The focus of this article is an empirical study of political clientelism and its development impact in rural Ibadan, Nigeria. The study of clientelism in Nigeria is not in any way recent. As far back as the 1970s, Post and Jenkins (1973) revealed the clientelistic structure of Ibadan in the 1950s under the patronage of Adelabu. Adelabu rose to prominence through identification with the cause of the Ibadan common man. The clientelistic structure then involved the Ibadan Muslim poor majority, who were disadvantaged in political and economic arrangements that favoured the educated Christian and non-indigene minority. Adelabu was seen as a son of the soil, ready to wrest political and economic leadership from supposedly foreign usurpers and to extend goods to poor clients. The Ibadan clientelistic structure under Adelabu remained a strong phenomenon until its patron's sudden demise in a ghastly auto-crash in 1958. More than five decades after his demise, Adelabu is still cherished in Ibadan; the story of this political patron who ministered to the needs of the downtrodden is often told.

During Nigeria's Second Republic (1979–83), Ibadan's clientelistic structure was similar to the arrangements of the 1950s. This time, the poor majority became the clients of Alhaji Adelakun, a prominent Ibadan indigene. He was popularly called Ẹruobodo (the river is never afraid). Whoever won or lost elections in Ibadan was dependent on Adelakun's clientelistic structure. Adelakun perfected the means of extending goods to clients and injury and/or death to political opponents. In spite of his fierce and open display of thuggery and violence, he remained a respected politician and patron in political circles and was thus beyond the reach of the law. Adelakun's structure only collapsed after the military toppled the Second Republic on 31 December 1983. Adelakun was arrested along with several other politicians, and died in prison in 1986.

Again, during the Third Republic (1991–3) and the present Fourth Republic (since Reference Wu1999), Ibadan's political structure was and is predicated on clientelism. The structure was dominated by Chief Lamidi Adedibu until his demise at the age of 84 in 2008. Adedibu's palatial mansion provided succour to a huge number of poor clients whom he fed daily with amala and gbẹgiri (amala and gbẹgiri is a Yoruba staple food prepared with yam flour and bean soup), besides the provision of other basic needs. With his towering political influence and large client base, he was regarded as the Alaafin (emperor) of Yoruba politics (Ọmọbọwale and Olutayọ Reference Wu2007). His huge clientelistic influence was pivotal for any politician who sought to clinch power in Ibadan. Like Adelabu's before him, Adedibu's excesses and brazen utilization of thuggery and violence to fashion political power were largely overlooked by the political class, who benefited from his patronage and compensated him from the state treasury.

A detailed study in Mushin, Lagos by Barnes (1986) shows some of the mechanisms by which a relationship of patronage and clientelism is gradually constructed over time. Mushin, originally a collection of villages settled by people of predominantly Awori origin, experienced economic transformation with colonial rule. Accompanying the economic transformation were migrants who were able to acquire landed property. The landed migrants along with indigenous property owners constituted a new class of economic patrons who extended goods to clients in return for loyalty. Of course, the loyalty they received from clients in exchange for goods made the patrons politically relevant – not as indigenous traditional landowners, but as the privileged economic class that had been able to transform economic privilege into political advantage through patronage.

Patronage and clientelism have most often been discussed in the context of national political processes; Joseph (1991) made a key contribution when he identified the duo of prebendalism and clientelism as vital parts of Nigeria's political process, especially during the Second Republic. Joseph noted that attaining political/administrative offices is intrinsically associated with ethnicity or local belonging in Nigeria. First and foremost, appointment to political positions is dependent on the ethnic group, city, town or village a candidate is from – and not necessarily on merit. This is termed ‘federal character’ in the nation's constitution and supposedly is meant to ensure fair representation in public political/administrative positions. At each politico-administrative level (federal, state or local government), it is expected that representatives of constituent ethnic/cultural groups will be appointed to represent and protect the interests of their communities. Thus, for example, Ibadan men must be appointed at federal/state administrative levels to represent and protect Ibadan interests. More often than not, officials are selected for positions based on the recommendation of patrons. Of course, such officials are expected to be loyal to the patrons who recommended them, while also extending goods to clients through the patronage/clientelistic system that ensured their appointment (see also Ọmọbọwale Reference Ọmọbọwale2008; Ọmọbọwale and Olutayọ 2007; Ọmọbọwale Reference Ọmọbọwale2006; Olurode 1986).¹

