If you are at all interested in politics, then one of the most enlightening conversations you can have is with a member of a campaign team that has just lost an election.
I say “member of the team” because it is not just the candidate himself or herself to whom you should talk. There are all sorts of other people involved in any serious campaign, including self-proclaimed “strategists,” “mobilisers,” “communication specialists” and so on. A discussion with any of these can reveal a great deal about what really goes into an election campaign.
I have found over the years that two things obsess such political players, in the days and weeks following such defeat. First is the effort to understand at what point exactly they lost their chance of winning. What Kenyans who studied Chinua Achebe’s No longer at ease would define as “At what point did the rain start beating us?”
And second is the search for “traitors.” I have yet to hear of a political campaign that ended in failure solely because it was poorly resourced or badly organised. No. There is always talk of traitors who worked from within – like termites – to bring down destruction upon the carefully orchestrated campaign.
To deal with this second point first, these traitors – those who ruin the candidates’ chances while pretending to be helping him or her towards their goal – take many forms. And money is often a factor.
In one case it will be an aide to the candidate who was supposed to distribute money liberally to the various polling agents, but instead gave them “peanuts” and kept most of the money for his own use. In another, the person who was sent to get some branded T-shirts printed, only brought back half the number agreed on – and could not properly explain what had happened to the other T-shirts.
One story that a “chief campaigner” told me some years back, is particularly hilarious. Their campaign convoy was passing through a small market centre and the lead car’s sunroof was opened up so that the candidate and his chief campaigner – a man well known in those parts – could stand up to “greet the people.”
The greetings went on for about 10 minutes. When the candidate at last sat down, he noticed that his “security officer” who had been with them in the car was no longer seated in the back of the huge SUV. And shortly afterwards, they realised that what was also missing was the bag in which they had carried the cash that was to be distributed to “supporters” at some point during the campaign.
Neither the money nor the “security officer” were ever seen again.
Telling the story, my friend kept emphasising that he simply could not figure out how that “security officer” left the slowly moving vehicle without any of them noticing it. But apparently, he did. And then promptly vanished into the crowd.
So that is a lesson for any who are already planning to offer themselves to “serve the people” come 2027: Within your core campaign team, there will be many traitors.
As for the question of “where the rain started beating us,” this is possibly an even greater source of anguish than being robbed of a large bundle of cash by the very person who was supposed to be protecting you.
For just as football fans will endlessly discuss why “their team” lost a crucial match, so too does the politician who has just failed to clinch the elective seat he aspired to, then have to endure months after the campaign being subjected to rival theories on exactly why it is that he lost.
And most of these explanations about why he lost will centre on just one thing: that if he will only try again next time, no doubt he will be successful.
And this demand that the candidate should immediately start planning for the next campaign is heard loudest from those who belong to a parasite class of political operators, who are to be found in just about every constituency.
These are men who consider any campaign season to be an opportunity to raise school fees for their kids, as well as to address long-delayed house improvements.
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