ANALYSIS: Again, Nigeria begins another electoral cycle without resolving women’s reserved seats bill

It’s a familiar pattern in the campaign for gender inclusion in Nigerian politics: a major reform proposal gathers momentum, draws public support, and then quietly stalls.

Every few years, as the nation approaches a major election, hope rises for the campaign. Speeches and promises are made, and bills are drafted.

However, as the electoral clock begins its final, frantic countdown, that hope is systematically strangled by procedural delays, silences, and “indefinite postponement.” It is, in many ways, beginning to feel like déjà vu.

At the centre of this latest episode is the Reserved Seats for Women Bill, sponsored by the Deputy Speaker of the House of Representatives, Benjamin Kalu, alongside 12 other members of the House.

The proposal is one of the most ambitious attempts yet to correct Nigeria’s persistent gender imbalance in elective offices.

In simple terms, the bill seeks to create additional seats, not to take existing ones away, but to reserve new positions exclusively for women across all levels of the legislature.

If passed, each state and the Federal Capital Territory would have one additional Senate seat reserved for women, while the House of Representatives would mirror the same arrangement with one extra seat per state and the FCT. At the state level, each House of Assembly would gain three additional seats exclusively for women.

This would significantly expand Nigeria’s federal legislature. The Senate would increase from 109 to 146 members, the House of Representatives from 360 to 397, while state assemblies would collectively rise to about 1,098 legislators. Women elected into these seats would have the same powers, rights and privileges as existing lawmakers and would still be eligible to contest regular seats.

The proposal is also designed as a temporary intervention, expected to run for four general election cycles, equivalent to 16 years, after which it would be reviewed to determine whether to retain, expand, or discontinue it.

Yet, this ambitious blueprint is currently gathering dust. Despite assurances from Mr Kalu, who chairs the House Constitution Review Committee, that the bill would be voted on by the fourth quarter of 2025, the calendar has flipped into 2026 with no significant movement. The committee votes originally scheduled for October 2025 were postponed to November 2025, and then vanished into the legislative fog of the new year.

The delay is no longer just procedural; it is becoming consequential.

With the commencement of the 2027 general elections party primaries in May, the window for meaningful impact has closed rapidly for the current electoral cycle. Constitutional amendments are meant to have been concluded before party primaries to influence candidate selection. Once parties finalise the election of candidates, the structure of representation is largely fixed.

Even if the National Assembly (Senate and House of Representatives) passes the bill, it must still secure the approval of at least two-thirds of the 36 State Houses of Assembly before it can be assented to by the President to become law. This requirement has historically proven to be one of the most difficult stages in Nigeria’s constitution amendment process.

A familiar cycle of stalled gender reforms

This is not the first time a gender-focused bill has faltered at the National Assembly. Over the past two decades, several attempts to improve women’s political representation have either failed outright or stalled indefinitely.

The current bill did not emerge in isolation. It is, in many ways, a reworked version of an earlier effort that failed at a critical stage.

The proposal was first introduced in the 9th National Assembly by a former member of the House, Nkeiruka Onyejeocha, and co-sponsored by 85 lawmakers, including the former Speaker, Femi Gbajabiamila. It formed part of a broader package of five gender-focused constitutional amendment bills considered during the fifth constitution alteration exercise.

At the time, the bill proposed a more expansive framework, with 111 additional seats at the federal level. This included three special seats for women in each state and one in the FCT across both the Senate and the House of Representatives.

However, when it came to a vote in March 2022, it failed to secure the required support, collapsing alongside other gender-related proposals despite strong advocacy and public attention.

Among them were proposals for special seats for women, citizenship rights for the foreign spouses of Nigerian women, as they exist for men, and indigeneship rights for married women.

The current version, now designated as HB 1349, reflects a strategic adjustment. The number of proposed seats has been reduced to 74, a response to concerns about an already bloated legislature. It also retains the sunset clause, providing for a review and possible termination after 16 years.

Also, the Gender and Equal Opportunities Bill, first introduced in 2010, has repeatedly faced resistance, particularly in the Senate, over cultural and religious concerns. Various affirmative action proposals aimed at implementing the 35 per cent inclusion target in public appointments have also struggled to gain legal backing.

Beyond the reserved seats proposal, Nigeria’s legislative history is filled with unsuccessful attempts to advance gender-related reforms.