The present study, however, is unique because it shows that clients operate not as lone individuals but as members of associations, which are deliberately created in order to have more clout with patrons; and that aggrieved clients, in addition, can exert leverage by changing, or threatening to change, their patrons. These aspects of patron–client relations in Nigeria have not been treated by previous studies.

Whereas authors usually view the situation in Africa as evidence of disorder, Chabal and Daloz (1999) believe Africa ‘works' through the instrumentalization of indices which Western/Weberian ideals/models conceptualize as disorder. For Chabal and Daloz, Africa does not operate the way Western nations do because of the non-emancipation of the state from society. Thus, the state/formal structure in Africa ‘ill-manages to conceal the patrimonial and particularistic nature of power’ (Chabal and Daloz Reference Chabal and Daloz1999: 1). Instead they propose the theory of the ‘rhizome state’ (ibid.: 10), wherein institutional models are of little importance as informal/patrimonial/clientelistic relations are the determinants of access to state resources and influence. But what are local people's perceptions of development and of its impact and sustenance, in relation to the client–patron relationship? If the emergence of socio-political organizations in the study area is a result of political clientelism, which aspects of local concerns and social relations are taken into consideration for the conception and implementation of development programmes, and can clients manipulate the relations between them and patrons? The study was carried out in the semi-rural fringes of Ibadan, among communities generally regarded as pivotal to the political structure by state officials and politicians, but rarely studied in relation to clientelism.

This study was designed as an empirical one. Qualitative data were generated through focus group discussions (FGDs) and in-depth interviews (IDIs) in rural Ibadan. Ibadan was purposely chosen because it remains the traditional headquarters of political activities in south-western Nigeria. The study population comprised adults of franchise age (18 years and above). The interviewees and discussants were selected from communities in three rural local government areas (LGAs) chosen through simple random sampling out of the six rural LGAs in Ibadan. In each rural LGA selected, the community with the highest population was selected because it was likely to be of greater political relevance to the political class. Thus the three communities selected were Mọniya (Akinyẹle LGA), Lalupọn (Lagelu LGA) and Masfala (Oluyọle LGA) in Ibadan, Nigeria.

Data for the study were collected through 12 FGDs (four per community) conducted homogeneously (on the basis of sex and age: one male and one female FGD, aged 18–39; one male and one female FGD, aged 40 and above) among members of progressive and occupational groups whose members agreed to participate in the FGDs. In-depth interviews were also conducted for certain categories of individuals including one political patron,Footnote ² former and incumbent chairmen and councillors representing selected communities, traditional rulers, and two opinion leaders (one male, one female). In all, 22 in-depth interviews were conducted (seven in each of the three communities and one interview with a political patron). Finally, the qualitative data gathered were subjected to content analysis. The fieldwork was conducted from November 2004 to May 2005.

PERCEPTIONS ON DEVELOPMENT, ITS IMPACT AND SUSTENANCE

The general perception of the respondents is that development has to do with infrastructural projects. Hence development was described as projects implemented by government, including ‘construction of roads, introduction of industries, water projects for people's welfare and whatever projects that will bring convenience to the people’ (male IDI/political patron). Another interviewee described development as ‘whatever can be done to bring about improvement in the lives of the people’ (male IDI/Akinyẹle LGA/political appointee). This improvement would be brought about through infrastructural facilities including ‘maternity centres, boreholes, electricity, construction of roads, etc.’ (male IDI/Mọniya, Akinyẹle LGA/ex-political appointee). This is because infrastructures will attract people, as a respondent states:

As people settle in the community, the population becomes important to the political class. It is assumed that the projects sited will be put to use. If the population does not increase, however, the area is passed over for one with a higher population figure. The interviewee quoted above explained it thus:

