In the wake of Abdullah El-Kurebe’s thought-provoking editorial, “Why Nigerians Don’t Vote—and Why Forcing Them Won’t Fix It,” published on May 18, 2025, on The Story, I found myself stirred—not just by the clarity of his argument, but by what was left unsaid. El-Kurebe’s central thesis is compelling: that Nigeria’s low voter turnout reflects more than apathy; it is the symptom of a fractured system, scarred by distrust, electoral violence, and political redundancy. He rightly dismisses the idea of compulsory voting as a simplistic fix for a complex problem. But while his diagnosis is honest and urgent, I believe it overlooks a deeper, more insidious ailment—one not of the system, but of the soul.
To illustrate this, allow me to recount a personal experience. During a university semester, Dr. Haruna Sule, a respected lecturer, circulated a digital questionnaire as part of his research on the effectiveness of online lectures. Initially, the post sat unnoticed, as many important messages often do on student platforms. Then came his follow-up comment: completing the questionnaire would count towards Continuous Assessment (CA). In seconds, the platform exploded. Students who had ignored the link now rushed to complete the task. Screenshots were submitted with pride, flooding the platform with evidence of participation.
Whether Dr. Sule truly used it for CA or not is immaterial. The lesson is loud and clear: obligation—or the fear of consequences—motivated mass action, not intrinsic interest. Suddenly, the invisible became hyper-visible. In a culture where even meaningful information is often overlooked, the mere hint of personal consequence changed everything.
This microcosmic moment mirrors a national truth: Nigeria’s voter apathy is not only a product of broken trust or systemic failure—it’s also rooted in a widespread, warped value system. We must dare to admit that many Nigerians are simply uninterested in collective progress unless there’s something in it for them. It’s not just politicians who have failed us; we, the citizens, are often complicit.
It’s a painful irony. Social media overflows with political opinions, public outrage, and passionate critiques. But try organizing a community meeting, hosting an alumni election, or initiating a simple online poll—even among educated professionals—and you’ll witness firsthand the silence of supposed activists. People who passionately discuss national transformation online vanish when action is required offline. Even civic duties that demand nothing but a few minutes—like clicking on a poll or reading a community update—are widely ignored unless personal gain is involved.
This disconnect isn’t unique to national elections. It’s in our professional associations, our alumni groups, our community development committees. I recall attending a town meeting during the holiday season, where a respected guest speaker remarked, “I was excited to finally attend, considering how active our WhatsApp group is. But looking around at the empty seats, it’s clear: digital noise doesn’t equal real commitment.” His words cut deep.
Why do we show up only when it benefits us directly? Why does participation in communal responsibilities—be it voting, financial contributions, or volunteering—feel optional unless tied to rewards or punishment? The truth is, many Nigerians view civic duties as favors they bestow rather than obligations they owe. The spirit of sacrifice is fading, replaced by a culture of convenience.
Yes, one could argue that economic hardship plays a role. Many are weighed down by responsibilities and may find it difficult to justify travel expenses just to vote. But the same individuals find the time and resources to attend concerts, football viewing centers, or spend endlessly on data subscriptions for entertainment. The distinction lies in what we value.
We cannot keep blaming politicians for everything. While it’s true that electoral outcomes often feel predetermined and that candidates seem indistinguishable, the refusal to vote while simultaneously criticizing those in power reveals a cognitive dissonance. It’s an act of surrender masquerading as protest.
Therefore, I propose a shift in strategy. Instead of mandating voting through draconian laws that infringe on constitutional rights, Nigeria should explore a blend of incentives and mild consequences. Consider this: in many workplaces, staff are required to present evidence of community service for promotions. Why not extend this to voting? Participation in elections could count toward performance appraisals in public and private sectors alike.
In fact, this idea is not novel. Countries like Australia, Belgium, Brazil, and Peru have adopted compulsory voting laws, with varying degrees of success. Australia, for example, saw a 19-point rise in voter turnout after implementing the policy in 1924. Similarly, in Argentina and Brazil, compulsory voting applies to citizens aged 18 to 69, with modest penalties for abstention. Peru adjusts fines based on district poverty levels. In Schaffhausen, Switzerland, compulsory voting boosted turnout and shifted policy support toward the public good.
Of course, Nigeria is a unique landscape. What works elsewhere must be adapted to suit local realities. This is where Operant Conditioning Theory, developed by B.F. Skinner, becomes relevant. The theory posits that behavior is shaped by its consequences—rewards encourage repetition, while punishments discourage it. Positive reinforcement, such as recognition or small incentives for voters, could enhance participation. Conversely, negative reinforcement or mild disincentives (like reduced eligibility for government schemes or job promotions without proof of civic participation) could nudge citizens toward engagement.
Teachers use this principle to foster discipline. Employers use it to boost productivity. There’s no reason governments cannot adopt similar techniques to foster civic responsibility. However, caution is essential. Overreliance on external motivators can erode intrinsic values, and behavioral models must be tailored, not imposed.
Ultimately, no law or incentive can compensate for a society that no longer believes in the power of its collective voice. The battle against voter apathy is not just political—it is cultural, psychological, and moral. Until we learn to value duty over convenience, and long-term impact over short-term benefit, elections will continue to suffer from ghost turnouts and empty promises.
Let us not merely fix the system. Let us fix ourselves.
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