There is something deeply troubling about the image of a local government chairman standing before commercial drivers and warning them that they could be denied access to a motor park for wearing the colours or symbols of a political party other than his own. That is the controversy now surrounding Blessing Albert Ebhodaghe, chairman of Esan West Local Government Area of Edo State, following a video circulated on social media in which he appears to issue such a warning to drivers at Onitsha Park in Ekpoma, the council headquarters.
At first glance, the episode may seem just another quarrel over partisan politics. It is not. It raises a much larger question about the limits of political authority and the rights of citizens who depend on public spaces for their livelihoods.
According to the media report, Ebhodaghe warned commercial drivers that they risked being barred from the motor park if they wore caps or other materials belonging to a political party other than the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC). The report says the warning was captured on video and subsequently spread on social media, attracting criticism.
In the recording, the chairman is seen addressing drivers before distributing APC-branded caps to those present. He reportedly described the instruction as a “standing warning” during his tour of the park. If accurately represented by the recording, the incident deserves scrutiny not because APC members are prohibited from promoting their party. They are not. Political parties have every legitimate interest in organising supporters, distributing campaign materials and communicating their programmes. The problem begins when partisan loyalty appears to become a condition for access to an economic facility.
A motor park is not a party office.
A motor park exists primarily to facilitate transportation and commerce. Drivers use it to earn a living. Passengers use it to travel. Transport operators depend on it for their businesses. Its basic function therefore has little to do with whether a driver supports APC, the Peoples Democratic Party, the Labour Party or any other political organisation. That distinction matters.
A political party may have supporters among commercial drivers. So may its opponents. Indeed, one defining feature of democratic society is that citizens who perform the same occupation can hold radically different political opinions. The driver wearing an APC cap does not necessarily work harder than the driver wearing another party’s cap. Nor does political clothing establish who is qualified to operate from a public transport facility.
The danger of letting political symbolism become a gatekeeper for economic participation is that it moves politics from persuasion into coercion. Instead of asking citizens to support a party because of its record or policies, the message becomes: support the party, or risk losing access to an opportunity. That is a very different proposition.
The vulnerability of the ordinary driver
The significance of the reported incident is also connected to the unequal relationship between political office holders and ordinary citizens. A commercial driver is not necessarily in a position to challenge a local government chairman. For many drivers, access to a motor park is connected directly to daily income. A threat to exclude them from the park is therefore not merely symbolic.
It can become an economic threat. This is why political office holders should exercise particular restraint when dealing with people whose livelihoods may depend upon facilities administered, regulated or influenced by government.
A wealthy businessman can shrug off an argument with a politician. A driver who needs to load passengers every morning cannot necessarily afford that luxury. The greater the power imbalance, the greater the responsibility on the person wielding public authority.
The politics of the cap
There is also something revealing about the choice of a cap as an object of political enforcement. A cap is, ordinarily, an innocuous article of clothing. It becomes politically significant only because political parties deliberately use clothing, colours, flags and other symbols to demonstrate allegiance.
Political campaigns thrive on visibility. Supporters wearing branded caps and shirts create a sense of mobilisation. There is nothing inherently objectionable about that. But the logic changes when political visibility is no longer voluntary.
The report says the chairman distributed APC-branded caps to the drivers after addressing them. That detail makes the episode particularly striking. There is a fundamental difference between saying, “Here are APC caps for those who wish to wear them,” and saying, in effect, “You should not wear another party’s cap if you want access to this motor park.”
The first is political mobilisation. The second, if enforced as reported, raises questions about the use of public authority for partisan purposes.
Local government should be closer to the citizen.
Local government is supposed to be the level of government closest to ordinary citizens. It deals with the practical realities of everyday life: roads, markets, sanitation, local economic activity and community administration. That proximity makes the conduct of local officials particularly important.
When political competition becomes aggressive at the local level, it can quickly penetrate spaces that should remain broadly accessible to citizens regardless of political affiliation. A market trader should be able to trade. A transport operator should be able to operate. A resident should be able to approach the local authority. None of these activities should ordinarily require a declaration of partisan loyalty.
The reported warning therefore touches upon a principle larger than the APC or Esan West: public authority should not casually be confused with party authority.
Democracy is tested outside the ballot box.
Much of Nigeria’s political discussion focuses on elections—the campaigns, rallies, voting and results. But democracy is also tested in the less glamorous spaces where citizens encounter government in their daily lives. It is tested at the motor park. It is tested in the market. It is tested at the local government secretariat. It is tested when a citizen who supports the opposition approaches an official controlled by the governing party. That is where political tolerance becomes more than a slogan.
The real test of political confidence is not whether government officials can command loyalty from people who depend upon them. It is whether they can govern citizens who disagree with them. A ruling party does not cease to be a political party simply because its members occupy public office. Government institutions and facilities, however, are expected to serve the wider public rather than a party membership list.
There is a better way to win supporters.
If the objective is to increase support for APC among commercial drivers, there are much more persuasive methods. The chairman could talk about better transport infrastructure. He could explain what his administration has done for commercial operators. He could address security concerns at motor parks. He could discuss sanitation, traffic management, levies, vehicle documentation and the economic pressures facing drivers.
He could then ask drivers to judge the administration on its record. That is politics. It gives citizens something to consider rather than something to fear. A government that believes its performance speaks for itself should not need a driver’s cap to establish political allegiance.
The bigger warning
The most important issue arising from the Ekpoma episode is therefore not the cap itself. It is the precedent. If political clothing can become a reason to exclude someone from a public facility, what comes next? Could political affiliation determine access to a market stall? A government programme? A local contract? A public service? A community facility?
The media report does not establish that such broader practices are occurring, and it would be wrong to infer them from one reported incident. But the controversy illustrates why the boundary between government administration and partisan politics needs to remain clear.
Nigeria’s democracy is already intensely competitive. Political parties will continue to seek supporters, display their colours and mobilise voters. That is normal political activity. What should not become normal is the idea that citizens must demonstrate political allegiance to participate in ordinary economic life.
For the commercial driver at Onitsha Park, the important question should be whether he has the right vehicle, the necessary documentation and the lawful authority to operate, not what is printed on his cap. And for the local government chairman, the more enduring measure of leadership should be how fairly he governs those who support him and those who do not.
That is a much harder standard than distributing party caps. It is also the standard that matters when politics ends, and government begins.