by Olaitan Babatunde
An election is supposed to create a moment when citizens become more powerful than politicians. For one day, the governor, the opposition candidate, the party chairman and the political godfather all become voters standing in the same queue. That is the theory. In Osun, however, the weeks before the August 15 governorship election have produced a more disturbing question: what happens when citizens begin to believe that exercising their democratic right could put them in danger?
The warning signs are no longer confined to campaign rhetoric. The Kimpact Development Initiative reported 44 election related violent incidents and 13 fatalities in Osun between October 2025 and June 2026. Separately, the Nigeria Police Force has said it was investigating 30 suspected politically motivated killings connected to the state’s political environment. These figures come from different sources and should not be treated as one combined death toll. But even with that distinction, they point to the same problem: political violence has become serious enough to require institutional attention before voters reach the polling units.
Then came the incident at Okuku. On July 26, armed men reportedly attacked an INEC Permanent Voter Card distribution centre at Oyinlola DC Primary School. The police said the attackers fired into the air and carted away PVCs, while INEC subsequently confirmed that the incident would not derail the election. Reports differ on the precise number of PVC packs taken, which is why it is safer not to repeat an exact figure as settled fact. What is not in serious dispute is that an electoral facility was attacked and that police opened an investigation. The civic significance is enormous. If citizens cannot safely collect the document required to vote, the threat to democracy begins before election day.
Governor Ademola Adeleke’s camp has accused the opposition of intimidation and political persecution. The APC has rejected those allegations, describing some of the governor’s claims as unfounded. The Accord Party has separately alleged police harassment of its members and called for outside intervention. These accusations cannot automatically become facts simply because they appear in press releases. They require investigation, corroboration and, where criminal conduct is alleged, prosecution. Yet dismissing every allegation as ordinary campaign propaganda would be equally irresponsible. When several political actors are independently raising concerns about intimidation, the appropriate response from institutions should be greater transparency, not simply another political rebuttal.
The security response itself has now become part of the political argument. The Nigeria Police Force has moved to restrict the involvement of Amotekun and vigilante groups in election duties, while Inspector General of Police Tunji Disu has warned politicians against turning the election into a war. That restriction deserves attention because election security cannot become a competition between partisan interests and informal security structures. The state must know exactly who is authorised to carry out election security duties, under whose command, and according to what rules. At the same time, security agencies must understand that neutrality is not demonstrated by making announcements. It is demonstrated by treating members of every political party according to the same standard.
There is another dimension to this crisis that deserves less attention from politicians and more attention from citizens: fear itself can manipulate an election. Nobody needs to physically prevent a voter from reaching the polling unit. If rumours of attacks, shootings or intimidation become widespread enough, some citizens will voluntarily stay home. That is why election violence should not be measured only by bodies on the ground. It should also be measured by the number of people who decide that voting is not worth the risk. The result can be an election in which nobody was officially prevented from voting, yet thousands were effectively discouraged from participating.
And this matters because Osun already has a problem with voter participation. The state has experienced declining turnout across recent elections, mirroring a broader Nigerian problem in which registration figures have grown while the proportion of registered voters who actually cast ballots remains troublingly low. When political violence is added to existing voter apathy, the effect can be devastating. A citizen who already doubts whether his vote matters needs very little encouragement to stay at home. A threat, a rumour or a frightening video may be enough.
The information war is therefore just as important as the physical security operation. The current political environment has already produced accusations involving vote buying, intimidation and alleged plots. The Guardian recently reported fresh clashes in the narratives of Adeleke’s camp and the APC, including allegations around vote buying and intimidation. Another report described concerns raised by stakeholders over the abuse of state institutions. These claims should be independently verified rather than repeated as established facts. That distinction is crucial because misinformation can itself become a security threat. A false report of an attack can trigger panic just as easily as a real attack.
The National Peace Committee and other stakeholders have a particularly important role here. Political parties should be pushed beyond the usual peace statements and held to measurable commitments. Security agencies should publish clear rules of engagement. INEC should communicate quickly when incidents occur. Civil society organisations and journalists should document allegations without becoming extensions of political campaigns. And citizens should resist the temptation to forward every dramatic video that arrives on WhatsApp simply because it confirms what they already believe about the opposing party.
There is also a responsibility that belongs squarely to the political class. If a politician knows that his supporters are carrying weapons, intimidating opponents or disrupting electoral activities and does nothing, the problem is no longer simply the thugs. It is the political structure protecting them. Nigeria has seen enough elections in which violent actors are condemned publicly while quietly celebrated privately. That culture must end. A candidate who cannot control the people campaigning in his name should not be trusted with the larger responsibility of controlling public institutions.
The August 15 election will therefore test more than INEC’s logistics and BVAS. It will test whether Osun’s political institutions can create an environment in which citizens feel sufficiently safe to participate. The winner will eventually be announced, posters will disappear and politicians will return to their normal routines. But the deeper measure of the election will be whether ordinary people were able to vote without intimidation, whether political opponents could campaign without fear, whether journalists could report freely and whether security agencies acted without partisan favour.
Because democracy does not only fail when somebody steals a ballot box. Sometimes it fails much earlier, when a voter looks at the political atmosphere, hears the stories of violence, watches the videos circulating online and quietly decides, “I am not going.”
That is the politics of fear. And if Osun allows fear to determine who participates, then the most powerful actor in the election will not be INEC, APC, Accord, ADC or any candidate.
