By Lasisi Olagungu

Better a child is confirmed dead than a child is unaccounted for. I am not sure we remember that about 250 pupils of St. Mary’s Catholic School, Papiri village in Niger State, remain in captivity. They’ve been with their abductors since November 21 without Nigeria losing a day’s sleep. And we say Donald Trump was wrong to say we are “a disgraced country.”

Anguish, helplessness and despair are not pleasant words to describe the state of anyone; but they perfectly fit the conditions of the parents of the missing kids. One distraught father told the BBC: “If they (the bandits) hear you speak about them, before you know it they’ll come for you. They’ll come to your house and drag you into the bush… I feel so bitter, and my wife hasn’t eaten for days… We are not happy at all. We need someone who will help us and take action.”

So, who will help them? Some of the kids, mere five-year-olds, sleep and wake up there in the bush; they must be wondering why they have to be in someone’s ‘prison’ while the country appears to have moved on. It is terrible.

It is “’Bout time this town had a new sheriff”, a law enforcer says in ‘High Plains Drifter’, a 1973 film that is about retributive justice, about criminals getting what they deserve; about a crime-wracked town that sounds almost like Lagos – it is Lago. The new sheriff is ‘The Stranger’ who brought precision guns, “reversals and exposures” and swept the town clean of crime and criminals. Read the text – it reads like Nigeria. And there is apparently a new sheriff in the Nigerian town. He is said to be Christopher Musa, smooth-talking, clean-shaven, debonair and handsome. But how far can he go?

“Be careful. You’re a man who makes people afraid, and that’s dangerous.” Sarah Belding says in the film above. Nothing should rattle a battle-tested General, yet Christopher Musa, the new minister of defence, must feel more than a flicker of awe at the sheer tumult of the welcome he has received so far. He must be even more afraid of the character of the system that has hired him. To help parents such as the quoted above, Musa has been drafted from retirement. But, what he is joining is no war council; it is a cruise party; the ship he has just boarded is not a warship built for battle against criminals. It is a yacht, a vessel for leisure, for politics, for power, and for wealth.

The man came highly recommended with very rare national acceptability. I’ve always believed that history rewards competence and exposes pretenders. If I say that your next position is encased in your present performance, I will be right. I look at the new Minister of Defence, General Musa. The whole world marked his script as our Chief of Defence Staff and said he passed. I do not have access to the marking scheme, but what I know is that the man is very fortunate. He has a sweet tongue and a good head but he has also worked hard to earn the epaulettes that light the path of his active engagements.

Every feat and office has its witnesses. Julius Caesar did not become Rome’s most powerful figure by bribing consuls and senators and sowing discord in opposition forces. He worked positively hard in his journey of service. He was a General who solved problems. And a leader who solves problems becomes naturally indispensable. That is why Musa had to come back so soon after Nigeria retired him.

I cannot remember any appointment made by this president that has universal appeal and endorsement as we’ve seen with Christopher Musa’s. From the initial speculation to the announcement, to his Senate appearance and screening, the man suffered neither darts nor missiles. Even the fissures and factions of Nigeria spared him the usual smears. Everyone, everywhere owned him. He appeared (appears) loved by all.

A General will always earn the loyalty of his troops if they see and feel in him personal courage, discipline, and strategic clarity. Caesar did not directly lobby for leadership; his results made Rome accept his destiny. History says his rise was built on an extraordinary record in the Gallic Wars (58–50 BCE). In that war he subdued the major tribes of Gaul, captured numerous fortified towns, and brought almost the entire region covering much of what is today France, Belgium, Luxembourg, and parts of Switzerland, Italy, and Germany under Roman rule. By transforming Rome’s power Caesar transformed his own political destiny. History adds that he, as a General, displayed extraordinary engineering genius by building a bridge across the Rhine in just ten days and by leading two bold expeditions to Britain. The Roman General accomplished these feats and stunned Europe; his competence imposed him on his world.

