New electoral reforms provoke anticipation, concern ahead of 2027
The public reaction to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s approval of the new electoral law highlights the Act’s significance. As Nigeria approaches next year’s polls, the reforms will determine whether technological
The public reaction to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s approval of the new electoral law highlights the Act’s significance. As Nigeria approaches next year’s polls, the reforms will determine whether technological advancements can resolve long-standing political challenges. Deputy Political Editor RAYMOND MORDI and Assistant Editor EMMANUEL BADEJO present perspectives from various stakeholders on the new law and its potential impact on future elections
On the afternoon of February 18, 2026, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu gave his assent to the Electoral Act 2026, bringing an end to weeks of frantic legislative manoeuvring and public protest. Flanked by Senate President Godswill Akpabio, Speaker Tajudeen Abbas, and other stakeholders, the President framed the moment not as a political victory, but as a procedural one.
“These amendments are not about politics. They are about process,” Tinubu stated. “About closing gaps, strengthening procedures, and providing greater clarity to those who conduct and participate in our elections.”
Even as the Act was signed into law, preparations for the 2027 general election began to shift. The new Act, which repeals the 2022 framework, introduces significant changes: the elimination of indirect primaries, the formal establishment of the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System (BVAS), and a conditional requirement for electronic transmission of results.
However, the provision permitting manual collation via Form EC8A in cases of network failure has generated significant controversy. In a context where political trust remains limited, stakeholders are questioning whether the law will protect democratic processes or facilitate manipulation.
The significance of the upcoming election is considerable. With the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) having released the timetable for the 2027 general election, the Act now functions as the primary regulatory framework for Africa’s largest democracy. Some view it as a step forward for transparency, while others perceive it as a legislative setback.
Digital advancements with contingencies
To understand the praise the Act has received, one must look beyond the headline-grabbing controversies. For the first time in Nigeria’s electoral history, voters are being given significant empowerment or control. Founding National Chairman of the All Progressives Grand Alliance (APGA), Chief Chekwas Okorie, points to a quiet revolution in Section 18. “Under the new law, every registered voter can download their PVC online, print it, and it will be accepted by electoral officials for voting purposes so long as their name is on the register,” Okorie explains.
He recalls the chronic disenfranchisement of the past, “where your name was on the register, and your PVC was not with you, you would not be allowed to vote.” This provision, he argues, dismantles the “deliberate attempts by unscrupulous politicians to deny others their right to exercise their franchise.”
Former INEC Chairman, Prof. Mahmood Yakubu, observed that the provision would help to solve the problem of uncollected voters’ cards. He said: “The PVC download provision directly addresses 2023’s 1.5 million uncollected cards, boosting inclusivity.”
A similar euphoria over the reform is echoed by civil society, which is usually the harshest critic of the political class. A coalition including Yiaga Africa and TAF Africa, while deeply disappointed with other aspects of the law, acknowledges this as a watershed moment. Jake Epelle, chief executive officer of TAF Africa, noted that the ability to download PVCs “will increase voter participation and reduce disenfranchisement often associated with missing or unissued voter cards”.
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Furthermore, the coalition celebrated Section 9, which mandates that the voter register be disaggregated by disability type—a first in Nigeria and a significant advance in inclusive democracy.
Beyond expanding voter access, the Act introduces punitive measures intended to deter electoral misconduct.
Election and policy development specialist Paul James highlights the severity of the new sanctions. Returning Officers who deliberately falsify results now face a mandatory minimum of 10 years imprisonment without the option of a fine. Similarly, Presiding Officers who fail to sign result sheets face a mandatory three-year sentence. These are, as Epelle described them, “among the strongest anti-fraud sanctions in Nigeria’s legislative history”.
Technologically, the Act finally entrenches the BVAS and the INEC Result Viewing Portal (IReV) in law. Human rights lawyer Monday Onyekachi Ubani views this as a critical shield against judicial override. “IReV and electronic transmission are now captured in the current electoral law, unlike the previous one,” the Senior Advocate of Nigeria (SAN) notes. “We can make do with what we have now.”
