By MOSHOOD OSHUNFUREWA

As the 2027 general elections draw closer, a troubling question hangs over the country like a hot red volcanic slug: would there be any consequences for those who rig the vote? History suggests a painful answer. In Nigeria, election offences have rarely been punished, and the few that were punished took years to conclude. If the pattern of the past repeats itself, the 2027 election may once again be stolen in broad daylight, with no one held to account.

The recent development within the ruling party, where the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Nyesom Wike, was drafted to coordinate the elections in the FCT and Rivers State, has reopened old wounds. Many Nigerians still remember the 2023 election, which was widely described as rigged with impunity. The Munda analytic and several observer reports pointed to serious irregularities. Of course, the most noticeable one is in Wike’s backyard. Now, Wike’s emergence as an election coordinator, therefore, surprises no one who followed the events of 2023 closely. But it should worry everyone who believes in the sanctity of the ballot.

What should trouble a right-thinking person even more are Wike’s own words. Addressing stakeholders in Abuja, he declared with confidence: “Every obstacle, I’ve already removed it. Whatever is required to do the election, we will have it.” Coming from a man who supervises the FCT and hails from Rivers State, two flashpoints in the last election, such a statement is loaded. It raises an honest question: obstacles to what? To a free and fair election, or to the victory of a preferred candidate? A democracy cannot survive when those who manage elections speak like warlords who have already drawn the battle map.

The signs on the ground are not encouraging. Enugu has become another spotlight of political intolerance. A ward meeting of the opposition was disrupted by gunmen in September 2026, leaving several people injured. In Edo and Benue, opposition figures have been openly warned not to enter the states, as if some parts of the country now belong to political landlords rather than to all Nigerians. These acts of hooliganism and thuggery send a chilling message: that votes may not count, and that blood may flow, with nothing happening afterwards.

Let us be guided by the numbers, because numbers do not lie. In the 2023 presidential election, only 24.9 million out of 93.47 million registered voters actually voted, a turnout of just 26.71 per cent, the lowest since the return to democracy in 1999. Compare this with our own history: turnout was 34.6 per cent in 1979, 52.3 per cent in 1999, and as high as 69.1 per cent in 2003. It has fallen steadily since — 57.5 per cent in 2007, 53.7 per cent in 2011, 43.7 per cent in 2015, 34.7 per cent in 2019, and now below 27 per cent. The message is clear; Nigerians are losing faith that their votes count. When citizens conclude that elections are settled by riggers and not by voters, they simply stay home. That is how democracies die quietly.

The sad irony is that impunity in our elections did not begin yesterday. In 2003, police raised an alarm over about five million fake ballots, and international observers reported irregularities in 11 of the 36 states, yet the results stood. The 2007 election was so flawed that the winner himself, the late President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, publicly admitted its shortcomings and promised reform. And after the disputed 2023 election, all the petitions filed before the election tribunal and the Supreme Court failed to change the outcome, leaving many Nigerians with the bitter feeling that the judiciary, too, had weighed in on the side of power rather than justice. A leopard, they say, does not change its spots.

We must also look honestly at the record of punishment for electoral offences, because this is the heart of the matter. INEC says it is prosecuting 774 individuals over offences from the 2023 general election, in collaboration with the Nigerian Bar Association and the EFCC. But as of January 2024, only three convictions had been secured. Worse still, the landmark conviction of Professor Ignatius Uduk, a returning officer who announced false results, arose from the 2019 election, and it took nearly six years to achieve justice at the trial court. By that measure, those who rig the 2027 election may not face judgment until 2033, if at all. This is why the call for a dedicated Electoral Offences Tribunal remains urgent and justified.

The role of INEC itself deserves sober reflection. The commission has been accused, on several occasions, of actions that appear biased and lopsided. In 2023, it failed to upload polling-unit results as promised, after raising the hopes of millions with the Bimodal Voter Accreditation System. An electoral empire that cannot enforce its own rules will eventually become an instrument of whoever wields power. And if the staff of INEC themselves become enablers of rigging, as many fear ahead of 2027, then the election is finished before the first ballot is cast.

Why would a president who came to power through democratic means want to win and rule by an iron hand? This is the question history will ask. Elections are not wars; they are a marketplace of ideas where the superior argument should win. Section 96 of the Electoral Act 2026 provides penalties for hate speech and incitement to violence: fines of up to N5 million or imprisonment of up to 12 months for candidates, and up to N10 million for parties. But laws without enforcement are mere decorations.

INEC must demonstrate, through action and not press statements, that no official can manipulate results and walk free. The police must protect voters and opposition figures in every state, irrespective of party affiliation. The National Assembly must urgently establish the Electoral Offences Tribunal so that election cases do not drag for six years while the beneficiaries of rigged polls serve out their terms. And President Bola Tinubu, as the leader of the ruling party, must rein in those who speak and act as if the election is already settled. A ruling party with 31 states under its control carries a special burden: it must set the tone for peace, not for conquest.

The 2027 election does not have to be bloody. It does not have to be massively rigged. But whether it will be peaceful and credible depends on one simple thing: consequences. When riggers know that nothing will happen, they rig without shame. When they know that justice will come, swiftly and surely, they think twice.

The choice before the nation is therefore clear. We can continue on this road, where blood flows, votes are stolen, courts look away, and impunity reigns. Or we can draw a line and say: never again. For the sake of the millions of young Nigerians who queued under the sun in 2023 believing in change, let 2027 be the election where, for once, the consequences match the crime. Anything less will confirm what many already fear: that in this republic, rigging is not an offence, but a strategy.

•Oshunfurewa, a public affairs analyst, writes from Lagos