THE PRICE OF ARROGANCE — Terver Akase THE PRICE OF ARROGANCE — Terver Akase

On a dusty road in  small town in Nigeria, a convoy tore through the afternoon, sirens screaming, clearing traders and schoolchildren from its path. At the centre of it sat a newly elected leader of the state, dark glasses on; his bodyguards waving and cautioning irritably at anyone who delayed his passage. An old woman selling roasted corn by the roadside muttered in pidgin, “Power don enter this one head.” No one corrected her.

• In Nigeria, arrogance does not knock; it arrives with a convoy. Sirens first, sense later, if at all. A man who once shared plastic chairs and even food at campaign rallies suddenly develops an allergy to eye contact. The road must be cleared, not because he is in a hurry, but because power, like royalty, hates delay.

A man who yesterday begged for votes today clears the road as if the citizens are obstacles, not employers. Dark glasses, tinted windows, inflated ego. Democracy, apparently, must wait while arrogance passes.

Arrogance is the fastest thing to enter office, faster than policy, faster than competence, faster even than the oath of office. By the second week, the leader no longer walks; he arrives. By the third, he no longer explains; he announces. By the fourth, he no longer listens; he lectures. He is ready to sack any appointee who dares question his decisions. The transformation is miraculous. We should add it to the constitution.

In our politics, arrogance is sold. Those who have no antecedent in politics and leadership are suddenly enthroned. The louder the voice, the stronger the leader. The angrier the threat, the firmer the hand. A refusal to answer questions is rebranded as “focus.” Silence in the face of suffering and insecurity becomes “strategy.” Failure to give account of the stewardship is never failure; it is “misinterpretation by the public.” The people, naturally, are always the problem.

When the people complain, they are told to be patient, patriotic, or quiet. Preferably quiet.

Arrogance hates accountability. It prefers praise singers with microphones and advisers whose only qualification is loyalty. Data is ignored. Security is abhored. Expertise is overrated. Anyone who disagrees is labelled an enemy, a hater, or most dangerously a “saboteur.” After all, how dare they challenge authority?

When the bill finally comes, arrogance suddenly becomes philosophical. The same leader who dismissed criticism begins to speak of destiny. He wonders aloud why the people have turned against him, as if arrogance were invisible and insults left no bruises.

The price of arrogance is steep and non-negotiable.

Mr. Terver Akase, Former Special Adviser on Media to former Governor of Benue State