Reward System: The Silent Killer of Nigerian Politics.

Reward System: The Silent Killer of Nigerian Politics.

By: UMAR ALIYU 

In Nigerian politics, enemies are often easy to identify. They are the opposition parties, rival aspirants, critical commentators, or restless civil society voices. Leaders spend sleepless nights scheming how to silence, weaken, or outwit them. Yet, the truth remains: the fiercest threat to any government does not always come from the opposition. It often comes from within from the very circle of men and women who once swore allegiance, who risked all to deliver victory, but who later feel abandoned, ignored, or cheated.

At the root of this internal rebellion lies one of the most neglected aspects of our political culture: the reward system.

Campaigns in Nigeria are no small feat. They require foot soldiers who traverse dangerous terrains, young people who dominate social media spaces, women who mobilize voters in markets, religious and traditional leaders who lend their credibility, and financiers who risk fortunes without guarantees. The long nights, the insults from opponents, the sacrifices made none of these are forgotten by those who put their necks on the line for their candidate.

But when victory comes, the story changes. Suddenly, those who labored are nowhere near the corridors of power. They watch, in disbelief, as strangers who never attended a single campaign meeting, opportunists who were even openly opposed to the project, find their way into appointments, contracts, and influence.

This betrayal of loyalty is not new. It is a recurring decimal in Nigerian politics, from the First Republic to the present day. And every time, the consequences are the same: bitterness, division, and rebellion.

Politics is a game of loyalty. Nigerian politicians know too well that elections are not won by manifestos or promises alone they are won by structures and sacrifices. Loyalty is the currency that drives this machinery. When that loyalty is not rewarded, it mutates into resentment.

This resentment then becomes the fuel for political crisis. Rumors gain traction. Allegations stick. Smear campaigns find willing amplifiers. Defections multiply. What begins as a silent grumble in the backyard soon explodes into a firestorm.

Had the reward system been functional, most of these crises would die within the blink of an eye. Supporters would voluntarily defend their leaders against attacks. They would reject opposition propaganda because their loyalty had been validated. Instead, we see the opposite: former allies turning into the loudest critics, because the system that should have recognized them abandoned them.

In Nigeria, the word “reward” is often mistaken for money or political appointment. While these are significant, reward in politics goes far beyond material benefits. Sometimes, all a grassroots mobilizer needs is recognition. Sometimes, a loyal supporter only wants access or inclusion in decision-making.

A phone call of appreciation from the governor, a handshake at the Presidential Villa, a mention during a public speech these may sound small, but in the Nigerian political context, they carry enormous weight. They affirm belonging. They communicate respect. They prove that sacrifice was not wasted.

But when leaders overlook these basic gestures, the effect is devastating. In a culture where belonging and visibility matter, exclusion feels like betrayal.

One reason the reward system collapses in Nigeria is the culture of opportunism. As soon as a candidate wins an election, opportunists begin to flood the corridors of power. Many of them are the very people who opposed the candidate during campaigns, but once victory is secured, they rebrand themselves as “long-time allies.”

Because they are skilled in flattery, manipulation, and self-promotion, these opportunists easily secure the ears of the leader. Before long, they occupy sensitive positions and access juicy privileges, while the real soldiers who fought for victory are left in the cold.

This is one of the greatest tragedies of Nigerian politics: it rewards betrayal more than loyalty. It promotes opportunism over sacrifice. And it sends a dangerous message that standing by a leader during the hard times is foolish, while joining him after victory pays better.

Our history is littered with examples. From the collapse of the First Republic to the endless crises within the Second Republic, and even in the Fourth Republic we live in today, internal betrayal has often proved more dangerous than opposition attacks.

During the Obasanjo era, many of his fiercest critics were once his close allies who felt sidelined. Jonathan’s presidency was riddled with defections and betrayals from within his own party. Even at state levels, the story repeats itself: governors find themselves fighting internal wars created not by the opposition, but by disgruntled loyalists who feel used and dumped.

Every time, the same mistake is made leaders underestimate the power of an aggrieved insider. They assume loyalty is eternal. They forget that in Nigeria’s political battlefield, neglect turns friends into foes faster than any opposition propaganda.

Much is said about crisis management in Nigeria: how to respond to allegations, handle scandals, or counter opposition narratives. But the easiest way to manage a crisis is to prevent it and prevention begins with a functional reward system.

Imagine a political party where loyalists are properly recognized. Imagine a governor who ensures that those who carried him on their shoulders into office are not abandoned. Imagine a president who resists opportunists and rewards genuine soldiers. In such a system, no allegation would easily take root, because supporters themselves would shut it down. The fire of propaganda would not last, because a loyal base would quench it before it spreads.

But what we see today is the opposite. Leaders ignore their soldiers and then scramble to contain fires those soldiers themselves ignite out of bitterness. They set up media teams to “fight back,” forgetting that the most powerful defense is not paid PR—it is genuine loyalty.

The Nigerian leader who wants peace and stability must internalize this lesson: loyalty is not infinite. It must be nurtured, rewarded, and sustained.

Reward does not mean rewarding everyone equally it means rewarding fairly. Those who carried the heaviest load should not be left empty-handed. Those who were first in the struggle should not be last in the benefits. Those who stood when it was difficult must not be pushed aside when it is easy.

A fair reward system builds confidence. It keeps the party united. It ensures that the energy that secured victory is not turned against the government. And, most importantly, it shields leaders from avoidable crises.

Conclusion

Nigerian politics is fragile not because the opposition is always strong, but because internal betrayal is often stronger. At the root of this betrayal is a broken reward system. Leaders who fail to recognize this truth end up fighting unnecessary wars.

The lesson is clear: a functional reward system is not a luxury it is survival. It is not an act of kindness it is political strategy. If leaders fix the reward system, they quench the fire of rebellion. If they ignore it, they will continue to fight fires they lit themselves.

In Nigerian politics, nothing is more dangerous than neglecting those who carried you to victory. When reward fails, crisis prevails.