The above catchphrase documented in John 6: 1-27, is associated with Jesus Christ when he fed 5000 people with 5 loaves of bread and two fishes. After healing the sick, he fed them, transforming a teaching session into a “soup kitchen” that satisfied physical hunger. As a result, the crowd sought him in a way that is patronizing for “signs” and tangible benefits, for the miraculous provision of food and not for lasting spiritual transformation. However, Christ rejected their patronage; and by implication, an opportunity to manipulate their hunger for loyalty, rebuking the crowd for seeking Him merely for free meals with an admonition— “labour not for the meat that perisheth”. This scenario is in stark contrast to the Nigerian political landscape where poverty is often weaponized, while food and other essential commodities used as transactional tools for political patronage and voter coercion. The biblical account provides an illuminating spectacle or some sort of microcosm of Nigerian sociopolitical landscape, as the nation inches towards 2027 general election.
As the nation enters its perennial precursory pre-election frenzy, now marked by political alignments, realignments and re-realignments; with the stark existential realities of hunger, insecurity, avarice and brazen undisrupted corruption staring Nigerians in their faces, as if saying “we are not afraid, we will continue with or without you”, political actors are now positioned, deploying strategic tools to account for their stewardship to the electorate, making justifications for their reelection appeal. On the front burner of the strategic approach to reelection, is, regrettable, the distribution of food items as a calculated political strategy; using the desperation caused by systemic poverty to secure votes, buy loyalty, and ensure attendance at political rallies, effectively making basic survival contingent on political compliance. Through this strategy, they create a cycle of dependency clearly intended to keep the masses impoverished, in order to make justification for the distribution of food (such as “stomach infrastructure” or customized bags of rice) only during election cycles, and to ensure that citizens remain economically subjugated and reliant on the political class for survival.
While it is a common knowledge that the approach of food handout is typically short-sighted, the political class, somehow, by their own sheer ignorance, which they mistake for sagacity, seem to suggest, through the normalization of food distribution, that Nigerians are stupid. This suggestion is even amplified or enabled by the complicit nature of a number of Nigerians who, out of hunger than stupidity, legitimize the practice through acceptance. Stupid because they appear to tell Nigerians that their offer of temporary relief (a few cups of grain or a token financial handout) translates to addressing the root causes of hunger, such as poor economic policies, lack of job creation, and systemic inequality; underscoring the fact that the weaponization of hunger undermines democratic accountability. For when a hungry populace is conditioned to see food as a favor from a politician rather than a right provided by good governance, it stifles the citizens’ ability to demand long-term structural development and good governance.
From the biblical account, Jesus recognized a genuine human need (physical hunger) and met it with compassion without demanding political allegiance or servitude in return. He actively redirected the crowd’s focus toward spiritual nourishment, refusing to exploit their physical vulnerability. To that extent, we can say that the feeding was an act of grace that preserved the dignity of the people. It was a one-time provision meant to strengthen them, leaving them free to make their own choices afterward; and in the process, setting a template for establishing a political milieu rooted in servant leadership, truth, and accountability, completely devoid of self-serving political ambition characterized by ‘stomach infrastructure.
Therefore, similar to the crowd seeking food, many Nigerian voters prioritize immediate physical needs over long-term policy; and this is because the politician have done their work well by weaponizing hunger in a way that the people see survival as first, and any other thing as secondary. Politicians often provide food items, cash, or household items during campaigns (stomach infrastructure) to gather crowds, rather than addressing structural development. In hunger is so central to the idea of survival in Nigeria that the people are willing to abandon any political gathering where food is not central.
So, just as the multitude abandoned Jesus when his teaching required deeper commitment, voters often attend political rallies for free food and merchandise but may not be committed to the leader’s ideology. And as it turns out, many people follow leaders and religious figures expecting magical solutions to poverty, mirroring the crowd that sought a miracle-worker for food, rather than a spiritual guide. The crowd in John 6 wanted Jesus to be a political king who would solve their practical problems and provide daily bread, similar to Nigerians focusing on the immediate provision of goods rather than structural improvements. Therefore, the feeding of the five thousand serves as a parallel to the Nigerian political scene, highlighting a tendency to prioritize immediate material needs (the “loaves”) over long-term, profound change.
This brings us to the second dimension to the concept of ‘hunger’, which governor Rotimi Amaechi’s used as a strategic tool to galvanize the idea of a united opposition consciousness when at his event in Abuja, he said “we hungry”. So, rather than simply acknowledging physical starvation, the concept of hunger can be understood on multiple political layers: as a cynical weaponization of public hardship for political gain, a validation of the masses’ suffering to galvanize opposition, or a symptom of political desperation. Therefore, when Amaechi made his controversial statements, he essentially tied the physical hunger of the populace to a political objective: “We’re all hungry… If you want us to remove the man in power, we can remove him.” By directly equating citizens’ lack of food to a political tool meant to remove the president, he acknowledged that hunger is leverage. He is framing the economic suffering of the masses as the exact fuel the opposition needs to mobilize a coalition and unseat the ruling administration.
To that extent, the interpretation of his words largely depends on who is analyzing them; for example, the opposition and its supporters view his statement as a necessary, bold acknowledgment of the country’s economic crisis. And so, by aligning himself with the struggles of ordinary Nigerians, he is attempting to validate citizen anger, using their desperation as a catalyst for political protests and a united front against the current government. By the same token, some critics—most notably FCT Minister Nyesom Wike—have argued that Amaechi is not literally “food hungry” but rather “power hungry”. Detractors view this framing as a manipulative tactic; they argue politicians exploit the genuine poverty of the masses only when they are out of office and desperate to regain political control and state resources. And to that extent, we could assume that he is acknowledging hunger as a political weapon, but with a dual purpose. He is using it to unmask the failures of the ruling administration to the public, while simultaneously signaling his own desperation to regain influence in the shifting political landscape. Now, whether this happens or not depends on whether the citizens of Nigeria now possess the presence of mind to engage with 2027 election with a clearer understanding of governance; and a renewed consciousness to labour no more “for the meat that perisheth”.
The author, John Uwa (PhD), a public affairs analyst with interest in developmental leadership, writes from Delta State University, Abraka.
