By Olufunke Baruwa

For decades, scholars and policymakers warned that the world was entering a phase of systemic transition. That moment is no longer approaching; it is here. The world as we once understood it has ended, and what replaces it is unsettled, contested and volatile.

This is not a routine change in diplomatic tone or global priorities. It is a reordering of power, economic influence and ideological authority. A new world order or several overlapping, competing ones are emerging. At its heart are fundamental questions about who holds power, whose values shape global norms, and who gets to decide the rules.

For Nigeria and Africa, this is not an abstract geopolitical conversation played out in Washington, Beijing, Moscow or Brussels. It is already reshaping our economy, our diplomacy, our security choices and the future available to our young population. The danger before us is not choosing wrongly but failing to choose at all.

The Contest for Supremacy

For nearly eight decades after the Second World War, the United States stood at the centre of global affairs. It designed the architecture of international politics and economics, including the United Nations, the World Bank, the IMF, the Bretton Woods system and set the parameters of global engagement.

The end of the Cold War appeared to confirm American dominance. Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History and the Last Man captured a widely held belief that liberal democracy and free-market capitalism had triumphed permanently. That belief has not merely weakened; it has collapsed.

America remains immensely powerful: militarily unmatched, technologically innovative and economically significant, but it is no longer singularly decisive. Domestic polarisation, economic inequality, strategic overstretch and wavering commitment to multilateral leadership have constrained its influence. Unilateral military interventions and an increasingly transactional foreign policy have eroded trust and moral authority.

For Nigeria, this matters deeply. The assumption that the West, particularly the United States, would always underwrite global stability, champion democratic norms, or act as a guarantor of order no longer holds. The global sheriff is no longer patrolling with the same confidence, and in some cases has stepped back entirely.

Into this vacuum has stepped China, the most consequential challenger to U.S. global primacy. From a largely agrarian society in 1978, China has risen to become the world’s second-largest economy, with ambitions extending far beyond growth statistics.

China’s strategy is comprehensive: economic statecraft through the Belt and Road Initiative; technological competition in artificial intelligence, 5G, quantum computing and renewable energy; rapid military modernisation; and the projection of an alternative governance model that rejects Western liberal prescriptions.

In Africa and particularly in Nigeria, China’s presence is visible and tangible. Railways, roads, ports, power projects and digital infrastructure carry Chinese fingerprints. Beijing speaks the language of delivery and pragmatism, not lectures. For a country desperate to close its infrastructure gap, this has been attractive.

But China’s engagement is strategic, not charitable. Loans come with long-term obligations. Infrastructure brings leverage. Political neutrality often masks quiet expectations. Nigeria now sits at the intersection of competing global interests — dependent on Chinese financing while still reliant on Western markets, security partnerships and financial credibility.

The challenge is no longer whether Nigeria should engage China. That decision has been made. The question is whether Nigeria can engage from a position of strategy rather than desperation.

Africa’s Strategic Moment

Unlike the Cold War era, today’s global landscape is not defined by rigid blocs. Many states are choosing strategic autonomy over automatic alignment.

Across Africa, Asia and Latin America, countries are asserting agency. They are demanding development on their own terms, respect for sovereignty and partnerships that prioritise domestic needs over great power rivalry. This explains Africa’s refusal to line up neatly behind Western positions on global conflicts and the renewed relevance of platforms like BRICS and South–South cooperation.

Europe, shaken by Brexit and the war in Ukraine, is rearming and recalibrating. Russia, rejecting the post-Cold War settlement, has chosen disruption as a strategy of relevance. Middle powers like India, Brazil, Indonesia, Turkey and South Africa are carving out pragmatic, interest-driven roles, cooperating without surrendering autonomy.

Africa must learn from this approach, no longer merely a theatre for global competition; it is becoming an actor. With 1.4 billion people, vast mineral wealth and the youngest population on earth, the continent has leverage even if it has not always used it wisely. The African Continental Free Trade Area is the clearest signal yet that Africa understands the stakes of this new era. In a world of fractured supply chains and regionalised trade, Africa’s ability to trade with itself is no longer optional; it is existential.

For Nigeria, AfCFTA offers a route beyond oil dependency toward manufacturing, services and regional leadership. But this will require energy security, infrastructure, policy coherence and industrial strategy, not speeches.

Nigeria’s Foreign Policy Reckoning

Nigeria once punched above its weight in global affairs, from anti-apartheid struggles to peacekeeping across West Africa. Today, that influence has diminished, not because Nigeria lacks relevance, but because it lacks coherence.

In a world of shifting power and shrinking consensus, foreign policy can no longer be ceremonial. It must be strategic, economically grounded and unapologetically interest driven.

Nigeria must confront uncomfortable questions: What does non-alignment mean in a multipolar world? How do we balance competing partnerships without becoming a pawn? How do we convert population size, market scale and diaspora strength into bargaining power? Without answers, Nigeria will continue to be shaped by global forces rather than shaping outcomes.

