Opinion

How to Stop Judicial Coups Against Democracy in Nigeria

Published

1 year ago

December 2, 2023

“It’s now so bad that courting the votes of the electorates is no longer an important component of the democratic process since politicians can get from the courts what they lost at the ballot box. That’s a dangerous state for any democracy to be in.”

How to Stop Judicial Coups Against Democracy in Nigeria
By Farooq A. Kperogi
Twitter: @farooqkperogi

The Civil Society Legislative Advocacy Centre (CISLAC), one of Nigeria’s most prominent pro-democracy NGOs, invited me to make a virtual presentation from my base in Atlanta to a national seminar it organized last Thursday on “targeted judicial reforms and enhanced judicial integrity in post-election litigation.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it, but here are the thoughts I would have shared on the topic.

It’s oddly ironic that the judiciary, which should be the bulwark of democracy, has become such a dreadful terror to democracy that people are seeking to protect democracy from it. The courts have become the graveyards of electoral mandates. Judges have not only descended to being common purchasable judicial rogues, but they have also become juridical coup plotters.

The major preoccupation of pro-democracy activists is no longer how to keep the military from politics and governance but how to save democracy from the judiciary. In other words, in Nigeria, our problem is no longer fear of military coups but the cold reality of frighteningly escalating judicial coups.

A “judicial coup,” also called a juridical coup d’état, refers to a situation where judicial or legal processes are deployed to subvert the choice of the electorate or to unfairly change the power structure of an existing government.

In other words, a judicial coup occurs when the courts are used to achieve political ends that would not be possible through standard political processes. In a judicial coup, the courts make rulings or interpretations of the law that drastically alter the balance of power, often favoring a particular political group or leader.

This can include invalidating election results, removing elected officials from office, altering the constitution through interpretive tyranny, or other significant legal actions that have profound political implications.

Before 2023, judicial coups happened in trickles and were barely perceptible. The big, bad bugaboo used to be INEC. When the Supreme Court made Chibuike Rotimi Amaechi the governor of Rivers State on October 25, 2007, without winning a single vote, we thought it was merely a curious, one-off democratic anomaly that was nonetheless morally justified because Celestine Omehia—who won the actual votes cast on April 14, 2007, and sworn in as the governor on May 29—was illegally replaced as PDP’s candidate after Amaechi won the party’s primary election.

Our collective toleration of this strange supersession of normal democratic procedures to produce a governor conduced to more aberrations.

On January 14, 2020, the Supreme Court produced its first unofficial “Supreme Court governor” in Hope Uzodimma of Imo State when it used dazzlingly fraudulent judicial abracadabra to subvert the outcome of the governorship election in the state.

The Supreme Court’s judicial helicopter zoomed past PDP’s Emeka Ihedioha who won 273,404 votes to emerge as the winner of the election; flew past Action Alliance’s Uche Nwosu who came second with 190,364 votes; zipped past APGA’s Ifeanyi Ararume who came third with 114,676 votes; and glided gently into the yard of fourth-place finisher Uzodimma of APC with only 96,458 votes.

It then declared that the fourth shall be the first, enthroned Uzodimma as the governor, and dethroned Ihedioha whom Imo voters and INEC had chosen as the legitimate governor.

I recall being too numb by the scandal of the judgment to even experience any sensation of righteous indignation. Then came the Ahmed Lawan judgment, and I was jolted to my very bones. A man who didn’t run for an election, who admitted he didn’t run for an election, and who gave up trying to steal an election that he himself admitted he didn’t run for, much less win, was declared the “winner” of the election.

Because I closely followed the case and shaped public discourse on it, I was so incensed by the judgment that, in a viral February 6 social media post, I called Supreme Court justices “a rotten gaggle of useless, purchasable judicial bandits,” which prompted an unexampled official response from the Supreme Court, which dripped wet with undiluted bile.

However, many judges, including some conscientious Supreme Court judges, agreed with me. For example, in his farewell speech last month, Justice Musa Dattijo Muhammad re-echoed my sentiments about the Supreme Court and cited former Court of Appeal justice Oludotun Adefope-Okojie who, in her own farewell speech, approvingly quoted my description of Supreme Court justices as “a rotten gaggle of useless, purchasable judicial bandits.”

The judicial banditry I talked about has assumed a different, worrying dimension. It has now become full-on judicial sabotage against the soul of democracy itself. In unprecedented judicial roguery, the Appeal Court has invalidated the election of all 16 PDP lawmakers in the Plateau State House of Assembly and handed unearned victories to APC. It also nullified the victory of PDP’s Governor Caleb Mutfwang and asked that APC’s Nentawe Yilwatda Goshwe, who lost in the actual election, be declared the winner.

The case of the judicial theft of Kano State’s governorship election from NNPP to APC is too well-known to warrant restating. In all these cases, the judiciary invoked matters that were extraneous to the actual vote (called “technicalities”) to decide whom to crown as winners of the elections.

It’s now so bad that courting the votes of the electorates is no longer an important component of the democratic process since politicians can get from the courts what they lost at the ballot box. That’s a dangerous state for any democracy to be in.

