The Nigeria Democratic Congress presidential candidate Peter Obi once again claimed during a BBC interview that he won the 2023 presidential election. When asked whether he had evidence to support his claims, he responded, “There is no evidence.” Everything is not based on evidence. I won the election, and that is where I will end. As expected, the All Progressives Congress jumped out to negate his claims. Presidential Campaign Council spokesman Dele Alake stated, “For a candidate who placed a distant third in the presidential poll to persistently insist he won— without evidence and contrary to all official records— reflects a deep and troubling disconnection from reality and absolute disregard for facts and truth.” While I understand that Alake must exaggerate for effect, it needs to be pointed out that where Obi emerged in that election is not a “distant third” in the true sense of that description.
Second, Obi’s claims and Alake’s counter speak to different poles of modern life. Truly, allegations demand proof. The modern legal system relies on rational, authentic evidence, not conjecture. Claims must be substantiated with tangible evidence or informed opinion, which is why certain afflictions or claims of spiritual affliction can neither find redress in court nor be pled as a defence. Even when lawyers argue someone was overtaken by irrational forces such as insanity, they must support the claim with evidence, and the bar is not something every unscrupulous defender can clear. It requires medical evaluations and expert opinion grounded in years of learning and experience. So, yes, we completely understand what it means for a claim to be substantiated. We also understand the process of establishing facts and truths in the modern legal system.
Yet, the fact that a claim cannot be proven in the ways modern society understands evidence does not mean it lacks substance. Especially in a society like Nigeria, where the evidence—and the means of gathering it—can be preemptively corrupted by our habits of incompetence and a general lack of integrity. Nigeria is not a place where one can uncritically accept the veracity of evidence because we are characteristically committed to darkness, a fundamental lack of clarity. To make something clear is not only to define it, but also to ensure transparency and accountability. That is not in our character. We will rather reign in darkness than serve with enlightenment. That is why I am somewhat amused that Alake mentioned their electoral victory is contained in “official records”, as if the process that created those records is always neutral and can stand the test of scrutiny. Yes, official records matter for all the reasons stated, but we would be naïve to pretend their contents cannot be used to substantiate a lie. Official records are like history; they are written by the victor. Even science, despite its claims of objectivity, can support falsehood or mischief. So, no, the fact that something appears in formal records does not always mean it is trustworthy.
One of my favourite examples of the discrepancies between official records and reality is the case of former Delta governor James Ibori. In 2009, a Federal High Court in Asaba, Delta State, dismissed 170 counts of corruption and money laundering charges brought against Ibori by the EFCC. Just three years later, at the Southwark Crown Court in London, the same Ibori pleaded guilty to 10 counts of fraud and money laundering involving tens of millions of pounds stolen from Delta State. He was sentenced to 13 years’ imprisonment, and the rest is familiar history. The same crime that Nigerian courts did not “see”, either because the prosecutor did not do its job diligently enough, the judge was legally blind, or both, was uncovered under the more probing gaze of British prosecutors.
If the London case had not happened, the gap between what Nigerian official records display and the truth would have given him all sorts of moral and social grounds at our expense. By now, Ibori would have been walking around with his head high and probably be wearing the title of “distinguished senator”. He would not only claim innocence of the crimes the EFCC accused him of but also become a testament to his victory over his enemies. If anyone had called him a “thief”, he would have argued that the “official records” say otherwise. In fact, if an intrepid or reckless young man had insinuated on social media that Ibori is a thief, he would have petitioned the police to arrest the person. And the Nigerian police, ever-willing tools of oppression, would have driven across state lines to oblige him and have the person incarcerated for an indefinite time. All that overreach would have been legal and appropriate because official records exonerated him.
Obi challenged the results at the presidential election petition tribunal, alleging widespread irregularities, but the tribunal dismissed his petition, saying he failed to prove the electoral malpractice and other grounds on which he sought to overturn the election results. In October, the Supreme Court panel unanimously threw out the appeals. The allegations of rigging—which we clearly saw in states like Rivers—were dismissed as meritless. But in a curious plot twist, just two weeks ago, Nyesom Wike, in a rare lucid moment of reprieve from his perpetual ogogoro stupor, practically admitted to election rigging while granting an interview on TVC. His exact words while speaking about the role he played in that election while the governor: In Rivers, I said, ‘No, we have a problem here in Rivers. Obi will not win here. If he wins, it will send a signal…’ And I stopped it. In court, his confession is unlikely to meet the standards for admissible hard evidence, but it at least confirmed what we suspected. So, yes, while official records gave Tinubu victory, unofficial records of his garrulous minister say otherwise. In fact, add to that confession the fact that Tinubu appointed the INEC chairman who conducted that election as an ambassador, and you will see how official records can conspire against reality.
Why did the judges who adjudicated the election disputes not see it? They may have been blinded by personal prejudice, the evidence submitted to them in court may have been tampered with, or they may have thought the election was tense enough and not worth drawing out the tension. If they had annulled parts of the election and a run-off had to take place, it would have exacerbated the tensions that threatened to ignite the country. They may also have calculated that, even if it were free and fair, Tinubu would have won anyway. In Nigeria, since we lack an objective way to verify the truth of a disputed election, we look at historical patterns. We calculate that a candidate wins if they snag enough votes from four of the six geopolitical zones and conclude on the supposed winner. While patterns are useful for modelling, they can become self-fulfilling prophecies or part of electoral manipulation tactics. We can also become so wedded to how things ought to be that we fail to notice when the ground beneath our feet shifts. In 2023, some people were so convinced that Obi would come in a “distant third” because he lacked “structure” (which historical patterns told us was necessary for electoral victory). They were confounded by the outcome. That is why I can be sceptical about predetermined patterns.
However the victory was determined, we will never know the whole truth. Tinubu will remain under a cloud of suspicion as a receiver of stolen goods. For a man with a shady reputation whose true identity (family background, educational background, and career trajectory) cannot be found in “official” records, I am not even sure that is a thing of shame for him.