The new global disorder is already battering Nigeria’s economy. Supply chain disruptions, inflation and energy market volatility have deepened household hardship. The Russia–Ukraine war pushed food and fertiliser prices upward. Global interest rate hikes have worsened debt stress.

At the same time, the global energy transition is rewriting the future of oil, which is Nigeria’s primary economic lifeline. The window to diversify is narrowing and Nigeria must prepare for a world where oil no longer dominates.

The Real Battlefields: Technology, Energy and Influence

Supremacy today is not primarily military. It is systemic. Technology is the most decisive arena. Control of data, artificial intelligence, digital infrastructure and standards will define economic competitiveness and national security. Nigeria’s youthful population and vibrant tech ecosystem offer promise, but without deliberate investment and policy support, we risk remaining consumers rather than creators.

Energy is another fault line. As developed countries accelerate green transitions, Nigeria must navigate climate demands without sacrificing development, leveraging gas as a transition fuel while investing in renewables. Influence itself is contested through culture and narrative. Nigeria’s soft power: Nollywood, Afrobeats and fashion is globally resonant yet largely disconnected from strategic diplomacy or economic planning.

The danger of this moment is fragmentation with rival blocs, competing standards and perpetual instability. For vulnerable economies, this means greater exposure to shocks. But there is also opportunity. A multipolar world, if managed wisely, can create space for new voices, fairer systems and reformed global institutions. It can allow Nigeria to negotiate from relevance rather than dependency.

That outcome is not automatic. It demands leadership that understands global dynamics and connects them to domestic realities. The world as we knew it is over; Nigeria and indeed Africa as a whole must choose its place in what comes next.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

By Funke Egbemode

Funke, do you know that a man’s manhood also needs recharging?

Excuse me, is a man’s manhood a phone or a power bank?

It is both.

What kind of corruption is this on a Monday morning? I muttered.

Daddy Abe is a man with white hair and I am just a woman. I have a few strands of grey and I do not possess ‘manhood’, even though some people think I am a suspect. Whatever, I am not a man and I don’t want to be a man. Anyway, I was curious. I wanted to learn more about this ‘manhood charger’.

“Here is how it works. When a man has to sleep with the same woman, year in, year out, his manhood gets bored. It needs another website to surf. What I mean is a man who has to keep to one wife for decades, sleep with only one woman for 30 years, for instance, all in the name of one-man-one-wife is a man who is susceptible to erectile dysfunction. He needs another woman, a fresh body and all his problems will disappear.”

Oh wow, all that preamble just to justify getting a new wife! Men and their upside logic. Why was Daddy Abe determined to spoil my anointing and disrupt the flow of my creative juices with this kind of narrative, and on a Monday too? I was already sorting my thoughts on a king being chased out of his palace before the ’old man’ came up with this penile charger story. True, I was struggling with finding enough words to remind us all of a new angle to our national woes (and there are weekly angles in this sweet country), this suspicious charger being introduced was an interesting diversion.

I do not believe that a new wife is the much-awaited cure for erectile dysfunction. There is no science to prove or back it up but Daddy Abe insisted he knew what he was talking about. He is the man, he insisted. Men who are reading this, does getting a new body wake up a man’s retiring giant? Do be truthful and speak and share from experience.

Most Nigerian men are closet polygamist. They are pretending to love the wives of their youth forever while their eyes are roving to and fro seeking a woman or women to devour. They would do anything to even make it law or even mandatory like NYSC. Tufia kwa! It will not, never, happen. But wait, is it not already happening via something now elegantly called side chic? A man marries one wife with funfair and white frills and some years down the line, he strays into another bossom, stays for as long as he wants, clandestinely doing his unsanctioned doings. Then he strays again, and again. One wife at home, and three outside or worse still, he acquires and discards in multiples of three.

He is constantly charging his manhood, all over the place but has it ever stopped a man’s manhood from timed or untimely retirement? None that I know of. I have not heard, either, that men who keep their harems in plain sight, I mean the openly polygamous, are still able to perform their husbandly duties as they used to. The men who have four or five wives to pick and chose from every night, do they not suffer the consequences of diminishing returns even when they are charging and recharging their things in different sockets? Or are they also looking for something new, something different from their Type-C chargers? You never really can tell what is going on in the heads of men now, can you, especially when it is about keeping their side dishes out of sight?

Because a man can produce millions of sperm does not mean he is “designed” for many women. That a man can satisfy four women in his 40s does not mean he will still be able to rise to the occasion each time he is called up for duty when he is 60. Isn’t that why some men stay back in the living room to ‘treat files and catch up on work’ when their wives tell them to come to bed? If they can fix it at home and away at 50, there is no proof that they will be able to at 70. Oh okay, let me not speak for all men. Raise your hands if you are 65 and are still able to ascend and descend like you used to 20 years ago. I don’t see many hands up. Yeah, they ain’t getting it up so fast now, hands or third legs.

