Maybe yes, maybe
After criticism, Nigeria’s Senate amends the Electoral Act, permits non-compulsory electronic transmission, shortens election notice and raises vote-buying fines.
Nigeria’s Senate has amended the Electoral Act following intense public debate over the electronic transmission of election results. After initially rejecting a proposal to make real-time electronic transmission to the Independent National Electoral Commission’s (INEC) Result Viewing Portal (IREV) mandatory, lawmakers reversed course during an emergency plenary. The revised provision now allows electronic transmission but stops short of making it compulsory. In cases of internet failure, Form EC8A will serve as the primary basis for collation. The reversal followed widespread criticism from opposition parties and civil society groups who argued that weakening digital transmission could undermine transparency. Beyond transmission rules, the Senate shortened the electoral timetable, reducing the notice period for elections from 360 to 180 days and cutting the deadline for parties to submit candidate lists from 120 to 90 days before polls. Penalties for vote-buying were also strengthened, with fines increased to ₦5 million ($3,500). A harmonisation committee will reconcile the bill with the House of Representatives’ version.
The Senate’s reversal on electronic transmission is a live case study in political responsiveness under pressure. First and foremost, it symbolises what organised public mobilisation can achieve. Civil society groups, opposition parties, and digitally engaged citizens forced the political class to reconsider an unpopular position. In a system often criticised for elite insulation, this episode demonstrates that sustained public scrutiny can still recalibrate legislative behaviour. It is a reminder that Nigeria’s democracy, though imperfect, remains contestable.
However, the substance of the amendment tells a more complicated story. This story is best understood as part of a longer narrative of “progressive ambition meeting declining participation.” The revised provision permits electronic transmission to the IReV portal but stops short of making it mandatory. Crucially, it provides that where the electronic system fails, the physical result sheet will serve as the primary basis for collation. On paper, this reflects operational pragmatism. The country’s telecom infrastructure is uneven. Elections cannot collapse because of network outages.
Yet politically, the fallback clause dilutes the transformative potential of real-time transmission. The primary objective is immediacy and minimising human interference. Once physical forms regain primacy in the event of “failure,” discretion and opacity can creep back. The government’s reliance on “network challenges” deserves scrutiny. As of 2023, only 473 LGAs had internet access, leaving roughly 301 without reliable connectivity. The digital divide is stark: 57% of urban communities have access compared to just 23% in rural areas.
This raises a deeper question: why has broadband penetration not been treated as core democratic infrastructure? If electronic transmission is to anchor electoral credibility, then telecom expansion is a governance imperative. This is where the Senate’s shift risks appearing cosmetic. Legal text without technical capacity is symbolism. Electronic transmission requires fibre rollout and power stability. Without these, “subject to availability of networks” becomes a structural loophole.
The real test will be budgetary allocations and telecom incentives between now and 2027. The 2026 Amendment Bill introduces a new tension: “discretionary transmission.” Critics see it as a loophole; proponents see it as flexibility. This fits a historical pattern. In 2011, biometric registration was introduced, yet turnout dropped to 53%. In 2015, smart card readers were deployed, and turnout collapsed to 43%. By 2023, despite BVAS and IReV, turnout hit a new low of 26.7%. The data suggests a painful truth: making elections harder to steal does not automatically increase voter turnout.
The gap between registered voters and actual voters is a chasm. The reforms are working, but citizens are opting out. The 2026 amendment is the latest chapter in a democracy that has become more trustworthy yet less trusted. The shortening of the electoral timetable also warrants attention. Compressing timelines can inadvertently reinforce dominance by well-funded political actors.
Ultimately, electronic transmission is a tool, not a magic wand. Transparency is not embedded in fibre cables; it is enforced by vigilant citizens. This episode underscores two truths. First, public pressure works. Second, structural reform requires more than rhetorical concessions. If broadband expansion is treated as democratic infrastructure, electronic transmission can evolve from a political slogan into a safeguard. The central question remains: if we perfect the machine, will the voters come back?