The main threat to Nigerian democracy is no longer a lack of understanding of elections but the growing doubt that elections matter. What is often labelled voter apathy is actually a rational response. When citizens believe their votes matter, hope drives them; when manipulation seems possible, disengagement follows—not from disdain for democracy, but from a sense of abandonment and frustration.

INEC now faces the challenge of restoring electoral trust. The Commission is not just an election manager; it is the institution that confers democratic legitimacy. Its conduct shapes whether elections are accepted as legitimate or dismissed as empty rituals. As long as INEC is trusted, winners gain acceptance and losers concede peacefully; when INEC is distrusted, every action is viewed with suspicion, and every result becomes a source of conflict.

Any honest assessment must begin with 2023. That election was meant to mark a new era of transparency, anchored on the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System and the INEC Result Viewing Portal. INEC repeatedly assured Nigerians that technology would narrow the space for manipulation. Those assurances raised expectations, especially among young voters and citizens who had begun to believe that the system might finally be forced to respect the ballot. But on election day, the promise collapsed where it mattered most. Presidential results were not uploaded in real time as expected, and INEC’s later explanation that an “HTTP error” caused by a configuration bug disrupted the presidential upload did little to heal the wound.

The problem was not just failed technology; it was failed trust. INEC’s promises of transparency became central, and when those promises were broken, the damage was institutional. The European Union Election Observation Mission said INEC’s failures eroded trust and recommended clearer laws, transparent appointments, and real-time publication of results.

Once trust is broken on such a large scale, it cannot be restored by statements alone; only consistent, transparent actions can begin to rebuild it. Thus, the 2027 elections will not be routine—they will serve as a test of INEC’s credibility. It will also determine the survival of democracy in Nigeria.

Professor Joash Ojo Amupitan’s 2025 appointment was meant as a fresh start. Though initially praised as apolitical, new leadership alone cannot erase old doubts. Renewal comes not from biographies but from consistent conduct.

The controversy around social media allegations against the new chairman spread quickly. INEC’s investigation cleared him, but the incident showed how disinformation thrives where trust is weak. Stronger trust would have ended the issue quickly.

More concerning are controversies in INEC’s handling of party affairs, like the ADC leadership dispute. INEC cited court orders, while critics claimed interference. In a democracy, procedural fairness must be visible, not just claimed. Recent incidents show public trust remains fragile.

Nowhere is this perception problem sharper than in INEC’s oversight of party primaries and internal party affairs. Four pressing issues demand urgent attention.

First, there are persistent concerns about possible partisan appointments. Elections are ultimately run by people, not abstractions. If resident electoral commissioners (REC), electoral officers, ICT staff, and other personnel are perceived as politically compromised, the whole process is at risk. International IDEA has noted recurring controversies over appointments since 2015, and this has worsened in 2023. For example, Osun legislators have alleged bias in the selection of officials for the 2026 election—whether or not these claims are true, they reveal growing fears that electoral integrity can be undermined even before ballots are cast.

Second is the issue of strategic redeployments. When key electoral officials are moved close to major elections, especially amid claims of political pressure, confidence in the electoral process suffers. INEC may have administrative reasons for moving personnel, but in a climate of distrust, timing is substance. A redeployment may be lawful, but if it appears to serve partisan convenience, it damages neutrality. The Commission must therefore learn that administrative opacity is no longer harmless. Every major personnel decision before a sensitive election must be explained clearly, proactively and publicly.

Third is INEC’s attempt to prescribe timelines for party primaries in ways the court found inconsistent with the Electoral Act 2026. In May 2026, the Federal High Court in Abuja invalidated INEC’s timetable for the conduct of primaries and nomination of candidates, holding that INEC could not lawfully abridge statutory windows granted to political parties for submission, withdrawal and substitution of candidates. This was not a mere procedural quarrel. It went to the heart of political participation. An electoral umpire must regulate the game; it must not reshape the field in a manner that favours older, richer and better-established parties over emerging alternatives.

Administrative convenience matters—Nigeria’s elections are logistically complex. But democracy is not for administrators’ comfort; it serves citizens’ sovereignty. A timetable that forces parties into rushed primaries can deepen internal crises, increase litigation, weaken party democracy, and suffocate reform movements before the ballot. Efficiency must never mean exclusion.

This is why the controversy over INEC’s 2027 timetable deserves attention. The Movement for Credible Election has warned that INEC’s appeal of a judgment nullifying part of its timetable could further harm public confidence. The core issue remains: an electoral umpire must not appear to restrict political participation. For elections, INEC should avoid imposing timelines that appear to narrow participation. Administrative convenience matters, but it cannot outweigh democratic inclusion.

Fourth is the perception of selective urgency. Opposition parties often accuse INEC of moving swiftly when their internal disputes arise, while showing greater patience when ruling-party complications emerge. INEC may reject this charge, and in specific cases, it may have legal explanations. But the persistence of the perception is itself a governance failure. An umpire cannot afford to appear hurried toward one side and hesitant toward the other. Neutrality is not only a legal condition; it is a democratic performance that must be seen, felt and believed.

Nigerians trusted INEC “somewhat” or “a lot.” A Commission heading into 2027 with that kind of confidence deficit is not facing a public relations problem. It is facing an institutional emergency.

The question, therefore, is not simply whether Nigerians should trust INEC. The harder question is whether INEC is prepared to earn that trust before 2027.

Trust will not return through slogans. It will not return because a new chairman has been appointed. It will not return because technology has been announced. It will return only when INEC obeys the law without arrogance, treats parties without discrimination, communicates without evasion, deploys technology without excuses, and conducts elections so transparently that even disappointed losers struggle to deny the integrity of the process.

Nigeria does not need a perfect electoral commission. No democracy has one. But Nigeria urgently needs an electoral commission whose neutrality is credible, whose promises are reliable, and whose conduct reassures citizens that the ballot remains stronger than manipulation.

For INEC, 2027 is more than another election. It is a chance for institutional redemption. For Nigeria, it may be the difference between democracy as a living covenant and democracy as a tired ceremony.

The country is not asking INEC for miracles. It is asking for honesty, fairness, competence and courage. That should not be too much to ask of the institution entrusted with the sovereignty of over 200 million people.

•Dakuku Peterside is the author of Leading in a Storm and Beneath the Surface.

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