By Dr. Monday O. Ubani, SAN

The recent publication by the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) of the personal particulars and credentials of candidates for the 2027 Presidential Election has once again reignited public debate over the constitutional educational qualification required for election to the office of the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

The immediate issue that has dominated public discourse, particularly regarding one of the candidates, is whether a presidential aspirant who submits only a university degree, without attaching his Primary School Leaving Certificate or Senior Secondary School Certificate, has thereby violated the Constitution or the Electoral Act.

This question calls for a careful legal analysis rather than partisan commentary or political sentiment.
Section 131(d) of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999 (as amended), provides that a person shall be qualified for election to the office of President if:

“He has been educated up to at least School Certificate level or its equivalent.”

This constitutional provision is significant, not merely for what it says, but equally for what it does not say.
The Constitution does not require a university degree as a qualification for the office of President. Equally, it does not expressly require the submission of a Primary School Leaving Certificate or a Senior Secondary School Certificate as a condition precedent for nomination.

Rather, what the Constitution requires is educational attainment up to School Certificate level or its equivalent.
The expression “School Certificate or its equivalent” is itself defined in Section 318(1) of the Constitution. The definition is considerably broader than the mere possession of a WAEC or NECO certificate. It includes:

possession of a Secondary School Certificate or its equivalent;
Grade II Teacher’s Certificate;
City and Guilds Certificate;
or education up to Secondary School Certificate level;
and, in certain circumstances, the ability to read, write, understand and communicate effectively in English coupled with relevant experience or service prescribed by the Constitution.

The Constitution therefore adopts a substantive rather than a purely documentary approach to educational qualification.
This constitutional interpretation has received judicial approval.
In PDP v. INEC & Ors (2014) 17 NWLR (Pt. 1437) 525, the Supreme Court emphasised that the expression “School Certificate or its equivalent” must be construed in accordance with the expanded definition contained in Section 318(1) of the Constitution. The Court recognised that the constitutional requirement is not confined to the production of a WAEC or NECO certificate alone but extends to the broader qualifications expressly recognised by the Constitution.

Consequently, courts are enjoined to determine questions of qualification by reference to the Constitution itself rather than by importing additional requirements not contemplated by the Constitution.

Similarly, the Supreme Court has consistently maintained that where the Constitution has prescribed qualifications for elective office, neither the legislature nor any administrative agency can enlarge or diminish those qualifications. See Action Congress v. INEC (2007) 12 NWLR (Pt. 1048) 222.

Ordinarily, admission into a recognised university presupposes prior educational qualifications sufficient for admission.
Accordingly, possession of a recognised Bachelor’s Degree ordinarily constitutes strong prima facie evidence that the holder has attained education beyond School Certificate level. While such a degree may not automatically establish every historical step in the holder’s educational journey, it undoubtedly serves as compelling evidence that the constitutional threshold of education has been surpassed.

It is therefore difficult to argue that the Constitution intended a university graduate to be regarded as educationally unqualified merely because copies of earlier certificates were not attached to nomination papers.
Indeed, the Constitution nowhere provides that every educational qualification previously obtained must accompany a candidate’s nomination documents. To read such an obligation into Section 131(d) would amount to importing into the Constitution a requirement that its framers deliberately omitted.

The Electoral Act 2026 requires every candidate to submit personal particulars and credentials to INEC for publication. The purpose is to promote transparency and afford interested persons an opportunity to scrutinise the information supplied and, where appropriate, institute a pre-election action challenging any false information or constitutional disqualification within the period prescribed by law.
However, the Electoral Act cannot enlarge or diminish the qualifications expressly prescribed by the Constitution. The Supreme Court has repeatedly affirmed that where the Constitution has stipulated qualifications for elective office, neither legislation nor administrative practice can add to or subtract from those constitutional requirements.

The Electoral Act cannot properly be interpreted as imposing a constitutional obligation upon every presidential candidate to submit every educational certificate obtained from primary school upwards.
The real legal issues, therefore, ought not to be whether primary or secondary school certificates were attached to the nomination papers.
Rather, the proper constitutional questions are:
(a).Has the candidate established that he has been educated up to at least School Certificate level or its equivalent?
(b).Has the candidate supplied any false information in the affidavit or documents submitted to INEC?
(c).Are any of the credentials submitted forged, fabricated or otherwise invalid?
(d).Does the evidence establish constitutional disqualification?

These are the questions contemplated by both the Constitution and the Electoral Act.
Nigerian appellate courts have consistently distinguished between the absence of a particular document and proof of constitutional qualification. The two are not necessarily synonymous.

Where, however, a candidate knowingly supplies false information or submits forged certificates, the Constitution and the Electoral Act provide adequate remedies.
In Modibbo v. Usman & Ors (2019) LPELR-47095(CA), the Court of Appeal reaffirmed that where false information relating to qualification is established, the courts possess the constitutional authority to impose the legal consequences prescribed by law.

It is equally important to appreciate the constitutional role of INEC.
INEC is essentially an administrative body. Its constitutional responsibility is to receive nomination papers, publish candidates’ particulars and conduct elections in accordance with the Constitution and the Electoral Act.
Questions concerning constitutional qualification, false declaration or forged credentials ultimately fall within the exclusive province of the courts exercising constitutional jurisdiction. Indeed, under the present electoral framework, such disputes are principally determined as pre-election matters.

Transparency nevertheless remains an indispensable democratic value.
Although the Constitution does not compel a candidate to submit every educational certificate obtained throughout his academic career, nothing prevents a candidate from voluntarily producing additional documents where public concerns arise regarding his educational background.
Such openness promotes public confidence and strengthens the integrity of the electoral process.

However, political transparency should not be confused with constitutional compulsion. Courts must resist the temptation to impose obligations that the Constitution itself has not prescribed.
Ultimately, constitutional adjudication must remain anchored on the text of the Constitution rather than public opinion, political rivalry or emotional considerations.

In conclusion, Section 131(d) of the Constitution requires educational attainment up to School Certificate level or its equivalent, not necessarily the production of every educational certificate acquired during one’s academic journey.

Where a candidate presents a recognised university degree, that qualification ordinarily constitutes strong prima facie evidence that he has attained education beyond the constitutional minimum.
Accordingly, the mere omission of primary or secondary school certificates from documents submitted to INEC does not, without more, establish a violation of either the Constitution or the Electoral Act.
If, however, competent judicial proceedings establish that any credential submitted is forged, false or incapable of satisfying the constitutional requirement, the law provides adequate remedies, including disqualification where appropriate.

In constitutional adjudication, evidence, not speculation, conjecture or political sentiment remains the bedrock upon which judicial determination must rest.
Ruminate on these before approaching the bench!

Dr. Monday O. Ubani, SAN
Legal Practitioner/ Constitutional Lawyer & Public Policy Analyst.

