Cynicism And The ‘Impregnable Wall’: Can Nigerians Rescue 2027?

By Dakuku Peterside, PhD.

After every election in Ni­geria—especially the con­tentious ones—a familiar chorus rises: “They will rig it.” “Nothing will change.” Follow­ing the recent off-cycle governorship polls, this chorus has grown louder. On the streets, in offices, and across social media, many Nigerians have already written off the 2027 general elections as a lost cause. The potential impact of the 2027 general elections on Nigeria’s future is straightforward and devastating: the system is irre­deemably rigged and talk of reform is futile.

In a recent keynote address titled “Making Our Votes Count: Action, the Antidote to Cynicism,” Dr Sam Ama­di, Director of the Abuja School of So­cial and Political Thought, pinpointed the real threat this attitude poses. “The gravest threat to free and fair elections in Nigeria in 2027,” he argued, “is not a corrupt INEC, nor a compromised judiciary, nor partisan security agen­cies. The true threat is our belief that nothing can change—a crippling hope­lessness that breeds either inaction or reactive efforts that accomplish very little.” The need for action to combat this cynicism is urgent.

This cynicism is rooted in histori­cal trends. It sits atop what many per­ceive as an impregnable wall blocking meaningful electoral reform. At the heart of this wall is a National As­sembly that has repeatedly shown little appetite for reforms that reduce incumbents’ advantages or improve electoral outcomes. “The Presiden­cy under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has thus far given no clear indication that electoral reform is a priority. Unlike former Presidents Jonathan and Buhari, who at least submitted amendment bills or estab­lished review committees, this ad­ministration has done nothing about electoral reform,” Dr Amadi bluntly noted. Instead, it has “worsened the environment of electoral integrity by making partisan appointments into the electoral management body.”

These pillars are surrounded by other blocks: opposition parties too weak or disorganised to provide sustained oversight or viable alter­natives; a judiciary that often usurps the role of voters while upholding questionable polls; INEC operatives benefiting from the status quo; and a civil society and electorate oscil­lating between outrage and resigna­tion. Together, these elements form a wall convincing many Nigerians that profound change before 2027 is impossible.

To grasp why cynicism has spread so profoundly, we must confront an uncomfortable truth: elections in Nigeria have, for much of our his­tory, been manipulated, Dr Amadi asserted. Free and fair polls have of­ten been the exception, not the rule. Even the two elections commonly hailed as credible—June 12, 1993, and 2015—were flawed. They are remembered positively mainly be­cause their outcomes aligned with public expectations or resulted in in­cumbent defeats. Election observer reports show that the 2015 election, for example, suffered serious irregu­larities, especially where electronic card readers failed and “bogus re­sults” were declared.

This is not just a Nigerian phe­nomenon; it is an African one. Many post-colonial states were founded on fragile, exclusionary institutions and unequal political economies. In such contexts, political office is not just service; it is often the primary path to wealth, status, and security. As Amadi notes, the “economic and social benefits of winning an election and the enormous costs of losing it” raise the stakes so high that elections easily become battles. Where politics is war, “all is fair,” and rigging be­comes rational. Paul Collier warned that when elections are criminalised, “only criminals will be involved.” That harsh reality continues to haunt many African democracies.

It is no surprise, then, that increas­ing numbers of young Africans are disillusioned with democracy itself. Many, having not lived through past military brutality, romanticise recent coups in Mali, Burkina Faso, or Ni­ger as quick fixes to civilian failures. Even respected elders like former President Olusegun Obasanjo have publicly questioned whether liberal democracy suits African realities. In this climate, one might ask: Why should a Nigerian in 2025 care about free and fair elections in 2027?

The answer lies in what elections achieve when they function reason­ably well. Beyond ideals and slogans, credible elections serve two crucial purposes. First, they create incen­tives for leaders to listen. Presidents, governors, and legislators who know they can be “easily voted out” have stronger reasons to respond to pub­lic concerns. This doesn’t guarantee good governance, but without this pressure, accountability becomes nearly impossible.

