Politicians that can’t lead shouldn’t campaign – Dan Bello

Bello Galadanchi, popularly known as Dan Bello on social media, is a US-born Kano indigene currently working as an educationist in China. He leverages platforms like TikTok and X (formerly Twitter) to drive social change and raise political awareness. In this interview with Trust TV, he discusses accountability in governance and challenges underperforming politicians to stop seeking positions they cannot effectively deliver.

What is your take on the current situation unfolding in the Nigerian Senate?

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Well, the first question is, do we really have a legislature? The three arms of government—the executive, judiciary, and legislature—are meant to function independently. But where is the legislature? Where has it been? Its primary role is to check the powers of the executive.

Yet, with all the problems Nigerians are facing—hunger, poverty, rising fuel prices, skyrocketing food costs, and energy crises—where is the legislature? When protests erupted a few months ago and several people were killed, where was the legislature? It feels like we have a one-party government now, with the legislature merely rubber-stamping the executive’s decisions.

We haven’t heard anything from them until now—when a case involving Senator Natasha has emerged, a matter that has little impact on the daily struggles of ordinary Nigerians. Meanwhile, Nigerian soldiers, particularly those in lower ranks, just received their salaries yesterday, with some still unpaid. As a result, many began Ramadan with nothing to eat, forced to borrow from family and friends. What is the legislature doing about that?

Recently, Nigerian customs officers have been stopping vehicles transporting goods from the South to the North, extorting traders, delaying shipments, and crippling businesses. Again, where is the legislature? We have heard nothing from them.

What do you think is responsible for the disconnect between those in power and the people? Many Nigerians seem to agree with your points, clearly dissatisfied with the performance of the government. Where do you think our leaders have failed in bridging the gap between the people’s expectations and actual governance?

The legislature is made up of individuals from different political parties, and ideally, that should be its strength. A diverse legislature should foster debates, push different agendas, and advocate for a variety of issues. Unfortunately, this particular legislature feels like it speaks with just one voice.

Why? If we look back, we’ll see that lawmakers have been receiving vehicles from the executive. We’ve also heard reports of the current Senate President sending them ‘prayer money’ into their bank accounts. It seems as though the legislature has been bought, and as a result, critical issues affecting the masses are barely on their agenda.

They go on vacation and holiday with ease, while Nigeria—the largest economy in Africa, the most populous nation on the continent, a country of global significance—struggles with staggering unemployment and the highest number of out-of-school children in the world.

These are the urgent issues that should be prioritised. Yet, in an era of technological advancement, artificial intelligence, and groundbreaking innovations that could revitalise our economy and create jobs, we see no meaningful action.

Recently, I’ve been visiting schools and speaking with friends and reporters who have done the same. Many of these schools are in a terrible state—dilapidated buildings, no roofs, no teachers. And I don’t see any serious legislative effort to fix that. The question remains: what exactly is the legislature doing?

 You’re driving change, whether or not you see yourself as a changemaker. When you spotlight an issue, particularly one where the government has failed to act—like schools without basic amenities, crumbling infrastructure, or lack of clean water—how does it feel when those in power actually respond? For instance, in Kaduna, you highlighted a school in terrible condition, and a few months later, the government took action. Did that feel rewarding?

As a human being, of course, I felt a little good. But honestly, that’s not my focus. That is their job. That is what they are supposed to do.

The unfortunate part is that it takes a video for the governor to take action. Where are the local government chairmen, the councillors, the senators, and the House of Representatives members? Where is the money allocated in the budget for education? Why does it take someone like me—far away—to highlight the issue before anything is done?

And that’s just one school. There are thousands like it in Kaduna alone, and hundreds of thousands across northern Nigeria. Can I make a video about a different school every day? That’s the real issue that troubles me.

When I highlight a problem, the government scrambles to fix it, but should it really take that? And how many videos will it take to fix all the others? Yes, I was happy that the students finally got a better learning environment, and their teachers felt relief. The headmistress even sent me a long, emotional voice note, expressing her gratitude.

But what about the rest? Where are the lawmakers—Senator Natasha, Akpabio, or any of them—demanding accountability for the funds allocated to these schools? Why aren’t they pressing for real, systemic change?

Do you believe that Nigerians and their leaders are not on the same page? And could that explain why we are facing these challenges?

