Re-electing a non-performing leader is like asking consumers to buy a rotten mango twice

By Isaac Asabor

There is something fundamentally irrational about a consumer who buys a mango, discovers that it is rotten and unfit for consumption, complains bitterly about the loss of money, yet returns to the same seller to purchase another mango from the same basket. In politics, however, this kind of irrationality is not only possible but is often celebrated as loyalty, solidarity or an expression of political conviction. This is one of the tragedies of democratic participation in Nigeria, where some supporters would rather defend a failing leader than confront the obvious consequences of poor leadership.

The foregoing analogy of a rotten mango is particularly instructive because it strips politics of its usual distractions. It removes party slogans, ethnic sentiments, religious affiliations, campaign theatrics, and the endless excuses offered by political loyalists. What remains is a simple question of value: if a product has failed to satisfy the consumer, why should the consumer pay for it again?

A mango is purchased to be eaten, not to be admired for the seller’s eloquence. Similarly, a political leader is elected to govern, provide direction, protect public interest, and improve the welfare of the people, not merely to occupy an office, deliver stirring speeches, or command an army of enthusiastic supporters on social media.

When a leader’s performance falls below reasonable expectations, campaigning for that leader’s re-election without demanding accountability is tantamount to persuading consumers to make a repeat purchase of the mango they already know to be rotten. It is an invitation to repeat an avoidable mistake while pretending that the outcome will somehow be different.

Democracy is supposed to provide citizens with the opportunity to evaluate their leaders, assess their performance, and decide whether they deserve another mandate. Elections are not loyalty ceremonies in which political supporters must renew their allegiance regardless of the consequences of governance. They are accountability mechanisms through which citizens reward competence and reject failure

Unfortunately, political discourse in Nigeria frequently turns this principle on its head. Instead of measuring leaders against their promises, supporters often measure their loyalty against their willingness to defend those leaders. The more aggressively they defend a politician, the more committed they are considered to be. Meanwhile, the quality of governance, the condition of public infrastructure, the purchasing power of households, access to healthcare, educational opportunities, security, and employment are relegated to the background. This is how political loyalty becomes an instrument of public deception.

A government may preside over worsening economic hardship, declining public confidence, persistent insecurity, or disappointing service delivery, yet some supporters will insist that its leader deserves another term. Their arguments may include the alleged failures of previous administrations, the supposed inadequacy of alternative candidates, or the claim that the leader needs more time to accomplish what has so far proved elusive.

Some of these arguments may deserve consideration. Governance is complicated, and not every problem can be solved within a single term. Circumstances beyond a leader’s control can also affect performance. However, acknowledging these realities is different from granting an incumbent an unlimited licence to underperform.

The relevant question is not whether a leader has encountered difficulties. It is whether the leader has demonstrated the competence, integrity, sound judgment, and capacity to address them.

A seller who discovers that a batch of mangoes is rotten cannot reasonably insist that customers should keep buying from the same basket simply because the seller has promised to improve the quality of the next batch. At some point, the seller must demonstrate that the product has changed. Political leaders should be subjected to the same basic standard of accountability.

On a warning note, particularly as Nigerians approach January 2027, the fact that promises are not performance. Intentions are not achievements should not be forgotten. In fact, speeches are not substitutes for measurable improvements in people’s lives.

If a leader promised economic relief but households are still struggling to afford basic necessities, supporters must explain what has improved and why the existing difficulties should be considered acceptable. If a leader promised security but citizens remain exposed to violence and uncertainty, the conversation must centre on results, not rhetorical assurances. If public resources are committed to development but citizens cannot point to commensurate improvements, the appropriate response is scrutiny, not unquestioning applause.

In fact, the danger of campaigning for a non-performing leader is not limited to the possibility of another electoral victory. It also encourages a political culture in which failure carries no meaningful consequences.

When politicians discover that they can disappoint the electorate and still rely on ethnic solidarity, religious sentiment, party loyalty, patronage, or financial inducements to secure another mandate, the incentive to perform diminishes. Why would a politician prioritize the public interest when political survival can be guaranteed by manipulating the sentiments of supporters? This is the point at which democracy risks becoming a marketplace of emotional transactions rather than a system of responsible governance.

