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ABUJA – Nigeria’s electoral laws have always carried an unspoken truth: whoever controls the rules of the game often controls the outcome. Beneath the lofty language of reform, credibility, and democratic consolidation lies a perennial struggle for advantage—between citizens seeking to make their votes count and politicians determined to manage uncertainty. The latest attempt by the National Assembly, particularly the Senate, to amend the Electoral Act has once again brought this struggle into sharp relief.
Publicly, lawmakers insist the amendments are meant to “strengthen the electoral system,” “close observed gaps,” and “enhance efficiency.” Privately, critics argue that the exercise reflects something more familiar in Nigeria’s political history: a ruling political class recalibrating the rules to protect itself after an election cycle that proved uncomfortably unpredictable.
The 2023 general election, despite its flaws, introduced a dangerous variable into Nigerian politics—technology-backed transparency that could not be easily controlled by political machinery. The introduction of BVAS for accreditation and the legal backing for electronic transmission of results unsettled long-standing electoral habits. Even where implementation faltered, the idea that votes could be digitally tracked altered voter expectations and elite calculations.
It is against this background that the renewed push to amend the Electoral Act must be understood.
Several senators who now champion “flexibility” in electoral procedures were among those who struggled through fiercely contested primaries and general elections. For them, the problem was not voter apathy or weak institutions; it was uncertainty. Electoral unpredictability, analysts say, is the true enemy of incumbency.
“This amendment process is not occurring in a vacuum,” said Prof. Jide Ojo, a political analyst and development consultant. “It is a response to the shock experienced by political elites in 2023. When politicians begin to feel that elections are slipping out of their control, they return to the law.”
At the heart of the controversy is the growing suspicion that the proposed amendments, rather than deepen voter power, subtly reassign discretion back to institutions and individuals historically susceptible to political pressure. While the language of the amendment appears technical, its political implications are far-reaching.
One major concern is the attempt to reintroduce conditionality around technological safeguards. Provisions that appear to soften the mandatory nature of electronic transmission or introduce phrases such as “where practicable” have raised red flags among election observers. To critics, such wording is not accidental. It reopens loopholes that technology was meant to close.
“Once you remove absolutes from electoral law, you reintroduce human discretion, and in Nigeria, discretion has a long record of abuse,” said Dr. Aisha Wakili, a governance and electoral reform expert. “The law should protect voters from officials, not give officials room to explain away failure.”
Civil society groups argue that these changes betray the spirit of reform that Nigerians embraced in 2022. While politicians frame the amendment as a response to logistical challenges faced by INEC, sceptics say the real target is the reduction of post-election legal exposure for winners.
In several public engagements, senators backing the amendment have emphasised the need for “flexibility” in the use of technology. Senator Sarafadeen Abiodun Alli, while addressing stakeholders during a committee retreat, noted that electoral laws must “reflect Nigeria’s infrastructural realities” and avoid placing the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) in positions where logistical failure could invalidate elections.
Similarly, Senator Abdulaziz Musa Yar’Adua (Katsina Central), a member of the committee, has argued on the Senate floor that “no electoral system should be so rigid that elections can collapse due to technical hitches.”
Critics, however, see danger in such flexibility.
Dr. Aisha Wakili, a governance and electoral reform scholar, warned that seemingly innocuous legal language can have far-reaching implications. “Once the law begins to qualify transparency mechanisms with discretionary clauses, it shifts power away from systems and back to individuals. In Nigeria’s context, that has historically weakened electoral integrity,” she said.
Civil society organisations including Yiaga Africa and the Centre for Democracy and Development (CDD) have expressed similar concerns in formal submissions to the Senate Committee. While stopping short of accusing lawmakers of bad faith, they caution that any dilution of mandatory electronic processes risks reversing hard-won gains.
The Senate Committee insists these fears are overstated. According to committee members, the intention is not to weaken transparency but to provide INEC with lawful alternatives in areas affected by insecurity, poor connectivity, or infrastructure collapse.
But political analysts argue that intent is not the only issue; perception and effect matter just as much.
“The problem is not what senators say they intend, but how the law can be used,” said Prof. Jide Ojo, a political analyst and development consultant. “Electoral laws must be drafted for worst-case scenarios, not best intentions.”
Election litigation has become one of the few spaces where electoral malpractices are challenged. Any amendment that tightens timelines excessively, limits admissible evidence, or raises technical thresholds for petitions may improve judicial efficiency, but it also raises the cost of justice for aggrieved voters and candidates.
Senior Advocate of Nigeria, Mr. Femi Falana, has repeatedly warned that electoral reform must not be reduced to elite convenience. “Democracy thrives when citizens believe that institutions will protect their mandate. The moment electoral laws are amended to shield politicians rather than voters, legitimacy suffers,” he said at a recent public forum.
