By Babafemi Ojudu
I ran for Senate in 2011. One of the highlights of that contest was a debate where I took aim at a man considered invincible in Ekiti politics, the former Governor Ayodele Peter Fayose, known by the moniker “Peter the Rock.” Twice in the state’s history, I shattered that rock like a grain of sand.
The first was his impeachment, which I plotted and executed like a movie script—a story that’s the subject of a book I’m working on. But today, we’re talking about debates. I just finished watching Kamala Harris and Donald Trump’s debate, and it’s clear as day: Kamala, a joyful warrior, is leagues ahead of the old, grumpy former President. This reinforces how crucial debates are in political contests. Kamala came armed like a force of nature, wielding a howitzer and a Kalashnikov, and emerged unscathed.
Now, let me share my own experience as a political debater.
In 2011, the Ekiti State Broadcasting Service, both radio and TV, set me up in a debate against the loquacious, drama-filled candidate Mr. Fayose, a former governor. Everyone thought I was just a piece of meat for him to chew up and digest.
But I went into that debate fully prepared. Two days before, one of my supporters acted as my opponent in a grueling practice session. I meticulously studied his record, gathering enough material to bait him into anger. From his intolerance of the opposition to the murders and near-murders that occurred during his reign, I was ready. I had the killings of Ayo Daramola, a former World Bank consultant and my teacher, who was preparing to run against Fayose; the killing of Mr Omojola an Ekiti man on holiday from the Netherlands for challenging Fayose at a local election; and his harassment of Chief Afe Babalola, the most prominent citizen of the state.
I entered the studio before Fayose, looking regal in my traditional attire with an Awo cap. Fayose swaggered in, clad in jeans and a T-shirt, surrounded by his usual entourage. As soon as he walked in, I spotted an error on his shirt. It was supposed to read, “Politics is Serious Business,” but—oh, the irony—it was a grammatical disaster. I quietly had my photographer capture the moment.
When the debate began, I relentlessly pelted him with questions about his time in office, strategically provoking him while respectfully calling him “my governor.” The moderator eventually gave us two minutes to make final statements, and I offered to let Fayose go first as a courtesy to a “former governor.” He took the bait and rambled on, even calling me a “roadside journalist” in a weak attempt to belittle me.
When it was my turn, I addressed the viewers: “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is a sad night for me. I stand here with a man who was once my governor and now wants to represent us in the Senate. But I must draw your attention to the chest of the former governor. How do I explain to my 12-year-old daughter that someone who has been a governor in this state can’t even spell ‘politics’? Is this the man we want to send to Abuja to represent us?”
Fayose instinctively looked down at his shirt and bolted out of the studio as if caught in a crime. My phone rang all night, and the messages poured in. I knew I had him.
The next day, I bought a full-page ad in The Nation or was it its precursor, The Comet newspaper, featuring the photo of Fayose in his T-shirt, with the headline: “This is the former governor who wants to be senator. He couldn’t even spell politics.”
When the elections came a few days later, he garnered 27,000 votes, while I received 68,000. Case closed.
I’m sharing this story to highlight the importance of debates in political contests. From Olusegun Obasanjo to Muhammadu Buhari, to Bola Ahmed Tinubu, many of our leaders have dodged debates. How can you hope to govern a people if you lack the confidence to engage your opponents in a debate or to answer probing questions from credible journalists?
This is why we must make presidential debates compulsory in Nigeria. During my four years in the Senate, I pushed a bill for this, but my colleagues repeatedly shut it down. Even after I left, I encouraged my friend and brother, Senator Abdulfatai Omotayo Buhari from Oyo State, to reintroduce the bill. Once again, it was killed. How can you want to govern a people without speaking to them? It’s not about your dance steps on the campaign podium or the rehearsed lies. A debate gives voters the chance to peer into your mind, gauge your composure, and see how you handle pressure. Let’s all say yes to debates in the next election. Maybe, if we’d had them in the past, things would have turned out very differently.