They are not even in the same book. To be honest, where are the leaders? Leaders are meant to serve their constituencies, to solve problems. Yet, we have issues with water availability, education, employment, and power—who is addressing them?

If those in power are not tackling these problems, then they are not leaders. They are politicians, opportunists—people looking to enrich themselves. So, when you ask whether Nigerians and their leaders are on the same page, I’d say I’m not even sure we have leaders. There may be a few exceptions, but for the most part, we have people in positions of authority who are not leading. They are neither on the same page nor in the same book as the people they are supposed to serve.

For example, you see governors with refreshment allowances or travel allowances running into billions of naira.

They spend that money on refreshments, meetings, travel, and overseas trips. Meanwhile, people spot them shopping abroad, living lavishly while the country struggles. What justification is there for that? At a time when people desperately need economic relief, why are they traveling, shopping, and staging photo opportunities with foreign dignitaries—only to return with plaques declaring them “Governor of the Month” or “Governor of the Year”?

Sometimes, we do the math. The money set aside for refreshments alone could renovate thousands of classrooms—just like the ones I’ve worked on. Why not redirect those funds toward something meaningful? What’s so difficult about that?

If you can’t do the job, don’t ask for the position. Don’t stand before the people declaring yourself the most qualified candidate. If you get into office only to start making excuses—saying, “Oh, it’s too difficult,” or “The scale is too complex,” or “There’s not enough money”—then you were never the right person for the job.

If you can’t lead, don’t campaign for leadership. The truth is, deep down, you know it’s possible. You just lack the competence to make it happen.

 Given the numerous challenges Nigeria faces—social, economic, political, and otherwise—how do you decide what to focus on? There’s so much wrong with the system, and so much to talk about. How do you pick your battles?

It’s very, very difficult, I’ll tell you that. The issues are overwhelming, and one major source of information is my inbox. On an average day, I receive 200 to 300 messages, and about 80% of them are people reaching out, saying, “We have this issue here,” or “There’s a problem here.” I try to investigate as much as I can, but it’s impossible to address everything.

It’s exhausting. Problems exist across all sectors, yet we rarely hear from those responsible for fixing them. That’s a major challenge. I also have reporters on the ground helping me gather and verify stories. Before putting anything out, we conduct our own investigations to confirm the legitimacy of claims and reach out to relevant authorities for information. This process takes time. So, deciding what comes first depends on how things fit into the bigger picture.

We prioritise issues that impact the most vulnerable Nigerians—education, access to clean water, and corruption.

Social media has become a powerful tool in Nigeria, driving social activism and political awareness. Many issues gain traction online, prompting reactions from political leaders. People like you have become the voice of the masses, unafraid to call a spade a spade. In your view, what impact can this new era of social media influence have in course-correcting Nigerian society?

What do I think social media can achieve? Well, first of all, social media is a blessing to us at this moment.

It is one of the most important tools we have—not only in raising and cultivating Nigeria’s future leaders but also in addressing present issues. I’m not a pessimist, and from what I’ve seen in the past two years, social media has given people a new political orientation and amplified their voices in ways that were previously impossible.

The fact that social media in Nigeria isn’t as heavily censored as in some other places has allowed intellectuals and everyday people alike to speak freely and express their views. But what’s most critical is the emerging divide we’re seeing—the split between the old way of governance, rooted in entitlement and “big manism,” and a younger generation that is beginning to understand that true leadership is about service.

Young people are realising that to lead is to serve—to put your head down, let the people speak, and dedicate your time, energy, and even your life to improving their future. That divide is growing, and in the near future, it may become so pronounced that the old political class will lose relevance. They will have no space, no voice, and no audience in Nigeria.

Last time I was on this programme, I spoke about wanting to be a catalyst—to educate people, to help change the mindset of “stomach infrastructure,” where people sell their votes on election day without thinking about the long-term consequences.

Now, we are seeing people within my constituency—people I know, like Bula Mbukati—launch new political movements aimed at galvanising young Nigerians ahead of 2027. It’s still early to predict how much impact they will have, but they are already building grassroots structures, particularly in northern Nigeria. Their messaging, their approach, and even their character seem very different from what we’ve seen with APC, PDP, NNPP, and the other legacy political parties.

That makes their movement interesting to watch. However, I hope they remain true to their vision because if they start mirroring the same corrupt, self-serving practices of the old order, we will call them out—just as we have done with others.