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

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“History, it appears, cannot escape hunger. In the time it takes you to read this sentence, someone will have died of it. On a daily basis twenty-four thousand people die of hunger or diseases associated with it; that is a death every 3.6 seconds. As on every other day, on September 11, 2001, when terrorists murdered 2,973 people in the United States, almost twelve times that number, an estimated 35,000, were killed by hunger around the world.”  – (Hunger: A Modern History by James Vernon).

Hunger may be as ancient as the Garden of Eden, but no president is elected to chronicle its history; our president was elected to kill it.

One of the world’s most pressing humanitarian challenges is hunger. The phenomenon cuts across the globe. The difference lies in how each leader tackles the problem without dismissing it as one of the existential maladies that the human race must simply live with as its fate.

Rather than brushing the problem aside, many world leaders have demonstrated that through the right policies and political will-power, hunger can be significantly reduced if not totally eradicated.

Examples of nations that have tackled the problem of hunger frontally abound. The United States of America, Canada, Japan, Germany, Australia and many other Scandinavian nations have shown enough experiences that through well-articulated strategies, citizens can have access to adequate nutritional food chains. It must be stated however, that their wonderful strategies notwithstanding, these nations have not been able to completely eliminate hunger. Their efforts, however, provide valuable lessons for the rest of the world.

In the case of the United States, the government tackles the problem of hunger through a combination of food assistance programmes, agricultural support and partnership with charity organisations. The old Food Stamps project now known as the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), is one example of such programmes, which assist low income earners to purchase food each month.

Also, the school breakfast and lunch programmes make nutritious food available to children of school age, while the Women, Infants and Children (WIC) programme gives nutritional support to expectant mothers, new mothers and young children. The programme is designed purely to cater to the nutritional needs of the vulnerable groups in American society.

The God’s Own country complements the above with robust investments in agricultural support through research, subsidies, crop insurance, training and access to modern-day farming technologies. The immediate results include increased food production, stable food prices and a sustainable food supply and distribution system that ensures that nutritious food gets to the needy.

The Canadian Government, on its own part, combines social welfare programmes with strong agricultural policies of food banks, nutrition programmes and income support initiatives to assist families facing financial difficulties. This is just as the government encourages sustainable farming policies to ensure food security with minimal effects on the environment.

Other European countries like Germany, Sweden, Norway and Denmark are also not lagging behind. They initiate and maintain robust safety nets that reduce poverty, drastically, having identified it as the genesis of hunger. These countries put in place programmes that support their unemployed population, child welfare benefits, good healthcare delivery systems and housing projects to meet the needs of the vulnerable members of their different countries. In addition, they lay emphasis on policies that reduce food waste by encouraging supermarkets and other manufacturers to donate their surpluses to charities instead of discarding them.

The stories from Japan and Australia in ensuring stable food supplies through technological innovations, effective agricultural systems and adequate preparation for natural disasters, are not different. Their investments in irrigation, research, climate-resistant crops, and modern farming implements have gone a long way in ensuring that their farmers keep producing food even under the most inclement environmental conditions.

Apart from the above national efforts, it is on record that many countries collaborate, through international bodies, to improve world food security. These countries support humanitarian food assistance, agricultural development and emergency relief in countries hit by natural disasters, war and other economic crises. The collaboration recognises that hunger is a global challenge that requires a collective action.

In all this, hunger, we dare say, has not been completely eradicated. Even the wealthiest nations of the world still experience the phenomenon. The rising cost of living, economic inequality, global unemployment and climate change have all combined to ensure that hunger remains a threat to humanity. The reality notwithstanding, consistent efforts of sane governments of the world and the private individuals and organisations, farmers and communities alike, have ensured that millions do not go to bed hungry.

The lesson from the experiences of America and other developed nations of the world, is that ending hunger goes beyond producing enough food. The task, more than anything else, demands deliberate effective government policies, strong and sustainable social welfare programmes, and an enduring partnership between the government and the private sectors.

By sustaining these efforts and adapting to emerging challenges, nations can continue moving closer to the goal of ensuring that every citizen has access to sufficient, safe, and nutritious food.

Coming home to the African continent, many countries such as Ethiopia, Rwanda, Kenya, Ghana and Morocco, are making huge investments in agriculture through the provision of improved seeds, fertilizer, irrigation facilities, farm machinery and extension services. They have also introduced programmes that encourage modern farming techniques with the aim of increasing food production.

Several other African nations are also promoting climate-smart agriculture to assist farmers to cope with droughts, unpredictable rainfall and floods. They have also introduced drought-resistant crops, established efficient and cost-effective irrigation systems to enable farmers to maintain production irrespective of the climate conditions.

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Realising that social protection programmes are key in the fight against hunger, African countries such as South Africa, Ethiopia, Kenya, and Ghana, provide cash transfers, school feeding programmes, food and nutritional support to vulnerable families. The initiatives have helped in keeping their children in schools with adequate security networks to guarantee their safety.

I have elected to embark on this long homily of sorts to drive home my consternation with the recent utterances of President Ahmed Bola Tinubu on the gnawing hunger issue ravaging the land. But, while worrying sick of his rather rash comments at a recent meeting with some Bishops, I remembered four professors under whomever tutelage I was privileged to have been under in my long forage for knowledge. 

I met the first three during my undergraduate days at the Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU), Ile-Ife. The last was my Head of Department at the University of Ibadan (UI) when I ran a post-graduate degree at the premier university.

Professors Oyin Ogunba, Wole Ogundele, B.M. Ibitokun and Ademola Dasylva were unanimous in their chracterisation in Oral Literature. The four intellectuals agreed in their teachings that what a character says tells more about the character than what people say about him.

Again, they also submitted that closely related to that identikit profiling is what the character does. Thus, in their scholarship, the four egg heads were of the view that a person’s real identity is summarised in the tripod of: what the person says, what he does, and what people say about him.

Professors are more than philosophers. The Yoruba Language makes a distinction between a doctoral degree (Ph.D.) holder, a philosopher (Amòye) and a professor (Òjògbón or Alámòdájú). The tripod characterisation template these academics taught decades ago finds its relevance in our today’s leaders. Could those men of letters and those before them have had our President in mind when they submitted that what a man says speaks more to his personality?

I don’t know how much of our traditional philosophy President Tinubu knows. I am also in a dilemma here not to contradict the dictates of the Yoruba ethos of Omolúàbí by teaching an elder the basic rudiments of the worldview of his people.

I say this because of the huge temptation to say here that President Tinubu’s recent utterances about hunger in Nigeria purely negates Yoruba’s view about hunger and poverty. In my place, we don’t say that the mouth of an elder smells. You would merely inhale the odious smell grim faced and move on. You can see my dilemma!