Indeed, the population size has to be taken into consideration because the higher the population the more important the community becomes to the political system. Besides, it is necessary to carry the population along if development projects are to be sustained. Thus the general response on sustaining infrastructural development in an FGD session is: ‘it could only be done by the government with the support of the people. For example, the modern well that was dug in Muslim area is maintained with N5 collected from those who come to fetch water’ (female FGD/Masfala, Oluyọle LGA/40 and above). Or it could be sustained by ‘unity … and if we are not greedy and do not usurp what belongs to the generality of the people’ (male FGD/Masfala, Oluyọle LGA/18–39 years).

The findings show that interviewees and discussants view development principally in terms of infrastructures, which are financed by the government. Communities may however be weak if the population is not large enough to attract government attention. For those in power, maintaining power means recognizing population size in the politics of the siting of projects. Communities with a large population are more likely to attract government attention than those with a small population because their votes count in maintaining political power. It is important to note, however, that irrespective of the population size, communities may fail to access government infrastructure if members remain individualized. Instead, they need to encourage communitarian values that enhance coming together to form associations, as the next section shows.

SOCIO-POLITICAL ORGANIZATIONS AND POLITICAL CLIENTELISM

The emergence of social and welfare organizations/associations in Nigeria's pauperized rural areas is largely associated with the need to associate and depend on one another for the satisfaction of material and non-material needs. These needs include unity, cooperation and expressions of love as well as monetary and other forms of material benefit for individual and group survival. At the micro level, an interviewee described social organizations as necessary for recognition and honour acquisition in social gatherings. He states:

The association also grants material assistance. The same interviewee states further:

Further, in a Lalupọn FGD session, participants agree that: ‘Once an organization is formed, it makes love to increase and since our association has been formed, love has increased. We love one another more and we contribute to development once we are called upon’ (female FGD/Lalupọn, Lagelu LGA/40 years and above).

Associations serve the purpose of providing social bonds for individuals who are involved in them through the exchange relations that take place. As members' material and non-material needs are satisfied, they provide the sense of belonging and attachment to the association. Each member views an aspect of her/his survival through the association and she/he is compelled to give back her/his loyalty to the association for its overall sustenance. At this stage the barriers created by individualism get broken down and a basis of gaining recognition from political elites arises. This is how it happens. As individualism weakens the position of the grassroots vis-à-vis the state, the formation of associational groupings enhances it by creating the bond of unity and love through which an association emerges as a ‘common front power’,Footnote ⁶ thus winning the attention of the political class. As an interviewee confirmed:

At this stage an association also becomes valuable to the political class. Each has something that the other desires. Whereas the association desires resources/goods from the political class, the political class needs the support of the association. Thus the association identifies with political/economic elites who can connect it to the state. An interviewee at Lagelu Local Government Area:

Further, a patron is appointed on the basis of his financial strength and good character exemplified in his philanthropic deeds and wisdom: ‘the appointment of a patron starts from money and then good character. So that when they have financial problems he can bail them out. Another factor has to do with appropriate advice and so he must be intelligent’ (Male IDI/Mọniya, Akinyẹle LGA/ ex-political appointee). The importance of wealth, character and wisdom is further stressed in a discussant's description of her association's patron:

Inasmuch as wealth is a major determining factor in the appointment of a patron, he must also be one who is ready to supply the survival needs of the members of the association. He must be one through whom their hope of upliftment and development may be secured. He gains this position through his patronage relations, which he performs by the endowment of material and non-material goods. As a patron he enjoys an aspect of Yoruba culture which gives reverence to elders for their wisdom, as his wisdom is seen in the goods he provides. He is thus seen as a loving elder not just because he shows it emotionally, but because his expression of love is backed up with material benefits. The patron is also seen as a big man (ọlọla) who allows the poor to jẹun lara rẹ (eat out of him) (Ọmọbọwale Reference Ọmọbọwale2008). He is accorded the respect of the leader who desires the good of all, and so wins over to himself a followership (of clients) strongly empowered with the ‘common front’, which, as we have seen, it is the object of the political class to win over.