Musa was sworn in on Thursday to pursue his own destiny; his hours started counting almost immediately. There is an experience of leisure and luxury called honeymoon. Every English word possesses a history, its etymology. The history of ‘honeymoon’ is rooted in medieval times when newlyweds shared a honey-fermented drink called mead for a moon cycle (a month of thirty days). It was a rite of fortune steeped in symbolism and was believed to usher the couple into a union blessed with good fortune, sweetness, and fertility. For today’s many newlyweds, rich or poor, honeymoon is “a cachet of distinction” which they all insist they must enjoy. But this beautiful bride, Musa, cannot have a honeymoon. I hope he knows. Accepting to be defence minister of Nigeria at this point is the same as accepting to fetch hot coal with one’s bare palm. With his two palms, and with all his faculties perfect, the new minister went for Nigeria’s smoldering balls of embers. What he accepted is a hot plate. You don’t go that far and still think you can pause and rest. He cannot.

Whatever he says or has said will be used to judge him. And he has been talking: He says he won’t negotiate with bandits: “No negotiations with any criminal, because those things compromise security. If you negotiate with them, they will never abide by it. It is just a monetary tactic, what they do is try to buy more time to acquire more arms, and then they will come out again. We have seen it repeatedly,” he said. The man insists that bandits are traitorous criminals, they do not want peace: “Terrorists are enemies of Nigeria; they have no respect for human life. We are going to go after them fully, working together with all security agencies…”

General Musa will not negotiate with terrorists but the forces he will meet on the battlefield here are more than the bandits, Boko Haram and their brother terrorists. He knows there are powerful people who profess negotiation because bandits are their brothers. A war against bandits is against such men of means.

Musa needs the support of his appointers to deliver. This is where I pity him. His makers may have already achieved their aim: respite from Donald Trump and his troublesome band, home and abroad. In other words, the positive review which the president has got from the new minister’s choice may have been the end the system wanted; nothing more. I may be wrong; if I am wrong here I will be happy. US-based Professor Moses Ochonu put it more elegantly in a Facebook post: “While having a competent and uncompromised defense minister helps, the problem ultimately is not about who is the minister. Rather, it is whether there’s the political will, unsoiled by political and electoral calculation, to go after the terrorists, and whether the Tinubu government is willing to humbly admit that its non-kinetic counterterrorism strategy has not only failed but has emboldened the terrorists, and is, as a result, ready to move to a more offensive posture.” Musa should read this again as he prepares for this phase of his life and career.

The new minister can talk, and he has been talking. Musa wants Nigeria fenced round to combat terror. He said: “Border management is very critical. We have had countries that because of the level of insecurity in their country had to fence their borders. Pakistan fenced 1,350 kilometers of border with Afghanistan; that was the only time they had peace. Saudi Arabia and Iraq, 1,400 km border, is completely fenced.” Geography says Nigeria’s total boundary stretches roughly 4,047 km by land and 853 km along its coastline, giving it an approximate total perimeter of about 4,900 km. Now, let me ask Musa: Which of our own neighbours is our own Afghanistan? The truth is that we are the Afghanistan of Africa. We, not our neighbours, are the danger to be fenced off. The new minister and his team can change our story and our status. They won’t do that with weird ideas like border fencing which is potentially another project etched in the image of an elephant painted white.

But, then, I wonder where the fencing idea came from. The intelligent General from Southern Kaduna has probably forgotten that Boko Haram in the North-East started as a Nigerian start-up. The group has essentially remained a Nigerian brand exporting abhorrence to Chad, Niger, Cameroon, even Benin.

Again, has Musa, the gadfly, forgotten that banditry in the North-West has its roots in the historical tension between the Hausa and the Fulani? Did he listen to a recent interview by the chairman of the Arewa Consultative Forum (ACF), Alhaji Bashir Dalhatu, where he admitted that banditry and terrorism in northern Nigeria is self-inflicted? For the records, Bashir Dalhatu said: “We have fifteen million out-of-school children roaming the streets. If we had taken care of that, it would not have gotten out of hand.” The General should read Dalhatu’s lips and ask himself what a fence would do to prevent the multi-million idle hands from becoming the devil’s workshop. A fence will be as useless as a door locked against the enemy within.