The judiciary is becoming an unacceptably treacherous but overpampered monster that is exercising powers that are beyond the bounds of reason. It needs to be stopped through a holistic reworking of the electoral act.

The first thing that needs to be spelled out more clearly and more forcefully in a revised electoral act is that pre-election matters are not litigable after the winner of an election has been announced. All pre-election petitions should be litigated before the conduct of elections. Post-election litigations should be limited to the conduct of the elections. Since this happens once in four years, it should not be too much of a burden for the judiciary.

The second change that needs to be enshrined in a revised electoral act is a provision that divests courts of the powers to declare winners and losers of electoral contests. I am the first to admit that this is problematic because it limits the mechanism for redress available to politicians in cases of INEC-engineered electoral robberies.

But in situations where courts can glibly overrule the will of the electorate by invoking procedural inanities that are extrinsic to elections to declare winners and losers, I would rather deal with INEC alone.

The conduct of elections can be improved in the future to the point that manipulations can be significantly reduced. But I can’t say the same for a rapacious, unjust, and mercenary judiciary such as we have today.

In any case, in all functional democracies, it is voters, not the courts, who elect and remove people from positions of political power. If the courts find sufficient evidence of irregularities in the conduct of elections, they can order a rerun. But they should never be invested with the power to declare winners and losers.

The last suggestion I have for the revision of the electoral act is to constitutionalize the imperative to finalize the adjudication of all election petitions before the inauguration of elected officials into their offices. There are two reasons for this.

First, it is disruptive to put elected officials through the hassles of post-election litigation while they are already officially in office. Governance is often put on hold during the pendency of litigations, and lots of state resources are expended to bribe judges, hire lawyers, and bring witnesses. That’s unfair to Nigerians.

Second, at least at the presidential level, once someone has been declared the president and is inaugurated, they automatically assume enormous symbolic power that is almost impossible to reverse. They also have access to enormous resources that they can deploy to influence the course of justice.

Whatever we do, we must curb the excesses of our out-of-control judiciary before it finally murders what remains of our democracy.

Opinion

President Tinubu’s Visit to Katsina: A Missed Opportunity Wrapped in Songs and Handshakes

Published

1 day ago

May 5, 2025

Nigerian Tracker

Jamilu Abdussalam Hajaj

By Jamilu Abdussalam Hajaj

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s visit to Katsina should have been a pivotal moment—an opportunity for the state to draw national attention to its pressing challenges, developmental milestones, and future aspirations. Unfortunately, what should have been a strategic communication moment for the state turned into a viral distraction.

From the streets of Katsina to the corners of social media, two things dominated the narrative: a campaign-style song from singer Rarara and a casual handshake between the President and Aisha Humaira. These moments, while lighthearted and culturally expressive, overshadowed the very essence of a presidential visit—governance, development, and accountability.

It raises a critical question: Was the state’s PR machinery asleep, or was the leadership not interested in framing the visit within a narrative that could catalyze national interest, policy focus, or even investment in Katsina?

In a time when states are competing for federal attention, donor support, and private capital, optics matter. Yet, in Katsina, a sitting governor was cheering a singer on and clapping joyfully to impress the President. A presidential visit is not just a ceremonial tour; it is a platform. It’s the time to walk the President through pressing realities— insecurity in rural areas, the economic potential in agriculture, the struggles with education, the underfunded health sector, the resilience of the people, and the efforts already underway to tackle these issues.

Instead, the silence around these important issues was deafening.

No strategic documentaries. No impactful speeches. No high-level stakeholder engagements positioned in the media. No community interactions that could inspire federal interventions. Not even a strong visual presentation of the state’s development agenda.

Governance is not just about doing the work; it’s about telling the story. And in that regard, Katsina missed the moment.

This visit should have been used to showcase the hard work of the administration (if there is any to show), to call for more support where needed, and to galvanize public interest and empathy. But when all that trends from a presidential visit are a song and a handshake, it’s safe to say the moment was poorly managed or, worse, completely misunderstood.

Moving forward, states must take public relations seriously—not for propaganda, but for perception, engagement, and strategic positioning. Because if you don’t control the narrative, someone else will. And often, they will focus on the trivial and mundane parts, not the transformational.

Opinion

EFCC Probe on Refineries: Transparency or Political Witch-Hunt

Published

3 days ago

May 4, 2025

Nigerian Tracker

By Aminu Umar

The recent move by Nigeria’s anti-corruption agency, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), to probe the handling of finances and contracts related to the Port Harcourt and Warri refineries has stirred a heated debate on whether the investigation represents a genuine drive for transparency or a politically motivated witch-hunt.

At the heart of the issue is the EFCC’s request for salary records and allowances of 14 key officials who served during the refinery rehabilitation period. These include high-ranking executives such as Abubakar Yar’Adua, Mele Kyari, Isiaka Abdulrazak, Umar Ajiya, Dikko Ahmed, Ibrahim Onoja, Ademoye Jelili, and Mustapha Sugungun.

