Attempt to delete democracy: The perilous path to 2027, By Dakuku Peterside

Democracy does not always die with the crack of gunfire or the drama of tanks rolling into the public square. More often, it is weakened quietly — by rulings, memos, selective interpretations, procedural manoeuvres, manipulations, and institutions that begin to forget the moral purpose of their own powers. That is why the current crisis surrounding the African Democratic Congress (ADC) is so alarming and sinister. On 31 March 2026, the Independent National Electoral Commission announced it would cease recognising the David Mark-led ADC and the Rafiu Bala faction of the ADC after reviewing a Court of Appeal order. On 3 April, INEC chairperson Joash Amupitan defended the move as an act of obedience to the court’s directive to maintain the status quo ante bellum. Yet whatever the legal phrasing, the political effect has been unmistakable: an opposition platform that had suddenly become nationally consequential has been thrust into paralysis.

The implications of this politically engineered crisis are immediate and far-reaching. By ceasing recognition of ADC leadership and the Rafiu Bala faction, refusing to accept their correspondence, and suspending the monitoring of party meetings, congresses, and conventions, INEC has created the conditions for operational paralysis at the very moment when political organisation for 2027 should be deepening. A prolonged leadership vacuum of this kind can disrupt critical decisions, complicate congressional and primary elections, and weaken the party’s ability to mount a credible national challenge. Because the ADC has become the most visible rallying platform for major opposition figures, any uncertainty about its legal and organisational status threatens to fracture the broader coalition around it, making defections, confusion, and parallel structures more likely.

Even more damaging is the wider institutional message the crisis sends. Once a significant opposition platform is seen to be immobilised by administrative interpretation and political manipulation rather than defeated in open competition, public trust in the neutrality of the electoral process begins to erode. That is already evident in the ADC’s fierce response, including its accusation that INEC’s handling of the matter renders a credible election doubtful, whilst INEC itself insists it is merely complying with the court’s directive. If this standoff continues, the danger is not only that one party may be weakened, but that the legitimacy of the 2027 election itself may be questioned long before voting day. Credible democracy depends not only on ballots being cast, but on citizens believing that parties were free to organise, compete, and offer real alternatives.

The danger lies not only in the action itself, but in what it signals. In July 2025, key opposition leaders unveiled a coalition on the ADC platform and openly stated their aim to prevent Nigeria from sliding towards one-party dominance. This became apparent when it was clear that the PDP was on a path of induced self-destruction. Around the same period, the APC formally endorsed President Bola Tinubu for a second term in 2027, even as gubernatorial defections and a fragmented opposition were strengthening the ruling party’s hand. Tinubu has publicly denied any plan to turn Nigeria into a one-party state, and that denial should be noted. But democracies are judged not only by presidential declarations. They are judged by whether institutions create or constrain the conditions for fair competition. When the most visible opposition vehicle is immobilised at a decisive political moment, suspicion becomes inevitable.

This is why the phrase “attempt to delete democracy” is not an exaggeration. Democracy can be erased without being formally abolished. A party does not need to be deregistered to be disabled. If its leadership is left in limbo, if its correspondence is no longer received, if its meetings are not recognised, and if its primaries are placed under a cloud before the electoral season has fully matured, then a vital democratic alternative is being thinned out before citizens even reach the ballot box. The shell of pluralism remains, but the substance begins to leak away. That is the real menace of bureaucratic strangulation: it leaves the vocabulary of democracy intact whilst quietly draining democracy of contest, uncertainty, and hope.

Historical examples abound. The Roman Republic did not collapse in one spectacular moment. The normalisation of the use of force against rivals first poisoned it. After the civil war, Lucius Cornelius Sulla marched into Rome, was appointed dictator without the traditional time limit, and initiated the proscriptions — a reign of terror in which hundreds of his enemies were killed without trial and their property seized. What was presented as the restoration of order became the institutionalisation of fear. Once a republic begins to treat opposition not as a competitor to be beaten in elections but as an enemy to be erased, it begins writing its own elegy. Rome’s lesson is enduring. When power stops tolerating rivalry, it may gain temporary control, but it loses the habits that make republican life possible.

Modern history offers its own cautionary examples. In Venezuela, Hugo Chávez did not initially abolish electoral politics; instead, his movement gradually came to dominate the commanding institutions of the state. Chávez and his coalition came to control the National Assembly, the Supreme Court, the Justice Department, and the National Election Council, whilst opponents had little legal recourse and were often subjected to state-sponsored harassment. Elections still occurred, but the field was no longer genuinely even. The lesson is not that Nigeria is Venezuela. It is that once a ruling formation acquires excessive influence over the referee, the courts, and the arena, opposition ceases to be a coequal participant and becomes a tolerated inconvenience.