Imagine the opposition parties decide to sit out next year’s elections. What would that mean for the country and its democracy? Is boycotting truly the best path forward? History offers a sobering answer.
Cameroon and Tanzania recently saw opposition boycotts, yet the election results remained largely unchallenged on the global stage. In 2000, Ivory Coast’s massive opposition boycott led to a mere 37.4% voter turnout. Similar stories unfolded in Gambia’s 2002 parliamentary elections, Guinea in 2003, and Ivory Coast’s 2020 presidential race. The boycott has become a regular weapon for political opposition since the Cold War’s end. As new democracies sprouted in Eastern Europe, Latin America, and Africa, contested elections surged, and so did boycotts. In 1989, only 4% of global elections faced boycotts; by 2002, that figure jumped to 15%. Between 1995 and 2004, nearly 10 elections each year were boycotted on average.
Zimbabwe’s 2005 crisis offers a stark lesson. The opposition Movement for Democratic Change, led by Morgan Tsvangirai, fractured over boycott debates. Dithering cost them 16 seats in parliamentary elections. Tsvangirai then boycotted the new Senate elections, calling it a rubber stamp for Robert Mugabe. The party split, Tsvangirai lost his mandate, and Mugabe’s ZANU-PF captured 49 of 66 Senate seats. Tsvangirai later participated in the 2008 elections, achieving near-parity in seats, but he undercut himself again. After outpacing Mugabe in the first presidential round, he boycotted the runoff, handing Mugabe an easy victory. A power-sharing deal followed, but Mugabe retained the top post.
Logistical preparations for elections demand early opposition participation to avoid missing registration windows. Too often, parties decide too late, harming their chances. The threat of a boycott can yield leverage, but participation is essential to reap benefits. Sitting out is almost always a losing gamble.
Boycotts can work under specific conditions. When international attention is high, a boycott can pressure incumbents. South Africa’s 1994 election is a prime example. Mangosuthu Buthelezi’s boycott threat and denouncement of the process as unfair forced Nelson Mandela to abolish the single vote system and amend the constitution on local self-government. Boycotts also pay dividends when paired with street protests. In Bangladesh’s 1996 election, the Awami League launched massive protests alongside a boycott, pushing the government to hold a new election, which the opposition won.
The phrase “Boycott the boycottables” entered Nigeria’s political vocabulary through Chief Mazi Mbonu Ojike (1912-1956). It was a rallying cry for nationalism, promoting traditional Nigerian clothes over English styles. Ojike never meant it for elections. Born in Akeme, Arochukwu, he became a teacher, then a politician and minister. He studied in the U.S., co-founded the African Students Association of America and Canada with Kwame Nkrumah, and returned to Nigeria to fight for independence with Nnamdi Azikiwe. He died in 1956.
The word “boycott” first hit Nigeria’s elections in 1964. That year, the NPC returned 60 candidates unopposed, sparking outrage from the NCNC-led UPGA. Tensions escalated, with UPGA threatening a boycott. The election descended into chaos: partial voting in the North, limited turnout in Lagos, and a complete boycott in the East. President Azikiwe intervened, warning of national disintegration. He eventually called on Prime Minister Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa to form a broadly based government. The boycott was averted through political compromise.
My advice to today’s opposition is clear: do not boycott. Choosing to sit out is almost a losing proposition. Threaten, but participate. History shows that engagement, not withdrawal, is the path to influence.
Eric Teniola, a former director at the Presidency, wrote from Lagos.