Others listed are Kayode Adetokunbo, Efiok Akpan, Babatunde Bakare, Jimoh Olasunkanmi, Bello Kankaya, and Desmond Inyama. The commission appears focused on payments and administrative decisions linked to the multi-billion naira refinery resuscitation program.

However, conspicuously absent from the list of those summoned is Adedapo Segun, the current Chief Financial Officer (CFO) of the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPCL), who served as Executive Vice President for Downstream and was directly in charge of treasury, refinery operations, shipping, and trading. During this time, all payments related to the Port Harcourt and Warri refineries were made under his financial supervision.

This omission has raised several questions: Why is Segun not being invited or questioned if the goal is transparency? Why is the probe appearing selective?

Equally puzzling is the inclusion of Abubakar Yar’Adua, whose role is administrative rather than operational, while high-profile former Group Managing Directors (GMDs) such as Andrew Yakubu, and Emmanuel Ibe Kachikwu, who played central roles in refinery policy and contracts in previous administrations, appear to have been bypassed.

We are not saying Mele Kyari is innocent or guilty, but we must insist on a fair process,” a stakeholder familiar with the situation told this reporter. “This shouldn’t be a selective trial. The people who gave out the contracts and approved the funds must be investigated too.”

The tension is heightened by growing concerns that the probe is targeted at individuals from a specific region. Many observers fear this could deepen regional mistrust, especially if only northern executives are made scapegoats.

We are worried this is being used to paint Northerners as the only looters,” said one source. “You cannot fight corruption with bias. You need to look at all sides. This includes those who were ‘exonerated’ too quickly.”

Another burning question is why individuals such as Emmanuel Ibe Kachikwu, former Minister of State for Petroleum, and Andrew Yakubu, former GMD of NNPC, who had strategic influence on contract awards and rehabilitation policies, are not facing any scrutiny. Critics argue that anyone involved at any stage of the refinery rehabilitation—whether from policy, finance, or operational perspectives—should be equally held accountable.

Civil society groups and international anti-corruption bodies are now being urged to step in. The call is for an independent and thorough probe that includes all relevant stakeholders—without exception.

“We are calling on NGOs and international organisations to ensure that this is not a political trial. If you must clean up the refinery system, you must do it across the board,” the statement concluded.

In a country plagued by decades of failed refinery operations and opaque oil sector dealings, the public is watching this investigation closely. The EFCC is at a crossroads: its actions will either affirm its commitment to justice or expose it to accusations of being used as a tool for political vendettas.

For now, Nigerians wait—with growing skepticism.

Opinion

Censoring the Uncensored: The irony behind Hisbah’s ban on Hamisu Breaker’s song

Published

4 days ago

May 2, 2025

Nigerian Tracker

By Ummi Muhammad Hassan

Following the ban by Hisbah on a new song titled “Amana Ta” by Hamisu Breaker, social media went into an uproar, capturing the attention of the public.

In the early hours of April 24, 2025, social media was filled with reactions following a press statement issued by the Deputy Commander of the Hisbah Board, Kano State chapter, Dr. Khadija Sagir, announcing the ban of Breaker’s new song. The reason cited was that the song allegedly contains obscene language.

This announcement, however, triggered a counterreaction from the public. Many became curious to know more about the song and the so-called obscene content, with some taking to their social media handles to express their opinions.

The irony of the situation is that Hisbah unintentionally gave the song more prominence, causing it to go viral. Many people who were previously unaware of the song searched for and listened to it, just to understand the controversy.

In my opinion, after listening to the song, it contains no obscene language. Rather, the issue seems to lie with some young women who mimed the song in a suggestive manner after hearing that Hisbah had labelled it as indecent—as though to dramatize or reinforce the claim. Some even appeared as if they were intoxicated.

To me, this is both devastating and concerning, as it reflects the erosion of the strong moral standards once upheld by Hausa women. Many young people are now making videos lip-synching the song in indecent ways. It made me pause and ask myself: where has our shyness gone? I believe this question deserves a deeper conversation on another day.

In Breaker’s case, thanks to the Hisbah ban, he became the most trending Kannywood artist in April, and his song went viral—and continues to trend.

A similar incident occurred earlier this year when the federal government banned Idris Abdulkareem’s song *Tell Your Papa*. That action unexpectedly brought the artist back into the spotlight, causing the song to trend widely.

Social media has made censorship increasingly difficult. Once a movie, text, or song reaches the internet, it becomes almost impossible to control—even by the creators themselves.

While social media censorship remains a challenge, this recent incident highlights the need for the government to intensify efforts against the spread of indecent content—through Hisbah and agencies like the Kano State Film Censorship Board.

Clear guidelines should be put in place, requiring artists and filmmakers to submit their content for review and approval before public release. This, among other strategies, could help reduce the spread of inappropriate material.

Additionally, Hisbah should be more mindful of how such announcements are made, as they may inadvertently promote the very content they seek to suppress.

Ummi Muhammad Hassan, Ph.D., is a lecturer in the Department of Mass Communication at Bayero University, Kano. She can be reached via email at: ummeemuhammadhassan@gmail.com.