The theatre of power at the airport — by Kayode Adebiyi
Innocent Raphael5 hours ago
3 minutes read
One thing I have never been able to make sense of, even as a young boy growing up under military rule, is the ritual of ministers and senior government officials rushing to the airport whenever the President is travelling or returning from a trip.
You see them line up in a single file at the foot of the aircraft. Handshakes, one after the other. A few nods. The President gets into his convoy and drives off, and they quietly disperse. Sometimes, it is even more puzzling.
The president is the one traveling, yet these officials abandon their desks, leave their ministries and agencies behind, and head to the airport just to shake his hand before he boards a plane.
They are not traveling with him.
They are not attending any briefing.
They are not receiving instructions.
They are simply there to be seen.
Growing up, I was told this was a carryover from military tradition. In the armed forces, junior officers line up to receive or see off a very senior officer visiting a base. When soldiers took over governance, that culture followed them into public administration. That explanation may explain how it started, but it does not explain why it has refused to die.
In a modern democracy, this practice makes little sense. It wastes hours that should be spent doing actual work. Ministries do not pause because a president is boarding a plane. Files do not stop piling up. Problems do not go on hold.
Yet senior officials leave all of that behind for a few seconds of ceremony. It also costs money. Convoys, security deployments, fuel, and logistics are deployed for a ritual that adds nothing to governance. Worse still, it creates avoidable security risks by clustering top officials in one exposed location for no practical reason.
Beyond the cost and inefficiency, the symbolism is deeply troubling. It reinforces a culture of performative loyalty to a leader. Proximity to power becomes more important than work performance. Governance turns into theatre and leadership into hero-worship.
The media plays a significant role in sustaining this culture. What Nigerian media chooses to amplify often mirrors our broader habit of turning leaders into personality cults. Cameras are rolled for airport arrivals and departures. Handshakes are framed as news. Optics are elevated above outcomes. In doing so, the media does not just report the spectacle, it legitimises it.
I live in the UK. Just last week, the Prime Minister travelled to China, spent several days there, and returned home. There was no national news coverage of his departure from any London airport. No footage of his arrival. No ministers lining up for televised handshakes. The focus was on why he went, what was discussed, and what the country stood to gain.
That contrast matters. Media attention shapes political behaviour. When a ceremony is rewarded with airtime, politicians will continue to perform the ceremony. But if no television station showed up at the airport, if no headline was written, if no clip was broadcast, much of this handshake charade would quietly fade away.
In serious democracies, leaders travel with a small operational team. Ministers stay at their desks. Government continues. There are briefings before departure and reports after return, not choreographed displays on airport tarmacs.
So, the question remains simple. Why should a minister abandon pressing national duties just to stand on a runway for a few seconds of performative respect? If a tradition survives only because it flatters power, wastes public resources, and is propped up by media spectacle, then it is not worth preserving.
It is an anachronism. As a reform-minded president, I hope President Bola Tinubu can put a stop to it. It does not matter that past presidents have carried it on for years. Leadership is not about inheriting bad habits. A president has the authority to end it, and Tinubu can. I expect him to.