Here we oppose the position of Agbaje (2002: 9), who identified the late chiefs Adelakun, Adedibu and Alhaji Ariṣekọla Alao as Ibadan patrons who had personalized political power through brute force or what he termed ‘warlordism’. It will appear that Adelakun, Adedibu and Ariṣekọla Alao acquired political power/relevance by coercion only if one judges the process on the basis of their utilization of thugs and miscreants to harass political opponents while enjoying cover from prosecution by the police. The fact remains that, as much as they harass political elites and opponents, they gain their political relevance first and foremost through the goods they grant to clients clustered around rural and urban Ibadan. They could not possibly force rural dwellers to submit their loyalties to them by coercion. Rural dwellers may be poor and uneducated, but they are wise enough not to follow leaders who seek their loyalty through brutality. Patrons can only secure rural patronage by presenting themselves as a privileged elite seeking to identify with the grassroots and provide their needs (see Ọmọbọwale and Olutayọ 2007).

Thus when a patron has established his influence over an area, he enjoys clients' loyalty as a strategic tool which he can make good use of for political influence. Consequently patrons are courted by the political class:

Thus these associations, so pivotal to the success of the Ibadan clientelistic system, are established by like-minded individuals to foster their friendship and welfare and enhance their access to resources through social networking and social capital. They take such forms as cooperative societies, trade associations or friendship associations directed at social clubbing in leisure time. A common feature of them all is the appointment of patrons who provide financial assistance to the associations. The patron takes the position of baba-isalẹ (father from the base) or baba-ẹgbẹ (father of the association). Indeed the social standing and status of a patron affects the association. An association that has an influential and wealthy patron commands respect among other associations because of the personality and connection of its patron among power groups. Besides, the patron comes to its aid whenever this is required. It is also a way of advertising the patron, who thus wins the attention of other associations that may decide to appoint him as patron. Whereas it is common for an individual to be the patron of many groups, a group does not usually have more than one patron at a time.

One such group is the Young Brothers Club (YBC), a prominent association in Mọniya. It has existed for about a decade. At the time this research was carried out, the group had 14 members. Its members are mostly artisans, including butchers, carpenters and mechanics, and its leaders are democratically elected for a specific period of time. Mr Ade (not his full name) was the Chairman of the YBC at the time of our research. Even though association members claim they appoint their leaders, the process may be influenced covertly by the patron.

The society was formed primarily to enhance solidarity, friendship and members' access to opportunities through social networking. The society occupies an ile-ẹgbẹ (society house), which is a rented apartment on the top floor of a building adjacent to the Akinyẹle Local Government Headquarters. The YBC enters the consciousness of Mọniya inhabitants through philanthropic activities that emphasize its capacity to transform daily life in the area. For example, in 2003 the group raised N150,000 ($1,200) to provide furniture to ill-equipped public primary schools and fuses for the National Electric Power Authority (NEPA), and started the construction of a bus-stop. It achieved this feat with the active financial support of its patron.

These are infrastructural resources that the rural community cannot access regularly and adequately from the government, and so their provision presents members of the YBC and its patron as people who have the good of the community at heart. With the popularity it enjoys among the local population, YBC attracts the attention of the political class as an organization which can win the hearts and minds of the people. Thus aspiring and incumbent political office holders seek its support and that of its patron in order to clinch and retain their positions. An association like this is particularly important to politicians because it can campaign informally for them – they do not win the support of most rural dwellers simply by formal campaigns, because many see politicians as liars who do not deliver on their promises. Associations like the YBC (and even those that do not have quite the same clout), are vital in carrying the campaign from house to house, while the reputation the association has built as a provider of public goods presents the politician it supports as the right person to vote for. Candidates the YBC has supported have won chairmanship (mayor) and councillorship (local representative at the local government level) elections since Nigeria's return to democracy, while two members of the group have also won elective positions using the YBC as an informal platform. One is the immediate past chairman of the YBC – a semi-educated butcher who won election to the Ọyọ State legislature having contested against a supposedly more qualified candidate who was a Masters degree holder, while the other was elected vice-chairman of the Akinyẹle local government. This is an indication of upward social mobility for privileged members of the YBC, who may also in time become patrons through election and/or appointment to public offices with access to public goods for onward distribution in further exchange for loyalty.