The Musa that I watched on TV has no deficit of education. Leadership has never been an accident of luck. Those who attained it worked for it; the best among them are the truly educated ones. Because of his apparent good education, this Musa is not like the one at the gate whispering peace to bandits. His voice has been very shrill against the enemy, but he needs more than his voice to win this war. The enemy is not the Wall of Jericho. He should fight criminals and battle those who excuse their crimes.

The man has a model to copy in legendary British Iron lady, Margaret Thatcher who had the IRA extremists to pummel almost four decades ago. In the midst of “The Troubles” and their bombs, Thatcher reminded her country that: “Crime and violence injure not only the victim, but all of us, by spreading fear and making the streets no-go areas for decent people…To be soft on crime is to betray the law-abiding citizen. And to make excuses for the criminal is to offer incentives to dishonesty and violence. Crime flourishes in a culture of excuses…” Thatcher did not just talk and go to bed; she followed her talk with concrete actions and degraded the enemy.

Our new minister needs good Nigerians to succeed and he already has them. If he will keep them, he must be felt more in action rather than in words. A billion words are mere hot air, they can’t fill a basket. Everyone knows this. Policies and actions that terminate banditry and terrorism are what will sustain his name and legacy of heroism. He will achieve that only when he fences off bloodline politics and treats crime as crime.

I go back to Thatcher. To our president and his minister, I recommend the words of the Iron Lady uttered on October 12, 1990 (35 years ago). She told her Conservative Party that “crime is not a sickness to be cured; it is a temptation to be resisted, a threat to be deterred, and an evil to be punished.”

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

By Chidi Anselm Odinkalu

On 26 November 2025, Nigeria’s president, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, announced in a statement personally signed by him that he had “decided to declare a nationwide security emergency” to be accompanied by some measures, including the recruitment by the Nigeria Police Force (NPF) and the Armed Forces of 20,000 and 50,000 new personnel respectively. In the fortnight preceding the announcement, a flurry of frightening terror incidents had created among populations and communities around the country a heightened state of fear. It also reinforced the perception of a normalization of insecurity and of the traumas associated with it.

Yet, the text and terms of the president’s announcement were odd, to say the least.

Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution empowers the president to declare or proclaim a “state of emergency.”  Under the terms of the Constitution, an emergency proclamation is time-bound (for an initial period of not more than six months) and must be confirmed by a joint resolution of a qualified majority of both chambers of the National Assembly within 48 hours of the proclamation.

The predicate conditions for the proclamation of a state of emergency in Nigeria under Section 305(3) of the constitution are that the country is at war or in imminent danger of invasion or of entering into a war or suffering from a breakdown of public order and safety or in imminent danger of such breakdown. The flood of casualties would seem to suggest that the predicate condition of a country at war exists.

Apart from thousands killed and many more unaccounted for, reports of  7,568 people abducted in 1,130 incidents across the country in just one year between July 2023 to June 2024 suggest also that there is significant breakdown in public safety. However, the president was unwilling to cite any of these as grounds for his action, probably because it would represent an admission of how bad things have become under his watch.

 Moreover, a formal acknowledgement of the existence of an armed conflict would entail the application of the norms of international humanitarian law under the Geneva Conventions Act, which could lead to the recognition as belligerents the motley crowd of insurgent groups presently afflicting the country. That is considered a step too far for a country that has already survived a brutal civil war from July 1967 to January 1970.