Second—and perhaps more vital in Nigeria’s context—is that elec­tions serve as a conflict-manage­ment mechanism. Political theorist Adam Przeworski argues that elec­tions aren’t perfect decision-making tools; they are frameworks allowing people with different views to “strug­gle peacefully” over governance. In Nigeria’s deeply pluralistic society— marked by ethnic, religious, and regional divisions—this minimal function is crucial. When elections are seen as hopelessly rigged, political actors resort to violence, secessionist rhetoric, or military intervention as the only paths to power.

If the stakes are this high, why are Nigerians sinking into cynicism rath­er than action? One reason lies in how the current administration has han­dled the electoral question. As Amadi notes, President Tinubu has neither spoken convincingly on electoral re­form nor taken visible steps toward it. Public perception is made worse by partisan appointments: “For the first time in a long while,” nearly everyone involved in election management— from INEC to security agencies and the judiciary—appears tied to the President by ethnicity or political alliance. The mood is summed up in a familiar refrain: “Tinubu is not Jon­athan… Tinubu is not a gentleman, oo. Tinubu is Jagaban.”

Yet cynicism presents only a par­tial picture. It downplays pockets of progress and the power that organ­ised citizens still wield. Nigeria’s elec­tions are not universally worse. Logis­tically and technologically, genuine improvements have emerged: fewer complaints about late materials, few­er incidents of premature results dec­laration, and electronic accreditation has limited turnout inflation. These are signs that change is possible, and hope should not be lost.

The challenge is that the sys­tem adapts. New technologies have spawned new forms of manipulation. During the 2023 presidential election, INEC allegedly circulated the wrong passwords, making it impossible to upload results electronically. Result sheets were tampered with, and trust was broken. In the Edo governorship poll, opposition voices accuse INEC of declaring outright “fake results.” Technology strengthened parts of the process but did not eliminate human agency or political pressure. However, with collective action, we can counter these manipulations and ensure a fair electoral process.

This makes the recent appoint­ment of Prof. Joash Amupitan as INEC Chairman all the more sig­nificant. Former National Human Rights Commission chair Prof. Chidi Odinkalu describes Amupitan as “a person of basic decency and integri­ty” who would not preside over mul­tiple conflicting results. However, Odinkalu warns that integrity alone may not suffice. INEC operates in a complex bureaucracy where “no se­nior politician—from the presidency to state governors—does not have a plant.”

Amupitan faces the test of navigat­ing these “multiple principalities.” Upcoming governorship elections in Ekiti and Osun will serve as “elec­toral laboratories” to observe his approach and how citizens, parties, and the judiciary respond. Nigerians are watching.

But watching alone is not enough. If rigging is a “manufactured out­come,” then it can be countered by de­liberate, strategic action. Amadi calls for an “election integrity defense sys­tem” with four pillars: INEC, political parties, civil society, and the judiciary.

At INEC, the focus must be on institutional integrity—developing and enforcing clear rules, ensuring meaningful participation by parties and observers, pursuing legal action against irregularities, and supporting reformist staff who resist political in­terference.

For political parties, especially op­position ones, the challenge is to re­claim vigilance rather than outsource it to NGOs. Parties are the primary beneficiaries of credible elections, yet often neglect mandate protection, fail to train polling agents, and replicate bad practices internally. They must build internal democracy and exter­nal oversight to champion voters’ rights genuinely.

The judiciary sits at a dangerous crossroads. Courts now decide elec­tion outcomes but often impose im­possible evidentiary burdens while INEC withholds essential documents. Lawyers, the media, professional bodies, and citizens must demand reforms to electoral adjudication procedures and hold judges morally accountable for decisions that under­mine popular will.

None of this is easy. It is simpler to laugh bitterly on election day and stay home than to join a party, serve as an agent, support litigation, or engage in detailed discussions about electoral reforms. Cynicism is the cheaper, short-term option, but it’s far more dangerous. It hands victory to those who profit from rigging, without re­quiring any effort on their part.

The 2027 election will be decided not only at polling units but by what Nigerians do—or fail to do—between now and then. Will the country con­tinue repeating that nothing can change? Or will Nigerians act as though their votes and their future still matter?

*Dr Dakuku Peterside is the author of Leading in a Storm and Beneath the Surface