When Professor Joash Ojo Amupitan (SAN) was nominated by President Bola Tinubu as the new Chairman of the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), many welcomed the choice as a bold stride toward technocratic leadership. But within days, a trenchant critique by Dayo Osifeso, PhD — amplified by journalist Rufai Useni — began to circulate, exposing troubling inconsistencies in Amupitan’s official resume.
The State House press release, prepared by Mr. Bayo Onanuga, states that Amupitan was born in 1967, and attended Kwara State Polytechnic from 1982 to 1984. That would imply he entered tertiary education at just 15 years old — a rarity by any standard, yet the release gives no account of how or when he completed primary or secondary schooling.
Even more eyebrow-raising: his CV claims he earned an LLB at the University of Jos between 1984 and 1987 — a three-year law degree in a Nigerian university, though law courses in Nigeria conventionally last five years. Then the upward climb continues at speed: he is said to have served as Head of Department from 2006 to 2008 before earning his PhD in 2007, and to have become Dean of the Faculty of Law from 2008 to 2014 — only one year after obtaining the doctorate. In many federal universities, to become HOD or Dean without a completed PhD is highly irregular, if not controversial.
These questions come at a moment of lightning-fast elevation. His nomination sailed through the National Council of State, reportedly approved unanimously with no debate. The optics of such silent endorsement — for a position that demands both technical competence and public trust — have unsettled many.
Supporters and colleagues, however, have pushed back. A Daily Trust commentary argues that Amupitan’s path was consistent with practices of the 1980s and 1990s. It suggests he may have used a GCE A-Level or IJMB (Interim Joint Matriculation Board) route for direct university entry, allowing unusually early transition to tertiary studies. The piece defends that law faculties often appoint senior lecturers to leadership positions before they complete their PhDs, relying on demonstrated merit more than formal credentials.
Indeed, the University of Jos’s official profile records that Amupitan joined academia in 1989, rose through the ranks, earned an LLM in 1993, and eventually obtained his PhD in 2007. That record affirms many of the dates in the nomination dossier, yet does not resolve all the logical tensions flagged by critics.
Meanwhile, his defenders point to the testimonials of colleagues and former students at UNIJOS, who describe him as principled, disciplined, and humble. Lecturers have emphasized his decades of service and academic contributions, asserting that despite scrutiny he has never faced disciplinary action.
Another wrinkle: claims on social media that Amupitan was part of Tinubu’s 2023 election tribunal legal team have been debunked. Court records, judgment transcripts, and verified counsel lists do not list Amupitan as a member of the legal team, even though names like Prof. Taiwo Osipitan have appeared in filings.
At stake in this controversy is not just academic pride — it is the legitimacy of the electoral umpire. If the man appointed to oversee Nigeria’s elections bears a résumé filled with ambiguities, the public may view every decision, every result, as subject to suspicion. Confirmation now moves to the Senate, where questions must probe deeper: where are the primary and secondary school records? How were accelerated pathways approved and verified? Which university committees endorsed his leadership before formal doctoral credentials existed?
In a democracy already weary of electoral distrust, the answers must come in public, not behind closed doors. The credibility of INEC — and trust in the next election — depend on it.