I think this polygamy thing is more cultural than biological. That charger logic is just men around here wanting to dominate.

Across history, many societies permit or celebrate male polygamy, openly or secretly even in the year of our Lord 2026. That is why nobody is arresting the man who takes one bride to church (because the bride’s parents are Christians), takes another to the registry, and then observes Nikkah for two more and he lives with all of them in one big opulent compound. Marriage around here is most often tied to inheritance, lineage power and wealth, patriarchy and control of women’s sexuality.

Over the years, all of that have gradually hardened into a myth: “men are naturally polygamous.”

But culture is not nature. A culture that excuses men’s infidelity and punish women for the same behavior tells you the argument is less about design and more about dominance. Argue with that, if you can.

Have you also noticed that men who sing ‘men are polygamous’ do not want their daughters to become second wives? No, they do not want their precious daughters to bring home married men as suitors, ah ah. Think deeply about that too.

Some men seek multiple women not because they are “designed” that way, but because of ego, insecurity, fear of intimacy or access without accountability.

Plenty of men want one woman who feels like home. Others want many women because they are running from themselves.

Most moral and religious systems that value responsibility insist on discipline over desire. Even where polygamy is allowed, it comes with heavy conditions—fairness, provision, emotional responsibility—that most men conveniently ignore while chanting “nature”.

The inconvenient truth is this; if men were truly designed for many women, commitment would be unnatural. But they want commitment, in fact, ownership. Monogamy would collapse universally and jealousy would not hurt so deeply. Betrayal would not wound men so badly.

Yet it does. No man, whether he is a man of God or a man of the gods, wants or can share. Even when they cannot satisfy their women, they don’t want their fellow polygamists to stray into their plots of land. What is there is theirs even when their chargers are no longer charging.

What is the reality?

A man is capable of desiring many women but he has to choose and live with his choice. He must charge his equipment according to the manufacturer’s specification. If he overcharges, there will be consequences. If he spreads himself too thin out of greed, his grid can collapse. If he collapses with his grid and greed, other men will be called up to continue the service. But men don’t like to be told that they can expire and that blue pills and bottled concoctions can even lead to forced leave or retirement. They love what they love and prefer to die in active service. And when they do, you will think their successors will learn from the mistakes of their ancestors. No such luck. The cycle must go on. Even Daddy Abe won’t agree. He insists that a droopy dangling modifier can be brought back to life by a new woman.

No man who loves a harem will go unscathed. It is just sad that they realise it too late. Think of the emotional burnout, the trouble and exhaustion of mind and soul trying to please different women. Managing multiple relationships requires maturity many men lack. Just looking at the physical satisfaction angle alone is totally unwise. There is more to a relationship than just firm ‘fronters’ and ample derrieres.

What about the financial strain, desire that multiplies faster than income.

Finally is the loss of legacy and support of children when charging comes to a final bus stop and the once desired fine man becomes old and dependent. The children do not forget. They remember daddy’s absence, mummy’s pain and tears through lonely years.

Polygamy may promise power, dominance and spicy variety, just don’t forget that too many sweets can also deliver debilitating chaos.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

By Gabriel Airewele

I grew up in Ikeja, within walking distance of Fela’s shrine. As a child, my daily routines took me through Pepple Street on my way to school in the Ikeja GRA area and later to choir practice at Archbishop Vining Memorial Church on Oba Akinjobi Way, almost beside my school. This proximity meant that Fela was never an abstract icon to me nor a distant celebrity encountered only through songs, documentaries, or second-hand stories as many young people now weighing into the Fela Wizkid controversy tend to rely on. Growing up, Fela was present and physical. I walked daily through streets shaped by him embodying his activism, music and lifestyle.

There is no dispute about Fela’s place in history. Fela Anikulapo Kuti was a musical genius whose creative vision gave birth to Afrobeat and permanently altered African music and political expression. He confronted military authority and deployed art as a tool of resistance, carving out a cultural identity that continues to resonate till today. The contemporary success of Nigerian music, now a powerful cultural and commercial export, draws in no small measure from the groundwork he laid. Artists like Wizkid operate within a global ecosystem that Fela helped make possible. To deny this would be deliberately dishonest.

In those days, on the top floor of the building that once housed Bata Shoes, a short distance from and adjacent to the Ikeja under-bridge, a disc jockey known as Mr. T played Fela’s music almost continuously, seemingly without regard for disturbance that might be caused by the noise. His speakers blared day and night, filling the surrounding streets with sound of Fela’s music. Ikeja appeared to embrace it, as there was no visible attempt to restrain him for noise pollution. I grew up imbibing and vibing to Fela’s music and message in that environment. Although my family’s home on Seriki Aro Street was at least one hundred and fifty metres from Mr. T’s music shop, the music from his shop often travelled clearly into our living quarters, punctuating family conversations and moments of quiet. We loved it. The sonority of the songs was comforting, and their presence became part of the texture of our everyday lives.

