Once upon a time in Nigeria, leadership was about integrity, competence, and the ability to inspire trust. Today, it seems the main qualification for public appointments is… how many Instagram followers you have.
We are now in an era where being famous for anything — or nothing — is more valuable than being known for honesty or service. We’ve turned governance into a talent show, where the loudest, trendiest, or most controversial personalities get handed roles that affect millions of lives.
If you have a viral dance, a catchy catchphrase, or a scandal that trended on Twitter or TikTok, congratulations — you’re halfway to becoming an ambassador. It doesn’t matter if your public record is a cautionary tale. In fact, the more colourful your past, the more “relatable” you apparently are.
It’s a dangerous shift. When public appointment become stages for personal branding rather than platforms for public good, we send a clear message to the next generation: integrity is optional, fame is everything. Young Nigerians see it. They’re learning fast that it’s better to be notorious than to be noble — because notoriety gets rewarded with titles, photo-ops, and government contracts.
This isn’t just a harmless cultural quirk; it’s a slow erosion of our moral foundation. The danger is not only in who we appoint, but in what we normalise. If leadership is about popularity over principles, then corruption is no longer a shame — it’s just a PR problem.
We must ask ourselves: when did we stop believing in character? When did the office of public trust become a consolation prize for celebrity? And more importantly, do we realise that when we cheer these appointments, we are clapping for our own decline?
Fame is fleeting. Character is forever. Nigeria can survive a shortage of celebrities. What it cannot survive is a shortage of integrity.
