By Suraju Abdulgafar
In every election cycle, Nigeria’s political parties face the same question before a single ballot is cast: who decides who runs? The answer defines the health or lack thereof of the parties’ internal democracy.
Two means are statutorily prescribed: the consensus; and the direct primary. As stipulated in the electoral act 2026 as amended (Sections 84–88), either of the two options must be used by political parties to produce a candidate for any elective post.
My introspection of the two options leads to my conviction that they cause dilemma. I therefore examine the dilemma presented by the two options from the perspective of how they cause imposition and how they engender inclusion. I also examine the hindrances to youth involvement.
The consensus option is legalized under Section 87(1) of the Electoral Act 2026. The section provides that parties are to nominate candidates through consensus only if all cleared aspirants provided written consent. Clearly, S.87(1) of the Electoral Act 2026 states that all aspirants must voluntarily withdraw and endorse one candidate for consensus to be achieved.
In practice, however, consensus is often the politics of the “stakeholders’ room.” Its efficiency makes party stakeholders settle for this method because it prevents the sweat (and blood) of direct primaries. It avoids open warfare between aspirants, saves money, and projects party unity. For party leaders, it guarantees control of the ticket and ensures “loyal” candidates emerge. But when consensus lacks genuine consent, it becomes imposition and Aggrieved aspirants defect, file court cases, or sponsor rival parties. The members who funded the party with dues and mobilization are told to clap for a decision they did not take part. The message is clear: the party belongs to a few as it’s is a tool for elite stability, but stability without legitimacy is fragility.
Direct primary means every card carrying member votes. It is internal democracy in its purest form as power returns to party people.
This option weakens, but not eliminate, godfatherism. For example, a governor cannot easily pocket 50,000 members the way he/she can pocket 500 delegates in indirect primary. With direct primaries, winners emerge with moral authority: “the people chose me.” Direct primaries force parties to build real membership structures instead of renting crowds every election cycle.
However, the process of direct primaries can sometimes be chaotic and expensive. For example, covering Nigeria’s 8,809 wards to conduct presidential primaries will cause huge logistics and security challenges. More so, membership registers become political weapons as opponents print and brandish different membership lists that are often fraudulently obtained.
For youth involvement in Nigeria political landscape, direct primary changes the equation. It rewards numbers which the youth demographic has; not networks which the demographic does not have.
Clearly, a youth would not necessarily need the endorsement of godfathers or ‘big’ politicians. All a youth would need is the ward structure of the constituency under his/her party arrangements.
Youths do well where mobilization beats patronage. Since party membership matter and since party card becomes a vote, youths will gain handsomely. The parties also gain from boosted registration and meeting attendance incentivised by the encouragement of participatory politics. With the opportunity from direct primaries, participating youths stop asking “why join?” and start asking “how do we win?”.
Direct primaries also forces parties to build well and be youth friendly. Since parties cannot run direct primaries without a credible register, they must court young people, not just use them.
But as much as direct primaries engender inclusion and encourage youth involvement, there are many downsides. Inclusion itself is not automatic. Direct primaries are expensive, chaotic, and prone to violence. Fake registers often appear overnight. Thugs snatch ballot boxes. Vote buying moves to the grassroots. Many youths show up once, see the madness, and vow never to return.
Both options of consensus and direct primary test the readiness of youth. Whereas consensus tells youths: ‘you are too young to lead’; direct primary tells youths: ‘prove you are too many to ignore’. Invariably, both systems punish the unorganized. If youths are absent from elite caucuses, consensus will skip them. If youths are absent from ward structures, direct primary will drown them. The tragedy is that we demand youth involvement in December general election, but we deny youth inclusion in May primaries. We tell young people to “get their PVC” but give them no reason to believe their party membership means anything. So both system says “you are included,” but the process asks, “can you survive?”
The dilemma is not abstract. If party leaders anoint a candidate by consensus, they may avoid a fight but invite apathy and rebellion. If they open the process to direct primaries, they risk factional war but could produce a candidate with real grassroots mandate. In order to strengthen internal democracy in Nigeria, INEC must enforce the “written withdrawal and endorsement” rule. No aspirant should be forced to withdraw without his/her will. INEC also needs to make direct primaries feasible with biometric membership registers, supervision of the e-accreditation, and staggered ward voting. In addition, party members must reject the idea that “the party has decided” if they were never consulted.
Democracy is not a gift from leaders; it is a right exercised by members. Candidate selection is the first election and often the most important. If the process is imposed, the general election becomes a ratification of elite deals. If the process is inclusive, the general election becomes a contest of ideas and records. Nigeria must decide whether parties are private clubs of godfathers or public vehicles of citizens. The choice between consensus and direct primary is the choice between imposition and inclusion. We cannot claim to deepen democracy while denying it at the very first gate.
Suraju Abdulgafar, a community builder writes from Igbogbo
