MUST IT ALWAYS BE YOU AND YOUR POLITICAL DESK?
There are some career politicians in the NPP who appear to have mistaken the party for a midnight train reserved exclusively for themselves. They boarded long ago, occupied the best seats, and seem determined to ensure that nobody else gets a chance to travel. They see the party as a vehicle to ride, not a cause to serve. They stay on until the general election throws them off, then they retreat into party office, where the general electorate cannot reach them. That is why a defeated MP can lose publicly and still become a party executive. Party office is not the same as parliamentary office, organisational skills matter, but it should not be a consolation prize, a retirement package, or a family inheritance.
They have served as parliamentarians three, four, five, sometimes even more times. They have moved from Parliament to ministerial appointments, from ministerial appointments back to Parliament, and from defeated parliamentary candidates to party executives.
The question is simple: Must it always be you? This is a legitimate grievance that makes my “MIDNIGHT TRAIN” image is apt.
Political experience is valuable. But experience should not become a permanent claim on political office. So the core problem is not experience; it is monopolisation. When the same people rotate from MP to minister to party executive, and then try to hand the seat to a relative or loyalist, the party stops being a movement and becomes an estate.
A political party that continually recycles the same people eventually risks becoming a closed shop. Newcomers are told to wait. Young politicians are told their time will come. Grassroots activists are encouraged to remain patient.
Then comes the familiar expression:
“Nyame nibre ni mnre pa; wo mre bɛba.”
God’s time is the best; your time will come.
But one must ask: When will that time come if the same people refuse to leave the stage?
If one politician occupies an elected position for decades, contests every available internal position after losing an election, and continues to dominate the political space, then whose “time” are we actually waiting for?
The political battlefield eventually exposes everyone.
Some politicians use their financial resources, networks and influence to secure internal victories. They may win contests not necessarily because they enjoy broad popularity among the ordinary electorate, but because they possess the money and machinery necessary to mobilise delegates.
But the general election is different.
The ordinary voter has the final word.
That is why some political careers experience a painful reality: after years of internal victories, the politician finally meets the wider electorate and discovers that the popularity enjoyed within the party does not necessarily translate into public acceptance.
You can control the party delegates, but you cannot permanently control the electorate.
And when the parliamentary seat is finally lost, what happens?
Instead of making room for a new generation, the defeated politician may simply change direction and seek a party executive position.
The same familiar faces then appear everywhere: constituency executive, regional executive, national executive, adviser, campaign strategist, committee member and political appointee.
It becomes a political revolving door.
Lose Parliament today; contest for a party position tomorrow. Lose that position; find another political appointment.
At what point does service become succession?
More troubling is the emergence of political dynasties. After occupying political positions for years, some politicians begin preparing their children, stepchildren, nephews, nieces, relatives and close associates to inherit the political territory they have cultivated.
Politics begins to look less like public service and more like a family estate.
But political inheritance is not the same thing as political competence.
A son may inherit his father’s name without inheriting his political wisdom. A nephew may inherit the political network without understanding the grassroots. A daughter may inherit financial resources without possessing the political street sense required to survive an election.
You can inherit a political name, but you cannot inherit political instinct.
And when the electorate rejects the successor, the entire carefully constructed political dynasty can collapse.
The NPP must therefore confront a difficult question about internal democracy, generational renewal and political succession.
Must the same people always contest?
Must the same people always win?
Must the same people always become MPs?
Must the same people always become ministers?
And after losing an election, must they automatically return through the back door of party administration?
There is nothing wrong with political veterans seeking party office. There is everything wrong with creating a political culture in which experience becomes a permanent barrier against new talent.
The party needs its old hands, but it also needs new hands.
It needs people who understand history, but it also needs people who understand the future.
It needs political elders who can advise without necessarily occupying every seat at the table.
Because a wise farmer does not plant every seed in the same place.
The NPP cannot continuously complain about losing touch with sections of the electorate while refusing to create space for new political voices.
Renewal requires sacrifice.
Sometimes leadership means knowing when to step aside.
Sometimes the greatest political legacy is not another term in Parliament, another ministerial appointment or another executive position.
Sometimes the greatest legacy is opening the door for somebody else.
There is an African wisdom that says, “The one who climbs the tree first must not prevent the next person from climbing.”
Those who came before should therefore ask themselves whether they are building a ladder for the next generation, or standing on the ladder so nobody else can climb.
An old wine may remain in an old jar for a long time. But if it continues to ferment without renewal, it may eventually lose its strength, character and taste.
The NPP must not become a party where yesterday’s political battles permanently determine tomorrow’s leadership.
The party’s future cannot be built by endlessly recycling its past.
The midnight train must eventually make room for new passengers.
And to those who have travelled for many years, occupied many seats and enjoyed many opportunities, perhaps the most important question is not “Can I contest again?”
It is:
“Have I served enough to make room for someone else?”
That is the true test of political maturity.
The question “Must it always be you?” is fair. The answer is no. Any party that cannot renew itself decays. Old wine in an old jar does not just lose taste; eventually the jar cracks. If the NPP, or any party, keeps recycling the same unpopular elites, their relatives, and their moneyed networks, it will keep losing general elections and then fight over the carcass internally.
But we should separate two things:
- Losing a parliamentary seat does not automatically disqualify someone from party office. Some defeated MPs can still organise, fundraise, and strategise.
- It should not be automatic. They must face real competition, disclose their record, and accept rotation. If they lost because voters rejected them, they cannot assume delegates will accept them just because they have money and name recognition.
The deeper problem is the delegate system and the monetisation of internal politics. When a small group of delegates can be held at ransom by money, the party’s internal elections stop reflecting the members’ will. The general election then becomes the only true judge, but by then, the damage is done.
What can reformers do?
· Demand internal democracy: transparent primaries, published results, and genuine competition.
· Push for spending caps and disclosure in internal elections to reduce vote buying.
· Support term limits or rotation for party executives so no one treats the position as property.
· Reject family succession as a default. Children and relatives can contest, but they must earn it like everyone else.
· Build grassroots alliances. Newcomers cannot wait for an invitation from the old guard. They must organise, mobilise, and contest the rules.
· Punish gatekeeping at the polls. Delegates and party members should vote out those who preach “God’s time is best” while blocking everyone else’s time.
Your point about “Nyame Nibre Ni Mnre pa, Wo mre be ba” is sharp. If God’s time is the best, then it applies to them too. Their time can also be up. They should not use faith to pacify the young and the downgraded while they monopolise everything.
So, to the parliamentarians currently contesting party executive positions: it is not always about you. If you have served three, five, ten times, the most valuable thing you can offer may be mentorship, succession, and a graceful exit, not another office. The party belongs to its members, not to a moneyed clique or a family franchise. Until that changes, the cycle will continue.
Osɔfo Nii Naate Atswele Agbo Nartey
