By Oyinkan Andu
In a move that has ignited widespread debate, the Nigerian House of Representatives is considering a bill that would make voting compulsory for all eligible citizens.
Spearheaded by Speaker Abbas! The same man who introduced the Counter-Subversion Bill in 2024, which proposed severe penalties, including up to 25 years imprisonment, for actions like refusing to recite the national anthem. The proposed legislation would amend the Electoral Act 2022, mandating participation under threat of penalties—up to N100,000 in fines or six months’ imprisonment.
While the proposal claims to target voter apathy, its timing and the political climate suggest it may be more about power retention than civic responsibility.
Compulsory voting is not unprecedented globally. Countries like Australia and Belgium have implemented such laws to combat voter apathy and enhance democratic participation. In Australia, for instance, non-voters face modest fines, a measure credited with maintaining high voter turnout. But those systems function on trust and electoral credibility—two ingredients sorely lacking in Nigeria’s democracy.
In Nigeria, where elections are frequently marred by violence, voter suppression, and manipulation, compulsory voting risks transform civic participation into state coercion. The right to vote should not be weaponised against the citizens it is supposed to empower. This begs the question- Why make voting compulsory in a country where elections are already deeply mistrusted? The answer may lie not in civic virtue but political strategy.
Compulsory voting, in the wrong hands, can be a powerful tool for electoral fraud. Here’s how:
-> Artificial Turnout Inflation: By forcing citizens to vote, the government can create a façade of mass participation, lending legitimacy to results that may have been manipulated.
-> Targeted intimidation: With penalties looming, the law gives local political operatives another excuse to harass, intimidate, or coerce populations, especially in opposition strongholds
-> Suppression Disguised as Enforcement: The enforcement of fines or jail time could be selectively applied to disenfranchise marginalised or opposition-leaning groups under the guise of legal compliance
In short, this bill risks becoming a legal cover for voter suppression, data manipulation, and election rigging—hallmarks of authoritarian democracies in disguise.
The bill’s proponents cite low voter turnout as a justification. In the 2023 general elections, only about 27% of registered voters participated, a decline from previous years. Yet, this approach may overlook underlying issues such as electoral violence, vote-buying, and lack of trust in the electoral system. Instead of addressing these root causes, the bill appears to shift responsibility onto the electorate.
The timing and nature of the bill have led to speculation about its political motivations. Some analysts suggest it could be a strategy by the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) to legitimise future elections and suppress dissent. By mandating participation, the government might aim to project an image of robust democratic engagement, regardless of the electorate’s genuine sentiments. Civil society organisations, including the Socio-Economic Rights and Accountability Project (SERAP), have condemned the bill, labelling it as oppressive and inconsistent with constitutional rights. They argue that the focus should be on creating a conducive environment for free and fair elections, not penalising citizens for abstention.
Even setting politics aside, enforcing such a law is impractical. How will the underfunded enforcement agencies verify who didn’t vote and why? What constitutes a “valid excuse”? Will overstretched courts prosecute millions of non-voters?
In a country still struggling to issue reliable national ID cards and prevent electoral fraud, enforcement of such a policy borders on fantasy—or worse, it becomes an excuse for targeted harassment. Further still, implementing such a law poses significant challenges. Determining valid excuses for non-voting, ensuring accurate records of participation, and enforcing penalties would require substantial administrative resources. In a country grappling with infrastructural deficits and bureaucratic inefficiencies, these hurdles could render the law ineffective or lead to selective enforcement.
Voter apathy in Nigeria is a symptom, not the disease. Citizens stay home on election day because they believe the process is broken. Forcing them to participate doesn’t restore democracy—it reinforces their disillusionment. While increasing voter turnout is a commendable goal, if well intentioned, mandating participation through punitive measures may not be the solution. Addressing the root causes of voter apathy, such as electoral malpractice, insecurity, and lack of trust in governance—should take precedence. Democracy thrives not merely on participation but on the freedom to choose, including the choice not to participate.
As Nigerias navigates its young democratic journey, policies should aim to empower citizens, not coerce them. Genuine engagement stems from trust and transparency, not compulsion. If the Nigerian Political elite or “Government” as some may call it wants real reform, it must earn participation—not demand it.
