Electoral Act amendment puts election credibility in focus

Nigeria has once again adjusted its electoral law, and as always, the amendments arrive dressed in the language of progress. Timelines have been recalibrated. Terminology has been modernised. Fines have been reviewed. Procedures have been clarified. On the surface, this looks like responsible legislative housekeeping ahead of another major election cycle.

But elections are not judged on how tidy the rulebook looks. They are judged on one thing only: whether citizens trust the journey from the polling unit to the final declaration of results.

That is where the deeper conversation lies. And that is where this amendment becomes more revealing for what it avoids than for what it introduces.

Nigeria’s recent electoral history has shown a clear pattern. The fiercest disputes are no longer primarily about whether people voted. Accreditation technology, especially BVAS, has reduced the old controversies of ghost voters and inflated figures at the point of voting. The process at the polling unit, while still imperfect, is now more transparent than it was a decade ago.

The flashpoint has shifted. It sits squarely in the space between the polling unit and the collation centre. That is the zone where suspicion thrives. It is the zone citizens watch with anxiety. It is the zone that shapes public acceptance or rejection of outcomes.

Against that background, the most politically loaded question before lawmakers was simple: should the electronic transmission of results from polling units be made an unambiguous legal obligation? Not a possibility. Not a discretionary tool. A requirement.

The decision to step back from making that obligation firm is not a small technical choice. It is a political signal. It suggests comfort with administrative reforms, but caution when reforms touch the most sensitive lever of electoral credibility. In other words, the law evolves, but control points remain flexible.

Supporters of this approach may argue that electoral management bodies need operational discretion. They may say infrastructure gaps, network failures, and security realities require room for judgment. Those concerns are not trivial in a country with uneven connectivity and complex terrain.

Yet the counterargument is equally weighty. Where discretion exists in the most disputed segment of the process, suspicion fills the vacuum. In environments where trust in institutions is already fragile, ambiguity becomes combustible. Citizens do not parse subsections of the Act. They ask a simpler question: can results be altered after leaving the polling unit?

By leaving that question without a firm legal anchor, the amendment improves the machinery of elections but leaves the psychology of elections unsettled.

The same pattern appears in the treatment of electoral offences, particularly vote buying and selling. The financial penalties have been increased, and imprisonment provisions retained. On paper, this signals seriousness. But the removal of the proposed ten-year ban from contesting elections for those convicted of such offences changes the moral weight of the law.

Vote buying is not a minor procedural breach. It strikes at the heart of democratic choice. It converts poverty into a political tool and reduces citizenship to a transaction. In many communities, the ballot is the only equaliser between the powerful and the powerless. When that moment is monetised, democracy becomes a marketplace.

A long-term disqualification would have sent a strong message that electoral corruption is not just illegal, but disqualifying from future leadership. Its removal suggests a softer line. Offenders may face fines or prison terms, but the door to political ambition remains open after the dust settles.

This matters because deterrence in electoral systems is as much symbolic as it is punitive. Laws do not only punish; they communicate values. A stiff ban would have declared that those who corrupt the vote cannot legitimately claim to represent the people. Without it, the system still punishes the act, but it stops short of branding it fundamentally incompatible with public office.

When viewed together, these choices paint a picture. The amendment is energetic on procedure, measured on structure, and cautious on the pressure points that directly shape public confidence. Notice periods have been shortened. Candidate submission timelines have been adjusted. Language has been updated to reflect current technology. These are not irrelevant changes. They affect planning, logistics, and legal clarity.

But elections are not lost because notices were issued too early or forms were submitted too soon. They are lost in the court of public opinion when outcomes are seen as products of manoeuvre rather than mandate.

There is also a broader lesson here. Nigeria has reformed its electoral laws repeatedly over the past two decades. Each cycle carries the promise that the next election will be better administered than the last. And indeed, many aspects have improved. Technology has entered the process. Procedures are more detailed. Oversight has expanded.

Yet credibility does not rise at the same pace as regulation. This is because credibility lives at the intersection of law and behaviour. A well drafted Act cannot substitute for political restraint, institutional courage, and a shared elite commitment to fair play. Where that culture is weak, even the best laws are bent. Where it is strong, even imperfect laws can produce acceptable outcomes.

The current amendment, therefore, sits in a familiar space. It refines the framework but leaves the central anxiety of the electorate only partially addressed. It signals progress, but not a decisive break with the ambiguities that have haunted result management. It punishes electoral corruption, but stops short of the strongest symbolic sanction against those who monetise the vote.

Whether this becomes a turning point or just another chapter in Nigeria’s long reform cycle will depend less on the text of the Act and more on how institutions interpret their powers and how political actors choose to conduct themselves. Laws set the stage. Trust is built by performance.

In the end, citizens do not celebrate amendments. They celebrate outcomes they believe in. Until reforms close the gap between procedure and confidence, every new law will be read through an old question: can we trust what happens after we vote?

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