This legal backing is crucial following Supreme Court decisions in 2023 that suggested INEC lacked the explicit powers to make transmission mandatory, describing the IReV as merely an “amusement park” for viewing results. Now, the “amusement park” has a statutory foundation.
Questionable insertions
If the commendations speak to the architecture of the new law, the criticisms zero in on its foundations. The central battleground is Section 60(3)—the transmission clause. While the Act mandates electronic transmission, it includes a proviso allowing the use of the signed manual Form EC8A for collation in the event of network connectivity failure.
Chief Okorie articulates the widespread unease: “The Electoral Act 2026 is an improvement; however, it has not met the expectations of the overwhelming majority of Nigerians, and especially regarding the electronic transmission of results... it leaves that option open to INEC to decide.”
The APGA chieftain warns that this discretion is a “sore point” that creates a loophole for manipulation. He said: “Unscrupulous politicians could exploit this, particularly if INEC officials refuse to transmit polling unit results, with the excuse that there is no network.” He pins the blame squarely on the legislative mathematics: “Creating such a loophole in the new law was possible because the ruling party now dominates the National Assembly.”
Austin Aigbe, regional advocacy officer at the West African Democracy Solidarity Network, is even blunter. He argues that the caveat was a deliberate act of sabotage. “The lawmakers managed to smuggle in that loophole for unscrupulous politicians to frustrate the original intent if it becomes critical to do so.”
He insists that elections in Nigeria are historically manipulated at the collation level, and by creating a paper-based escape hatch, the National Assembly has kept the door to that collation room wide open. “The caveat was intentional to disrupt the improvement.”
The Senate, however, defends its decision with a spreadsheet, not a sentiment. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele released a detailed statement arguing that the decision was anchored on “empirical data” regarding Nigeria’s infrastructural realities.
Citing the Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC), he noted that broadband coverage stood at about 70 per cent in 2025, and internet user penetration at only 44.53 per cent. Nigeria’s mobile network reliability ranked 85th globally, and its fixed broadband placed 129th out of 150 countries. With 85 million Nigerians lacking access to grid electricity, he argued, making real-time transmission mandatory would be “a script for anarchy”. President Tinubu himself echoed this, suggesting Nigerians should question the country’s “broadband capability” rather than the law’s intent, reminding citizens that “as long as you appear personally as a manual voter... Ballots are subsequently counted manually”.
But critics are not buying the infrastructure argument. Chief Clems Ezika (SAN) calls the backup clause a “license” for malfeasance. “In my view, that backup is not supposed to be there; it should be ‘electronically transmitted’; no more, no less.”
Former National Vice Chairman (Southwest) of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), Chief Bode George, dismisses the power excuse with palpable frustration. “Where there’s no power supply, what about solar?” he asks, pointing to the automated processes at Murtala Mohammed International Airport. “If it works there, why will anyone say it won’t work elsewhere?”
Implications for internal democracy
Beyond the technology war, a political firestorm is raging over Section 84, which restricts parties to only direct or consensus primaries, effectively banning the indirect (delegate) system. To opposition parties, this is not reform; it is a hostile takeover.
Ladipo Johnson, publicity secretary of the New Nigeria People’s Party (NNPP), warns of financial strangulation. “Direct primaries are so expensive to run; smaller parties won’t be able to choose their candidates through that mode. It is so expensive that it will cripple smaller parties.”
He predicts chaos, as parties lack the financial power to provide security for crowds of direct primary voters. “We’ll be having situations where some people will come and overrun your primary.”
Austin Aigbe sees a more sinister, political motive. He predicts the ruling APC will avoid direct primaries entirely. “Mark my words: the ruling party is going to adopt consensus throughout... This is because consensus is cheaper and gives those in authority the leverage to disqualify those not in their good books.”
For the opposition, he argues, consensus is a trap. “If you don’t have power, you can’t engage in consensus. The ruling party knows that if the opposition engages in consensus, it would divide its ranks.”
The PDP has labeled this interference as unconstitutional. In a statement, the party described the restriction as an attempt “to constrict political parties,” reminding the public of Supreme Court decisions affirming party autonomy.