Howsoever it is looked at, this “nationwide security emergency” declared by President Tinubu does not sound like the “state of emergency” authorized by the constitution. The use of “emergency” to describe the measures announced by the president was artful, designed to create the public impression that the administration was at last waking up to its primary responsibility to assure the safety and security of all who live in Nigeria. In reality, none of the measures announced by the president requires the existence of an emergency for their accomplishment nor does it make sense why the administration had to wait until now to consider them for implementation. Moreover, the so-called “emergency” is open-ended. It is not hedged by duration and there has been no effort to take it before the National Assembly.

In an innocuous insertion in the announcement, however, the president invites “the National Assembly to begin reviewing our laws to allow states that require state police to establish them.” In this sentence, President Tinubu commits the sleight of hand of suggesting that “state police” will be merely optional only for those states who want it. Of course, he knew better than even suggest that.

State police has become a very emotive expression in Nigeria’s political and security lexicon. Politicians who cannot be bothered to do the most basic of things to protect their people somehow create the impression that they could have accomplished that and more if only they had the magic wand of state police. The evidence to the contrary is very stark and conveniently buried.

First, the record of state security initiatives has been very abysmal. Native Authority policing was abolished following the onset of military rule in 1966 because of the tendency to make them instruments of decentralized despotism. Writing in 2018, pioneer post-colonial public servant, Ahmed Joda, recalled the record of the Native Authority Police: “first generation pioneer opposition politicians of the forties and fifties and up to the end of the civilian era in 1966 experienced hell…. Many of them, especially at election times were simply rounded up at rallies, walked to the Native Authority courts, promptly convicted and sent to another Native Authority institution: the Native Authority Prison for long enough periods to take them out for the election period and render political opposition prostrate. Some were simply adducted and disappeared for the period of the elections.” There is nothing to suggest that State police this time will be any less despotic. On the contrary, the omens indicate that it could be worse.

Second, when he introduced Islamic criminal law of Huddud (crimes against God) into Zamfara State at the beginning of a wave of Sharia insertion into north-west Nigeria in October 1999, then governor, Sani Yerima, justified it with reference to the need to upgrade public safety and security in the state. Despite his best spin, public safety and security in Zamfara State did not get better. Instead, it has disintegrated.

Zamfara State was far from the only state to experience this trend. In the Middle Belt, Benue State adopted a vigilante law in 2000, creating armed volunteer guards supposedly to enhance the protection of the state. Far from enhancing safety and security in Benue, the State turned into a haven of insecurity. Around the same time, Anambra State in the south-east launched its own Anambra Vigilante Service (AVS) under cover of state law in 2000. Under that law, then Governor Chinwoke Mbadinuju claimed authority to invite and establish the Bakassi as an armed, anti-crime vigilante in the state. Anyone who wants to understand how insecurity subsequently prospered in south-east Nigeria must return to the origins of the story in the atrocity-with-impunity franchise that the Bakassi became.

Third, when it reported to the presidency in August 2012, the Parry Osayande Presidential Committee on Police Reform recommended quite strongly against the clamour for State police. At the submission of the report, the Chairperson of the Committee, Parry Osayande, a former Deputy Inspector-General of Police, feared that the country lacked the institutional wherewithal to oversight, train, or professionalise a proliferation of armed police units across the country. He recommended effective de-centralisation of the existing NPF “with effective participation of state governors; financial autonomy and better professionalism for the police.” Six years later, Ahmed Joda supported “the need to decentralize our policing system.”

The question now is how to achieve that goal.

The political fad of today appears to be that the answer lies in State Police. Many people will argue that any opposition to this idea, first, reflects path-dependency; and second, that the times have changed and require that the country should explore the idea. Third, advocates of “true federalism” also denounce any opposition to state police, even when they are not able to tell anyone what exactly makes their version of federalism any truer than the next.

The times may have changed certainly but not necessarily for the better. If anything, the reluctance and caution sounded by Parry Osayande 13 years ago is even more resounding today in a context of corroded democratic controls and multi-dimensional impunity.

State police will not be served a la carte nor will it be a matter of variable geometry. Every state governor will see it as a necessary accessory of power. It will not be reserved to only governors who understand the idea of constrained power. Those who enjoy abuse of power will be the first to acquire it, not to advance security but to visit insecurity on their political enemies.

