What happens when opposition parties decide to sit out an election? It is a question that demands urgent reflection as Nigeria approaches its next electoral cycle. History offers stark warnings: boycotts rarely deliver the desired results, and more often than not, they backfire spectacularly.
Consider the recent examples of Cameroon and Tanzania. Opposition boycotts there failed to alter the legitimacy of the results. In Ivory Coast’s 2020 presidential election, a massive opposition boycott produced a meager 37.4% voter turnout, yet the government remained unchanged. Gambia’s 2002 parliamentary election and Guinea’s 2003 polls tell the same story.
The trend is global. Since the Cold War ended, election boycotts have become a regular weapon for political opposition. In 1989, only 4% of worldwide elections faced boycotts. By 2002, that figure had jumped to 15%. Between 1995 and 2004, an average of nearly 10 elections per year were boycotted. The results? Mostly disappointment.
Zimbabwe offers a cautionary tale. In 2005, the opposition Movement for Democratic Change, led by Morgan Tsvangirai, fractured over whether to boycott parliamentary elections. The indecision kept registration numbers low, costing the party 16 seats. Then Tsvangirai made a fateful choice: boycott the newly created Senate elections, calling the body a rubber stamp for Robert Mugabe. The move split the party, and Mugabe’s ZANU-PF captured 49 of 66 Senate seats. Tsvangirai later participated in the 2008 elections, achieving near-parity in parliament. But in the presidential race, he outpaced Mugabe in the first round, only to boycott the runoff after the government claimed he fell short of the 50% threshold. Mugabe won handily. A power-sharing deal later gave the MDC a stake in government, but Tsvangirai’s boycott allowed Mugabe to cling to the top job.
The lesson is clear: boycotts are a losing proposition. Opposition parties must be coaxed into participation early to avoid missing registration windows. The threat of a boycott can extract concessions, but only if the opposition ultimately shows up to vote. Sitting out is almost always a mistake.
There are rare exceptions. When international attention is high, a boycott can amplify pressure on incumbents. In South Africa’s 1994 election, Mangosuthu Buthelezi’s threat to boycott forced Nelson Mandela to abolish the single-vote system and amend the constitution on local self-government. Similarly, in Bangladesh’s 1996 election, the Awami League’s boycott, combined with massive street protests, pushed the government to hold a new vote, which the opposition won.
But these are outliers. The slogan “Boycott the boycottables” was coined in Nigeria by Chief Mazi Mbonu Ojike, a nationalist who urged Nigerians to embrace traditional clothes over English styles. He never meant it as a call to shun elections. Ojike, born in 1912 in Arochukwu, was a fierce advocate for independence. He studied in the United States, co-founded the African Students Association with Kwame Nkrumah, and returned to Nigeria to join Nnamdi Azikiwe’s National Council of Nigerian Citizens. He died in 1956, leaving behind a legacy of activism, not electoral absenteeism.
Nigeria’s own history underscores the futility of boycotts. In 1964, the opposition United Progressive Grand Alliance threatened to boycott elections after the ruling Nigerian National Alliance returned 60 candidates unopposed in the North. The crisis deepened. President Nnamdi Azikiwe, fearing disintegration, intervened personally. He brokered a compromise, forming a broadly based national government. The boycott was averted, and the politicians recognized its emptiness.
My advice to today’s opposition: do not boycott. Threaten, yes. Bargain for concessions. But participate. Choosing to sit out is almost always a losing proposition. History has proven it time and again.
