Senator Akpabio, Step Back from Inec’s Podium

In the shadowy corridors of Nigeria’s National Assembly, where power plays masquerade as legislation, a storm is brewing over the recent Electoral Act Amendment Bill. Senate President Godswill Akpabio, the ever-vocal steward of the upper chamber, has positioned himself as the oracle of electoral reform. However, in defending the Senate’s rejection of mandatory real-time electronic transmission of election results, Akpabio isn’t just interpreting the law, but has become the spokesperson for the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC). A calculated erosion of the last remainder of democratic hope for the masses.

The Senate, under Akpabio’s gavel, passes amendments to the Electoral Act 2022, supposedly to “refine” the process. Yet, in a clause-by-clause dissection that rivals a surgeon’s precision, they expunge the one provision that could have revolutionized transparency: making electronic transmission from polling units to INEC’s Result Viewing Portal (IREV) compulsory and in real time. Instead, they revert to the discretionary language of the old act, leaving INEC to decide “as prescribed by the commission.” Akpabio claims this isn’t a rejection of e-transmission, but merely a “retention” of flexibility to avoid legal quagmires from network glitches. The question arises: If the 2022 Act already permitted this, why did INEC’s own tribunals and courts in 2023 dismiss electronic uploads as non-mandatory, allowing manual manipulations to prevail?

Despite Akpabio’s warning against “premature criticism” while the bill awaits harmonization with the House of Representatives, former Senate President David Mark, a no stranger to the chamber’s intrigues, challenged him not to speak for INEC on electronic transmission. He cautioned him to let the electoral body decide its fate without political puppeteering. Mark’s rebuke echoes a deeper truth. In a democracy, separation of powers isn’t a suggestion; it’s the firewall against authoritarian creep. But under the current APC regime, that firewall is crumbling. The Nigerian Army and police, once guardians of order, now often serve as enforcers for the ruling elite, quelling protests and intimidating opposition. Agberos, those shadowy street operatives, disrupt polling stations with impunity. Thirty governors, many APC-aligned, command state resources to sway votes. The judiciary, riddled with controversial rulings, bends to executive whims. And federal coffers? They’re weaponized against the very citizens they should empower. All this converges to rig the system against the masses, turning elections into a theatre of the absurd where the outcome is preordained.

Why, then, can’t Nigerians at least experience direct electronic transmission of results? Probably, because true transparency would shatter the illusion of control. Imagine results beaming live from polling units, unfiltered and untampered, ballot stuffing exposed, vote swapping nullified, and the people’s will unassailable. In 2023, INEC’s “glitches” conveniently obscured this, leading to court battles that upheld opacity over accountability.

Civil society groups, like the Nigeria Civil Society Situation Room, condemn the Senate’s move as “retrogressive,” a deliberate sabotage of electoral integrity ahead of 2027. Opposition voices, including Peter Obi, decry it as a betrayal, with some calling for boycotts if reforms falter. Even the Nigerian Bar Association urges mandatory e-transmission to restore faith.

But Akpabio’s Senate isn’t listening. By making e-transmission optional, they’ve handed INEC a loophole wide enough to drive a convoy of electoral fraud through. And when Akpabio clarifies that “the Senate has not removed any means of transmission,” he’s not reassuring, he’s gaslighting. Critics like Kenneth Okonkwo label him an “enemy of democracy,” arguing the 2022 Act’s intent for compulsion was gutted by judicial interpretations that now justify this backslide. In an era of blockchain and AI, why cling to manual methods prone to human error or worse, human malice? Is it because real-time uploads would expose the underbelly of a system where power perpetuates itself, not through votes, but through vetoes?

This isn’t just about an amendment; it’s a referendum on Nigeria’s soul. With institutions arrayed against the people, denying electronic transmission isn’t caution it’s complicity. Senator Akpabio, step back from INEC’s podium. Let the electoral body speak for itself, unscripted and unbound. The masses deserve more than platitudes; they deserve a vote that counts, transmitted in the light of day, not shrouded in discretionary darkness. If this charade continues, 2027 won’t be an election, it’ll be an insurrection against hope itself. The question lingers: Will Nigeria awaken, or will the powerful lull it back to sleep?

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