So, in addition to the very challenged NPF which the country struggles with today, we will have 37 more, one for each state and another for the FCT. Each will function under the control of the governor and will be armed by their gubernatorial patrons. This is not state police. Instead, it could be a recipe for a de-centralised police state with no hope of relief. In their enthusiasm, advocates of State police offer no safeguards against this danger.

A lawyer & a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at [email protected]

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

By Richard Odusanya

In recent days, as our nation continues to navigate layers of political, economic, and security upheavals, I found myself reflecting deeply on the question of identity—both personal and national. In that contemplative moment, the idea of Make Nigeria Great Again (MNGA) crystallised in my mind. Not as a slogan of empty rhetoric, but as a framework for imagining a more resilient, morally grounded, and future-facing Nigeria.

At its core, MNGA draws from a belief that Nigeria once possessed—and still possesses the ingredients of greatness, but these strengths have been eroded by structural decay, leadership failures, weakened institutions, and a loss of collective purpose. The ambition of MNGA is, therefore, not merely to romanticise yesterday but to pursue a deliberate reinvention anchored in nationalist values, evidence-based policies, and a renewed sense of civic responsibility.

However, any honest pursuit of national renewal must carefully interrogate the emotional currents that drive it—especially nostalgia, for a “lost” glory. Psychologists describe this form of nostalgia as a coping mechanism triggered by trauma, instability, or prolonged disappointment. It can provide comfort by allowing individuals or societies to recall better days. Yet, uncritically embraced, nostalgia can become dangerous: it may idealise the past, obscure historical truths, or create paralysis when forward-thinking is most needed.

My own recent experiences brought this tension home in a personal way. After a series of emotional setbacks over the past few weeks, I recognised how easy it is to retreat into memories of beer seasons. The past becomes a refuge when the present feels overwhelming. But dwelling too long in yesterday can chain the soul—restricting our ability to see the opportunities and responsibilities of today.

Thankfully, Scripture provides a balanced perspective. While Ecclesiastes 7:10 cautions against declaring that “the former days were better than these,” the Bible repeatedly instructs us to remember God’s past faithfulness—not to idolise the past, but to draw strength for the journey ahead. Thus, memory becomes a tool for endurance, not escape; a compass, not a cage.

This interplay between memory and hope becomes even more relevant when examined against Nigeria’s current reality. In a naon where:

• A serving General can be murdered with no single arrest,
• Kidnappings occur with alarming frequency,
• Families like that of the late Ven. Achi are left traumatised and unanswered,
• And victims rescued “magically” remain nameless, while perpetrators remain
  faceless.
  It is inevitable that citizens begin to long for a “Nigeria that was”—a Nigeria where
  Safety, predictability, and community trust could be taken for granted.
  But longing alone is not a strategy. MNGA must therefore go beyond emotional
  remembrance and become a structured call to action. It demands that we:
  (1) Rebuild state authority and security architecture.
  (2) Restore meritocracy, integrity, and national values.
  (3) Reinvest in social cohesion and a shared destiny.
  (4) Reframe governance as stewardship rather than entitlement.
  (5) Re-anchor our hope in God while taking responsibility for the work required.
  Ultimately, MNGA must be a forward-looking vision shaped by lessons from the past,
  strength from the present, and faith in what is still possible. Nigeria’s greatness is not
  an archaeological relic to be dug up; it is a project requiring courage, accountability,
  and national rebirth.
  Our nostalgia should not become an escape from reality, but a contrast mirror that
  pushes us to insist on a beer future.

Nigeria Must (indeed be) Great Again/MNGA
@richardODUSANYA

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

By IfeanyiChukwu Afuba 

Four days after release of President Bola Tinubu’s nominees for appointment as ambassadors, the hullabaloo ignited by the list is yet to wane. It’s difficult to find any administrative procedure that generated as much furore in recent times. The harsh criticism of the 32-man ambassadorial list leaves you wondering if the angry comments were about a proposal to divide Nigeria into six countries.