Yet, in the Senate chambers, the conversation sounds markedly different. Supporters of the amendment argue that Nigeria must avoid overdependence on technology and that INEC should retain flexibility in difficult terrains. They frame critics as idealists disconnected from Nigeria’s infrastructural realities.
Some Senators also argue that prolonged litigation undermines governance stability. Senator Mohammed Sani Musa (Niger East) has publicly called for “clearer and stricter timelines” to ensure that election outcomes are not endlessly contested.
This tension—between stability and accountability—lies at the heart of Nigeria’s electoral reform dilemma.
Beyond procedure, party control remains a quiet but potent issue. Although the amendment does not openly expand party dominance, analysts say it does little to address internal party democracy, which many see as the weakest link in Nigeria’s electoral chain.
“Voters can only choose from what parties present,” said Tunde Akin, an independent political analyst. “If party processes remain opaque and elite-controlled, elections simply become a ratification exercise.”
Street-level sentiment reflects this disillusionment.
But analysts note that the same infrastructural challenges did not prevent politicians from deploying sophisticated technology for campaigns, surveillance, and voter targeting.
“There is hypocrisy at play,” said political economist Dr. Samuel Adeyemi. “When technology favours politicians, it is reliable. When it empowers voters, it suddenly becomes problematic.”
Beyond technology, the amendment also touches on internal party processes—another sensitive fault line. Nigeria’s democracy remains heavily party-centric, with parties exercising enormous control over candidacy. Any reform that further entrenches party supremacy without corresponding internal democracy weakens voter sovereignty.
Independent political analyst, Mr. Tunde Akin, argues that Nigerian voters do not merely vote for parties; they increasingly vote against them. “What we saw in 2023 was protest voting. Parties that think tightening their grip will save them are misreading the electorate.”
On the streets, the cynicism is unmistakable.
At Berger Junction in Abuja, commercial driver Musa Abdullahi was blunt. “Every time they talk about amending election law, it is for themselves. If it was for us, voting would be easier, cheaper, and our votes would count.”
For many ordinary Nigerians, electoral reform has become a recycled promise—invoked before elections, renegotiated after them, and rarely felt at polling units.
Trader and mother of three, Mrs. Funke Adebola, echoed similar frustration in Ibadan. “They want us to vote, but they don’t want us to choose. Once elections are over, they change the rules again.”
This widening gap between elite intention and public perception poses a serious danger to Nigeria’s democratic stability. Voter turnout has steadily declined over successive election cycles. Young Nigerians, in particular, increasingly see elections as symbolic rituals rather than instruments of change.
Dr. Chukwuemeka Eze, a sociologist, warns that democratic disengagement is cumulative. “People don’t abandon democracy in one election. They withdraw gradually when they feel the system is rigged in advance.”
Historically, Nigeria’s electoral reforms have followed a predictable pattern: public outrage, elite concession, partial reform, elite adaptation, and renewed outrage. The danger, analysts warn, is that each cycle produces diminishing returns.
What makes the current amendment especially consequential is timing. Nigeria is barely two decades into uninterrupted civil rule. Institutions are still fragile, and norms are still forming. In such a context, laws do more than regulate behaviour; they signal intent.
“If the law signals that politicians are afraid of voters, voters will respond with apathy or resistance,” said Wakili. “Neither outcome strengthens democracy.”
Supporters of the amendment insist fears are exaggerated and that the final version will retain core safeguards. However, trust is thin, and the burden of proof rests squarely on lawmakers.
Electoral reform, experts argue, should be citizen-driven, not elite-managed. It should make rigging harder, not litigation more technical. It should expand participation, not merely stabilise outcomes.
As Nigeria inches toward 2027, the stakes could not be higher. The choices made now will determine whether elections remain competitive contests of ideas or descend into managed confirmations of elite consensus.
The question Nigerians are asking is no longer whether elections will hold, but whether they will matter.
In the end, democracy is not destroyed by tanks on the streets; it is weakened by laws written in quiet committee rooms, justified by technical language, and passed by those who stand to benefit most.
The Electoral Act amendment is therefore not just a legal exercise—it is a moral test. And like all such tests in a democracy, it will be marked not by politicians, but by the people.
This is not just a legislative exercise; it is a referendum on democratic intent.
As Nigeria looks toward 2027, lawmakers face a choice. They can entrench voter confidence by strengthening transparency and accountability, or they can prioritise political stability as defined by the comfort of incumbents.
History will not judge the amendment by its technical elegance, but by its democratic consequences.
For Nigerians, the question lingers: when politicians amend the rules of elections, are they protecting democracy—or protecting themselves?