It was within this absorption of Fela’s musical genius and my acknowledgment of his artistic greatness that I was also confronted, from my early teenage years into my early twenties, with a deep and unsettling confusion created by the gap between Fela’s message and his actions. My first sense of this awareness came when I was about fifteen, through a schoolmate who had previously seemed timid and behaved ordinarily. One afternoon, on my way to choir rehearsals, he suddenly accosted me without provocation and struck me forcefully on my face, leaving me with a red eye. There had been no prior dispute and no exchange of words. We later learned that he had begun spending extended periods around the shrine and had taken to using marijuana, “Igbo” as we called it then, and which was openly traded and consumed in its vicinity. Years later, that same schoolmate would lose his life in a mob lynching incident, a fact that has continued to trouble my reflections on influence and consequence.

The shrine itself became a powerful magnet for young boys, and a few girls, who sought to live out the deviance that was preached and permitted within its orbit. For many, it served as a refuge and a safe haven. Young boys who took to pickpocketing, snatching bags or jewellery, or causing trouble in the neighbourhood often ran into the shrine for cover, confident that no one would dare pursue them there. I knew several who, emboldened by the acceptance they found within the walls of the shrine, dropped out of school and embraced life within it. In those days, to fear a shrine boy was considered a form of wisdom and to avoid them was seen as an early indication of a more stable future. Even now, I occasionally encounter some of the once-feared figures of Ikeja, now aged and diminished, their deep-set eyes suggesting lives that might have turned out differently had they chosen other paths instead of the easy lure of the shrine.

I once witnessed what can only be described as a war between rival factions of Fela’s shrine boys, staged openly in Ikeja. A horde of young men stormed Seriki Aro Street from Pepple Street, wielding machetes and smashing bottles, sending residents scattering indoors. We were told that Fela had demanded the capture of a local street boy who had fallen out of favour with him and was believed to be hiding on our street. In those days, such boys were commonly referred to as “omo-ita,” children of the streets, feared figures whose presence shaped how those who did not quite fit in learned caution early. From the balcony of our family home, and with a pounding heart, I watched the pandemonium unfold.
At the same time, Mr. T’s speakers were blaring one of Fela’s most recognisable songs, repeating the haunting line, “everybody run, run, run, everybody scatter, scatter………..,” as if soundtracking the chaos unfolding below. The music was not planned for the moment, yet it spoke uncannily to it, evoking fear, confusion, and approaching mayhem. In that instant, I felt an awakening of clarity. The artist was no longer merely describing disorder. He had become a creator of it, at least in that moment. In the wake of the small war, there was left Sorrow, Tears and Blood, the title of Fela’s song that Mr. T so fortuitously blared as the violence raged.

Much later, during my early years at the university studying law, I found myself reflecting on the case instituted by the Binitie family against Fela to recover possession of the property that housed the shrine. The property had been rented to Fela, but when the relationship deteriorated, he sought to pressure the family into selling it to him. What followed was a prolonged legal dispute during which the family struggled to regain possession of their own property. Substantive relief came only after Fela’s death, when the Court of Appeal eventually affirmed the Binitie family’s rights and ordered that the property be vacated. Reports have it that the dispute lasted about sixteen years.

For me, this outcome clarified a deeper contradiction between Fela’s public posture as a crusader for justice and the reality that justice in this matter emerged only after sustained resistance. The irony was hard to miss. The courts, an institutional arm of government he frequently criticised in his music, became the forum through which the dispute dragged on for so long, in a way that worked to his benefit.

It is fair to acknowledge that Fela was, in many respects, a crusader for justice. He fought against colonial mindsets, military dictatorship and elite hypocrisy, and much of that posture was justified. However, the contradiction lay in how power was exercised within his own immediate domain and against his fellow citizens.

It is against this backdrop of lived experience that comparisons between Fela and Wizkid have prompted my own reflection on what it truly means to be great. Wizkid is often framed as a beneficiary of Fela’s trailblazing and in a musical sense, that is true. Yet the comparison fails when greatness is measured beyond innovation or popularity. I am drawn to Wizkid because he does not posture as a moral prophet or ideological leader. His influence is cultural, economic and global but it does not demand allegiance to a lifestyle or worldview.

Wizkid’s impact on Nigerian society operates through the visibility of his music only. He represents global possibility without positioning himself as a gatekeeper of virtue or rebellion. Whatever criticisms one may have for modern pop culture, it is difficult to argue that Wizkid’s influence encourages the kind of behavioural deviance or moral surrender that surrounded Fela’s shrine. His art does not ask young people to abandon structure. It simply asks them to listen and enjoy the music.