One of the most notable examples is the Gender and Equal Opportunities Bill, which has repeatedly struggled to survive legislative scrutiny.

The bill was first introduced in the Sixth Senate in 2010 by former Imo East senator, Christiana Anyanwu, although it gained wider public attention in March 2016 when it failed to scale second reading in the Senate.

Later in 2016, former Ekiti South senator, Abiodun Olujimi, reintroduced the bill, but it again faced stiff opposition from lawmakers who argued that aspects of it conflicted with religious and cultural values.

The legislation sought to prohibit discriminatory practices against women and guarantee equal opportunities in political, social and economic life. Among other provisions, it proposed that widows should not be subjected to degrading or inhuman treatment and should retain custody rights over their children unless such custody contradicted the welfare of the children.

The bill also sought to compel both public and private institutions to ensure equal pay for individuals with the same level of competence, skill, and knowledge, regardless of gender.

During debates, some lawmakers opposed the proposal because it allegedly contradicted Islamic principles, while others argued that the Nigerian Constitution already provided sufficient protection for women’s rights.

Although some senators supported the legislation, the intense opposition eventually forced Mrs Olujimi to withdraw the bill, marking yet another setback for gender-focused reforms in Nigeria’s legislative history.

Several similar efforts have suffered the same fate.

Former senator Helen Esuene, who represented Akwa Ibom South, sponsored the Gender and Equal Opportunities, Abuse and Administration Bill in 2012, but it did not progress in the legislature.

In 2012, former House member Uzoma Nkem-Abonta introduced the Affirmative Action (Equal Opportunity for Women) Bill. Despite expectations that a male sponsor might help broaden support, the proposal was rejected.

Mr Nkem-Abonta later returned with another Gender and Equal Opportunity Bill in 2014, but it met a similar fate.

In the months leading to the 2015 general elections that eventually produced former President Muhammadu Buhari, another proposal titled the Women Empowerment and Gender Equality Act was introduced alongside the Electoral Act (Amendment) Bill, 2015. The objective was to compel political parties to become more gender-sensitive and eliminate discriminatory practices within party structures. It was also rejected.

Another initiative, the Women Participation in Election Support Bill, introduced in 2018, similarly failed to progress.

These are only a few examples among many others. The pattern has remained remarkably consistent: introduction, debate, public engagement, optimism, and eventual collapse at the decisive moment.

Growing pressure and frustration

In February, women’s groups under the banner of Women Political Participation (WPP) held a protest at the National Assembly, warning that continued delays could once again exclude women from meaningful participation in the next electoral cycle.

One of the protest leaders, Ene Obi, argued that representation cannot be substituted, insisting that women must have the opportunity to represent themselves rather than rely on male counterparts.

More recently, the Lagos State Commissioner for Commerce, Cooperative, Trade and Investment, Folashade Ambrose, warned that delays in passing the bill could weaken female representation in 2027. She stressed that if the legislation does not take effect before party primaries, it would be unable to influence candidate selection, which ultimately determines electoral outcomes.

Her argument reflects a broader concern among advocates: without timely intervention, the bill risks becoming politically irrelevant for the next election cycle.

Meanwhile, governance and democracy advocates say the continued delay in voting on the constitutional amendment bills raises fresh concerns about the future of the reserved seats proposal and its potential impact on women’s representation ahead of the 2027 elections.

Among the prominent advocates pushing for the legislation is Osasu Igbinedion, chief executive officer of TOS Group and convener of the Reserved Seats for Women Bill Campaign Coalition, who has actively led nationwide advocacy campaigns in support of the proposal.

Ms Igbinedion has consistently argued that public misconceptions have distorted the bill’s intent, stressing that nothing in the proposal exempts women occupying the reserved seats from the constitutional nomination and electoral processes. According to her, the bill does not hand out appointments but simply creates constitutionally recognised seats that women must still contest through party primaries and elections.

She has also maintained that the bill is not about charity or tokenism, but a temporary corrective mechanism aimed at dismantling long-standing structural barriers that have historically excluded women from political participation.

Yetunde Bakare, programme manager on Governance at Yiaga Africa, told PREMIUM TIMES that the National Assembly’s prolonged delay could significantly weaken both the bill and its prospects for implementation.

According to her, one of the major challenges facing the proposal is the poor public and legislative understanding of the rationale for additional seats and quota systems.

