding a primary election. It means creating an environment where members can compete fairly, express disagreement, organise freely and accept outcomes produced by transparent rules rather than fear, intimidation or personal influence.
The ultimate test of a democratic political structure is not whether its leaders are powerful. It is whether its institutions are strong enough to restrain the powerful.
That is the lesson Nigeria must learn.
The Voter Must Come First
We should not build a political culture in which young politicians are taught that access to power is more important than principles, personal loyalty is more valuable than public accountability, or proximity to a godfather is the shortest route to political relevance.
The voter must come first.
The people who endure poor roads, insecurity, unemployment, failing schools and rising living costs are the same people whose votes confer legitimacy on those who occupy public office. Their mandate should never become an instrument of private political negotiation.
A politician may have a mentor.
He may have an elder.
He may have a benefactor.
He may have a political family.
But the ultimate political godfather in a democracy must be the people.
The Elliot-Gbajabiamila episode should therefore not be reduced to whether one man was right and another was wrong. It should provoke a more important national conversation:
Are our politicians representatives of the people, or are too many becoming dependants of political establishments?
There is nothing undemocratic about respect. There is nothing shameful about apology. There is nothing wrong with political mentorship.
But there is something deeply troubling when political influence becomes so overwhelming that an elected politician appears compelled to seek personal absolution from another politician over a political disagreement.
Democracy requires citizens to elect representatives, not subjects to political patrons.
Political mentorship should produce leaders, not dependants. Political parties should build institutions, not personal empires. Political influence should persuade, not intimidate. And political loyalty should never require the surrender of conscience.
The picture from Surulere has therefore given Nigeria more than a political spectacle. It has given us a question that deserves an honest answer:
When does the godfather become bigger than the mandate?
The answer in a genuine democracy should always be: never.
Because the people must remain bigger than the godfather, the mandate must remain bigger than the mentor, and the Constitution must remain bigger than every political personality.
Akin Samuel KAYODE
Member, The Narrative Force
