PAUL NWOSU, PhD
The story from Owerri last Wednesday travelled faster than the convoy itself.
A branded bus bearing the insignia of the City Boy Movement South-East Zone arrived near Owerri Square and moments later, images surfaced online showing shattered windows and dented panels. Within hours, two versions of reality competed for acceptance. One said angry youths attacked the convoy after alleged unpaid mobilisation fees. Another insisted the damage resulted from a road mishap, not a political ambush.
In today’s Nigeria, truth often arrives last, long after interpretation.
Yet whether the damage came from stones or steering error, the reaction it triggered is far more significant than the broken glass. It opens a window into three sensitive questions: political tolerance, political strategy and political credibility in the South-East ahead of 2027.
If indeed the convoy was attacked, it must be condemned unequivocally.
No region can claim marginalisation while simultaneously resisting opposing political messages with hostility. Democracy is not sustained by agreement but by accommodation. A political rally, however unpopular, cannot become a security risk.
The South-East has long argued that it suffers exclusion in national power calculations. That argument loses moral force the moment political participation by others is greeted with intimidation. Today it is a pro-Tinubu group; tomorrow it could be any other platform. Ballots, not stones, are the legitimate instruments of dissent.
Political intolerance ultimately harms the region more than the politician it targets. Investors observe it. Parties remember it. Power avoids uncertainty.
Let us also be honest. The City Boy Movement itself is not accidental. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has historically performed poorly in the South-East electoral map. Any serious re-election effort must therefore attempt social penetration before political persuasion. The movement is essentially a political marketing strategy, using familiar faces, nightlife influencers and celebrity entrepreneurs to soften ideological resistance. Politics everywhere follows sociology.
You don’t begin persuasion with policy papers; you begin with people the target audience already recognises. In that sense, the emergence of City Boy Movement, and the opposition’s witty counterbrand, Village Boys, reflects a contest for cultural territory before electoral territory. Campaigns now seek emotional acceptance before ideological acceptance.
Whether one supports Tinubu or not, outreach itself is not a crime. In fact, it is how democracies expand participation. Regions once hostile to certain parties eventually become competitive precisely because bridges, sometimes awkward ones, were attempted.
But the deeper controversy is not the slogan. It is the faces behind it.
Many young Nigerians are asking a harder question: who should be the moral ambassadors of political persuasion?
When individuals whose wealth trajectory remains publicly mysterious lead a campaign aimed at youths battling unemployment and inflation, credibility becomes fragile. When such figures are associated with obscene displays of flamboyance such as the now infamous “money na water” culture, the symbolism collides violently with present economic hardship.
Politics is communication. Communication depends on trust. And trust depends on moral authority.
You cannot preach sacrifice through megaphones wrapped in opulence.
The South-East youth demographic is unusually politically conscious and economically frustrated. They are not merely evaluating a candidate; they are evaluating sincerity. A campaign perceived as elite entertainment rather than social engagement will naturally struggle for emotional legitimacy. The issue, therefore, is less about Tinubu and more about representation.
The emerging duel between “City Boys” and “Village Boys” may energise social media, but it risks trivialising the deeper conversation Nigeria actually needs which is governance credibility.
Young people are not primarily searching for campaign aesthetics. They are searching for economic evidence. No convoy branding can substitute for jobs, security
and predictable opportunities.
Where these exist, political acceptance follows naturally. Where they do not, mobilisation money becomes the temporary language of participation, and temporary languages easily collapse into chaos.
Whether vandalised or accidentally damaged, that bus has become metaphorical.
It represents a fragile political bridge being driven into a sceptical region by controversial messengers amid economic pain. If the bridge breaks, it won’t be because outreach was attempted, but because authenticity was insufficient.
The South-East must tolerate persuasion.
The presidency must choose persuasive voices wisely.
Democracy works best when neither stones nor slogans replace substance.