A retired Permanent Secretary, Ambassador Joseph Keshi, wrote off some nominees as having no business with “diplomatic service.” The PDP called for the withdrawal of the list for failing democratic and moral test. For 2023 Labour Party presidential candidate, Peter Obi, some of the nominations were “shocking.”

Quite significantly, a member of the ruling party and former presidential campaign spokesman, Josef Onoh, registered an even stronger objection. Onoh wasted no time in forwarding a petition to the Senate alleging past acts of treachery against Bola Ahmed Tinubu by a candidate from the south-south. While the list features different shades of controversial public figures, three particular nominations stand out for their contentious reception.

Outrage over the serial unsuitability for appointment as heads of diplomatic missions appears to have some merit. A former INEC chief’s burden from the 2003 general election continues to follow him in the court of public opinion. Many Nigerians are not convinced that the electronic blackout which occured in the course of the presidential poll was accidental. The consequences of yet another bungled election cannot be over emphasised. Internally, Nigeria’s electoral and succession crises polarises the population. Externally, the shadow of instability diminishes and demarkets the country. Who wants to invest in a highly volatile State? And, conceding that there are small, inconsequential States that will not reject our ambassador – designates, what message is sent out by stigma – laden, state honours?

It is to be noted, though, that the APC government and supporters do not share the impression of a flawed 2023 poll. But their approval of the ballot has to contend with the assessment of independent observers. The international community is not only familiar with the poverty of Nigeria’s democracy values but has means of verifying adherence to standard processes. Just as with the current denials of threat to Christianity, global monitors are still able to establish a pattern of persecution against the Church in Nigeria.

By no means do these observations discount the reality of the environment under which the electoral body operates. A non-autonomous INEC is vulnerable to the vast power of the presidency. But an INEC leadership committed to Nigeria, rather than the government, can make a lot of difference. And there is the option of resignation when faced with unacceptable demands.

On the part of the social media – active nominees, there’s a propaganda issue. The candidates have since come to be associated with the noise factor; the concept of ringing bell. Their public engagement is often an overflow of reactions. But it’s not only an overflow of words. It is also about riot of words. In their differing styles and approaches, the political cum media activists display a pugnacious bent in their defence of government. More often than not, the choice of language is uncivil, disrespectful, abusive.

You can easily detect sneering intolerance of the opposition in it all. How would this indulgent disposition fit into the etiquettes of the diplomatic world? Aggressive behaviour and uncouth language are not the stuff of country image makers, which ambassadors are projected to be. Nor can the quarrelsomeness of two of the nominees be excused on the ground of media hazard. Minister of Information, Idris Mohammed and Special Adviser on Public Communication, Mr Sunday Dare are also engaged in regime dialogue. What makes the difference is the professionalism and sense of public service that attends their intervention.

The task for the President is to strike a healthy balance between the needs of the country and his leadership agenda. Clearly, the system creates room for political interest in foreign policy administration. The concept of non-career ambassador functions to accommodate this dimension of statecraft. Many people see the President’s ambassadorial list as a reward register. The beneficiaries are believed to be those who have made notable contributions in cash or kind to the present dispensation. Political patronage remains a universal language of power and for the President’s supporters, eligibility of appointees is his prerogative.

The Senate is expected to ratify the appointments without the least alteration. By the climate and circumstances of Nigeria’s democracy, the legislature is still subservient to the executive. To the shock of some observers, a former presidential media aide who was informally known as Special Assistant on Abuse was cleared for ministerial appointment by the Senate. His penchant for ranting was so revolting that any self – respecting institution would have thrown out the application instantly but it was granted. Those who argue that Tinubu should have used contracts and consultancy to reward deficient loyalists have probably not adverted to other possible considerations behind the ambassadorial move. 

