Engr. Kayode Ojo’s political style is not just ambitious; it is sustained by a deliberate presentation of hope. His approach relies on bold promises, strong confidence, and a steady stream of reassurance. Under his influence, even an uncertain path begins to look achievable.
In Ekiti State politics, this style is not entirely new. What makes it stand out is how it stretches belief beyond what normal processes allow. It creates a lingering sense that “something can still happen,” even when the system suggests otherwise. This approach leans heavily on persuasion, repetition, and emotional connection, carefully building a narrative that keeps supporters hopeful and loyal.
The real test of any political style lies in its followers. It may be easy to label some Ekiti people as gullible, but the reality is more complex. Many of Engr. Ojo’s supporters are educated and informed, yet deeply invested—emotionally attached to a message they have heard repeatedly over time.
Within this group, a clear pattern emerges. Some followers have been carried so far by the narrative that questioning it becomes difficult. This is where gullibility quietly sets in—not from lack of intelligence, but from sustained emotional influence. When confident claims are repeated often enough, they begin to feel like truth, even when the facts are uncertain.
At the centre of this situation are two conflicting documents—now presented as the featured image of this article—which challenge the very foundation of the hope sustaining these supporters. Both documents tell a story, but not the same one. One refers to a “temporary resignation,” suggesting a pause with the possibility of return. The other describes a complete resignation, implying full compliance with electoral requirements.
This is not a minor difference in wording. It is a fundamental contradiction. In Nigeria’s electoral system, resignation is absolute—you either resign fully or you do not. There is no legal space for a temporary step aside when eligibility is in question. Treating both positions as equivalent creates a serious legal flaw. This goes beyond technicality. It strikes at the core of eligibility and strengthens the argument for disqualification.
The legal dimension introduces another layer. The issue of pursuing a court case by proxy raises questions about both strategy and expectation. A proxy case means the principal party is not directly before the court. While this may appear tactical, it has clear limitations.
The law recognizes those who are formally part of a case. It responds to direct claims, backed by evidence and participation. Expecting to benefit fully from a case one is not directly involved in creates a disconnect. The court is not a Father Christmas; it does not operate on assumptions or hidden interests. It is guided strictly by records and legal standing. This makes the expectation of benefiting from such an arrangement difficult to sustain.
Yet, despite these realities—the contradictions in the documents, the eligibility concerns, and the limits of a proxy legal strategy—hope persists among a section of supporters. It is strong, but increasingly detached from how the system works. It rests on the belief that something unexpected will happen, that the process will bend, or that the outcome will shift.
However, politics in a democratic setting—especially within a structured party system like the APC—does not run on hope alone. It runs on rules, timelines, and compliance. This is where reality begins to separate people.
Those who are observant and grounded in political processes begin to notice the inconsistencies. They ask questions and connect what is being said with what the system allows. Once that clarity emerges, their response is quiet but deliberate—they step back.
These are not disloyal individuals. They understand that ambition must align with process. They recognize that a weak foundation cannot sustain any structure. These are people with vision—able to see beyond the noise. Their withdrawal is not dramatic, but it is decisive. They opt out because they understand that the ambition, as it stands, is not achievable within the existing legal and political framework.
However, not everyone can step back so easily. Another group remains—those too deeply invested in the narrative to disengage. They hold on, defend the position, and dismiss opposing views, even as contradictions become clearer.
This is where political “hypnotism” becomes a useful description. Not literal hypnosis, but a condition where repeated messaging takes such deep root that reality struggles to break through. For these supporters, stepping back is not just political—it is psychological. It requires admitting that their long-held belief may be misplaced.
That is not an easy step. It becomes even harder in an environment where dissent is discouraged. Those who withdraw are often labeled disloyal or compromised, creating pressure on others who may share doubts but remain silent. This sustains the cycle and prolongs belief beyond its natural limit.
Plato’s allegory of the cave offers a useful lens here. Prisoners, chained in darkness, mistake shadows for reality. When one escapes and discovers the truth, he returns to enlighten others, only to be rejected and threatened. They prefer the familiar illusion to an uncomfortable reality.
In this context, the cave represents the mental constraints surrounding Engr. Ojo’s supporters. Those who have stepped away—such as Hon. Lanre Fayemi, Lanre Ogunjobi, and Parabola—symbolize individuals who have gained clarity. They have seen beyond the narrative and recognized the reality of Ekiti’s political situation. Hence, they are labeled a bad dog in other to hang them.
What we are witnessing is a clash between belief and reality. On one side is a carefully constructed narrative driven by emotion and confidence. On the other is a system that demands consistency, legality, and clarity. As time passes, this gap becomes harder to ignore.
Ultimately, this goes beyond one individual. It speaks to a broader truth about politics: no matter how compelling a narrative may be, it cannot override due process. Belief, no matter how strong, must eventually confront reality. True political awareness lies not just in support, but in understanding the rules. Because in the end, outcomes are not determined by the loudest voices, but by the strength of the foundation on which ambition stands.
Idowu Ephraim Faleye writes from Ado-Ekiti +2348132100608
