Few here, if any, would dispute this characterization of law enforcement in Nigeria. It was precisely these considerations that inspired the #EndSARS uprising across much of the country in October 2020. Since that uprising, the situation has got worse, not better. Police personnel themselves and members of other uniformed services have now become the targets of large-scale atrocities by non-state actors.
The casualty count among security personnel killed in these attacks continues to escalate. It is not to be forgotten that election rigging and the subjugation of the citizens thereafter cannot be procured without the police.
Before he became Governor of Ekiti State, Dr. Kayode Fayemi described the contours of this conspiracy in a parable of five gods and the god-father thus: I think there are five ‘mini-gods’ that one must pay significant attention to in any attempt to understand the nature of electoral politics in Nigeria. These are the mini-gods all serious politicians must find a way to appease in order to even get a foot in the door. First is the ‘INEC (the election umpire) ‘mini god’ which often acts like a Siamese twin of the ruling party – PDP.
The second ‘mini-god’ is the security agencies – particularly Nigerian Police Force and the State Security Service and occasionally the Military, the third ‘mini- god’ relates to the bunch of thugs and bandits ever so handy in the rigging of elections and the fourth ‘mini-god’ is that of the ‘Judiciary’ often needed to help wade off any legal challenge to incumbents’ stolen mandate.
Central to all four is the ‘Money God’ and finally the notorious and ubiquitous ‘Godfather complex’ of the Garrison-Commander’s notoriety. I must say that these gods are neither exhaustive nor mutually exclusive. They are useful as analytical categories in explaining why elections go the way they do in Nigeria with unpopular candidates ‘emerging’ as ‘winners’ in questionable elections.
(Kayode Fayemi, “An Insider’s View of Electoral Politics and the Struggle for Electoral Reform in Nigeria”, Paper presented at the Panel on “Ten Years of Civilian Rule in Nigeria”, at the African Studies Association’ 52nd Annual Conference in New Orleans, USA, November 20, 2009.)
What emerges from this is that the poor quality and perverse perceptions of the law, institutions, law enforcement and political leadership in Nigeria have become dangers to citizens, consumers, our communities, and the country. This is the context against which the current state of Nigeria’s judicial institutions needs to be assessed.
“Go to Court”
It is important here to clarify here that a state theoretically enjoys three monopolies. One is a monopoly of fiscal prerogatives or of legitimate taxation, which finances public revenue; the second is the monopoly of legitimate dispute resolution through the courts and tribunals at all levels which is an essential pre-condition for coexistence; and the third is the instrumentality of legitimate violence and coercion.
The First monopoly finances the state including the other monopolies. The second stabilizes the state and its communities, guaranteeing the atmosphere in which citizens can conduct and pursue lawful livelihoods. The third embodies the capability that guarantees that the first two monopolies are viable.
The second monopoly in particular is antecedent to the last and its failure guarantees that the last becomes a free-for-all. So, the state has a duty to ensure the delivery of justice because when those who seek justice find themselves habitually denied of it, they default to questioning the presumed monopoly of the state over legitimate violence. At that point, the state will no longer be able to guarantee basic safety and security and the result is a society in which everyone is for themselves because the authority of government has broken own. This, many would argue, is where we are in Nigeria presently.
This makes it essential to focus a little on the second monopoly concerning the institutions for legitimate dispute resolution. In Nigeria, the integrity of the judicial system which underpins the guarantee of fair trial is no longer a given. As evidence of this, of six Chief Justices of Nigeria since 2011 preceding the current incumbent, only two – Aloma Mukhtar and Mahmud Mohammed – have served out their tenures without controversy. The last two Chief Justices were effectively fired in circumstances that tarnished the judiciary institutionally. Service delivery by the system, which results when this guarantee is taken seriously, is also no longer in existence.
When people dare you to “Go to Court” it is because they know the courts are rigged in terms of personnel, process, or outcomes.
Draft. Check against Delivery
The Nigerian line, “Go to Court”, therefore, can be mirth at the habitual frustration of the guarantee of fair trial or hubris from those who are responsible for making this frustration habitual.
It is a confession of a judicial system that is neither judicious nor a system but which has instead become an instrument for decentralizing despotism. As mirth, it is an acknowledgement of the fact that courts in Nigeria no longer guarantee sensible exit for those who use them. As hubris, it speaks to judicial capture and to the quality of judicial appointments.
There is also a sense of scale to this: those who do dare you to “Go to Court” know that for the most part, judicial dysfunction is not an exception in Nigeria. It is the rule. It is useful to understand illustrate the various dimensions to this. Let us begin with mirth.
Go to Court happened to Caroline Mojekwu. She was the widow from Nnewi, in a very famous case known to students of family law, gender studies, customary law, and human rights laws. Caroline began litigation in 1966 to assert rights to the assets left behind by her late husband, she believed in and expected the delivery of justice.
By the time the judgment came through from the Court of Appeal 31 years later in 1997, she had received the benefit of the administration of justice without the delivery of justice. 31 years of litigation is intolerably and unjustifiably too long for a widow to wait for justice. Ukeje v. Ukeje was even worse; it took 34 years to come to judgment.
To be continued tomorrow
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