In Julius Caesar, Act 1,
Scene 1, the tribunes Flavius and Marullus confront the Roman plebeians who
have rushed into the streets to celebrate Caesar’s triumph. In frustration at
their fickleness and blind adoration, Marullus thunders:
“You blocks, you stones, you
worse than senseless things!”
(Julius Caesar, Act 1, Scene 1)
It is a rebuke not only of the
people’s forgetfulness but of their willingness to surrender their agency to
spectacle and power. Shakespeare’s line, though centuries old, echoes eerily
across the Nigerian sociopolitical landscape today.
The Nigerian Political Class and the Roman Illusion
Nigeria’s political elite often
behave as though the masses exist solely to applaud them. Their motorcades
demand instant reverence. Their speeches assume unquestioned loyalty. Their
campaigns rely on the predictable choreography of crowds, dancing, chanting,
waving flags, and lining the streets like the Roman plebeians who abandoned
their work to celebrate Caesar.
This is not accidental. It is a
political culture built on the assumption that the people will always follow,
always praise, always forget, and always return. In this worldview, the
electorate becomes what Marullus accused the plebeians of being: blocks,
stones, and worthless beings, objects to be moved, not citizens to be
respected.
But Do the People See Themselves This Way?
This is the uncomfortable
question. Many Nigerians, through years of political conditioning, may have
internalised this diminished identity. Not consciously. Not proudly. But
through repeated patterns of behaviour:
- Rushing to greet politicians who have
done little for them
- Defending leaders who have failed them
- Celebrating individuals instead of
demanding institutions
- Trading political agency for temporary
gifts or emotional loyalty
- Accepting suffering as fate rather than a
solvable problem
These actions do not make the
people “worthless”, far from it. But they reveal how power can shape
perception, and how perception can shape behaviour. The tragedy is not that
leaders see the people as stones. The tragedy is that the people sometimes act as
though they believe it.
The Parody of Power
Nigerian politicians often
mistake the people’s endurance for stupidity, their silence for consent, and
their resilience for weakness. They misread survival as servitude. Like Caesar,
they assume the cheers are genuine. Like Caesar, they assume the crowd will
always be there. Like Caesar, they forget that the same plebeians who praise
today can revolt tomorrow.
The Shakespearean parody is
sharp: leaders who see the people as stones forget that stones can also become
weapons.
The Electorate Is Not Stone
This is the heart of the matter.
The Nigerian electorate is not senseless. They are not blocks. They are not
worthless. They are a sleeping giant whose power is routinely underestimated.
A vote is not a stone; it is a
lever, a force, a declaration of dignity. When the people vote, they are not
merely participating in a ritual; they are rewriting the script. They are
rejecting the Shakespearean insult. They are asserting that they are not
objects of political theatre but subjects of political destiny. The vote is the
one moment when the dichotomy collapses; when the leader and the led stand
equal, when the plebeian becomes sovereign.
From Plebeians to Citizens
For Nigeria to move forward, the
electorate must reclaim its identity:
- From spectators to stakeholders
- From praise-singers to policy-demanders
- From stones to voices
- From blocks to builders
The leaders will not change the
script. The people must.
The tribunes in Julius Caesar
lamented the plebeians’ forgetfulness. But Nigeria’s story does not have to
follow that arc. The electorate can remember. They can demand. They can choose
differently. They can refuse to be props in the political drama.
A New Shakespearean Ending
Shakespeare’s line was meant as a rebuke. But in Nigeria, it can become a catalyst.
- The people are not blocks. They are the foundation.
- They are not stones. They are the pillars.
- They are not worthless. They are the worth of the nation.
And their vote: quiet, small, often underestimated, is the might that can reshape the republic.
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