The YBC claims it makes demands for infrastructure from elected officials whom they support on behalf of the community. The YBC also has a patron who advises and assists the association financially. It should be noted, however, that the patron does not impose himself on the group. Rather, association members deliberate in order to appoint from a list of supposedly credible individuals who can assist the association financially. As at the time of this research, the YBC claims it appoints one patron at a time from among indigenes who are economically capable and may be locally resident in Mọniya or elsewhere within Ibadan and south-western Nigeria, but must be easily accessible.

Nevertheless, YBC members take pride in the fact that they do not entirely depend on patrons financially. They make regular sacrificial contributions and then ask the patron to complement their efforts. Coupled with the fact that an alternative patron is easy to find, the financial capability of YBC members (however limited) gives them a voice in their interaction with their patron – while the patron, too, subtly persuades them to follow his ‘advice’. YBC would not see the ‘advice’ as a unilateral dictate from the patron because the patron grants audience to the YBC whenever this is required, and allows deliberation over contentious issues. Thus, even when the patron eventually has his way, it is seen as a joint decision and not an imposition. It should be noted, however, that the association's patron is also part of a patronage chain that sustains the Nigerian political system. Indeed, YBC's patron influences members to support particular politicians in order to attract the goods they may offer. This explains why the association claims it maintains connection with political office holders for the attraction of infrastructural goods to the community. Of course, members and particularly the patron also benefit from the award of contracts and other privileges elected officers give as goods in exchange for loyalty. As long as these mutual exchanges subsist, the YBC continues to secure the loyalty and votes of relations, friends and neighbours through a subtle campaign to bring home the ‘good’ the preferred politician represents. Often, patron and politicians can win people's loyalty without having direct face-to-face contact with them. Loyalty is transferred to them through the workings of associations such as the YBC.

Thus the trio of associations, political patrons and political parties (politicians) constitutes a network in which one provides what the other lacks. On the one hand, political parties (and politicians) strive to acquire power. They need the votes of the populace to make it a reality. On the other hand the populace reconstituted into associations requires indirect access to state resources it cannot access directly. Standing between these two are political patrons. They are members of the political and economic classes who have been able to win the loyalty of the grassroots through their identification with grassroots survival needs. Thus political patrons provide the necessary linkage by transferring grassroots loyalty to the political class in exchange for government-initiated and financed ‘development’ projects. The next section treats the relevance of ‘development’ projects to these exchange relations.

DEVELOPMENT PROGRAMMES: LOCAL CONCERNS AND SOCIAL RELATIONS

With ‘pure’ individualism de-emphasized at the grassroots and association-based clientelistic relations in place, how is the atmosphere of cooperation created between the populace and the state which initiates and finances ‘development’ projects? The majority of the interviewees and discussants agree that the community can influence the conception and implementation of ‘development’ programmes, though the final decision rests with the government:

Discussants in a FGD session agreed that ‘ẹni ti ko bere ko le ri gba (whoever does not ask cannot receive). A local government comprises many communities. Each community will approach its representative who will present its case to the government’ (male FGD/Lalupọn, Oluyọle LGA/18–39 years). However, the elected representatives (councillors) who are political patrons serve as facilitators. An interviewee who is apparently a patron states:

While the people may be approached by the political class to identify their development needs, the clientelistic relations entrenched in the social structure are taken into consideration. For this reason, patrons serve as facilitators for the conception and implementation of development projects, as reflected in the submission of the interviewee above. Thus the exchange relations between the political class and the populace are symbolized in the ‘development’ projects attracted from the government to the people by the patron in lieu of loyalty. These projects bear the symbolic meaning of improvement in living conditions.