President Tinubu hosted some senior clerics from the Catholic Church last week. The Bishops, in their characteristic ways of telling truth to power, told the President that the streets are not smiling. In accordance with their callings as true servants of God, the Catholic Bishops told the president that there is hunger in the land. They talked about the failing economy, the non-existent security and the fact that life in Nigeria under Tinubu is becoming brutish. They were firm, direct and almost acerbic!

The Bishops stopped, exchanged glances and gave one another thumbs up for delivering their message in its raw form. They waited for a sympathetic and remorseful President to react. They were sure that Mr. President would be humane enough to appreciate the fact that what they delivered was the true picture of things in Nigeria under his presidency. They were fatally wrong!

You must give it to President Tinubu: diplomacy is not one of his strong points. And he did not disappoint. Looking directly into the eyes of the cassock-clad Bishops, he declared: “Before I was born there was hunger…” He did not stop there. The President went ahead to lecture the Catholic Bishops, and any other person(s) contemplating using hunger as ‘blackmail’, the essence of the Church. Tinubu directed the Bishops to go back to their parishes and feed their parishioners. That, Mr. President reasoned, was why the Church was established!

What does the above statement by President Tinubu tell us about the man who is in charge of our affairs? Again, my old teachers mentioned above gave the answer decades ago: what a man says tells more about his character!

Then you may wish to ask: who is President Tinubu? Or, what sort of man is President Tinubu?

Call it the Stylistics Avoidance Strategy, Yoruba upbringing forbids me to say that President Tinubu is completely detached from his roots. Kò gba enu mi (my mouth is not wide enough to say that – pardon the transliteration).

In my place, when a ‘child’ finds himself at this kind of crossroads, he is advised to resort to the tradition of his people, by seeking the consent of the elders to speak in parables and allegories. This is what I will do here to present the character portfolio of President Tinubu without being accused of impudence.  Ìbà èyin tó ní ogbón (respect to those who are wise).

Yoruba tradition (I hate to do this – teaching an elder the ways of his people), philosophy and worldview regard hunger as a bad phenomenon. One of the strongest indications of that stance is embedded in the legend of Orunmila, who, before the creation of humanity, fasted for 400 years, so that his offspring would never experience hunger.

This act is one of the reasons why Orunmila is called Eleri ipin (the one who witnesses destiny). And that also is why Orunmila, when provoked by his child, Olowo, and decided to go back to heaven, he gave the Ifa Corpus, Ogbe-Sa, specifically as the Odu for Orisa Oko, the deity in charge of land fertility and bountiful harvests, to his children so that humanity will not experience hunger

A man’s religion is his life. The entire Osa-Meji or Osa-Eleye Corpus in Ifa is dedicated to the relationship between man and Our Mothers (Witches), whom Orunmila enjoined humanity to respect, worship, and adore so that they would ensure abundance of rain to water what the farmers planted and banish hunger in the land. Most Yoruba folktales on hunger and drought are woven round the intervention of the women folks at proffering solutions.

Yes, it is true that before President Tinubu was born, there had been hunger. Even after he completes his assignment here on earth, there will still be hunger. But it is equally true that the one, that is if it is given that President Tinubu is a pure Yoruba in flesh and blood, who knew humanity (Eleri ipin) before creation, sacrificed his first four hundred years to ensure that hunger is never a scourge on humanity. The President’s insensitivity to the problem as well as his attitude to those who called his attention to the problem has left much to be desired.

Every man must be attuned to his background. Hunger is never a phenomenon anybody should use to play politics. The Yoruba worldview does not support that. President Tinubu cannot hide under the fact that hunger is not a new thing to continue to shift his responsibility to the abstract, – time immemorial!

The President should be encouraged to study the philosophy of his people. It is not for fun that the elders of our land posit that: “Ebi ńpa mí ò ṣe é fi ìfẹ́ sọ” (nobody whistles to announce hunger). Those before us sang about hunger as an inimitable deity which kills a man (Kò sí ìmàle bí ebi; ebi leè pa ènìyàn kú). They did not stop there. They added that when a man is hungry, nothing makes sense to him (Ebi kìí wo’nú kí òrò miran tún wo’nú). Philosophers, they were, our forebears.

They knew from the time of creation, as seconded in Ifá verses, that for a man to have a clear mind to address his problems, hunger should not be part of his worries. That is why they declared that the greatest sacrifice a man can make is Ebo Olúbòbòtiribò (sacrifice of the mouth). The owners of the land say: Òrìsà bí òfun kò sí, Ojoojúmó níí gba ebo l’ówó eni (there is no deity like the oesophagus, it takes sacrifice daily from man). President Tinubu should be familiar with that; he is one of the elders of the land.

But what if the President does not subscribe to the dictates of the African Indigenous Religion (AIR), Ifa, or the embedded principles of the Yoruba proverbs? What happens if President Tinubu, a devout Muslim, believes only what the Islamic religion teaches?

I dare say here that the Islamic religion is not an alibi for the President to shift the failures of his rudderless leadership to his philosophy of pre-birth hunger scourge in Nigeria. There are two Hadiths of the Holy Prophet Mohammed (PBUH), which teach that hunger, even of the most despicable, should not be excused under whatever guise.

In The One Who Gave Water to a Thirsty Dog and was Pardoned by Allah, as recorded in ‘Umar Sulayman al-Ashqar’s (Jan 1, 1940- August 10, 2012) book: “Authentic Stories by Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ),” the Salafi scholar narrates two teachings of The Prophet (PBUH) as recorded in Hadith 126 thus:

“A man suffered from intense thirst while on a journey until he found a well. He climbed down into the well and drank until his thirst was quenched. After he climbed out of the well, he saw a dog lolling out its tongue and eating the moistened earth out of thirst. The man said, ‘This dog has suffered from thirst as I had.’ So he climbed back down into the well, filled his shoe with water, then clenched it between his teeth while he climbed out of the well and let the dog drink. Allah appreciated this act of kindness and pardoned him. Then the Companions around the Prophet (ﷺ) said, ‘Allah’s Messenger, is there a reward for us, even for (serving) such animals?’ He (ﷺ) said, ‘Yes, there is a reward for service to any animate.’”

The second story is also similar: “A prostitute saw a dog circling around a well on a hot day with his tongue hanging out, due to thirst. She drew water for it in her shoe and she was pardoned (for her sins because of this act of hers).”

The morals of the two narratives above should not be lost in discourse. In the Islamic religion, we all know that the animal, dog, is forbidden, just as it frowns on prostitution when proven beyond all reasonable doubt. But to show that humanity comes first before any other consideration, The Prophet (PBUH), used the two most forbidden symbols (dog and prostitution) in Islam to illustrate that human kindness to any object in distress can earn one Aljannah.

The lesson here, if I may be Mr. President’s Imam for today, is that if Allah could forgive a prostitute who gave water to a thirsty dog, how much more a President who ensures that the citizenry does not go to bed in hunger? This is why the elders of our land intone that Ìwà l’èsìn (a man’s character is his religion)!

