Electoral Act 2026 Signed Amid National Outcry
By: Abudu Olalekan
Midweek rain painted the roads of Abuja black. Inside Aso Rock, officials gathered once more beneath bright lights. This event, though – different somehow. Like tossing flame onto something already burning. At roughly five in the evening, President Tinubu signed what some call the Electoral Act 2026 (Amendment). Paper met ink without fanfare. Fewer than twenty four hours passed since lawmakers pushed it forward. Swiftly. Perhaps too swiftly. The tension hung thick in the air.
What now? The opposition is furious. Ini Ememobong, speaking for PDP, called it a blow to freedom – sharp, loud, no pause. Darkness has fallen, he said, on democratic ideals. Typical outburst from that corner. Still… could there be truth here? Perhaps. Their belief stands firm: APC fears defeat down the road in 2027. According to them, this new rule bends the system. Not just tilted – broken by design. Later came Afam Ogene of Labour, voice rising like thunder. Gone, he shouted, are honest debates. A raw deal handed straight to citizens
Truth is bare. Wires carry votes now. Everybody wanted instant posting – protesters, watchers, ordinary people done with rigged counts. No exceptions. What happened in 2023 showed why. Tallies disappear mid-route. From booth to office. Poof. Not wonder. Worse than that.
Yet Tinubu – during the signing – pauses, voice shifting toward broadband concerns. “Perhaps we ought to reconsider how strong our internet really is,” he offers, glancing across faces from NASS. Really? Satellites orbit above, 5G hums in test zones, yet here we are, faulting signal bars. Across the space, Senate leader Godswill Akpabio wears a smile, labels it triumph. Insists the bill requires online delivery straight to INEC’s system. Only – there’s a twist. Not small either.
“If there’s no network,” he explained, waving his hands, “just use the old EC8A form. Then transmit later.”
Afterward. That’s what does the damage. Paper slips carry results out of voting centers at first. How so? Delivered straight to those caught cooking counts for years. Samson Itoto of YIAGA Africa called it plain: “Not progress. Just retreat. A slide downward.” His words hit true. The gap here stretches broader than the Benue floodplain.
Some parts of civil society stand apart. Calling it “legalizing rigging,” said Friday Odeh from Accountability Lab. Sharp words. Perhaps too sharp. Yet, after a pause, Auwal Musa of CISLAC spoke slowly: “It isn’t flawless. Still, we cope. We press on.” Admirable, sure. Tiring, definitely. At what point does coping end – and insistence begin?
Wait – protests at NASS just days ago saw crowds roaring about manual transmission. Officers pushed through lines, blocking exits. Today, that very system is quietly active. Smooth move? Maybe. Peter Ameh from CUPP snapped it plainly: power brokers plotted behind backs. Scared of fair votes. Harsh – but fits too well.
Now Wike is clapping. He labels it swift, a strong commitment. Overlooking deep cracks beneath. Nothing new there. Just business as normal.
Truth is, this law feels like a monster stitched together. Bits here, pieces there – some rules added, others slipped away. Sure, direct primaries are happening now. That counts for something. When the top candidate drops out, at least the next one steps up without chaos. Small win. Yet what moves everything forward – the main system – doesn’t work right. People notice. They understand exactly what’s going on.
I chatted with Chika, a market trader in Onitsha, yesterday. Her eyes got fierce. “They sign papers while we count fake votes? My brother died in 2023 chaos. This law? It’s for them. Not us.” Heavy. True.
February 20 is election day. That’s what INEC says now. The new law appears right after. Not minutes later – hours. Timing hits hard. As if someone already knew the date. Before anyone else heard it. Scripted moves feel different than surprise ones.
Does it end the cheating? Not a chance. Could actually smooth the way. Paper records go missing – conveniently. Glitches hit the system right on cue. Then, out of nowhere, those EC8A papers – signed by election officials tied to the state – suddenly hold all the truth. Watched this film before. Last act left a bad taste.
Here’s a spark, though – people are truly angry. This time louder than last year. Online protests have started already. #RejectElectoralAct2026 began spreading before sunrise. Opponents are getting ready. Should APC believe this helps their 2027 plans? That’s fantasy. Memory runs deep in Nigeria.
Maybe Tinubu’s crew believes it’s already over. Papers moved quick, bet on silence. Yet rage still burns sharp. Gaps stand wide open. Time creeps closer to February 20th.
This isn’t merely a rule on paper. Trust is what’s really at stake. Shattered so deep it might never hold again. Fixing it could happen. Possibly. Just not through this clumsy patchwork fix. Never while leaders move pieces like players ignoring the flood rising around them.
Yup. The law passed. Fires light up across Nigeria. Once more. Sit back. Next year will get ugly. This moment kicks it off.