“Some of the factors for the failure include the poor understanding of the rationale of additional seats or quota systems by legislators and citizens, and how they contribute to addressing the gender gap in elective offices. Quota systems have been adopted by countries and have been largely successful,” she added.

Ms Bakare also identified cultural and religious resistance, reinforced by patriarchal norms, as another major obstacle to gender-focused reforms in Nigeria.

She further argued that misconceptions surrounding the bill have contributed to resistance against it.

On concerns about the perceived silence or low visibility of female lawmakers in pushing gender reforms, Ms Bakare noted that women in the National Assembly remain a small minority operating within heavily male-dominated political structures.

“In the National Assembly, women’s representation is abysmally low, operating as a small minority in a male-dominated environment. The elected women have done well within their capacity, but as with legislative performance, visibility is determined by varying factors, influence and access,” she said.

She argued that the focus should shift to creating stronger institutional support for female politicians and expanding opportunities for women to participate meaningfully in politics.

At the same time, as women’s groups and activists intensify calls for the reserved seats bill, a significant number of women already occupying elective positions remain largely silent in their duties. Some are visibly absent from plenary debates, while others are rarely vocal in pushing legislative advocacy within their parties or chambers.

This silence is often interpreted in different ways: by some as political caution within male-dominated structures, by others as a reflection of internal party dynamics in which dissent or advocacy carries political cost. Whatever the interpretation, it adds another layer of complexity to a debate that is already shaped by institutional delay.

The result is a paradox: women continue to demand greater representation, while the existing level of representation does not always translate into equally visible advocacy within the system itself. That gap between presence and influence further deepens the perception that structural barriers remain firmly intact.

The implications are significant. Since 1999, women’s representation in Nigeria’s legislature has remained consistently low, often below five per cent.

Historical data further highlight the steady decline in women’s representation since Nigeria’s return to democracy in 1999. A total of 16 women served in the 4th National Assembly (1999–2003), the inaugural legislature of the Fourth Republic, comprising three female senators and 13 members of the House of Representatives.

The highest number of women ever elected to the National Assembly was recorded in 2007, when 36 women secured seats, with 27 in the House of Representatives and nine in the Senate. Since then, the numbers have steadily declined to 32 in 2011, 29 in 2015, and 17 in 2019.

In the 9th National Assembly, there were eight female senators and 13 female members of the House of Representatives. The current 10th National Assembly has only four women in the Senate and 16 in the House of Representatives.

After seven general election cycles since 1999, the number of women in the Senate has now dropped to nearly the same level recorded at the country’s return to democratic rule, underscoring the widening gap in women’s political representation despite years of advocacy and reform efforts.

Without structural intervention, that figure has shown little capacity to improve on its own. The reserved seats proposal was designed as a corrective mechanism to break that cycle, but its own trajectory now mirrors the stagnation it seeks to address.

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The debate on merit and fairness

The bill has, however, faced resistance from some lawmakers. During its second reading, legislators such as Ghali Tijani (APC, Kano), Olamijuwonlo Alao-Akala (APC, Oyo), Billy Osawaru (APC, Edo) and Patrick Umoh (APC, Akwa Ibom) argued that the proposal is undemocratic and discriminatory against men.

Their position centres on the idea that political offices should be filled strictly on merit, not gender. They also suggested that women should organise politically and mobilise voters rather than rely on constitutionally guaranteed seats.

Supporters of the bill reject this argument, insisting that the notion of “merit” in Nigeria’s political context is already shaped by unequal access, financial barriers and entrenched party structures. In their view, the bill is not about lowering standards but about correcting systemic imbalances.

Another missed opportunity?

With the Reserved Seats Bill yet to complete the constitutional amendment process before the commencement of party primaries, the practical implications are becoming increasingly clear.

The 2027 elections are now likely to proceed under the existing political structure, meaning women’s representation may remain largely unchanged for another electoral cycle.

In effect, another four years may pass without any significant structural reform to improve gender inclusion in Nigeria’s democratic system.

At the heart of the debate lies a recurring question about the country’s democratic evolution: at what point does prolonged delay effectively become denial?

For now, the Reserved Seats Bill appears to be travelling a path that has become all too familiar in Nigeria’s legislative history, one characterised by broad public support, repeated advocacy, and slow institutional action at the decisive moment.