Infrastructural development has borne this symbolic meaning since the era of colonization, with the social structure modified in accordance with this changing but persistent development paradigm. As more infrastructural development is seen on the ground, so notions of ‘development’ are increasingly attributed to the grassroots to engender cooperation, followership, trust and approval. However, the findings show that the relationship may take an exploitative form, as the political class may not exchange on equal terms. Indeed, the project asked for may be implemented, but the quality of the job performed may be sacrificed for the sake of providing goods embedded with such symbolic meanings in exchange relations:

The response above reflects the fact that projects are not supposed to satisfy people's survival needs all the time. They may be implemented but collapse soon afterwards. All that is required is the physical project seen on the ground and not its long-term benefit to the generality of people. It is assumed it will stand out as a symbol of improvement to life even after it has stopped performing the projected function. A case in point is that of a road adjacent to the Akinyẹle Local Government Headquarters. It was tarred in 2003, but by the time of this research in 2004 it was covered with deep gullies which rendered it practically impassable. It was a clear case of a shoddy job done. Of course people do not benefit from it. It only stands out as a symbol of a development good that a crop of political office holders once gave as a ‘dividend of democracy’ to clients who voted for them. Hence the opinion of interviewees and discussants is largely negative about government development projects. Commenting on wells dug in her community, a female discussant stated ‘We do not benefit from it. It is only beneficial to those who live close to it … because if you have a good well in your house you don't need the public one’ (female FGD/Masfala, Oluyọle LGA/40 and above). As for another interviewee: ‘What they have done so far is good. The only problem is that they have gone bad and need repairs. The street light they did is not functioning again. It worked only a little while and packed up’ (female IDI/Lalupọn, Oluyọle LGA/opinion leader). Also, the general opinion of members in a FGD session at Mọniya is: ‘There is nothing they have done. The road that was tarred just a few months ago has become dilapidated and impassable … we cannot feel their impact’ (male FGD/Mọniya, Akinyẹle LGA /18–39 years).

However, this contrasts with opinions about projects initiated, financed and executed by a community. Lalupọn stands out in this. With the active involvement of associations, which mobilized their members to contribute materially and in kind, Lalupọn has been able to provide itself with a town hall, police station, post office, community bank and grammar school, among other things. Here the general opinion is reflected in the submissions: ‘the Community Bank was brought by the community. The Community Grammar School was built by the community. Likewise the Town Hall was built by the community. …The community have found these facilities very useful and beneficial’ (female FGD/Lalupọn, Lagelu LGA/40 years and above). As for community amenities developed by the state, ‘The borehole is the only project sited by the government. It was not completed … due to political rivalry and enmity’ (male FGD /Lalupọn, Lagelu LGA/18–39 years).

Lalupọn's experience is rather unusual. This is associated with its experience in Ibadan socio-political arrangements. Unlike the majority of Ibadan's numerous communities, which take pride in their common identity, Lalupọn prides itself on a distinct social heritage, claiming that the founding fathers of the community originated from Iragberi in neighbouring Ọṣun State. Lalupọn thus demands recognition of its distinct identity and autonomy for its traditional ruler from Ibadan's king. These demands pitch the community against the Ibadan-dominated political/administrative powers. Since the community hardly ever receives projects from Ibadan, it views its neglect as a deliberate act of punishment for seeking a distinct social identity.

This supposed deliberate official neglect has stimulated Lalupọn indigenes to see the provision of basic infrastructure as a quest to which the whole community is committed. Each time the community identifies a need that must be met, it raises the funds through compulsory donation of fixed amounts from its associations and family quarters, and also by organizing a Lalupọn day carnival for fund raising.

Using these means, the community recently built a modern post office, renovated the town hall and also constructed a police station. The post office looks quite modest but was fitted with facilities provided by the community, while the Nigeria Postal Service employs and pays the personnel. The town hall, which was built by self-help about three decades ago, had its roof damaged by a rain storm. The hall seats 700 and stands as a uniting symbol for the community. It is equipped with a generator and a television set for the entertainment of community members who throng to it most evenings for relaxation. It is also used for town meetings and as a reception centre during celebrations. The damage to the roof put the hall out of use, especially when it rained or the sun scorched. Lalupọn organized a carnival and invited its associations, family compounds and indigenes living outside the community to make donations. Sufficient funds were raised to repair the hall and put it back into good use.