This distinction matters because it raises a broader question. How should greatness be measured? Is it enough to be an activist and an inventor of a new art form, or must we also account for the social consequences of influence? Icons are often shielded from scrutiny by myth, their contradictions disregarded by admiration. Yet societies can only advance by examining their heroes, not by worshipping them blindly.

Fela remains a towering figure in African cultural history, and nothing written here diminishes his musical genius or political courage. But greatness, if it is to mean anything beyond legend, must confront moral contradiction. Walking through Pepple Street as a child taught me that influence is never neutral. It shapes lives, choices, and futures, sometimes in ways that admiration cannot undo.

Perhaps the question, then, is not who is greater, but what kind of greatness we should value. The real work lies in our willingness to engage in honest assessment.

Gabriel is a lawyer and the writer behind the Substack, Nigeria Matters.

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.

By Sylvester Udemezue

(1). Background
The second impeachment crisis involving Governor Siminalayi Fubara of Rivers State and his Deputy, Professor Ngozi Odu, is one of the most intense constitutional and political confrontations in the state’s recent history. It unfolded amid a prolonged power struggle between the executive and the Rivers State House of Assembly, raising fundamental questions about constitutional compliance, separation of powers, and the limits of judicial involvement in impeachment proceedings. The crisis formally crystallised on 8 January 2026, when the House of Assembly issued and purportedly served Notices of Allegations of Gross Misconduct on the Governor and his Deputy.

The notices, signed by the Speaker, Hon. Martin Amaewhule, were supported by 26 members of the Assembly. Soon after, however, the process became mired in controversy over service and procedure. Reports indicated that several days after the resolution, the Governor had not been personally served with the notice, fuelling speculation about procedural defects, political manoeuvring, or a stalled process. There were also fears about whether the four Honourable members loyal to Governor Fubara were carried along as required by the proviso to Section 188(2) of the Constitution. On 16 January 2026, twenty-six (26) members of the House passed a Motion resolving to investigate the allegations and, directed the Speaker to request the Chief Judge of Rivers State to constitute a seven-man investigative panel, thereby escalating the crisis to a critical constitutional stage.

However, a turning point occurred on 20 January 2026, when the Chief Judge, Hon Justice Amadi, declined the Assembly’s request to constitute the panel. In a letter responding to the Speaker’s request under section 188, the Chief Judge cited concerns relating to judicial independence and procedural propriety. This refusal introduced a novel constitutional dilemma: whether a Chief Judge has discretion to decline a request that appears constitutionally mandated, and the legal consequences of such refusal for an ongoing impeachment process. It is this tension between constitutional text, institutional roles, and political reality that this article interrogates. By examining the impeachment proceedings against Governor Fubara and his Deputy (particularly the Chief Judge’s refusal to constitute a probe panel), the article assesses the legality, propriety, and constitutional implications of the actions of the key actors within Nigeria’s impeachment framework.

(2). A Summary of the Impeachment Procedure Under Section 188 of the Constitution

Impeachment proceedings against a Governor or Deputy Governor under section 188 of the 1999 Constitution are governed by a strictly sequenced and mandatory procedure, with which exact compliance is constitutionally required. The process begins with a Notice of Allegation of Gross Misconduct, which must be in writing, contain detailed particulars, be signed by not less than one-third of the members of the House of Assembly, and be presented to the Speaker. Upon receipt, the Speaker must, within seven (7) days, serve the Notice on the Governor and circulate copies to all members of the House. At this stage, “gross misconduct” is defined by section 188(11) as a grave violation or breach of the Constitution, or any misconduct which, in the opinion of the House, amounts to gross misconduct.

The Governor is entitled to respond, and any reply must be circulated by the Speaker to all members before further steps are taken. Within fourteen (14) days of the presentation of the Notice (whether or not a reply is submitted) the House must decide, by motion and without debate, whether to investigate the allegations. This motion must be supported by not less than a two-thirds majority of all members; failure to attain this majority automatically terminates the process. Where the motion succeeds, the Speaker must, within seven (7) days, request the Chief Judge to constitute a seven-member investigative panel composed of persons of unquestionable integrity who are not members of the public service, the legislature, or any political party. The panel must conduct its inquiry in accordance with procedures prescribed by the House, afford the Governor the right to defend himself personally or through counsel, and submit its report within three (3) months of appointment. Upon receipt of the report, the House proceeds to final consideration.

If the panel exonerates the Governor, the Constitution bars any further proceedings. If the allegations are upheld, the House must, within fourteen (14) days, consider and, by a two-thirds majority resolution, adopt the report, whereupon the Governor is removed from office with immediate effect. Throughout, strict compliance with section 188 is mandatory. While courts will not examine the merits of the allegations, they retain jurisdiction to intervene for procedural non-compliance, as affirmed by the Supreme Court in Inakoju v. Adeleke (2007) 4 NWLR (Pt. 1025) 423.

