"For Legal and Electoral Reasons, This Is a Joke": When Did Campaigning Become Intimidation?

 

Mathilda Yakubu

Campaigns are meant to introduce candidates, communicate their ideas and convince voters that they are capable of representing them. In student politics, creativity is certainly encouraged. Candidates can be funny, dramatic, unconventional and relatable. But at what point does a campaign gimmick stop being funny and become offensive?

This question becomes necessary following a campaign video released by Modesty Paul, a candidate contesting for the position of the Faculty's Social Director in the Faculty of The Social Sciences, University of Ibadan.

The Psychology student released a video whose content has generated concerns among students. In the video, an individual is physically dragged by the feet, has their mouth and face covered, their hands tied and is subsequently taken away. Given the context in which the video was released, the imagery could reasonably be interpreted as suggesting that students who refuse to support the candidate may face similar consequences.

Even if the intention was comedy, the imagery is disturbing. Depicting kidnapping, physical restraint and forced abduction as part of an election campaign is not something that should simply be dismissed because it was intended as a joke. Humour does not automatically remove the implications of what is being portrayed.

There is also the question of context and responsibility. A candidate is not merely another student posting a random skit. She is actively seeking a position that involves representing students and contributing to the social life and activities of an entire faculty. Her campaign materials therefore become part of how voters assess her values, judgement and suitability for leadership.

Student elections may be informal, but leadership is not. A Social Director is expected to create an environment where students can connect, participate and have positive experiences. That makes the tone and messaging of a campaign important. Creativity should attract voters, not unsettle them. Humour should entertain without normalising threats, violence or coercion.

It is entirely possible that the candidate had no intention of threatening anyone. It is also possible that some students genuinely found the video funny. Both things can be true. But the absence of malicious intent does not mean people cannot reasonably question the appropriateness of the message.

There is an important distinction between what a candidate intended to communicate and what the campaign material actually communicates to its audience. In public life, perception matters, particularly when the message involves imagery associated with violence and abduction.

Campaigning should be about telling voters what you intend to do with the office, not frightening or intimidating them into voting for you.

Candidates have every right to be creative, unconventional and entertaining. Students, equally, have every right to scrutinise these creative choices and decide whether they reflect the kind of leadership they want.

Ultimately, the issue is bigger than one campaign video. It is about the standards we are willing to accept in student politics.

A joke is still worth examining when the joke relies on imagery of kidnapping, restraint and violence. And perhaps the bigger question is simple:

If this is how a candidate chooses to represent herself while asking for our votes, what does it say about the kind of leadership and judgement we should expect from her?