Schools mirror the corruption and bribery of adult politics.
Uganda’s Daily Monitor, sister paper to Kenya’s Daily Nation, just published a disturbing investigation into secondary school elections. It revealed how schools mirror the corruption and bribery of adult politics.
Gone are the days of nervous speeches in assembly halls, the popularity contests of the playground, and humble posters taped to corridor walls.
The raw power of money and material inducements has replaced them. To win positions as prefects, students now deploy aggressive campaign strategies funded by their families. Tribalism, cash bribes and coordinated handouts dominate. Poor students, unable to raise funds, resort to singing and dancing for votes. Instead of instilling civic responsibility, schools are serving as apprenticeships in corruption.
The oft-repeated mantra of “leaders of tomorrow” risks producing a generation worse than today’s crooked elite. This problem extends beyond Uganda. Kenya has faced similar challenges, and echoes can be found across Africa and even in China.
In Kenya, like elsewhere, the commercialisation of school politics partly grew out of good intentions. In 2010, inspired by the new constitution, the Education ministry abolished the system of teacher-appointed prefects. In its place came the Kenya Secondary Schools Student Council, to give learners a voice and teach accountability.
Pocket-money politics
Yet what educators have dubbed “pocket-money politics” quickly took over. Aspiring student leaders mimicked the campaigns of national politicians. Wealthy parents funded glossy posters, professional printing and elaborate rallies. Because cash is tightly regulated in boarding schools, bribery shifted to an alternative economy of sweets, chocolates, bread and mandazi.
Senior candidates promised to bend school policy, offering younger students “protection tokens” (immunity from chores, bullying, or prefect discipline) once elected.
The situation grew so serious that institutions such as the Aga Khan Academy in Mombasa were reported to have intervened earlier. During junior school elections, administrators banned bribery, gifts and grand promises. Campaign posters were restricted to plain A4 paper, in a bid to force a return to policy debates. Yet, possibly, the sweets and chocolates went underground.
However, another reality has challenged the idea that corrupt students merely imitate their parents. The problem seems to be deeper. In China, where there are no competitive multiparty elections, and the Communist Party maintains strict control, similar behaviour has emerged.
To understand why children so effortlessly drift into political corruption, one must look back to a seminal moment in documentary filmmaking. In 2007, Chinese director Chen Weijun released a remarkable, award-winning documentary titled “Please Vote for Me” (which is still available on YouTube). It tracked an experimental election for class monitor among a group of eight-year-old, third-grade students at a school in Wuhan.
Given their first taste of a democratic vote, the three chosen candidates, Cheng Cheng, Luo Lei and Xu Xiaofei, quickly abandoned fair play. Cheng Cheng, a natural populist, masterminded sophisticated smear campaigns, organising his peers to systematically heckle his introverted female opponent, Xu Xiaofei, until she wept during a talent show.
More remarkably, the film exposed how adult structures perpetuate corruption among youth. Luo Lei, the incumbent, faced a wave of unpopularity due to his authoritarian style. To rescue his campaign, his parents, established police officials, organised an all-expenses-paid school bus trip for the entire class, utilising state-adjacent influence to dazzle the electorate. On the eve of the vote, Luo Lei’s father provided bulk packages of sweets and snacks for his son to hand out to his classmates. The strategy worked perfectly; he won the election, leaving his defeated, unresourced opponents crying.
Political corruption
The true significance of “Please Vote for Me” lies in its profound revelation of human nature. It shattered the romantic myth that political corruption is a learned vice of adulthood. Instead, it suggests that when placed within a competitive, high-stakes system where power is the ultimate prize, human beings instinctively gravitate toward tribalism, manipulation and bribery.
The lesson for us is that, first, we must recognise that holding an election does not equal achieving a democracy. If the rules of the game allow wealth to dictate outcomes, the process merely legitimises an oligarchy, whether in a parliament or a primary school. Second (and this admittedly is one of those things that are easier said than done), the educational system has to move away from merely mimicking political processes toward teaching students more ethics.
When schools implement “democratic systems” as they are presently structured, they risk training the next generation of corrupt officials, yet a return to the old autocratic system is equally bad.
If African democracies are to break the cycle of transactional voting, the intervention must begin in the classroom. We must strip the playground of its bribes, enforce strict spending caps on student campaigns as some schools are doing, and teach children that true leadership is a burden of service, not a commodity to be bought with a bag of sweets.
That might be one of the toughest acts of modern parenting.
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The author is a journalist, writer and curator of the Wall of Great Africans. X@cobbo3.