(3). The Ouster Clause and the Justiciability of Impeachment Proceedings In Nigeria

Questions on impeachment under the Nigerian Constitution often generate confusion because two related but distinct issues are conflated: the constitutional power to impeach and the constitutional procedure for impeachment. This distinction was authoritatively settled by the Supreme Court in Inakoju v. Adeleke (2007) 4 NWLR (Pt. 1025) 423 (the Ladoja case), the leading authority on the justiciability of impeachment proceedings in Nigeria. In the case, which arose from the impeachment of Oyo State Governor Rasheed Ladoja, the Supreme Court held that the purported impeachment was a nullity due to flagrant non-compliance with section 188 of the 1999 Constitution. The Court affirmed that although impeachment is a political process, it is constitutionally regulated, and any departure from the prescribed procedure renders the entire exercise void. The decision underscored the judiciary’s role in protecting constitutionalism and the rule of law. The Court drew a clear line between power and procedure.

On the one hand, it held that courts lack jurisdiction to question the substantive power of a House of Assembly to initiate and carry out impeachment, as that power is expressly vested in the legislature by sections 143 and 188 of the Constitution. The motives, wisdom, or political justification for impeachment are matters exclusively within the legislative domain. On the other hand, the Court held that the judiciary retains jurisdiction to inquire into allegations of non-compliance with the mandatory procedural steps in sections 143 or 188(1)–(9). Impeachment is therefore justiciable to the limited extent of ensuring strict adherence to constitutional procedure. In this context, the Supreme Court interpreted the ouster clauses in sections 143(10) and 188(10) as excluding judicial review only of the substantive resolutions or opinions of the House (such as whether conduct amounts to “gross misconduct”) but not of procedural compliance.

Where constitutional safeguards are breached, the courts are both competent and duty-bound to intervene. Accordingly, impeachment under the Nigerian Constitution is not a non-justiciable political question in cases of procedural irregularity; the courts act as constitutional gatekeepers while refraining from adjudicating the political merits of the allegations. Thus although legislative acts are generally non-justiciable, courts will assume jurisdiction where the Constitution prescribes a specific procedure and that procedure is breached, as the courts are guardians of the Constitution.

(4). Competence of the High Court of Rivers State in Impeachment-Related Proceedings

The High Court of Rivers State is competent (it shares concurrent jurisdiction with the Federal High Court) to entertain matters arising from impeachment proceedings against the sitting Governor of the State, not to determine the merits of the allegations, but to adjudicate issues of constitutional compliance and legal rights. Under section 272 of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999, the State High Court has broad jurisdiction over civil proceedings involving the existence, extent, or enforcement of legal rights, powers, duties, or obligations, subject only to the exclusive jurisdiction of the Federal High Court under section 251. Accordingly, where impeachment proceedings raise questions of compliance with the mandatory procedures in section 188 of the Constitution, such disputes fall within the supervisory jurisdiction of the State High Court or the Federal High Court, which may enforce constitutional safeguards and the rule of law without intruding into the political discretion of the House of Assembly.

(5). Legal Propriety (or Otherwise) of the Rivers State Chief Judge’s Refusal to Constitute a Probe Panel.

(a). Is the Chief Judge Bound to Constitute A Panel: The duty of a State Chief Judge to constitute an investigative panel under section 188(5) of the Constitution is neither mechanical nor automatic. It is a constitutional duty conditioned on prior strict compliance by the House of Assembly with the mandatory steps in section 188(1)-(4). Although the power to initiate impeachment and request a panel lies with the House, the Chief Judge’s role must be exercised in fidelity to the Constitution. As the Supreme Court held in Inakoju v. Adeleke (2007) 4 NWLR (Pt. 1025) 423, impeachment is a constitutionally regulated process, and any step taken in breach of constitutional requirements is a nullity. The Chief Judge therefore cannot be compelled to act on a constitutionally defective request, as the Constitution does not mandate participation in an unlawful or incomplete impeachment process.

The Chief Judge is entitled, indeed constitutionally obliged, to decline a request where it is apparent that the House has failed to comply with fundamental procedural requirements under section 188, even absent a court order. This duty flows from sections 1(1) and (2) of the Constitution, which proclaim constitutional supremacy and bind all authorities to its provisions. To constitute a panel in the face of clear breaches (such as improper service, failure to secure the required majority, or premature invocation of section 188(5)) would amount to aiding a constitutional violation and undermining the rule of law. The proper course is to notify the Speaker of the defects and insist on due process.

