by Mohammed Bello Doka
On Saturday, 21 February 2026, Nigerians in the Federal Capital Territory will be asked to perform a civic duty under conditions that many believe should never have been approved in the first place. That date—formally fixed by INEC for the FCT Area Council elections—falls squarely within the Ramadan fasting period, expected to run from about 17 February to 18 March 2026, subject to moon sighting.
It will also fall in the hottest stretch of Abuja’s dry season, when daytime temperatures routinely climb to 34–38°C, haze thickens the air, and dehydration becomes a real risk. For fasting Muslims—unable to eat or drink from dawn till dusk—the burden will be immediate, physical, and unequal.
This is not an accident of fate. It is a choice. And it is why many now speak of the “Amupitan Effect.”
A break from precedent Nigeria has never seen
Since the return to democracy in 1999, INEC has never scheduled a major statutory election during Ramadan. Presidential elections, governorship polls, National Assembly contests, and even off-cycle elections have historically been adjusted to avoid the fasting month. Ramadan is predictable. Its approach was known long before INEC published the 2026 timetable.
Yet this time, the commission pressed ahead.
That decision alone would have raised eyebrows. Coupled with Abuja’s February heat, it becomes indefensible.
Ramadan meets Abuja’s furnace
February in Abuja is unforgiving. The sun is harsh, the air is dry, and voters often trek long distances to polling units, only to wait hours for accreditation and voting. For non-fasting voters, the hardship can be managed with water and food. For fasting Muslims, it cannot.
The result is a structural disadvantage built into election day itself—one that affects a specific religious group more than others. That is not neutrality. That is neglect.
From inconvenience to insult
Elections are not merely legal exercises; they are human processes. When hardship is avoidable and yet imposed anyway, it ceases to be inconvenience and becomes insult. Scheduling elections during Ramadan, in peak heat, in a territory with a large Muslim population, signals disregard for Muslim lived realities.
And that is where the “Amupitan Effect” takes hold.
Context matters: leadership and perception
The decision comes under the watch of Amupitan whose stewardship has already attracted accusations from Muslim groups of bias or hostility toward Muslim interests. These are accusations—alleged and contested—but in politics, credibility shapes perception. When trust is already fragile, timing decisions are never read in isolation.
This election date did not occur in a vacuum. It landed on ground already primed for suspicion.
Two damning scenarios—neither redeems the decision
There are only two possible explanations for how Nigeria arrived here, and both are indictments.
Scenario One: They did not know.
If INEC’s FCT leadership failed to appreciate that 21 February 2026 would fall during Ramadan, that would represent stunning incompetence. Ramadan is neither obscure nor unpredictable. Ignorance at this level is not innocence—it is failure.
Scenario Two: They knew—and did not care.
This is the darker possibility. That the hardship of fasting voters in extreme heat was foreseeable, yet accepted as collateral damage. That Muslim discomfort was deemed politically tolerable. If so, the insult was not accidental; it was deliberate.
Either way, the outcome is the same—and so is the verdict.
Why both scenarios indict Amupitan
Leadership owns outcomes. Whether through ignorance or indifference, the decision reinforces long-held fears among Muslim critics who argue that their concerns are routinely sidelined. Bias does not always announce itself with open hostility; sometimes it shows up as neglect.
This is the Amupitan Effect: decisions that, taken together, appear to validate accusations many once dismissed as paranoia.
The Tinubu presidency cannot pretend distance
INEC does not operate in political isolation. The silence from the presidency has been deafening. Under Bola Ahmed Tinubu, critics argue that governance has been acutely sensitive to Western approval and Christian political blocs, while Muslim concerns are treated as background noise.
This is how many Muslim observers read it—not as conspiracy, but as political optics. For them, the absence of intervention feels less like neutrality and more like consent.
A blunt question therefore demands to be asked: Was there any Muslim in the room where this decision was taken?
And if there was, were they heard—or merely present?
Democratic consequences Nigeria cannot ignore
The practical impact is obvious. Fasting voters may delay turnout until late afternoon, risking overcrowding and logistical failure. Others may stay away entirely. What follows is not just reduced participation, but effective disenfranchisement—outcomes shaped as much by exhaustion and dehydration as by voter choice.
An election conducted under such unequal conditions may be lawful. Its legitimacy, however, will be questioned.
INEC’s defence—and why it fails
INEC will likely say no law was violated and that the commission is religiously neutral. Both statements may be technically true—and morally hollow. Legality is not the ceiling of democratic responsibility. Neutrality that ignores lived inequality is not fairness.
Election management demands foresight, empathy, and inclusion. On 21 February 2026, Nigerians will see whether those values were present.
Why this moment matters beyond 2026
If Ramadan can be ignored today, what civic or sacred obligation will be dismissed tomorrow? Democracies erode not only through rigging, but through indifference to who bears the cost of participation.
An insult—and a vindication
For many Muslims, the 2026 FCT Council elections feel like both an insult and a vindication. An insult because their hardship was avoidable. A vindication because the fears they voiced for years now appear justified.
When institutions dismiss the concerns of a major faith community, those concerns stop being paranoia. They become prophecy.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
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Opinion