This is the morality of African proverbs and hermeneutics. President’s Tinubu’s response to the hunger-cry of the Catholic Bishops smacks of leadership insensitivity; very unfeeling. The abundance in the Presidential Villa or at Bourdillon does not translate to abundance in the land. Hunger walks on all fours on our streets. President Tinubu is too distant from the masses; his utterances and arrogance-in-power show that!

Only a synthetic leader will dismiss the threatening problem of mass hunger as an antediluvian phenomenon the way President Tinubu did. That is sad for him; that is sad for his Presidency and more importantly, that is sad for humanity.

Leaders emerge to solve problems, including problems that predate their ascendancy. Nobody expects President Tinubu to solve all the problems of Nigeria in one day. Nobody thinks he should or must solve all the problems. As a matter of fact, many of us believe that he does not even have the basic understanding of what the problems are in the first instance before talking about solutions.

It is therefore a confirmation of his archetypal trait of a leader who is completely disconnected from the reality of the time he rules, for president Tinubu to submit that hunger predates his birth, and as such, he has no solution to it!

If after two and half years as a senator, eight years as a governor, sixteen years as opposition leader; eight years as a National Leader of a ruling party, and ‘eleven’ years in the saddle as the President (he told us unequivocally that he was Buhari…), Tinubu still does not have the control over the trajectory of Nigeria’s population development, then on what basis is he seeking a second term? Is it to continue to perpetuate ignorance? Or to continue to shift his responsibility? 

Methinks the best approach would have been to take a cue from other world leaders who have successfully ameliorated the hunger problem in their land with sincerely smart policies beyond the prebendal act of sharing a few bags of poor quality rice at random.

In addition to this, I think the Tinubu presidency should become more stringent in its approach to tackling the problem of terrorism which has driven farmers farther from the land, thereby worsening the hunger crisis. Enough of the kids’ glove treatment of rehabilitating and reintegrating children of the fallen archangel who, regardless of how well they are treated, will never toe the path of peace.

A man must know the limits of his strength. Tinubu’s response to the hunger in the land and the uneven tract in the political scene shows a man at the end of his tether. If he has no more tricks in his bag to address the problems his inefficiency has created, he owes us one obligation: QUIT the race!

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

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(A Respectful Rejoinder To Monday Ubani, PhD, SAN)

By Sylvester Udemezue

(1). INTRODUCTION

I have read the intervention credited to my respected learned senior, Dr Monday Onyekachi Ubani, SAN, under the headline: “Supreme Court Circular Does Not Criminalise Calling Lawyers ‘Barrister’—Ubani SAN Says Directive Applies to Official Records, Not Social Usage.” With the greatest respect to the Learned Silk, the proposition that the recent directive of the Supreme Court does not create a criminal offence is correct but largely beside the point. No reasonable interpretation of the directive suggests that the Chief Registrar of the Supreme Court has purported to create a criminal offence, prescribe a punishment or convert the inappropriate use of “Barrister” as a prefix into a crime. The real issue is not whether saying “Barrister John Doe” has suddenly become a criminal offence. The real questions are:

(a). Whether “Barrister” is an appropriate title prefix before the name of a legal practitioner;

(b). Whether its use in that manner accords with the standards and traditions of the legal profession;

(c). Whether a subsisting professional decision has already pronounced upon the practice; and

(c). Whether the latest Supreme Court directive reinforces that established professional position.

On these questions, the answer is clear: the use of “Barrister” as a title prefix before a lawyer’s name is inappropriate, improper and unprofessional. The Supreme Court does not need to criminalise the practice before lawyers and members of the public can acknowledge that it is wrong.

Read Also: The Supreme Court’s Directive on the Use of the Title “Barrister”: My understanding, By Monday Ubani, SAN

(2). CRIMINALITY IS NOT THE ISSUE

The Learned Silk reportedly relies on section 36(12) of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999, which provides that no person shall be convicted of a criminal offence unless the offence is defined and the penalty prescribed in a written law. That constitutional principle is elementary, fundamental and indisputable. However, with respect, it does not resolve the question under discussion because not every improper, unprofessional, grammatically defective or socially inappropriate practice is necessarily a criminal offence. A practice may be professionally unacceptable without being criminal; administratively prohibited without being criminal; grammatically inappropriate without being criminal; contrary to etiquette without being criminal; or inconsistent with institutional standards without attracting imprisonment or a fine. For example, a lawyer may dress improperly before a superior court without thereby committing a criminal offence. A lawyer may submit an inadequately formatted court process, address the court improperly or breach an administrative filing requirement without necessarily becoming criminally liable. Yet, none of these ceases to be improper merely because the conduct has not been criminalised.

Accordingly, invoking section 36(12) of the Constitution answers a question that the Supreme Court directive did not ask. The memorandum does not purport to enact legislation. It does not define an offence. It prescribes no criminal penalty. Rather, it regulates professional and official usage within the institutional sphere of the Supreme Court. The report itself states that the memorandum, dated 13 July 2026 and signed by the Chief Registrar, conveys the direction of the Chief Justice of Nigeria that using “Barrister” as a prefix is inappropriate and inconsistent with the standards of professionalism expected within the Supreme Court. It consequently directs its discontinuance in official correspondence, records, documents, identity materials and other official engagements. That is the point: professional regulation and institutional propriety, not criminalisation.

(3). THE DIRECTIVE DID NOT CREATE THE PROFESSIONAL POSITION

The Supreme Court directive did not originate the proposition that “Barrister” should not be used as a title prefix. It merely restates and reinforces a position that had already received authoritative professional pronouncement. In the case of Nigerian Bar Association v. Ofomata (2017) 5 NWLR (Pt. 1557) 128 at 133, the Legal Practitioners Disciplinary Committee held that “The appellation of ‘Barrister’ as a title before the name of a legal practitioner is unprofessional and improper.” This is not an obscure social-media opinion. It is a reported decision of the statutory body (a Statutory Tribunal) charged with considering and determining allegations of professional misconduct against legal practitioners in Nigeria. Sections 11 and 12 of the Legal Practitioners Act establish the Legal Practitioners Disciplinary Committee (LPDC), regulate its proceedings and recognise the binding legal effect of its directions unless set aside in appeal. As I explained in my earlier article on this subject, the decision of the LPDC is not to be laughed off or ignored merely because an individual lawyer disagrees with it. The professional position remains that prefixing a lawyer’s name with “Barrister” is unprofessional and improper. Therefore, the recent directive of the Supreme Court should be understood against that background. It is not attempting to create a new crime. It is reinforcing an already established standard of professional nomenclature.

