On The Frontline With Boma
Long before the whistle is blown, seasoned ears already hear the drumbeats. In Nigeria, elections rarely arrive quietly. They are announced by war songs, whispered threats, sudden defections, midnight meetings, and the restless movement of political actors across the length and breadth of the country. Though the 2027 general election is still a year away, the signs are unmistakable: the polity is heating up, and familiar shadows are beginning to gather.
Across media spaces—traditional and digital—politicians have returned to form. Courtesy visits are now thinly veiled campaigns. Political tantrums are dished out with reckless abandon. Opposition figures are ridiculed, threatened, or strategically weakened. At the same time, a deluge of defections by highly placed individuals has once again exposed Nigeria’s fragile party ideology. Principles are packed into overnight bags, while ambition travels light and fast.
If history is anything to go by, Nigerians have every reason to be anxious.
The mood in the country does not suggest a clean break from the past. Instead, it echoes a troubling continuity—one in which elections are viewed not as a civic duty but as a battlefield; not as a contest of ideas but as a do-or-die affair. Against this backdrop, the question that confronts Nigerians is unavoidable: Can the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) deliver an election that defies our grim expectations?
The 2023 general elections were supposed to mark a turning point. With the introduction of the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System (BVAS), promises of real-time result transmission, and one of the highest election budgets in Nigeria’s history, expectations were understandably high.
Yet, what did Nigerians witness?
Technical glitches crippled critical processes. Result transmission faltered at decisive moments. Allegations of manipulation, suppression, and outright fraud trailed the exercise from polling units to collation centres. In many places, voting materials arrived late; in others, violence and voter intimidation reigned supreme. Ballot boxes were snatched in broad daylight, while vote buying was conducted with an audacity that bordered on mockery.
The painful irony was this: after the humongous amount spent on INEC, the integrity of the election remained in question.
For many Nigerians, 2023 did not just dent confidence in the electoral process—it deepened cynicism. It reinforced the belief that technology alone cannot cure a system infected by political interference, weak enforcement, and compromised personnel.
Today, INEC has a new helmsman, Professor Joash Ojo Amupitan—a Senior Advocate of Nigeria, a professor of law, a man whose résumé commands respect. His appointment has rekindled cautious hope in some quarters and deep skepticism in others.
The question Nigerians are asking is simple but weighty: Can he bell the cat?
Can he truly tread where others failed? Can integrity survive the pressure of power? Can professionalism withstand the onslaught of political intimidation, inducement, and blackmail?
At the moment, Amupitan is saddled with conducting by-elections and off-cycle gubernatorial elections. These exercises, though limited in scope, are more than routine assignments—they are litmus tests. They offer a glimpse into his leadership style, his tolerance for interference, and his willingness to enforce the rules without fear or favour.
However, Nigeria’s general elections are a different beast entirely. They are conducted simultaneously across thousands of polling units, in urban centres and remote villages alike, often under tense security conditions. Managing such an exercise requires not just legal knowledge, but logistical mastery, institutional courage, and political neutrality of the highest order.
One does not need to dig deep to identify the recurring vices that plague Nigerian elections. They are well documented and painfully familiar:
Ballot box snatching
Vote buying disguised as “logistics” or “transport money”
Results written where voting never occurred
Compromised ad hoc staff
Security agencies that look the other way—or worse, take sides
What is perhaps most disturbing is how normalized these practices have become. Politicians speak openly about “structures” and “machinery,” euphemisms for influence, coercion, and control. Threats fly around casually, with some political actors already boasting that certain parties “will not make it back” in 2027.
These statements are not mere rhetoric. They are warning signals—drumbeats before the storm.
INEC’s constitutional mandate is clear: to organize, undertake, and supervise elections in Nigeria. But in today’s Nigeria, that mandate must be interpreted boldly.
INEC must go beyond issuing guidelines and deploying machines. It must enforce compliance, discipline erring officials, and resist political pressure—openly and decisively. Internal accountability is crucial. Compromised staff, whether permanent or ad hoc, must face real consequences, not quiet redeployment.
Training must be rigorous, not perfunctory. Election officials must understand that neutrality is not optional. Transparency must be proactive, not reactive. Communication with the public must be timely, honest, and consistent especially during technical hitches.
Most importantly, INEC must rediscover moral authority. Once lost, public trust is hard to regain. But without it, even the best systems will fail.
INEC does not operate in a vacuum. The government of the day plays a critical role either as a guarantor of democratic norms or as a silent accomplice in their erosion.
The executive must allow INEC operational independence, not just on paper but in practice. Funding must be timely and unconditional. Security agencies must be professional and non-partisan. The rule of law must be upheld, even when court decisions are inconvenient.
When incumbents use state machinery to intimidate opponents, compromise institutions, or tilt the playing field, elections lose credibility before the first vote is cast. Democracy suffers not from lack of laws, but from lack of political will.
Despite the pessimism, Nigerians still yearn to be surprised. They want an election where their votes count, where results reflect reality, where losers concede with dignity, and winners govern with legitimacy.
Can the electoral umpire deliver the unexpected? It is possible—but not inevitable.
It will require courage at the top, integrity in the middle, and professionalism at the grassroots. It will demand that rules are enforced without exception and that sacred cows are sacrificed on the altar of credibility.
As the drumbeats grow louder and war songs echo across the political landscape, Nigeria once again approaches an election season burdened by memory and mistrust. For too long, our polls have followed a predictable script—grand promises, heavy spending, shattered expectations, and contested outcomes. Each cycle leaves the electorate more weary, more cynical, and less convinced that their vote truly counts.
Yet, history has a way of pausing at critical moments, offering institutions a rare chance to redeem themselves. The Independent National Electoral Commission now stands at such a crossroads. With a new leadership at the helm, the burden is no longer on excuses or inherited failures, but on courage, clarity, and conduct. Nigerians are not asking for miracles; they are demanding fairness, transparency, and fidelity to the law.
The by-elections and off-cycle polls ahead will speak louder than press statements or policy documents. They will reveal whether INEC is prepared to confront political intimidation, discipline its own ranks, and rise above the familiar pressures of power. Government, too, must decide whether it will act as a neutral umpire or an interested player in a contest meant to belong to the people.
As 2027 draws nearer, the question is no longer whether elections will hold, but whether they will mean anything. Will the ballots reflect the will of the voter, or the weight of influence? Will Nigeria witness another ritual of disappointment, or a quiet revolution of credibility?
The drumbeats are unmistakable. The nation is watching. History is waiting. INEC must now choose whether it will merely conduct another election or finally deliver the unexpected.
On The Frontline With Boma is published by The Port Harcourt Telegraph Newspaper authored by the Managing Editor.
