Nigeria’s democratic problem is no longer ignorance of what needs fixing; it is the deliberate refusal to fix it. The passage of the Electoral Act Amendment Bill 2026 by the Senate under the leadership of Senate President Godswill Akpabio confirms this troubling pattern. Marketed as reform, the bill is better described as an administrative reshuffle that leaves the foundations of electoral credibility untouched. When measured against the Electoral Act 2022, the supposed progress is minimal, cosmetic, and in some respects, regressive.
Electoral reform is not about convenience for institutions or comfort for political actors. It is about trust, trust that votes are counted, transmitted, verified, and defended transparently. On this core democratic question, the 2026 amendment fails.
The most consequential failure lies in the Senate’s refusal to make electronic transmission of results mandatory. The Electoral Act 2022 left this decision to INEC’s discretion, a loophole that became the epicentre of controversy, litigation, and public distrust during the 2023 general elections. Rather than learning from this experience, the Senate doubled down on ambiguity. By rejecting a clear requirement for real time electronic transmission of polling unit results to the IREV portal, lawmakers preserved the very uncertainty that undermined confidence in the last electoral cycle. This is not neutrality; it is avoidance masquerading as caution.
There is some acknowledgement of technological reality. The amendment formally replaces references to the smart card reader with the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System. While this correction aligns the law with current practice, it does not amount to reform. BVAS was already in use; codifying it simply legalises the status quo without expanding transparency or voter protection. It is legislative housekeeping, not progress.
More troubling is the Senate’s rejection of electronically generated voter identification, retaining the Permanent Voter Card as the sole mandatory means of accreditation. In a country where PVC collection challenges, logistical failures, and targeted voter suppression are well documented, clinging to a single physical card as the gateway to political participation is deeply problematic. Modern democracies expand secure access; Nigeria’s lawmakers chose restriction.
On enforcement, the Senate again opted for half measures. The fine for buying and selling Permanent Voter Cards was increased from ₦2 million to ₦5 million, while the two year prison term was retained. This adjustment acknowledges inflation, not the gravity of the offence. PVC trading is an existential threat to electoral integrity, yet the amendment offers no stronger deterrent, no improved enforcement framework, and no signal of seriousness.
Perhaps the clearest missed opportunity is the Senate’s decision to strike out a proposed clause that would have allowed parties to prove non compliance in election petitions using documentary evidence alone. Nigerian election litigation is already slow, expensive, and inaccessible to all but the most well funded actors. Retaining rigid oral evidence requirements protects procedural inefficiency and prolongs justice. This choice preserves a system that frustrates accountability rather than enabling it.
Even in areas such as ballot paper inspection, the amendment merely retains existing provisions. Political parties are still given limited time to inspect samples, and INEC’s obligations remain unchanged. In a reform process, standing still in the face of known weaknesses is not neutrality; it is failure.
Taken together, the Electoral Act Amendment Bill 2026 introduces minor administrative clarity while avoiding every hard decision required to strengthen electoral integrity. Compared to the Electoral Act 2022, it does not close loopholes exposed by the 2023 elections, does not enhance transparency, and does not meaningfully empower voters or the judiciary. Where Nigerians expected lessons learned, they received legislative amnesia.
Yet the process is not entirely closed.
The conference committee stage remains the final democratic lifeline for this bill. It is the last opportunity for lawmakers, particularly those in the House of Representatives, to correct the Senate’s omissions, restore critical safeguards, and reinsert provisions that give meaning to electoral reform. Conference committees are not meant to be ceremonial rubber stamps; they exist precisely to resolve flaws that emerge from partisan or risk averse legislative chambers.
If the conference committee chooses courage over convenience, clarity over discretion, and public trust over political comfort, this bill can still be rescued. If it does not, the damage will be complete.
An electoral law is not judged by how many clauses it amends, but by whether it makes elections more credible. On that test, the Senate’s version fails. It manages political risk while sustaining a broken system. It preserves discretion where certainty is required and procedure where courage is needed.
The Senate may have passed a bill, but it did not pass reform. What emerged is an electoral framework that exists in law but lacks democratic life.
What the Senate passed is not an electoral reform bill.
It is its corpse.
Only the conference committee can decide whether it stays buried or is brought back to life.