“You all in Roche Caïman, I have decided to withdraw my candidacy for the upcoming elections.”
With these simple yet weighty words, Dane Vidot, a young legislative candidate under the banner of the Seychelles United Movement (SUM), announced his withdrawal last week on social media. A withdrawal that sounds like a direct repudiation of the party leader, Maarco Francis, and casts a harsh light on the internal dysfunctions of a political movement struggling for legitimacy.
Dane Vidot, a dynamic and engaged figure from the district of Roche Caïman, was part of the new generation that SUM liked to showcase as proof of political change. Until recently, very close to Maarco Francis, Dane regularly appeared by his side during campaign outings. A closeness that led many to believe in a solid, almost brotherly alliance. But in a candid post, the young man spoke of a growing divide between his convictions and the practices of the party.
“This wasn’t an easy decision, but I can no longer carry the weight of disappointment alone,” he said, visibly emotional.
While Vidot’s decision may have surprised many, it did not come out of nowhere. For several weeks now, doubts have been circulating about the integrity of SUM’s leader, particularly regarding the truthfulness of his academic qualifications. Accused of embellishing his CV to boost his public image, Maarco Francis has yet to provide a clear response. His silence only fuels the suspicions.
At the party’s last rally, held on May 27, rather than addressing these allegations, Francis chose instead to emphasize his financial independence, “I don’t need the President’s salary to raise my two children. I will donate that money to the orphans of La Misère,” he declared in a tone that oscillated between provocation and populism.
A charitable promise on the surface… but one that raises questions. Can one truly trust a man who speaks of philanthropy while reportedly engaging in questionable and opportunistic political practices?
Several cultural and sports event organisers have recently come forward, claiming they were promised financial sponsorships by SUM, promises that were never fulfilled. According to their accounts, Maarco Francis used these events as improvised campaign platforms, showing up with his entire team despite having failed to honor any prior commitments or ensuring that any help provided was unrelated to politics.
“He promised us sponsorship, but in the end, gave nothing. He just came to make himself visible,” said one sports event organiser anonymously. “This kind of behaviour not only discredits the event but undermines the neutrality of public spaces.”
Dane Vidot’s departure is anything but trivial. It reflects a deeper unease within a movement that seems to lean more on its leader’s fortune than on a clear political vision. While a few loyalists such as Steve Agricole (Les Mamelles), Ted Legaie (Anse Aux Pins), or Jean-Yves Mussard (La Digue) still stand by, SUM is increasingly appearing like a party without a backbone, where principles take a backseat to personal ambition.
