By Cllr. Kanio Bai Gbala (Assistant Professor of Law, Louis Arthur Grimes School of Law)
In many African societies, civil society and advocacy groups perform a vital function as the conscience of the state, holding government officials to account on corruption, governance, and service delivery. Their moral authority depends on being independent, fearless, and uncompromised.
Yet when such advocates abandon that role to become political candidates, accepting funds from public actors, contesting for power, and eventually joining the ranks of the very institutions they once judged, they risk eroding the legitimacy of both advocacy and politics. The transition from critic to contender too often undermines democratic space, creating confusion about motive and weakening public trust.
Across the continent, there have been several examples of this transformation and its attendant pitfalls. In Kenya, Boniface Mwangi built a reputation as a fearless anti-corruption activist and vocal campaigner before entering electoral politics by running for parliamentary and presidential seats.
While his intentions may have been sincere, the shift subjected him to accusations of opportunism and reduced his ability to critique governance without being seen as self-interested. In South Africa, Zackie Achmat, a legendary HIV and social justice campaigner, stood as an independent candidate in 2024, sparking debate over whether an activist entering electoral politics undermines civil society’s critical voice.
In both cases, the boundary between principled critique and political ambition became blurred, making it easy for opponents and skeptical citizens to dismiss activism as a steppingstone rather than a lifelong conviction.
My disagreement with advocates transitioning into political actors is rooted in the damage this causes to democratic integrity. It breeds hypocrisy as individuals who once decried corruption may be tempted or compelled by the same incentives and compromises, they once fought.
Once inside power, the capacity to remain a consistent and fearless critic is sharply constrained by the pressures of alliances, party loyalties, and electoral calculations. The perception of advocacy as a recruitment pipeline for office can also discourage genuine civic participation, as citizens may come to see activism as self-serving rather than service oriented.
This distorts the democratic division of labor, since advocacy and opposition require a vantage outside power. When everyone seeks to become a politician, society is left with fewer independent monitors and moral voices.
In Liberia, this trend is increasingly evident. Senator Darius Dillon, popularly known as “The Light,” rose to national prominence as a voice of integrity and reform but has since come under serious scrutiny for appearing subdued by the trappings of political office he once decried.
Similarly, Martin Kollie, a self-styled “exiled activist,” now runs humanitarian and scholarship initiatives whose funding sources remain unclear despite his prolonged status as a student abroad.
There are also emerging indications of subtle positioning for Martin Kollie to contest for a senatorial seat in 2025, a move that further reinforces the argument that advocacy has increasingly become a launchpad for political ambition rather than a lifelong commitment to principle.
These developments mirror a troubling pattern where advocacy becomes a means to personal advancement rather than a mission of conscience. If history is to be our guide, then let advocates remain advocates if they are indeed sincere in their advocacy.
