The Hidden Force That Decides Elections

The Hidden Force That Decides Elections

It takes a great deal of confidence to run for the office of the presidency, especially in a large country like Nigeria. And becoming president, as I have come to realize, does not depend solely on the many physical factors and occurrences that play out on election day.

I have observed that politicians seeking public office often do similar things within our political climate, but those who genuinely believe they deserve the seat often go farther than the rest. They press harder, endure longer, and position themselves more strategically. The office of the presidency, being the highest in the land, requires an immense level of territorial awareness to attain.

Presidents and heads of state often emerge through similar dynamics; the difference lies in scale. The choice of a head of state may once have been made by a select few, whereas the choice of a president is, in principle, determined by many. In developing countries such as Nigeria, the votes of the electorate may not always fully count because of weaknesses in the standardization of the electoral process, though they still count to some extent in many areas.

If the electoral process were fully standardized, as it is in many developed countries, every vote would carry its full weight. The only meaningful way politicians could influence outcomes would be before the voting process itself. Standardization makes irregularities easier to trace and harder to hide. Without it, figures can be written onto result sheets without physical evidence to support them.

Technology can help with standardization, but the merit of technology lies in its proper use. Faulty systems produce faulty outcomes, but often the problem is not the technology itself; it is human misuse. Thus, in many developing countries, the credibility of elections depends largely on the credibility of those administering them. As a country develops and trust grows in those who guide its institutions, confidence in the electoral process deepens.

That said, I believe one singular factor ultimately determines who gets elected president. This factor is not exclusive to the presidency, but its effect weakens as one moves down the ladder of public offices.

That factor is the national mood.

In the modern world, the kind of government practiced by leading nations often shapes how people elsewhere think about governance itself. Excellence, fairly or unfairly, often gets sentimentally tied to the systems under which it appears.

In the United States, there are many political parties, as one would expect in a country that celebrates liberty and free expression. Yet only two dominate public consciousness: the Democratic Party and the Republican Party.

One striking feature of American politics is that one party rarely stays in power indefinitely before a shift occurs. That pattern, I believe, reflects the same singular factor that influences elections around the world. Even in countries where one party has governed for decades, this phenomenon can still be observed beneath the surface.

Does this mean countries with long-ruling leaders have made themselves heavenly places, while countries that regularly change governments have been led poorly? Realistically, no.

Rather, systems in the United States and the United Kingdom tend to place tremendous importance on the sentiments of citizens. In systems where leaders stay for decades, that sensitivity may be weaker.

The tides and waves of a country’s evolution often determine how elections unfold. Popular leaders have lost elections, and unpopular candidates have won. This is not always a contradiction; it is often evidence that a deeper current was moving beneath the surface.

Every country, at a given moment, desires a certain mood. A leader who embodies that mood often becomes electable, sometimes irrespective of personal credentials. During campaigns, credentials alone do not decide elections; they tend to matter more after victory and swearing-in.

When a national mood remains accepted, those in power are secure. When the public grows discontent with that mood, change begins knocking at the door.

Where, then, does the hard work come in?

A politician who rides the wave of public goodwill is often called smart, and rightly so. Doing so requires presence, judgment, and confidence. Yet riding goodwill can also be a gamble, because public moods can shift like the wind. Politics, like sailing, is often less about fighting the tide than knowing when it is changing.

Good works, reputation, and generational influence can provide leverage, but their effects diminish over time unless succeeding generations sustain what built that goodwill in the first place. Even the rise of so-called unpopular candidates often reflects a shift in the national mood that they recognized and seized.

In Nigeria, vote-buying and the distribution of cash incentives and food items can work because material incentives have their own appeal, yet this alone do not determine outcomes. Their influence exists alongside many others: grassroots networks, local political structures, state power, electoral bodies, and, in ideal conditions, votes themselves.

Systems with high integrity have successfully managed to resist the temptation to bend election results in favor of a few and instead leave leadership choices largely to the populace.

Developing systems, however, may still leave room for electoral institutions to influence outcomes after votes are cast. This creates multiple paths for disappointed candidates: seek help from institutions, seek remedy through courts, or confront their own shortcomings and prepare better next time. That difference often separates mature democracies from struggling ones.

Irregularities are part of real systems. Difficult terrain, weak logistics, faulty machines, underage voting, and poor documentation can all create vulnerabilities. These irregularities often become the foundation upon which larger distortions are built. Gaming the system is often simply the exploitation of such weaknesses.

Yet beyond irregularities lies the most critical factor: numbers ; numbers do not lie neither does public support. 

Where irregularities exist, support patterns often still tilt toward one candidate or party. It would be unreasonable for a clearly unpopular candidate to win overwhelmingly in the stronghold of a rival solely through manufactured figures. Even where results are manipulated, they often try to mimic an underlying reality. That, in itself, acknowledges the power of numbers.

Elections in Nigeria are imperfect, but turnout patterns can reveal truths. The credibility of electoral bodies should rest, in part, on whether declared results align with registered voters and observable support.

Where underage voting exists, the deeper irregularity may lie in weak civil registration systems. It is often this lack of order—not merely election-day misconduct—that makes results difficult to verify. In many developed countries, citizen data makes such tracking easier. That is standardization.

Voter apathy, meanwhile, has often been a reaction to disorder. Some citizens conclude that whoever emerges will govern everyone, whether they voted or not. Yet participation remains a measure of interest, belief, and rootedness. A tree with deep roots does not ignore the soil that sustains it.

Leaders shape the direction, movement, and trajectory of nations; elections simply help make that choice. One remarkable feature of working democracies is that even candidates who lose can continue influencing events, though at a different scale. Those who win simply amplify what they already believe.

In life, as in business, results require effort. So it is with nations. But the vision of a leader can either pull desired outcomes closer or push them farther away.

Personally, I believe a leader who truly understands leadership can serve people well irrespective of tribe or culture. The impact of such leadership spreads farther than expected.

Elections, at their best, are democratic exercises aimed at choosing the best person for the job. They are, in their ideal form, a remarkable process.

Candidates invest energy, time, resources, and reputation in seeking office. That alone reflects seriousness.

Does God make choices for citizens during elections?

That is a profound question.

Human beings make choices based on visible considerations; faith often speaks of choices made through seeing the unseen. Perhaps both can coexist. But in democratic systems, citizens make decisions, and the quality of those decisions often reflects the collective wisdom, awareness, and conscience of the people.

When divine choice appears in sacred history, it was rarely democratic. When human beings choose, they also reserve the right to amend their choices at set intervals. That, too, says something about the difference between providence and politics.

Prayers for leaders may arise from hope, suffering, or understanding. And perhaps answers come in many forms. Sometimes through reform. Sometimes through unexpected leadership. Sometimes, as some would argue, even through migration.

Yet in rare moments, a leader emerges who seems to answer both the demands of men and the purposes of God.

And perhaps those are the moments history remembers.