(4). “BARRISTER” DESCRIBES A PROFESSIONAL CAPACITY; IT IS NOT AN HONORIFIC PREFIX

The central error arises from treating the word “barrister” as though it belongs to the same grammatical and conventional category as “Mr,” “Mrs,” “Miss,” “Ms,” “Dr,” “Professor” or “Chief.” With due respect, it does not. A barrister is a person qualified to practise in a particular professional capacity. The word is principally a noun describing a member of the legal profession or a professional qualification. It is not ordinarily an honorific designed to be placed before a person’s name. There is nothing inherently wrong with associating the word “barrister” with the name of a lawyer. The objection is specifically to its use as a title prefix before a lawyer’s name. Thus, the following descriptions may be appropriate, depending on the context: (a). Mark Ojo, Barrister-at-Law; (b). Mark Ojo, Barrister and Solicitor of the Supreme Court of Nigeria; (c). Mark Ojo, Legal Practitioner; (d). Mark Ojo, Esq.; (e). Mr Mark Ojo; or (f). Mark Ojo, a lawyer. What is inappropriate is: (a). Barrister Mark Ojo; (b). Barr. Mark Ojo; or (c). Barrister Mrs Jane Ojo. As I stated in my 2017 surrejoinder, the question is not whether the word “barrister” may ever appear beside a lawyer’s name. It may. The issue is whether it should be converted into an honorific and placed before the name. That is the practice pronounced unprofessional and improper in NBA v. Ofomata.

(5). NO ONE IS MANDATING THE USE OF “ESQ.”

It is also necessary to correct another possible misunderstanding. No lawyer is required to use “Esq.” No one is being compelled or even advised to adopt any title whatsoever. A lawyer may simply use his or her name. The argument is only that where a person elects to use a professional description or title, it should be used appropriately, maturely and in accordance with accepted professional convention. Accordingly, a legal practitioner may write: (a). “Mark Ojo” without adding anything. He may also write: “Mark Ojo, Esq”. or: “Mark Ojo
Barrister and Solicitor of the Supreme Court of Nigeria”. What he ought not to write is: “Barrister Mark Ojo”. This distinction is important. The campaign against the inappropriate use of “Barrister” as a prefix is not a campaign to impose “Esq.” as a compulsory substitute. It is a call for restraint, maturity and professional correctness.

(6). WITH DUE RESPECT TO LEARNED SILK UBANI, OFFICIAL USAGE AND SOCIAL USAGE ARE NOT ENTIRELY DISCONNECTED FROM EACH OTHER

The Learned Silk is right to observe that the immediate operational scope of the Supreme Court memorandum concerns official correspondence, records, documents, identity materials and official engagements within or involving the Court. The circular should not be stretched beyond its wording. However, contrary to the learned silk’s submission, it does not follow that the use of “Barrister” as a prefix suddenly becomes grammatically, socially or professionally appropriate outside the registry. An official directive may have a defined institutional scope while also reflecting a broader professional standard. Besides, as earlier noted, the case of NBA V OFOMATA had declared use of barrister as a title prefix by lawyers to be unprofessional and inappropriate. Further, the Supreme Court has not claimed authority to punish every member of the public who casually calls a lawyer “Barrister.” Nor can a lawyer reasonably be blamed merely because an uninformed client, neighbour or acquaintance addresses him in that manner. The duty and responsibility lie on lawyers themselves to refrain from introducing or advertising or formally presenting themselves as “Barrister John Doe.” They should also, through courteous correction and proper personal example, discourage the perpetuation of the error. Members of the public mostly adopted the usage because lawyers themselves encouraged it. Many lawyers print “Barrister” or “Barr.” before their names on signboards, complimentary cards, social-media profiles, letterheads, wedding invitations, political posters and ceremonial programmes. It would therefore be disingenuous for the profession to create and promote the practice and later place the entire blame on members of the public. Professional reform must begin with lawyers.

(7). THE ABSENCE OF A CRIMINAL PENALTY DOES NOT CONFER PROPRIETY

The suggestion that the circular does not criminalise the usage may unintentionally distract from the essential distinction between legality in the narrow criminal sense and professional propriety. A person does not acquire a professional entitlement to do something merely because no criminal penalty has been prescribed for it. The absence of criminalisation does not transform an improper expression into a proper one; does not transform an unprofessional practice into professional conduct; does not transform a grammatical error into correct English; does not transform an unsuitable title into an appropriate honorific; or does not transform institutional indiscipline into acceptable professional behaviour. Therefore, the relevant question should not be, “Will anyone be imprisoned for calling a lawyer ‘Barrister’?” The proper question is, “Is ‘Barrister’ an appropriate title prefix before a lawyer’s name?” The answer supplied by NBA v. Ofomata and now reinforced institutionally by the Supreme Court directive is No.

(8). “INDEED, EVERYTHING IS WRONG WITH IT”

In my earlier intervention, I wrote that, indeed, everything is wrong with the use of “Barrister” as an honorific title before a lawyer’s name. I remain respectfully of that view. Used as a prefix, it is: (a). professionally inappropriate; (b). legally unsupported as a title prefix; (c). inconsistent with the reported decision in NBA v. Ofomata; (d). grammatically awkward; (e). socially pretentious and unnecessary; (f). alien to the established tradition from which the Nigerian legal profession substantially derives; and (g). capable of reducing a noble professional qualification to an instrument of vain self-advertisement. This does not mean that the word “barrister” is forbidden in every context. It is perfectly proper to describe a qualified person as a barrister, or to state that a person is a barrister and solicitor of the Supreme Court of Nigeria. What is objectionable is the invention of “Barrister” or “Barr.” as an honorific prefix.

(9). COMMENDATION TO THE SUPREME COURT

I commend the Supreme Court for taking this singular and important step. The directive by the Supreme Court will, to some extent, help restore sanity to a profession and to a society that has become unnecessarily and regrettably obsessed with vain, inflated and inappropriate titles. The legal profession ought to lead by example. Lawyers should be identified by the quality of their learning, integrity, advocacy, professional discipline and service to justice, not by the multiplication of ornamental title prefixes. A person does not become more learned, more competent or more respectable because “Barrister” is placed before his name. Indeed, the dignity of the legal profession lies not in self-conferred appellations but in fidelity to law, justice, ethics and honour.

(10). CONCLUSION

With profound respect, the Learned Silk’s clarification on the absence of criminal liability is correct but does not displace the real point. The Supreme Court circular does not criminalise the use of “Barrister” as a prefix. It does not need to. The circular is an administrative and professional directive that regulates official usage within its stated sphere; affirms that the prefix is inconsistent with expected professional standards; reinforces the subsisting professional pronouncement in NBA v. Ofomata; and provides the legal profession with another opportunity to abandon an immature and inappropriate practice. No one is required to use “Esq.” or any title at all. However, anyone who chooses to employ a title or professional description should do so correctly. Accordingly, although an uninformed member of the public commits no crime by casually saying “Barrister John,” a legal practitioner should neither adopt nor encourage “Barrister” as a title prefix. The issue is not criminality. The issue is correctness, propriety, professionalism and institutional discipline. And on that score, indeed, everything remains wrong with using “Barrister” as a prefix before a lawyer’s name.
Respectfully,
Sylvester Udemezue (Udems)
Proctor,
The Reality Ministry of Truth Law and Justice (TRM)
08021365545.
[email protected].
(02 August 2026)

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A grandson of Uganda’s former military ruler, Idi Amin Dada, is Aziz Abdul, better known as “Ringo.” Like his grandfather, the young Ugandan is a super-heavyweight boxer who competed at the Commonwealth Games, which ended yesterday, August 2. He left the ring at the weekend convinced that he had been denied victory by a biased referee. 

