In the kitchen of Nigeria’s democratic experiment – where the smell of reform and the smoke of recycled promise swirl together – the Independent National Electoral Commission has once more delivered a dish so audacious it has left the electorate confused and the opposition holding their guts.
Yiaga Africa’s question, “Is INEC the chef or just the waiter?” – is not rhetorical. It is a sharp question into the anatomy of electoral legitimacy, garnished with satire and seasoned with suspicion.
The latest on the menu from INEC’s culinary theatre is the August 2025 Continuous Voter Registration exercise, which, according to the commission, registered an eye-popping 1,379,342 online pre-registrations in one week alone! A seemingly civic fever-filled Osun State produced 393,269 registrations – more than it had in four years.
Lagos was followed by 222,205, with Ebonyi, probably with a democratic fast, contributing an abysmal 261. The figures were so sickening that the opposition choked. PDP, LP, ADC and the spectre of Atiku all cried foul, accusing INEC of cooking the books with statistical monosodium glutamate – a flavour enhancer, an electoral embellishment – and seasoning the figures with digital deceit.
INEC, the always-defensive maitre d’, says the dish is authentic. We only served what Nigerians ordered, they say, as though the electorate had asked for a buffet of absurdity. INEC referred to historical data and alluded to the history of Osun State, with a high interest in voter registration.
Osun was the state that led the CVR exercise in 2021 with 154,893 registrations in week two, 365,412 registrations in week eight, and 708,782 registrations in April 2022. “See,” they seem to be pointing out, waving the recipe book. We’ve been generous with our servings, of course.
But Yiaga Africa, the watchdog that knows democratic flavour, is not convinced. Its new report, The Future of Voter Registration in Nigeria: Why Blockchain Matters, cuts right through the numbers like a hot knife through electoral butter.
They remind us that Nigeria’s voter register is and has long been a brew of duplicate entries, mismatched data, and fields left blank. In 2019, there were 8,810 duplicate records in Kogi and Bayelsa. Edo’s 2023 register had 72 missing addresses. And in 2025, Osun’s count is too fattened to be organic.
Yiaga serves a new recipe: blockchain. A technology that makes the records immutable, visible to all, and impossible to tamper with and leaving no digital footprint. Imagine it like a transparent pot – everyone can see what is being put in the pot – and any attempt to secretly add rotten ingredients will trigger alarms. But INEC, ever suspicious of novel ingredients, has not yet adopted the blockchain pantry.
Instead, they’re using ABIS – the Automatic Biometric Identification System – to filter out duplicates. But Yiaga cautions that without integration with national databases, ABIS is just a sieve with holes. It nabs the big con artists but allows the small ones to pass through like electoral plankton.
The people, meanwhile, need reform. They don’t ask for gourmet democracy. It’s just that they want a clean kitchen. No more seasoning by the presidential kind. No more bias-soaked DSS vetting. No longer are any Senate confirmations baked in partisanship. They want an independent commission (not one run by the executive chef).
In Ghana, the electoral commission is an autonomous body in both finances and operations. Its chair is elected with civil society supervision, and registration to vote is linked to national identity cards. The Gambia’s IEC does not allow recent party affiliates to join the commission.
The process of their registration is manual but transparent, and commissioners are appointed in consultation with non-partisan organisations. In South Africa, the electoral commission is chosen by a committee of judges, academics and civil society leaders. Their voter register can be publicly audited, and updates are published in real time.
Nigeria, by contrast, still cooks in the dark. The kitchen is crowded with party loyalists, the pantry is locked, and the recipe changes depending on who is watching.
INEC’s digital reforms are commendable, but technology without trust is mere theatre. BVAS and IReV were introduced as miracle spices, but their glitchy performance in 2023 left a bitter aftertaste. INEC called it a “technical issue”. Nigerians called it “fraud”.
And now, as Prof. Mahmood Yakubu is about to leave the kitchen, we must ask: what is his legacy? He guaranteed a digital revolution. Digital confusion was returned to us. He introduced BVAS. We got BVAS glitches. He preached transparency. We got statistical sorcery.
He is to be the continuation of Attahiru Jega’s aura of plausibility. Instead, he was made the superintendent of the “Inconclusive Elections Commission”. His kitchen was full of reform ingredients, but he kept serving half-baked democracy.
Like a restaurant’s inventory list, the voter register is the backbone of the entire operation. If it is damaged, the entire establishment falls away.
INEC’s defence, which points to historic trends, is both correct and not good enough. Context matters. Although the digital spirit of the people of Osun State is real, so is the cynicism that the people of the state have developed over the years due to the electoral malpractices.
More profound questions must be asked: Who constructed the kitchen? Who controls the pantry? Who decides the menu?
INEC’s recruitment system, as it presently stands, is a recipe for disaster. The chairman is appointed by the president, confirmed by the Senate, and vetted by the DSS. That’s the same as asking a competitor to choose which judge will preside over a cooking contest.
The result is predictable: a commission whose constituency is the executive and not the electorate. It’s like a referee who wears the jersey of one team, whistles to another and keeps the score for himself. His qualifications can change every few years, but the game never changes.
Justice Ephraim Akpata, the inaugural chairman of the INEC of the Fourth Republic, did all he could to build a foundation. But the cement was still wet when he left. Abel Guobadia followed—a well-intentioned but low-impact technocrat. Then there came the worst of them: Maurice Iwu, the magician of manipulation who so controversially conducted elections that they would precipitate a blush on ballot boxes. Under Iwu, rigging was elevated to an art form, while electoral malpractices were elevated to statecraft.
Attahiru Jega arrived like a prophet. He introduced the card reader, resisted pressure, and delivered the 2015 elections with a semblance of credibility. He was not perfect, but he was principled. He left with his reputation intact—a rare feat in Nigeria’s political jungle.
And then came Yakubu, the professor with a PowerPoint and a prayer. He promised reform, delivered technology, and presided over elections that left the nation divided. His legacy is a mixed bag—part innovation, part improvisation and part implosion.
The electoral commission in South Africa is an extremely independent one. It is staffed by professionals, not politicians. Its chairpersons are chosen openly, and its decisions are heeded (even by losers). In Ghana, Charlotte Osei formerly headed the electoral commission with grace and grit.
She gave credible elections, took political pressure and left with dignity. In The Gambia, Alieu Momar Njai announced the defeat of the short-tempered tyrant Yahya Jammeh and fled the country to safety, only to return as a hero. Here is what courage is like. Nigeria must learn.
Let us envisage a new kitchen: one whose chef is selected by a committee of professional retired judges, leaders of civil society and academics.
One where the recipe is open, the ingredients have been checked, and the cooking is live-streamed. One wherein the consumer is allowed to search the pantry, quiz the chef, and make demands for refunds of burnt shoddy.
Because democracy isn’t a democracy buffet. It is a contract. And when the contract is broken, the people of the restaurant cannot just complain—they have to shut down their restaurant. Prof. Yakubu, your tenure ends not with a bang, but with a biometric whimper. You promised a digital revolution.
We got digital illusion. You introduced BVAS. We got BVAS glitches. You preached transparency. We got statistical sorcery. So, as you exit the INEC kitchen, take this parting recipe:
Ingredients: One cup of electoral integrity, two tablespoons of institutional independence, a dash of public trust, and zero grams of political interference—garnish with civil society oversight
Instructions:
Preheat democracy to 1999°C
Mix ingredients thoroughly, avoiding lumps of bias
Bake in a transparent oven
Serve with humility and accountability
Because democracy is not a dish to be cooked and served. It is a kitchen we must all keep clean.
By Kunle Somorin