In the prelude to the collapse of the Soviet Union in December 1991, Russian leader Boris Yeltsin was the outstanding player in the new power dynamics. He was virtually in rivalry with Mr Mikhail Gorbachev for control of the Soviet Union’s depleting power base. Once the half-hearted coup of August 1991 could not run on Russian territory, it was a given that the attempted putsch could not progress anywhere else in the communist state. But it was not just the size and resources of Russia that made Boris Yeltsin formidable. He was considered a strong student of power by his own right. His incremental challenge of Gorbachev’s authority was sure – footed and impactful. Reflecting on the assertive path of Yeltsin at the time, an international analyst considered the response that could have been his lot in the hey days of the Soviet Union. 

He would probably have been shot on a dark corner of a Moscow street one cold, winter night. It was thought that a decision on forced removal from party post fitted Nikita Khrushchev’s rulership. Leonid Brezhnev would have sent Yeltsin to Siberia. Brezhnev’s successor, Yuri Andropov would have made him ambassador to Burkina Faso! And there I paused; marveling at the witticism of the thought. The analogy of ambassadorial appointment as containment, indeed, punishment for power ambition, was particularly striking. Burkina Faso today can still be described as an impoverished, backward, underdeveloped state. By 1985, the year Andropov’s headship of the Soviet Union ended, it was third world of the third world! Of no strategic geo-political, mineral or maritime importance, appointment to such a remote, semi rural outpost was not just redundant, but tellingly punitive.

Ambassadorial posting then, could be a form of exile. Exile, in this context, goes beyond physical distance from home. The motive behind the alienation from home front largely determines what kind of exile. For most low – level political actors, ambassadorial rank is a welcome elevation, regardless of posting. But for the principal calling the shots, the calculation tends between ideal and pragmatic. Tinubu, widely credited with gift of networking and reward for loyalty, does not fit a leader to use diplomatic assignment as punishment. A shrewd student of power, Tinubu seems to be repositioning towards actualising 2027.

Before America’s recent interest in Nigeria’s insecurity situation, the President already looked unstoppable, with opposition leaders unable to secure political parties where they will run. Now, his camp is faced with uncertainty by the prospects of America’s further involvement. It seems the case that Tinubu seeks to present a new face for his government, one that is accommodating and conciliatory. To that end, the President probably resolved to deal with the noise factor diminishing the presidency. How best to offload the rabble rousers, the discredited polemicists, the reversible propagandists, the scandal-plagued big names – without appearing to kick them out? Ambassadorial exile seems to offer a good solution.

If that is the reckoning, two more candidates are recommended for the clinical transfer. One is the professor of sectarian rites concern who will not give Nigerians breathing space until his religious dreams are cast in iron in the Constitution. The other is a bearded peace maker whose prayers at forest shrines, but for Nigerians’ faithlessness, would have made bandits humane and lovable. Their ambassadorial migration will save the polity from noise and advocacy pollution and help the President concentrate on governance.

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

​The ascension of a new political dispensation invariably brings with it a moment of national reckoning — a chance to elevate the discourse, recalibrate ethical standards, and signal a departure from the transactional politics of the past. 

However, the emerging pattern of appointments under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu suggests not a departure but a deepening commitment to a system where moral currency is devalued and ethical principles are rendered elastic to accommodate political expediency. 

The contemplation of high office for figures like Reno Omokri, Femi Fani-Kayode (FFK), and — in the spirit of political reward — Prof. Mahmood Yakubu, serves as a shocking parade of this alarming elasticity. These potential or actual appointments are not merely personnel choices; they are a polemical statement on the administration’s moral choices and priorities.

The nominations, whether actual ambassadorial postings or symbolic high-level appointments, collectively represent the canonization of toxicity, inconsistency, and institutional compromise. Scrutinizing these choices reveals the moral landscape of our Fourth Republic and a troubling absence of integrity.

