From Dancing While Nigeria Drowns
They told you it was power. They called it sacred, revolutionary, your divine weapon against tyranny. “Go and get your PVC,” they chanted from every pulpit, podium, and parody of activism.
Your PVC—Permanent Voter’s Card—was your passport to change, they said.
But they lied. Again.
What they handed you wasn’t empowerment. It was a ritualistic ticket to ritualistic betrayal. A ceremonial object with no real weight, only symbolic shackles. In Nigeria, the PVC does not elect leaders—it renews leases for looters. It legitimizes the illusion of choice. It’s the holy grail of a rigged democracy, a talisman sold to the hopeful, and weaponized by the powerful.
You queued under the sun. Some of you slept at INEC offices. Others fought at centers with no power, no staff, no system. You filled out forms, smiled for faulty cameras, held up your cards like liberation scrolls. And on election day, you walked long distances, praying for credibility.
Then came the sorcery.
Ballot boxes disappeared. Accreditation machines failed selectively. Polling agents vanished. And when the results were finally announced, they bore no resemblance to the will of the people. Instead, they reflected the mathematics of manipulation, the algebra of impunity.
And yet—every four years—you return.
Like a moth to an inferno. Like a lover to abuse. You update your PVC, convinced that this time will be different. That this candidate means well. That this election will be fair. That this vote will count. And every four years, the outcome slaps you with the same precision as before.
Your PVC is not power. It is placebo.
It is the illusion of inclusion in a process you do not control. It is the government’s favorite tool of performance—proof that you participated in your own erasure. And every time you wave it on social media with hashtags like #MyVoteCounts, the gods of Abuja laugh.
Because they know: it doesn’t.
They know the game is rigged from the gate. That the parties are two sides of the same counterfeit coin. That primaries are auctions, not contests. That vote-buying is more efficient than campaigning. That loyalty is ethnic, not ethical. And that when push comes to coup, the court will always ratify robbery.
So why do you keep voting?
Because you’ve been trained to confuse participation with progress. Because they’ve turned elections into liturgies, and made you believe your suffering is caused by your apathy—not by their betrayal. Because you think being seen queuing means you’re a patriot, not a pawn.
And because hope is the last lie to die in Nigeria.
Read also: INEC Breaks Silence Over PVCs Dumped In Streets
The PVC was meant to be a symbol of citizenship. Today, it’s a certificate of complicity. A voter’s curse disguised as civic duty. You hold it up, they hold you down.
And the cycle continues.
Until the citizen stops confusing ballot boxes with liberation. Until we realize that true democracy is not participation in pre-rigged elections, but disruption of their rituals. Until we understand that a stolen vote is not just a political crime—it’s spiritual theft.
They say the people deserve their leaders.
But what happens when the people never really choose them?
Professor MarkAnthony Ujunwa Nze is a distinguished Nigerian-born investigative journalist, public intellectual, and global governance analyst, whose work spans critical intersections of media, law, and policy. His expertise extends across strategic management, leadership, and international business law, where he brings a nuanced understanding of institutional dynamics, cross-border legal frameworks, and executive decision-making in complex global environments.
Currently based in New York, Professor Nze serves as a full tenured professor at the New York Centre for Advanced Research. There, he spearheads interdisciplinary research at the forefront of governance innovation, corporate strategy, and geopolitical risk. Widely respected for his intellectual rigor and principled advocacy, he remains a vital voice in shaping ethical leadership and sustainable governance across emerging and established democracies.