For a long time, Lalupọn had no police station. According to the residents interviewed, as the crime rate climbed in the area, victims had to travel 17.7 km to Ibadan City to report cases to the police. After several fruitless appeals for the construction of a police station, the community again came together to provide what was lacking. A family within the community donated a parcel of land situated on Lalupọn's main road, while Lalupọn associations, family quarters and outside indigenes contributed to the construction of a police station during yet another carnival organized purposely for raising funds. It has since been completed – a modest bungalow painted yellow and equipped with offices and cells. It has become operational, and the Ọyọ State police headquarters in Ibadan has deployed policemen to the station. Lalupọn sees the police station as another testimony to its cohesion in pursuit of development, while respondents also claim that crime rates have been reduced since the station became operational in 2004.

The people of Lalupọn consider the projects they have initiated and financed without obtaining government assistance through patrons especially beneficial because they were able to determine everything by and for themselves in addressing their survival needs. These projects are thus more than symbols of exchange relations with the political class – even if they may have been assisted by supplementary donations from the economic/political elites. Attached to such projects are elements of ‘we value’: these are ajumọṣe (done in unison) projects and thus appreciated as tiwa n tiwa (our own). They are projects which reflect Lalupọn social identity and cohesion: as such, they must be sustained as a symbol of the successful self-development and survival of the group as a whole. As for those projects initiated and financed by government, their maintenance continues to symbolize the fulfilment of exchange relations. Here, associations come together to call the attention of the political class to community needs, and to exchange voter loyalty for government-financed projects. But the community would not maintain or improve on what is generally seen as ‘government property’: development goods obtained in exchange for the loyalty the community and its associations have given to elected officials through votes. Thus, once again, we see that politicians/elected officials must maintain implemented projects in order to sustain exchange relations.

MANIPULATION OF SOCIAL RELATIONS BETWEEN PATRONS AND CLIENTS

The data collected reveal that while a patron is powerful in socio-political exchange relations, there are avenues open to clients for influencing the decision of patrons. These avenues may range from persuasion to outright rejection of patrons by the clients, depending on the situation at hand. It should be noted that the most important ‘tool’ for retaining the loyalty of clients is acceding to their demands. An interviewee asks:

Another states:

Nevertheless, the political patron interviewed described it as one of the vicissitudes of politics which makes it dynamic and challenging. He states:

In spite of the seemingly unstable nature of the exchange relations as described by the political patron, equilibrium is maintained. As he states, ‘They know what I want, I also know what they want and so it is very easy for us' (male IDI/political patron). Indeed he knows what they want and this he tries to give to them. However, he also has a degree of coercive power, which keeps them in check. Yet he does not hold absolute power, as clients may opt for other patrons and this may grant them the protection they desire. So when his coercive power cannot keep the clients in check, he either loses them or accedes to their demands. Of course, it is only possible for clients to go to the brink if an alternative is available to them in another patron. The underlying reality is that whether clients are able to manipulate the social relations between them and patrons or not, generally they remain subservient to the political/economic classes, through whom on the whole their survival needs are secured – even though they are open to exploitation in the exchange relations.

CONCLUSION

The study emphasizes the relevance of rural social and welfare associations to the clientelistic structure of Ibadan. What clients are unable to achieve as individuals, they may accomplish when they come together to form associations. Inasmuch as the associations may not have been formed primarily to be embedded within the clientelistic system for the inflow of goods, but for social networking and mutual dependence, it is important to note that the associations eventually serve as the veritable means of gaining the attention of patrons and the political class. The associations then become part of the clientelistic structure through which clients gain access to goods, state resources and/or development projects while they yield loyalty in return. Nevertheless, the findings of this study have also brought to the fore the debilitating reality of clientelism, within which the Nigerian grassroots survive. Indeed, the country revels in the seeming success of the Fourth Republic and democratic rule, which puts it in a laudable position in the comity of nations, especially among developing nations. Nevertheless, the prevalence of clientelistic relations between the political class and the grassroots, and their untoward debilitating effect on rural development, casts a slur on Nigeria's democratic and development efforts.