​The Case of the Serial Defector: Femi Fani-Kayode. Fani-Kayode embodies the apex of political transactionalism in Nigeria. A figure defined less by policy contribution and more by the rapidity and vehemence of his political defections, his public conduct has been a masterclass in rhetorical aggression often untethered from verifiable fact. His entire political career is a testimonial to the notion that ideological consistency is a weakness, and loyalty is a commodity to be traded at the highest prevailing market price.

​To elevate such a personality to a position of executive or diplomatic trust- a role that demands measured diplomacy, strategic silence, and profound ethical consistency- is to mock the very essence of public service. What message is being sent when the most polarizing, caustic, and inconsistent voice is rewarded with a platform of national representation? 

It is a stark affirmation that loyalty, however opportunistic, trumps integrity, however scarce. It confirms that the apparatus of state is merely a lucrative holding company for political mercenaries who pivot their allegiance based on proximity to power, thereby rewarding the very instability that plagues Nigeria’s democratic ethos.​

The Cynical Rhetorician: Reno Omokri. Omokri’s candidature for a high-level post – especially one demanding diplomatic finesse and polish – presents an equally distressing ethical anomaly. His brand of engagement is rooted in digital gutters, characterized by highly divisive, personalized, and often inflammatory rhetoric. 

While political punditry demands robust commentary, Omokri’s brand output frequently veers into the realm of vehement, unprincipled partisanship where constructive criticism is forsaken for pathological opposition or fanatical defense, depending on who may be the paymaster. ​The reward of a diplomatic or executive position for such a profile is not just a lapse in judgment; it is a strategic error that legitimizes online toxicity as a prerequisite for national service. 

Diplomacy is the art of mediation, nuance, and bridge-building. By contrast, Omokri’s public identity is built on confrontation and morbid partisanship. To appoint him a diplomat is to inject a crude political pugilist into a refined arena of decent engagement, signaling to the world that Nigeria’s governing philosophy rewards the aggressive pursuit of influence over the diligent maintenance of national respectability.

​The Institutional Liability: Prof. Mahmood Yakubu. ​The inclusion of Prof. Mahmood Yakubu in this discourse strikes at the heart of institutional integrity. As the Chairman of the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) during a highly contentious 2023 general election, his management of the process was met with widespread, credible allegations of systemic failures, inconsistencies, and a disturbing lack of transparency regarding the deployment of technology.

​While the specific facts of his tenure are subject to ongoing debate, the critical issue here is one of perception and rehabilitation. Offering a figure who presided over an election that polarized the nation and severely tested the confidence of the populace in democratic processes, any high-level appointment immediately following that tenure – be it ambassadorial or otherwise- is an egregious act of political patronage. 

It undermines the essential neutrality of the electoral body and sends a chilling message: that the compromise of institutional integrity and independence during a critical period of national transition can be tacitly forgiven and even celebrated with a political compensation. This potential action utterly desecrates the fragile autonomy of INEC and mocks the millions who sought but were deprived a free and transparent democratic exercise.​

The Triumph of Expediency: These three individuals – FFK, Omokri and Yakubu – form a tripod supporting a governance structure built on morally debased elasticity. Their collective representation reveals a system prioritizing political reward, transactional loyalty, and aggressive partisanship over competence, consistency, and ethical rectitude.​

My title, “Parading the Elasticity of Moral and Ethical Principles”, is not hyperbolic or poetic licence: it is diagnostically accurate. Any administration that seeks to secure its legitimacy and stabilize a fractured nation must, first and foremost, demonstrate fidelity to unimpeachable ethical standards.  But by elevating and exporting onto the global stage figures whose public history is characterized by flip-flopping, toxic rhetoric, or institutional compromise, the current government is doing the exact opposite. 

What these nominations signal is that character deficits are not impediments to high office but, paradoxically, their very enabling qualifications. This practice does not merely undermine governance; it actively subverts the moral foundations of the Nigerian state, replacing principle with the raw, cynical calculus of political gratification and transaction.

Haruna Yahaya Poloma.

[email protected].

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