As affirmed in Inakoju v. Adeleke, procedural non-compliance vitiates impeachment ab initio. Where the Chief Judge declines on this basis, the House’s remedy lies in challenging that decision in court. In Abiodun v. C.J. Kwara State (2007) LPELR-8308(CA), the Court of Appeal confirmed that courts may examine both compliance with the two-thirds requirement and the Chief Judge’s exercise of discretion in empanelling a panel where challenged.

(b). Duty To Decline Where a Subsisting Court Order Exists: One of the reasons offered by the CJ of Rivers State for declining to set up a panel is that his office was in in receipt of two separate interim orders issued by the High Court on 16 January 2026 in Suit No.: OYHC/6/CS/2026 (Ngozi Odu v. Amaewhule & 32 Ors) and Suit No.: OYHC/7/CS/2026 (Siminalayi Fubara v. Amaewhule & 32 Ors). In both suits, the Honourable Chief Judge of Rivers State is named as the 32nd Defendant/Respondent, and the said interim orders were duly served on the CJ’s office on 16 January 2026, the same date on which the orders were issued. It is respectfully submitted that the Chief Judge is constitutionally bound to refuse to constitute a panel where a subsisting court order restrains further steps in the impeachment process.

Obedience to court orders is a foundational element of the rule of law: all orders (whether regular, irregular, valid, or later found to be without jurisdiction) must be obeyed until set aside. This principle has been consistently affirmed by the Supreme Court, including in Rossek v. A.C.B. Ltd. (1993) 8 NWLR (Pt. 312) 382; Oba Aladegbemi v. Oba Fasanmade (1988) 3 NWLR (Pt. 81) 129; Adebayo v. Johnson (1969) 1 All NLR 176; Komolafe v. Omole (1993) 1 NWLR (Pt. 268) 213; and Oshiomhole v. FGN (2004) LPELR-5188(CA), echoing Hadkinson v. Hadkinson and Isaacs v. Robertson. Acting in defiance of a subsisting order would amount to contempt of court and a violation of constitutional supremacy under section 1(2).

This position finds practical precedent in Ondo State, where the Chief Judge, Honourable Justice Olusegun Odusola, on 06 October 2023 declined to constitute a panel in obedience to a subsisting restraining order of the Federal High Court in FHC/ABJ/CS/1294/2023, thereby upholding judicial authority. The Rivers State Chief Judge in the present instance relied on Dele Abiodun v. Honourable Chief Judge of Kwara State (2007) 18 NWLR (Pt. 109) 169, where the Court of Appeal nullified an impeachment process because the Chief Judge had constituted a panel in defiance of a court order, sternly condemning such conduct and reaffirming the Chief Judge’s paramount duty to obey and uphold the law.

(6). The Rivers House of Assembly and Quod Approbo Non Reprobo

A critical feature of this matter is the Rivers State Chief Judge’s statement to the Speaker that the House had lodged an appeal against the subsisting interim orders of the High Court, and that he had been served with the Notices of Appeal. He accordingly invoked the doctrine of lis pendens, noting that both parties and the court must await the outcome of the appeal. This is legally significant. Once a court order is made and remains subsisting, it binds all affected persons and authorities until set aside by due process. No litigant may approbate and reprobate in the same proceedings. Having itself appealed against the High Court’s order, the Rivers State House of Assembly cannot simultaneously proceed as if that order does not exist by requesting the Chief Judge to constitute an investigative panel.

Such conduct violates the equitable principle of quod approbo non reprobo, which forbids a party from accepting and rejecting the same legal position to suit its convenience. By filing an appeal, the House has acknowledged the existence, binding force, and operative effect of the order, and is therefore legally and constitutionally bound to await the outcome of its appeal. It cannot lawfully take steps that undermine, pre-empt, or render nugatory a subsisting judicial decision.

(7). Possible Legal Flaws that Could Justify Judicial Intervention

Judicial intervention is warranted where impeachment proceedings fail to comply with the mandatory procedural safeguards in section 188 of the Constitution. Such defects go to the root of the process and render it incompetent. Illustrative instances include the following:

(a). Failure by the Speaker to serve the Notice of Allegations on all members of the House, or to circulate the Governor’s reply (if any), as required by section 188(2), is a fundamental breach, as it deprives legislators of the opportunity to consider the Governor’s defence before further steps are taken.

(b). Where the motion to investigate is passed outside the mandatory fourteen (14) days from presentation of the Notice, or is not supported by a two-thirds majority of all members as required by section 188(4), the impeachment automatically fails.

(c). Non-compliance also arises where the Speaker’s request to the Chief Judge to constitute a seven-man panel is not made within seven (7) days of the resolution to investigate, contrary to section 188(5). Likewise, where a panel exonerates the Governor but the House nevertheless proceeds to remove him, such action is a nullity under section 188(8). An illustration occurred in Ekiti State during the Fayose episode, where a Governor was removed despite a panel’s exoneration, an illegality that went unchallenged;

(d). Even where a panel indicts the Governor, the process fails if the House does not, within fourteen (14) days, adopt the report by a two-thirds majority as required by section 188(9). This principle was applied in Plateau State, where the impeachment of Governor Joshua Dariye by only about 8 members (out of the 24-member House) was nullified and he was reinstated.