Of course, both clients and the political elite claim that clients may manipulate the relations between them and patrons to their advantage. The reality, however, is that as patrons and the political class grant goods, grassroots clients are inevitably compelled (though usually morally/normatively rather than coercively) to grant loyalty in return. One may ask why. It is simply because, irrespective of the quality of the good provided and its sustainability, the development good takes on the form of a development symbol – improvement of life – for the short time it lasts, which must be reciprocated. Otherwise, if clients feel short-changed and decide to change patron, the reality again is that they end up in the hands of another patron through whom they hope to secure development goods.

Hence, as stated earlier, clients remain subservient to the elite class, whether they change patrons or not, even as they continue to receive sub-standard ‘development’ projects as goods. Hence, against the argument of Chabal and Daloz (1999) that low-class clients gain access to resources through clientelistic relations, the reality is that, though the exchange relations are subjected to non-formal negotiations and re-negotiations by both patrons and clients, clients do not ultimately control the quality of symbolic goods they receive from patrons. This puts them in a position of disadvantage. As stated earlier, what they may do to protest is to change patron, who invariably also belongs to the political/economic class. And since the new patron also may seek to maintain patronage at minimal cost and boost his own purse through patronage with government, again what he brings to clients remains sub-standard, even as clients again give loyalty in return. Hence, judging from the submission of a respondent earlier quoted, clients only become violent ‘hungry lions' if and when they cannot get what they want from the political/economic class.

For as long as the political/economic elite give something symbolizing what their clients want, clients remain largely tamed. Meanwhile political patrons and government officials who implement sub-standard projects and exploit grassroots clients escape prosecution, profiting from the embedded state of corruption that characterizes Nigeria's misfortune of governance. And so the rural clients run back to political patrons for the fixing of sub-standard projects and the implementation of more, which eventually also serve as means of siphoning public funds to corrupt state officials, who unfortunately hold patrons as partners in the corruptly exploitative process. Thus, rural areas in south-western Nigeria remain underdeveloped despite the continual inflow of projects in exchange for loyalty, and local inhabitants rarely protest against the exploitation that has become institutionalized so long as projects (goods) that symbolize development are implemented and/or continually repaired – as communities often demand when they prematurely collapse, as such projects always do. It is important to note that the continual premature collapse and repair also serve as campaign tools for politicians, who always promise to provide and/or maintain infrastructures while the subsequent award of contracts economically benefits political office holders and patrons, who often serve as contractors. Hence, clients remain in a precarious situation of continual exploitation. Even when clients protest by changing patrons, they end up in the hands of other patrons who only use the patronage structure for political advantage and equally corrupt exploitation – and not for wholehearted development to improve the lives of the generality of the people.

The only success story in our area of research, in terms of development projects, is the case of Lalupọn. Of course, political patrons assisted the community in raising funds for its project, but the fact that it is/was initiated and implemented by the community as a whole makes it a unifying project that attracted management and sustenance by the community. Thus, patrons who provide funds are appreciated just as other less economically influential residents are appreciated. The community, therefore, controls the design, implementation and management of such projects for its development.

Finally, it is important to submit that associations are pivotal to the clientelistic structure. Clients do not relate to patrons as individual adherents, but they rather form themselves into social and welfare associations in order to have more clout with prospective patrons. The associations subsequently become essential to the clientelistic system through the attraction of goods in exchange for loyalty. Indeed, once association members yield their support to particular patrons and politicians, they informally campaign and solicit the support of friends, family members and other close associates for support of a particular politician or party during election periods. This network of associational clients, patrons and politicians goes a long way towards determining who gets to and is retained in power.