Citizens must also recognize that political decisions have economic consequences. When consumers buy a bad product, they lose money and may suffer inconvenience or harm. When voters return an ineffective leader to office, the consequences can extend far beyond an individual household. Poor governance can affect millions of people through rising living costs, unemployment, deteriorating public services, weak institutions, and missed development opportunities.

The irony is that the most enthusiastic defenders of a failing administration are not necessarily protected from its failures. The cost of food does not ask which political party a household supports before rising. Insecurity does not necessarily spare citizens because they defended the government responsible for addressing it. A struggling public hospital does not provide preferential treatment to a patient whose political allegiance is known. The reason for citing the foregoing likely circumstances in this context cannot be farfetched as hardship is often indifferent to political loyalty.

This reality makes it particularly troubling when citizens defend political leaders with greater passion than they defend their own economic interests and fundamental rights. Political parties may have their own calculations, but ordinary citizens must live with the consequences of the decisions made by those they elect.

It is therefore necessary to distinguish between supporting a political party and excusing a politician’s failures. A party may have a history, ideology, or programme that a citizen genuinely believes in. Nevertheless, such attachment should not prevent that citizen from questioning an incumbent whose performance contradicts the party’s stated objectives.

Indeed, genuine political commitment should encourage accountability. A supporter who demands better performance is not necessarily an enemy of the government. Such a supporter may be acting in the best interests of the party, the country, and the electorate.

Blind loyalty, by contrast, protects the individual politician at the expense of the institution and the public.

There is also a moral dimension to this problem. Campaigning for a leader’s second term is not inherently wrong. An incumbent who has demonstrated competence, respected democratic institutions, improved public welfare, and delivered on important commitments can legitimately seek another mandate. Continuity can be valuable when it consolidates genuine progress.

But continuity without accountability is merely the extension of an arrangement whose value has not been established.

A second term should not be treated as a reward for occupying public office. It should be earned through performance. The burden of persuasion rests on those asking citizens to renew the mandate of an incumbent: they must show what the leader has achieved, what remains unfinished, why the failures occurred, and what credible evidence suggests that another term will produce better results.

Given the backdrop of the foregoing view, it is germane to opine that simply insisting that the leader deserves another opportunity because political opponents are supposedly worse is not enough. That argument reduces democratic choice to a contest of excuses. It also assumes, without sufficient justification, that citizens must choose between the incumbent and the least attractive alternative rather than demand a higher standard from everyone seeking public office.

The rotten-mango analogy is not an argument against forgiveness, patience, or the possibility of improvement. It is an argument against rewarding demonstrated failure without evidence of meaningful change. A mango that was rotten yesterday may be replaced by a fresh one today, but the consumer is entitled to inspect the product rather than purchase it again on the strength of the seller’s assurances.

Likewise, a leader who has performed poorly can attempt to regain public confidence by acknowledging mistakes, correcting failed policies, demonstrating measurable improvements, and submitting to transparent scrutiny. What should not be acceptable is the expectation that citizens must forget their experiences simply because another election is approaching.

Ultimately, the responsibility of political supporters is not to protect leaders from the consequences of their decisions. It is to help ensure that public office remains a responsibility rather than a private entitlement.

Nigeria cannot build a culture of accountability if citizens consistently treat political loyalty as more important than performance. Neither can the country make meaningful progress if every election becomes an opportunity to repackage disappointment and sell it to the electorate as new optimism.

The question supporters must answer before campaigning for a non-performing leader’s second term is straightforward: what has changed sufficiently to justify another purchase?

If they cannot provide a credible answer, they should stop asking citizens to confuse loyalty with wisdom.

Nobody should be compelled to buy a rotten mango twice merely because the seller is politically connected, speaks persuasively, or belongs to the buyer’s preferred group. And nobody should be persuaded to renew a political mandate simply because admitting failure has become inconvenient for the leader’s supporters.

In a democracy, the electorate is not a captive market. Political leaders are not indispensable brands, and public office is not a product that must be purchased repeatedly regardless of quality.

In fact, a second term is a privilege to be earned, not a reward to be demanded. When performance has failed the people, the most responsible campaign may not be for another term but for a better alternative.

Isaac Asabor is a Public Policy Analyst.