Reflecting on the defeat in an interview with the BBC, Ringo recalled the boxing philosophy his grandfather often preached: “Don’t try to win on points—you will be cheated. Knock out your opponent, so the referee has no choice.” Repeating the old man’s advice, Ringo told the BBC: “He said if you want to win, you have to knock out your opponent. There are only two decisions: win or lose. There is no draw here.” 

President Bola Tinubu appears to share something of that Idi Amin boxing creed. Addressing members of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria (CBCN) last week, he declared that “all is fair in politics” and warned that anyone seeking to take power from him must be prepared to fight (dirty) for it. “I asked for this job. Those who want to take it from me will have to fight for it. Politics is about competition, and we will wrestle to the finish,” he said.

My president’s wrestling metaphor for politics is intriguing. Having lived in the United States for years, he must have had American professional wrestling with all its theatrics, rivalries and violence in mind. His generation and mine will remember the legendary professional wrestler, Bulldog Brower, a bruising character who fought by every rule and beyond every rule. He fought fair when it suited him, fought dirty when it didn’t. He usually found a way to leave with his hand raised. 

I found much to ponder in Nicholas Sammond’s ‘Steel Chair to the Head: The Pleasure and Pain of Professional Wrestling’. In that collection, Henry Jenkins, in his ‘Never Trust a Snake’, argues that professional wrestling is less about fair competition than about the clash between the “perfect bastard” and the suffering hero. In bouts, spectators are not looking for justice; they crave spectacle: heroes and villains, betrayal and revenge; drama and a decisive ending.

French literary critic and semiotician, Roland Gérard Barthes (1915 –1980) made the same point decades earlier. Wrestling, he wrote, is not merely a sport but a “morality play.” People do not troop into arenas to watch an equitable contest. They come to witness good triumph over evil—or evil triumph over good—in a satisfying performance. Politics, especially in our clime, often follows the same script. Crowds cheer as combatants exchange blows, and when the curtain falls, someone is carried out of the arena or wobbles out. Sometimes it is only a political career that dies. Sometimes, as our history sadly shows, the casualties are flesh and blood.

In one of his memorable quotes, Idi Amin said “politics is like boxing – you try to knock out your opponents.” My president spoke of wrestling, not boxing. But wrestling has always borrowed something from boxing. That is why I bring into this story a boxing tragedy that occured in Lagos in June 1953.

Michael Gennaro, in his 2019 study, ‘Ban This Cruel Sport Boxing’, recounts one of the darkest episodes in Nigeria’s sporting history. At a promotion in Lagos, lightweight boxer Dapo “Homicide” Ilori was knocked out by Eddie Phillips. Assisted from the ring after complaining of exhaustion, Ilori died hours later at the General Hospital. Lagos newspapers splashed the tragedy across their front pages. The Nigerian Daily Times of July 1, 1953 carried the haunting headline, “The Last Punch.” The West African Pilot, also on July 1, chose an even more chilling epitaph: “He Walked from the Ring to the Graveyard.”

As if one tragedy was not enough, another boxer on the same fight card, same day, Billy Armstrong, was knocked unconscious and remained in a coma for five days. Deadly sport. Yet, as Gennaro notes, newspapers still described the evening as a thrilling spectacle for “the cheering crowd,” full of “fast and furious punching” and some of the finest boxing Lagos had witnessed.

That, perhaps, is the enduring lesson for politics. Look back at Nigeria’s previous electoral contests. Look, too, at what is unfolding in Osun State as it heads to the governorship poll on August 15. The spectators cheer; the contestants revel in combat; bullets and blows; arrests and protests. When the political war is over, victory will intoxicate the winners while the wounded are left sprawled in the ring—or carried to the hospital. In politics, the casualties are both physical and otherwise. People die. Careers are broken. Reputations are shattered. Friendships are killed and buried. Properties are lost. Popcorn in hand and mouth, the crowd moves on to the next theatre.

But, in talking tough before the Catholic bishops, Tinubu was merely stating the obvious. In 2023, he fought for that office and defeated a formidable coalition of friends and foes. Power was not gifted to him; he wrestled for it. And when he declared last week that “all is fair in politics,” he was repeating a political creed to everyone who cared to listen: to him, victory matters more than the finesse of legalese.

As the president huffed and puffed before the bishops, I told myself that the brass bracelet of power is already fastened to the wrist of this warrior-king. School or no school; certificate or no certificate; a ti t’òjé bọ olóòṣà lọ́wọ́, ó kú baba ẹni tí ó bọ́ọ̀. The mantle he wears from Borgu is woven with the threads of war. The one from Lagos bears the scent of the goddess of the sea. In Yorubaland, he would be called both ẹni ogun—the man of war—and ẹni oògùn—the man of medicine, mystery and magical power. In his shrine in pairs, steel and sorcery; money and the mint breathe life into each other. With one hand he wields the sword; with the other, he summons the charm.

And for those crying, “Ẹbi ń pa mí” (I am hungry), the president had something to chew on. He said: “There had been hunger in Nigeria before I was born.”

If you had working eyes, you would see in that statement a wide window into the president’s mind. It revealed a leader who sees hunger not as an emergency to be defeated but as an old national companion to be endured. The man elected to confront the country’s deepest afflictions reminded the hungry that their forebears also lived with empty stomachs. The message was stark: hunger predates me; endure it, as your ancestors did.

And he said so in the very presence of men commanded by their Lord to feed the hungry as a core duty of faith. Faith, in Islam and Christianity, demands that a leader actively advocate for the welfare of the poor. The president professes not Christianity but his wife is a Christian; some of his children are also. Could they read to him Matthew 25:35-40. When you give food to the hungry, you are doing it directly to God. There are other verses that bring light into the dark life of the hungry: Isaiah 58:10; even James 2:15-16.

The president is a Muslim. The Qur’an leaves little room for indifference to hunger. Alhaji Tinubu should ask his malam to take him through the Qur’an’s teachings on hunger and compassion. Surah Al-Insan (76:8–9) praises those who feed the needy purely for the sake of Allah. Surah Al-Balad (90:14–16) counts feeding the hungry among the steep paths of righteousness. Surah Al-Haqqah (69:33–34) condemns those who neither believed nor encouraged the feeding of the poor. And Surah Al-Ma’un (107:1–3) asks a haunting question: “Have you seen the one who denies the Judgment?” It answers: “It is he who repulses the orphan and does not encourage the feeding of the poor.”