Tunde Shelle, a chieftain of the African Democratic Congress (ADC), warns of impending violence, citing recent clashes during the APC ward congresses in Ondo State. “It will lead to violence, and it will lead to violence in many places,” he predicts, adding that the ruling party’s wealth allows it to “compromise the process” by buying delegates or even manufacturing crowds.
Paul James adds another layer of concern regarding the economics of participation. With the cost of nomination forms skyrocketing—presidential forms jumping from N5 million to N10 million—and an individual now allowed to spend up to N500,000 on a candidate, he questions the social impact.
“Are we not, on the other hand, encouraging godfatherism in our elections? It may constrict or close up the space for those who do not have the wherewithal.” The shortening of the election notice timeline from 360 to 300 days also worries him, as it compresses planning and could disrupt party primaries.
The human factor
As the debate rages between the optimists and the pessimists, a quieter, more profound voice urges Nigerians to look inward. An advocate for culture change, Nosa Osaikhuiwu argues that the focus on hardware—whether technological or legal—misses the point. “Electoral reform without ethical reform is cosmetic,” he declares. “Machines do not rig elections. People do.”
The public commentator’s thesis strikes at the heart of Nigeria’s democratic crisis: a culture that refuses to accept defeat. “When politicians lose elections, they claim rigging. Football teams lose matches—referees are blamed. Responsibility is rarely internal; it is always external.”
He points to the arithmetic of the 2023 election, suggesting that a fragmented opposition cannot defeat a consolidated ruling party in a plurality system, no matter how technologically advanced.
“This does not mean the election was perfect,” he clarifies. “It means imperfection alone does not equal outcome reversal.”
This sentiment resonates with Monday Onyekachi Ubani, who places the ultimate burden on the “integrity and honesty of the people doing the work.” He insists that INEC must employ people who “love this nation and want to do the right thing.” The law, in his view, is merely paper. “This crisis arises because people are not honest; they always look for loopholes to exploit.”
Chief Chekwas Okorie agrees, placing the onus on INEC’s execution. “The onus is on INEC officials to do the right thing. INEC can still use the new law to achieve what Nigerians have been yearning for.”
He explains that the BVAS machine, much like an SMS, can store and forward data. Even without an immediate network, the result can be uploaded once the official moves to an area with a network. The system works if the will exists.
The APGA chieftain counters infrastructure doubts: “We are mature enough for it; the facilities are there. All the service providers have said that we have about 97 per cent penetration in Nigeria. So 97 per cent; even in the other three per cent, there is no network, but it would still be uploaded eventually.”
Austin Aigbe clarifies the same point. His words: “Nigeria operates a manual collation system, using Form EC8A, which is signed by all parties after the declaration of results at the polling units. It is the same signed form that is snapped with the BVAS and uploaded to the IReV as a backup to authenticate the paper results... It works like SMS on our phones; sometimes we send messages that are not delivered immediately.”
As Nigeria approaches the 2027 elections, the Electoral Act 2026 presents both advancements and challenges. While it provides voters with greater access through printable cards and digital record-keeping, it also retains paper-based procedures that may be susceptible to manipulation. The Act imposes severe penalties for electoral fraud, but its financial implications could disadvantage opposition parties.
A broad consensus among key stakeholders—including activists, legal experts, politicians, and commentators—suggests that the law serves as an instrument rather than a solution in itself. It may foster trust or enable exploitation, depending on how it is implemented. As Chief Bode George cautioned, “This law has to be revisited... Electronic transmission is a must—no interloper, no manipulators.” Until further reforms are enacted, responsibility rests with the citizenry.
Culture change
The concluding perspective is offered by an advocate for cultural change, Osaikhuiwu, who asserts: “Nigeria’s greatest democratic reform is therefore not technological. It is moral. Until the culture changes, no system will ever be trusted.” Thus, the 2027 general election will not only assess the effectiveness of technological systems such as the IReV portal and Form EC8A, but also evaluate the nation’s collective commitment to prioritizing stability over individual interests. With the law now enacted, substantive efforts toward reform must continue.
