Dear Diary,
Why Do Our Leaders Treat Public Office Like Family Inheritance?
Today, Britain reminded me of something I had almost forgotten, Public office is supposed to be temporary.
Revolutionary idea, right?
I know.
Logically, when enough people lose confidence in a leader, that leader can decide that perhaps the chair is no longer worth fighting for and simply leave. Recent events in Britain have once again shown that resignation can be part of political accountability rather than the end of civilization.
Imagine that.
A leader leaving, voluntarily.
Without needing a three-year argument.
Without needing divine intervention.
Without needing citizens to become amateur constitutional lawyers.
Without needing the country to develop high blood pressure first.
Just leaving.
Now before somebody accuses me of romanticizing the West, let me be clear. Western democracies have their own problems, plenty of them. Enough problems to keep political commentators employed for generations, but there is one habit I wish Africa would steal immediately.
The understanding that public office belongs to the public.
Not to the office holder.
Not to their friends.
Not to their political godfathers.
Not to their supporters.
The public.
Strange concept, isn’t it? Because somewhere along the way, many of our politicians began behaving like they were doing us a favour by governing us.
As though leadership is an act of charity.
As though citizens should be grateful that someone agreed to occupy public office.
As though the presidency, governorship, ministry, or legislative seat is a family compound passed from generation to generation.
Let me even ask,
If I hire somebody to manage my business and after several years I am unhappy with their performance, what happens?
Simple…They leave.
If I hire a driver and I no longer trust the driver, what happens?
The driver leaves.
If I hire a chef and the food is consistently terrible, what happens?
The chef leaves.
Simple.
No emotional speeches.
No complicated philosophy.
No twenty-seven committees.
The arrangement ends.
Yet when it comes to politics, something fascinating happens. A public servant suddenly transforms into a permanent landlord, the people become tenants, and everybody is expected to pretend this is normal.
Why?
If the people who gave you legitimacy no longer believe in your leadership, why is leaving treated as a personal insult?
Why is accountability treated like persecution?
Why is criticism treated like treason?
Why do some leaders behave as though the office cannot survive without them?
My favorite version of this phenomenon is when a leader insists:
“I was elected.”
Wonderful, and congratulations.
You were elected to serve, not to own.
A bus driver is hired to drive the bus, the bus does not become his property. The fact that citizens voted for you does not transform public office into private inheritance.
In fact, elections are supposed to be contracts. The people hire, and the leader serves. The people evaluate whether the contract continues or ends.
Simple.
At least in theory.
Now, I know somebody reading this is already preparing an argument.
“Ria, if leaders resign every time people complain, there will be chaos.”
Fair point, but that is not what I am saying. Complaints alone cannot determine leadership.
What matters is sustained loss of public confidence.
What matters is performance.
What matters is legitimacy.
What matters is whether the person still possesses the trust necessary to govern effectively.
Because leadership without trust eventually becomes administration through stubbornness, and stubbornness is not a development strategy.
One thing I admire about countries with stronger accountability cultures is that resignation is not always viewed as failure.
Sometimes it is viewed as responsibility.
Sometimes it is viewed as putting the institution above the individual.
Sometimes it is viewed as recognizing that the office matters more than the occupant.
Africa desperately needs more of that.
Nigeria desperately needs more of that.
We need leaders who understand that stepping aside can be an act of service, not weakness.
Service.
Imagine how different governance would look if politicians feared disappointing citizens as much as they fear losing elections.
Imagine if public approval mattered between elections and not only during campaigns.
Imagine if resignation carried dignity instead of shame.
Imagine if accountability became normal.
Imagine if leaders understood that the ultimate employer is the citizen, not the party, not donors, not political allies, but the citizen.
Because that is what democracy was supposed to be. Government by consent, and not government by endurance.
Sometimes I think our biggest problem is not corruption, not insecurity, and not even poverty.
Sometimes I think our biggest problem is that too many people enter public office believing they are being crowned instead of being hired.
A crown belongs to a king. A job belongs to an employee, and public office, despite all appearances, is still a job. An important job and powerful job, but a job nonetheless. Perhaps if more leaders remembered that, citizens would not have to keep reminding them.
Anyway, maybe the lesson is simple.
The day a leader begins seeing public office as a privilege rather than a possession, democracy begins to breathe easier, and the day citizens start insisting on that principle consistently, democracy becomes much harder to ignore.
Until then, we continue watching grown adults fight over public offices as though their names are written on the furniture.
Which, for the record, they are not.
– Ria
The diary is closing for today.
The questions, unfortunately, remain open.