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) reinforced the same ethic when he warned that a person is not a true believer if he goes to bed with a full stomach while knowing that his neighbour is hungry.

But the Villa is a long way from the streets bustling with hunger and beggars.

Those bishops, what was their reason for their invasion of the Villa? Someone said the bishops thought they could frighten the Commander-in-Chief into rethinking a second-term bid. Why should anyone expect the man who proclaimed Emilokan (It is my turn) three years ago and, against all odds, got it, to now quietly accept that his turn should end after only four years?

Since the beginning of man, not a few leaders have taken power for skin rather than the garment which Shakespeare knew it to be. In Measure for Measure, the playwright spoke of “man, proud man, dressed in a little brief authority.” But in Aso Rock, authority is rarely “brief” in the hard mind of those who possess it. Every occupant dreams of making the borrowed robe take on permanent skin. The truth is, for man, offices are much easier to enter than to leave. The Nigerian presidency, with all its seductive allure, has consistently proven to be the hardest office of all to relinquish.

So, even if the heavens were to decree, “Enough. One term is enough,” Tinubu would probably insist on another round. Power is honey; those who have tasted its comb seldom surrender it willingly.

The “I-will-spend-one-term” politician is rather like the man who whispers to a woman in bed: “I won’t go too far… Just the tip!” Liar. Experience teaches that such promises seldom survive contact with power. Appetite grows by what it feeds on. This husband will not be content with the usual ration. As it has been with his governorship in Lagos, Tinubu’s presidency gives every indication that it will not end after even the next term. He has shown every sign that he is not a man who embraces premature exits. Nigerians should prepare for a long haul.

Emilokan was the battle cry of entitlement in 2023. Three years later, it remains a governing creed. The President has made it abundantly clear that he has no intention of surrendering his mandate after one term. Not even a distinguished delegation of Catholic bishops heard from him the language of restraint or retreat.

Archbishop John Onaiyekan, who was part of the delegation, came away with one unmistakable impression: the President is determined to seek and win re-election at all costs. Tinubu himself had already unveiled his battle plan. Politics, he said, is wrestling. Wrestlers do not enter the arena expecting to lose.

Tinubu is already on his way to the battlefield. He has not pretended otherwise. He has sounded the bugle himself. Politics, after all, has often been described as war by other means. Nigerians should therefore prepare for a bruising contest this year and the next. There is nothing unusual about that. Every incumbent wants to remain incumbent.

What I found unusual was what came next from our man.

Having declared himself a wrestler, the President also volunteered to become the chief defender of the referee.

“The opportunities are equal. INEC is neutral. They have never intimidated anyone,” he told the bishops.

“If political opponents are crying wolf, maybe they are afraid of their own shadows and the company they keep, not me,” he added. 

That should worry every democrat.

In football, when a player begins defending the referee before the opening whistle is blown, suspicion naturally shifts from the terraces to the centre of the pitch. The same will be true of wrestling, Tinubu’s favourite sport. Contestants are expected to compete under the rules, not certify the neutrality of those enforcing them.

The cameras spared us the faces of the bishops as those heavy words fell from the lips of the emperor. The bishops urged the president to leave behind stronger democratic institutions and elections that are demonstrably free and fair. The President responded by personally certifying INEC’s neutrality and dismissing its critics as people “afraid of their own shadows.”

Should a contestant be the one vouching for the impartiality of the umpire?

If the ancient Romans and the great English jurist, Sir Edward Coke, could hear the president, they would remind him of the enduring maxim: nemo judex in causa sua—no one should be a judge in his own cause. A litigant does not write the judge’s character reference. A footballer does not certify the referee’s neutrality. Neither should a presidential contestant become the electoral commission’s public relations officer.

If I were one of his real opponents, I would fasten my seat belt because a turbulence is ahead. As the incumbent, Tinubu enjoys enormous structural advantages. He commands the prestige of office, the machinery of the federal government and the immense powers that accompany the presidency. He (possibly) has INEC, he has the NURTW, he has the police, the army and all their guns and goons. He owns all the monies in our pockets and bank accounts. His opponents know this. That is why they cannot afford to fight only the battle they see. They must also anticipate the battle they do not see.

That takes me back to the wrestler many younger Nigerians may never have heard of: Dick “Bulldog” Brower.

For readers too young to remember him, Brower was one of professional wrestling’s greatest villains in the 1970s to early 80s. Cruel, ruthless and delightfully unpredictable, he was the archetypal heel—the bad man the crowd loved to hated; the villain who delighted in being disliked.  Opponents he could not beat, Brower bit, his savage teeth deep in their flesh. The man’s greatest rival was the immensely popular Mighty Igor, a fan favourite whose strength and simplicity made him the embodiment of virtue inside the ring.

One famous 1975 contest between the two has survived as a lesson in strategy. Brower realised that he could not defeat Igor in a straightforward fight. So he changed the contest. Instead of concentrating on his opponent, he turned on Igor’s manager, Ivan Kalmikoff, beating him mercilessly before the horrified crowd. It was psychological warfare. The attack drove Igor into a blind rage. Forgetting the referee, the rules and even the championship itself, Igor pummeled Brower without restraint. The spectators roared. Justice, it seemed, had been done. But wrestling has its own logic. Igor was disqualified. Brower, though battered and beaten, retained his championship belt.

There is a lesson there for Nigeria’s opposition.

Tinubu did not become President by underestimating his opponents or by respecting the rules and the law. Nor did he get there by expecting them to play according to his preferred script. He understands politics as combat, not conversation. He said as much when he hosted those bishops. Anyone hoping to defeat him must therefore resist the temptation to fight by the rules. 

The opposition should remember Brower and Igor. In politics, as in wrestling, there are traps laid by the foxy. A careless opponent can win the applause of the crowd and still lose the contest. It happened to Idi Amin’s grandson at the weekend. 

When Tinubu stood before the Catholic bishops and declared that “all is fair in politics,” he was not just speaking about the next election. He was advertising his understanding of power. He was telling friend and foe alike that he intends to remain champion even if the poll says otherwise. Whether one admires or detests that philosophy is another matter. What no one should do is pretend not to have heard him.

The president’s enemies are saying that a president should never preach a politics of “anything goes.” They say that is the implication of President Tinubu’s declaration that “all is fair in politics.” The occupant of the highest office in the land should elevate our democratic culture, not legitimise the law of the jungle. Democracy is meant to be a contest of ideas, principles and programmes, not a boxing or wrestling ring where victory justifies every blow and the loudest cheers drown out the cries of those left battered on the canvas.

