
Until electoral reform is built around enforcement rather than appearance, Nigeria will continue to rehearse democracy, instead of practicing it. The question is not whether Nigerians will once again demand reform. They always do. The question is whether this time, those in power will finally understand that wooden towers cannot summon aeroplanes, and carved radios cannot summon cargo.
The Cargo Cult of Nigerian Democracy
When cargo first arrived on remote Pacific islands during the Second World War, it came suddenly and in abundance. Aircraft landed with supplies. Ships docked with food, tools, clothing and medicines. Local inhabitants benefited directly, enjoying a standard of living they had never experienced before.
What they did not understand was where the cargo came from, why it came, or the vast industrial, military and logistical systems that produced and delivered it. When the war ended, the soldiers left and the cargo stopped coming.
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Faced with the loss of a life that had briefly seemed normal, some tried to recreate the conditions they thought had produced the abundance. They built wooden towers to resemble control rooms. They carved radios out of wood. They mimicked the drills of soldiers and the gestures of aircraft signalmen. They copied the visible form of the system, without full understanding of its substance. Form without structure does not deliver results. Symbols without enforcement do not produce outcomes.
Nigeria’s democratic journey since 1999 has followed a disturbingly similar pattern. The country has invested heavily in the appearance of electoral reform, while quietly preserving the mechanisms that allow outcomes to be negotiated after votes are cast. At every critical point, steps are taken to ensure that the electoral law speaks loudly but bites softly.
The Appearance of Reform
The current controversy surrounding the Senate’s attempt to dilute the compulsory electronic transmission of election results under the proposed 2026 Electoral Act amendment, fits neatly into this pattern. Nigeria has repeatedly acknowledged that its elections suffer from credibility problems. In response, it has introduced visible reforms: permanent voters’ cards, smart card readers, the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System (BVAS), and the INEC Result Viewing portal (IREV).
Each reform is announced as a turning point. Each is welcomed by the public. Yet, when tested after elections, each reform is either weakened by the law or rendered discretionary by interpretation.
A few examples clearly illustrate this recurring cycle. First, is the voters register. The same foundational register, built over years with incremental additions rather than a wholesale cleanup, remains in use. INEC continues to acknowledge the need for its revalidation and cleaning. Yet elections are routinely conducted before that work is completed. Where technology is layered on top of a shaky base, credibility cannot magically emerge. A register that is bloated, outdated, or poorly audited creates doubt long before a single vote is cast. Reform at the surface cannot compensate for weakness at the core.
The problem is that Nigeria does not suffer from a technology deficit. It suffers from a trust deficit. The political class has earned that distrust through decades of bad behaviour. Manual collation has been the ground zero of electoral manipulation. It is where figures change without explanation. It is where delays create opportunity. It is where intimidation is most effective.
Second, the smart card readers. In 2015, these devices were introduced to authenticate voters. They were widely used. They improved confidence. But they were not clearly codified in law to override the manual process. That omission became a legal fault line. Where technology conflicted with paper, the paper often prevailed.
Third, and most instructive, is the experience with BVAS and IREV. In the buildup to the 2023 elections, BVAS accreditation and uploads to IREV were heavily promoted by INEC as central to transparency. Yet, the courts ultimately held that electronic transmission and upload were not mandatory under the Electoral Act 2022. They were treated as administrative tools, not legal obligations.
The result was predictable. Once again, technology existed, but discretion decided outcomes.
It is against this background that the Senate’s latest approach must be judged. Following public backlash, the Senate agreed to restore the electronic transmission of results. On the surface, this appeared to be a victory for reform advocates. However, the accompanying provision that elevates Form EC8A as the final authority in results collation fundamentally alters the effect of that concession.
The EC8A Controversy
On its face, the argument for EC8A supremacy sounds reasonable. Systems can fail. Networks can go down. Elections must conclude. There must be a fallback. In a low-trust environment, redundancy is sensible.
The problem is that Nigeria does not suffer from a technology deficit. It suffers from a trust deficit. The political class has earned that distrust through decades of bad behaviour. Manual collation has been the ground zero of electoral manipulation. It is where figures change without explanation. It is where delays create opportunity. It is where intimidation is most effective.
When lawmakers insist that the same manual instrument that has been repeatedly abused must remain the final authority, they are asking the public to suspend memory. This is why the EC8A clause is such a hard sell. Not because the logic is flawed in theory, but because the actors proposing it have not earned the benefit of the doubt.
Nigerians have seen how exceptions become norms and how contingencies become strategy. They have witnessed the selective invocation of failure and the asymmetric exercise of discretion. A law that says “transmit electronically, but fall back freely on paper” will not resolve the credibility problem. Rather, it will institutionalise it.
…the law must spell out clear and enforceable sanctions for officials who deliberately bypass electronic transmission, manipulate the process, or falsely claim technical failure. Without consequences, even the best drafted provisions will remain symbolic. If electronic transmission is to be the main pillar of electoral credibility, then its protection must be firm, transparent, and backed by real accountability.
Substance Over Symbols
If there is genuine commitment to make electronic transmission the primary and legally binding method of declaring results, then every serious effort must be made to overcome the obstacles often cited against it. Issues such as network coverage, device failure, power supply, or technical glitches should not become convenient excuses. They should be anticipated, planned for, and systematically addressed through investment, testing, training, and redundancy measures.
Where failure genuinely occurs, the resort to Form EC8A must not be left vague or open to abuse. The circumstances under which EC8A becomes operative should be clearly and narrowly defined in law. The claim of system failure must be independently verified, not merely asserted by an official on the ground. Such a claim should also trigger an automatic audit and investigation to confirm that the failure was real, unavoidable, and not contrived.
Furthermore, the law must spell out clear and enforceable sanctions for officials who deliberately bypass electronic transmission, manipulate the process, or falsely claim technical failure. Without consequences, even the best drafted provisions will remain symbolic. If electronic transmission is to be the main pillar of electoral credibility, then its protection must be firm, transparent, and backed by real accountability.
Building Sustainable Systems
Democracy in Nigeria is failing to deliver desired outcomes. This is not because the country lacks the right ideas or resources. It is failing because reforms are designed to look modern, while preserving old leverage. The runways are built. The towers are painted. The rituals are performed.
But the system that delivers the cargo is still missing.
Until electoral reform is built around enforcement rather than appearance, Nigeria will continue to rehearse democracy, instead of practicing it. The question is not whether Nigerians will once again demand reform. They always do. The question is whether this time, those in power will finally understand that wooden towers cannot summon aeroplanes, and carved radios cannot summon cargo.
What is required is not another layer of symbolism, but the difficult and less glamorous work of building systems that bind everyone. Even those who make the laws.
Jeremiah Angai, a lawyer and public affairs analyst, writes from Abuja. Email: [email protected]
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