(e). Impeachment proceedings conducted outside the chambers of the House of Assembly are unconstitutional. In Inakoju & Ors v. Adeleke & Ors (2007) LPELR-1510 (SC), the Supreme Court nullified Governor Ladoja’s impeachment because proceedings were held at D’Rovans Hotel, Ibadan. Similarly, in Balonwu & Ors v. Obi & Anor (2007) LPELR-4255 (CA), Governor Peter Obi’s impeachment was set aside because, among other flaws, the proceedings occurred outside the Anambra State House of Assembly.

(f). In Dapianlong & Ors v. Dariye (SC 39/2007) [2007] NGSC 181, the Supreme Court held that section 188(10) does not oust judicial jurisdiction where there is non-compliance with sections 188(1)–(9). The impeachment of Governor Joshua Dariye was declared unconstitutional due to multiple fatal defects, including initiation and conduct by a minority of six to eight members in a twenty-four-member House; improper reliance on section 102; an undated and improperly signed Notice not served on the Governor or circulated to members; absence of valid two-thirds resolutions to investigate or adopt any report; an invalid request to the Acting Chief Judge; an improperly constituted panel that acted in defiance of subsisting court orders, submitted an interim report, and denied the Governor fair hearing; and proceedings conducted under coercive circumstances. Taken cumulatively, these violations rendered the impeachment, the panel proceedings, the report, and the purported removal null and void, necessitating the Governor’s reinstatement with all attendant rights and privileges.

(8). Propriety of the Appeal Filed by the House of Assembly

The propriety of the House of Assembly’s appeal is open to serious doubt, given the nature of the order appealed against and settled procedural practice. The order in question was an interim ex parte order, which is inherently provisional and liable to be varied or set aside by the same court upon application. The more appropriate course would have been to apply promptly to the High Court to discharge or vary the order, while filing a counter-affidavit and written address in response to the pending motion on notice. Immediate appeals against ex parte orders are generally discouraged, as appellate courts emphasise that the court of first instance should first be given the opportunity to reconsider its interim ruling.

Premature resort to appeal undermines judicial economy and risks unnecessary delay. More significantly, by appealing rather than first seeking to set aside the order, the House acknowledged the subsistence and binding effect of the order, thereby triggering the doctrine of lis pendens and constraining itself from taking steps that could render the order nugatory. Accordingly, while the appeal may not be incompetent, it was procedurally ill-advised and counterproductive in a sensitive constitutional process such as impeachment. A prompt application to set aside the ex parte order, coupled with a robust response to the motion on notice, would have better preserved the House’s position without attracting the constitutional and equitable consequences attendant upon appealing against a subsisting interim order.

(9). A Word of Advice to the Warring Parties and the People of Rivers State

The protracted political crisis in Rivers State has reached a point of diminishing returns, where governance, public confidence, and institutional integrity are being sacrificed on the altar of political brinkmanship. As I advised in my earlier published write-up titled “Enough of the Rivers State Crisis: Nigerians are Tired of the Drama – It’s Time to Govern, not Grandstand”, the prevailing mood among Nigerians is one of fatigue and frustration with endless power struggles that yield no tangible benefit to the people. Nigeria faces far graver national challenges (insecurity, economic hardship, unemployment, and failing social services) than to be continually consumed by one state’s political quarrels.

The warring political actors must recognise that constitutional power is held in trust for the public good, not as a weapon for perpetual conflict. All sides (executive, legislature, and their supporters) are urged to de-escalate tensions, respect constitutional boundaries, obey court orders, and prioritise dialogue, compromise, and statesmanship over confrontation. Ultimately, the peace, development, and welfare of Rivers State must take precedence over factional victories, as history is kinder to leaders who chose peace and delivered good governance than to those who merely grandstand loudly.

(10). CONCLUSION

The impeachment crisis in Rivers State starkly illustrates the dangers of politicising constitutionally regulated processes and disregarding the rule of law. While impeachment is a legitimate constitutional mechanism, it must be exercised strictly within the confines of the Constitution, with scrupulous adherence to due process, judicial authority, and institutional restraint. Any deviation (whether by the legislature, the executive, or ancillary actors) invites judicial intervention and undermines democratic governance. The Constitution remains supreme, court orders remain binding, and no arm of government is above the law. It is only through fidelity to these foundational principles that constitutional democracy can be preserved and public trust restored in Rivers State and Nigeria at large.

Respectfully,
Sylvester Udemezue (Udems)
Legal Practitioner in Nigeria
[email protected].
(22 January 2026)

The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.