But the man who set the whole village ablaze will always have admirers who praise the warmth of the flames. Tinubu’s fans have asked me to tell you that if you dislike what the president said, you can do what Fuji General, Kollington Ayinla, once advised: go to the nearest police station and lodge a complaint with the DPO. Ìpàkọ́ ò gboṣùtì, orí elégàn ló bàjẹ́. The back of the head does not hear a hiss; it is the head of the mocker; the scoffer’s head, that has gone bad.

Where do I stand? I will not end without firing a shot in the arm. When politics is embraced as a blood sport where “all is fair,” its participants should remember the warning etched into Nigeria’s sporting history: the boxing tragedies of Lagos in June 1953. Every contest promises applause, but not every victor survives the victory. Some fights end with “The Last Punch.” Others end with a man who, in the unforgettable words of the West African Pilot, “walked from the ring to the graveyard.” Politics fought as war can consume even its winners.

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

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By Babafemi Ojudu

Love him or loathe him, VeryDarkMan (VDM) has become one of the most talked-about public figures in Nigeria today.

His videos ignite fierce debates. His methods offend some and inspire others. His critics accuse him of sensationalism; his admirers hail him as a fearless defender of the ordinary Nigerian. Yet beyond the arguments over his style lies a far more important question:

Why has one young man, armed with nothing more than a smartphone, become one of the loudest voices demanding accountability in a nation of over 200 million people?

The answer says less about VeryDarkMan than it does about Nigeria.

It speaks to a country where many of the institutions and personalities that once challenged power have grown quieter, weaker, or more accommodating. It reveals a vacuum in public life—a vacuum into which a new generation of dissenters has inevitably stepped.

VeryDarkMan did not create that vacuum. He simply occupies it.

There was a time in Nigeria when the ordinary citizen was never left to confront power alone.

There was always someone standing at the barricades.

Wole Soyinka wielded the power of the pen, the stage and the moral imagination. Gani Fawehinmi transformed the courtroom into a battlefield for justice and constitutionalism. Tai Solarin challenged authority with uncommon courage and lived the values he preached. Alao Aka-Bashorun, Kanmi Ishola Osobu and Femi Falana transformed the legal profession into a formidable platform for defending democracy and the rule of law. Justices Akinola Aguda, Chukwudifu Oputa, Kayode Esho and several others formed an informal tradition of judicial activism, delivering courageous and progressive judgments from the bench. Meanwhile, Beko Ransome-Kuti mobilised the medical profession in the service of freedom and human rights.

The press was truly the Fourth Estate. Newspapers investigated, questioned and unsettled those in authority. Ayodele Awojobi confronted incompetence wherever he found it. Obafemi Awolowo’s interventions carried such moral weight that governments ignored them at their peril. Every week, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti used music to ridicule corruption and expose the absurdities of military rule. In the North, Balarabe Musa remained a relentless voice against feudal politics and authoritarianism.

On the campuses, student leaders—including young activists such as Omoyele Sowore—were not merely advocates for better hostels or cheaper meals; they were the conscience of the nation. The labour movement did not issue empty threats; it organised, mobilised and acted. Intellectuals such as Edwin Madunagu, Segun Osoba, Biodun Jeyifo, Bala Usman and Jibo Ibrahim supplied the scholarship and ideological clarity that exposed the systematic plunder of Nigeria and challenged the myths used to justify oppression. Even within the military—yes, the military—officers like Colonel Abubakar Dangiwa Umar and a handful of others defied convention and risked everything to stand on the side of democracy.

It was not a perfect era. Governments were often repressive. Activists were harassed, detained and, in some cases, killed. Yet power always knew that someone was watching, someone was questioning, someone was prepared to resist.

The people were never entirely abandoned.

Today, much of that ecosystem of organised dissent has withered.

Many institutions that once challenged power now seek accommodation with it. Sections of the media have become timid or transactional. Civil society is fragmented. Labour often hesitates or compromises. Student unionism has lost much of its national influence. Too many intellectuals have retreated into consultancy, partisan comfort or silence.

The consequence is that public anger often finds no organised expression.

Into that vacuum has stepped VeryDarkMan.

Whether one admires him or dislikes him is, in many respects, beside the point.

Like many disruptive figures before him, he provokes strong emotions. His methods are unconventional. His language is often abrasive. His interventions can be impulsive and controversial. Yet it is difficult to deny that he has succeeded in doing what many established institutions have failed to do: he has captured the attention of millions of young Nigerians and channelled their frustrations into national conversations about injustice, abuse of power, corruption and accountability.

History teaches us that every generation produces its own dissenters.

They rarely look alike.

They do not speak the same language or employ the same methods.

Fela was not Gani.

Gani was not Soyinka.

Soyinka was not Beko.

None resembled Tai Solarin.

Each reflected the realities, technologies and political circumstances of his own time.

VeryDarkMan belongs to a different era.

His stage is no longer the university campus or the courtroom.

It is the smartphone.

His audience is not limited to those who buy newspapers or attend rallies. It numbers in the millions across social media.

The smartphone has become the printing press, the courtroom, the concert stage and the public square of the twenty-first century. In many ways, VeryDarkMan is a product of that digital revolution.

But if he is to become more than a social media phenomenon, he must continue to evolve.

Passion alone is not enough.

Moral courage must be matched with intellectual depth. Popularity must be anchored in knowledge. Outrage must mature into organisation. Consistency, discipline, historical understanding and a deeper appreciation of institutions will determine whether he becomes merely a viral sensation or a lasting force in Nigeria’s democratic journey.

The same challenge confronts every young activist.

History remembers those who built institutions, not merely those who dominated headlines.

Which brings me to a final appeal.

VeryDarkMan, Omoyele Sowore, Seun Kuti and Falz—whose voice became one of the defining sounds of the #EndSARS movement—despite your different temperaments, methods and constituencies, are all responding, in one way or another, to the frustrations of the same generation.

The disagreements among you may generate headlines, but they do little to advance the cause of national renewal.

Nigeria is too fragile, and its challenges too profound, for those who seek change to dissipate their energies fighting one another.

History remembers movements more than individuals.

It remembers coalitions more than egos.

Find common ground where you can. Respect your differences where you must. Build trust. Develop a strategy. Organise beyond social media. Mobilise young Nigerians around ideas rather than personalities. Give the nation a coherent vision and a disciplined programme of action.

The faces of dissent will always change.

Yesterday, they were Soyinka, Gani, Beko, Tai Solarin, Fela and Balarabe Musa.

Today, among others, they include VeryDarkMan, Sowore, Seun Kuti and Falz.

Tomorrow, they will be others still.

But one truth remains constant.

Every generation must produce men and women who are willing to stand at the barricades and remind those who wield power that Nigeria does not belong to governments, political parties or powerful interests.

It belongs to the people.

And so long as injustice endures, the nation will continue to need its dissenters.

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

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