The Independent National Electoral Commission under Professor Joash Amupitan (SAN) is forcing Nigeria to confront a hard question. Do we still have an electoral umpire, or have we quietly accepted an institution that manages outcomes rather than protects the people’s will?
What should be a neutral referee increasingly appears to many Nigerians like a highly skilled demolition crew, dismantling public confidence in slow, deliberate strokes.
Previous commissions were far from perfect, but the present moment feels different. The “Independent” in INEC’s name now seems more aspirational than real, buried under executive influence, opaque decisions, and technical failures that curiously emerge at the most politically sensitive moments.
If this trajectory continues, Nigeria risks drifting toward a de facto one-party state, not by formal declaration, but through the gradual erosion of genuine electoral competition. The danger is not abstract. It is unfolding in real time.
To grasp the gravity of the current situation, consider the recent events involving the African Democratic Congress (ADC). At INEC’s Zambezi Street headquarters, a decision was taken to remove the names of David Mark and Rauf Aregbesola from the commission’s portal, effectively crippling one of the more visible third force platforms in the country.
The official justification was internal leadership tussles. Yet, for years, INEC has argued in court that it has no mandate to interfere in the internal affairs of political parties. Now, under the current leadership, the commission appears willing to determine which faction of a party is recognised and which is effectively suffocated.
This is not a minor administrative adjustment; it is a profound intervention with far-reaching political consequences. When an electoral body begins to decide which platforms live and which platforms are quietly pushed to the margins, it is no longer merely regulating the system; it is shaping the political field itself. In a democracy already struggling with voter apathy and distrust, weakening alternative platforms sends a clear message: the space for dissent and new political ideas is shrinking. When you systematically deregister or paralyse the platforms that disgruntled Nigerians are flocking to, you aren’t cleaning up the system, you are building a cage.
VOTER REVALIDATION OR STRUCTURED EXCLUSION?
The 2026 Voter Register Revalidation exercise raises equally serious concerns. INEC has announced a nationwide revalidation beginning April 13, 2026, less than a year before a critical election cycle. Officially, this is framed as a necessary effort to sanitise the register and improve data integrity.
But the timing and context matter.
Nigeria is a country where basic documentation such as obtaining a National Identification Number remains a major challenge for millions. Infrastructure gaps, bureaucratic delays, and digital exclusion are everyday realities. In such a context, a sweeping revalidation exercise risks becoming a gatekeeping mechanism rather than a mere technical update.
The likely casualties are predictable: young voters, first time voters, rural communities, and citizens who are already on the margins of the system. These are also the groups most likely to demand change at the ballot box. If, after the revalidation, millions of Nigerians discover that their names have quietly disappeared from the register, the damage to democratic legitimacy will be immense.
Disenfranchisement does not always arrive with violence. Sometimes it comes dressed as administrative reform.
THE RETURN OF MANUAL COLLATION
The 2026 Electoral Act’s continued accommodation of manual transmission of results is another red flag. After the 2023 elections, Nigerians were told that technologies like BVAS and IReV would transform the process, reduce human interference, and restore confidence. Citizens stood for hours, sometimes in hostile conditions, because they believed their votes would be transmitted and recorded transparently.
Now, under the Amupitan doctrine, Nigerians are being told that if the network fails, the system will revert to manual collation. On the surface, this sounds pragmatic. In reality, it reopens the very space where electoral malpractice has historically thrived.
Manual collation centres have long been the weak link in Nigeria’s electoral chain, the place where figures are most vulnerable to manipulation, where 20,000 votes can mysteriously become 200,000 while the country sleeps. By keeping this window open, INEC sends a troubling signal that the digital footprint of the voter may be less decisive than the handwritten figures on a sheet of paper in a distant collation centre.
For a country that has invested heavily; financially and emotionally in electoral technology, this is a step backwards.
THE QUESTION OF TRUE INDEPENDENCE
The independence of an electoral body is not a presidential favour; it is a constitutional imperative. Yet, in practice, that independence has often been treated as negotiable.
When the chairman of INEC is appointed solely by the President, who is also a key player in the electoral contest, the conflict of interest is obvious. Even if the appointee acts with integrity, the perception of bias is difficult to dispel. In a fragile democracy, perception matters almost as much as reality.
What we are witnessing today is a commission that appears more attuned to the preferences of the executive than to the anxieties of the electorate. This is not simply about one individual; it is about a structural design that places too much power over the electoral umpire in the hands of those who stand to benefit from its decisions.
The solution is not merely to replace one chairman with another. A new pilot cannot fly a plane whose engines have been compromised. What is needed is a fundamental redesign of how INEC’s leadership is constituted. Many reform advocates have proposed a model in which the appointment of the chairman and commissioners is handled by a broad based council that includes the legislature, judiciary, professional bodies, and civil society organisations. Such a process would not eliminate controversy, but it would dilute the influence of any single political actor and strengthen public trust.
PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO STOP HOPING:
Nigeria’s democracy has survived this long not because of its institutions, but because of its people. Ordinary Nigerians have stood in the sun until their skin burned. They have guarded ballot boxes with their bodies. They have inhaled tear gas and endured intimidation because they believed that their vote could still matter.
When an electoral commission appears to undermine that belief, the injury is not just political; it is deeply personal. To deny citizens a credible opportunity to choose their leaders is to diminish their dignity. It is to tell the mother who cannot afford basic food and the graduate who cannot find work that their voices are mere data entries that can be deleted at will.
There is a particular sorrow in watching an institution that should be a shield become, in the eyes of many, a source of harm. Yet this moment can also be a turning point.
Those who benefit from a weakened electoral system would prefer a silent, cynical, and exhausted citizenry. They would prefer that Nigerians retreat into private survival and abandon public engagement. That must not happen.
The vote remains one of the few instruments of power that ordinary citizens possess. It cannot be allowed to become a mere ritual.
DEMOCRACY AT A TIPPING POINT
Nigeria’s democracy is under severe strain. The deregistration or weakening of parties, ambiguous legal provisions, controversial voter management exercises, and the persistence of manual collation are not isolated events. They are symptoms of a system that is deeply uncomfortable with genuine popular sovereignty.
There is a limit to how long any electoral umpire can operate in this manner before the stadium, the wider society demands new rules. We are approaching that limit.
The “independent” in the Independent National Electoral Commission must be reclaimed in practice, not just in name. If INEC continues on a path that appears to many citizens as one of electoral capture rather than electoral protection, it risks losing the moral authority that any referee must possess.
CITIZENS AS AUDITORS OF THEIR OWN DESTINY:
This is not the time for political fatigue. The groundwork for 2027 is being laid now, not on election day.
Every eligible Nigerian should take the time to visit the INEC portal, verify registration and revalidation status, and document any irregularities. Every error should be recorded. Every unexplained omission should be questioned. Civil society groups, the media, professional associations, and community networks must treat this period as a critical audit phase for the electoral system.
We are not just voters; we are stakeholders in the republic. Democracy is not a gift handed down by leaders; it is an obligation we owe to those who will come after us.
Citizens must organise, mobilise, and insist that electoral institutions live up to their constitutional mandate. Public pressure, legal challenges, investigative journalism, and sustained civic education all have a role to play in forcing accountability.
Democracy is not a spectator sport. If the referee is perceived to have taken sides, the answer is not to abandon the field, but to demand a fairer game and stronger rules.
The message to every Nigerian is simple, verify your status, protect your mandate, and refuse to be quietly erased from the democratic record.
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