Two matters caught my attention last week, the fallout from 2026 Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) elections, and the conviction of three of the Oriire Kidnappers/Terrorists, Abdulrazak Umar, Yunusa Musa and Shamsu Adamu Sani, members of Darul Salam, an affiliate of the Ansaru  terrorist group of Nigeria (the Oriire 3). The two matters raise questions about institutional integrity, the first about respect for legacy and due process within the Bar, and the second, about the capacity of the justice system to deliver outcomes timeously, at least in serious security cases, and our hope of seeing more of this kind of traction 

When Silence is No Longer Golden

A time comes when silence is no longer golden, because the silence becomes unfair to the victim of the attack, particularly when those who are aware of the truth keep quiet. I never thought the day would come when I would have to come out to defend the legacy of my Mother, Dame Priscilla Olabori Kuye, who became the 17th President and first female President of the NBA 1991-1992 at the age of 51 when the NBA was a force to be reckoned with. By the way, my Mother isn’t a self-styled Dame, she was conferred with the highest papal decoration, the Pro Ecclesia et Pontifice medal by Pope John Paul II in 1982 at the age of 42, awarded to members of the Laity for their long, distinguished and meritorious service to the Catholic Church.  

People have always said Nigerian women don’t support each other – I can now say that I mostly agree with that assertion, as in recent times, I have experienced it first-hand, not just in my own circumstances, but in that of others. We have watched Dame’s legacy as NBA President being trashed by the so-called Bold Bar campaign of another female and those who hadn’t even qualified as Lawyers when we were at Port Harcourt in 1992. Dame had campaigned vigorously for a fresh mandate, and we were in the hall where the election was to hold, about to vote in Dame as the 18th President of the NBA, when the election, marred with life threatening violence, was truncated, and Dame had to be spirited out of the election venue to safety.  

After the recently concluded questionable NBA elections, I have received numerous calls and messages asking me if Dame was ever the NBA President! I even kept silent during a debate on a WhatsApp platform that I belong to, where the matter was tabled. Why is it now, after almost 35 years, consequent upon the campaign mantra of another female, that a known fact is being questioned – that Dame, the then NBA 1st Vice President in 1991, a position she was was elected to after defeating two esteemed male colleagues at the polls, became the first female NBA President when Clement Akpamgbo, SAN of blessed memory  stepped down as NBA President to become Attorney-General of the Federation? It was a  constitutional succession, not an appointment.  

Unlike some who never ran in any NBA elections, but have occupied their NBA positions by virtue of being appointed, Dame has won 5 separate NBA elections – NBA Lagos, Treasurer; NBA National – Financial Secretary, 3rd Vice President, 2nd Vice President and 1st Vice President. 

Although her tenure as NBA President was during the military era, Dame prioritised the defence of human rights and the rule of law. She spearheaded the efforts to secure the release of the “Kuje 5”, detained Lawyers and Activists including late Gani Fawehinmi; Femi Falana; late Dr Beko Ransome-Kuti; late Dr Baba Omojola and late Segun Mayegun. Dame publicly criticised the military regime’s disobedience of court orders, ensured that the NBA performed its role as an independent institutional watchdog and resisted government patronage that could compromise the independence of the NBA. Her stand on issues such as judicial independence, obedience to court orders and arbitrary detention obviously made her unpopular with the military junta, and they wanted her out of the position by any means necessary.

It is therefore, laughable, that those who have recorded no achievements in critical areas such as fighting for the human rights of Nigerians under a military dictatorship, and instead rely on campaign promises, can place emphasis on who was ‘elected’, and refer to an election in which 82,164 people were eligible to vote, but only about 26,184 people actually voted, that is, about 26.1%, because over 70% of eligible voters like myself were unable to vote, not because we didn’t want to, but because we were unable to, due to  disenfranchisement, as their platform for a valid election.  

The ‘elected’ President scored 12,317 votes, about 47.18% or so of the 26.1% that voted in the election, not even up to half of the paltry number of voters; yet, all we hear from the rooftops, are shouts of being the first ‘elected’ female. By whom? A small minority, from an electoral process that was marred by irregularities? How can a person whose mantra is ‘first elected’, but won only 14.9% of the eligible votes claim to be validly elected, and in an election where 70% were disenfranchised? The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) would  have had strong grounds to declare the NBA elections inconclusive, and conduct a rerun election under such circumstances! Because the 70% that were disenfranchised are not only able to make a difference to the election result, but can change it completely if given the chance to vote. See Atuma v APC & Ors (2023) LPELR-60352(SC) per Adamu Jauro, JSC where the Supreme Court held inter alia that “ ‘Inconclusive’ means not leading to a firm conclusion or result; not ending the dispute”. See also Ademola Adeleke & Anor v INEC & Ors 2020 11 N.W.L.R. Pt. 1734 Page 27; Hon. James Abiodun Faleke v INEC & Anor 2016 18 N.W.L.R. Pt. 1543 Page 61 on inconclusive elections. None of the candidates who were declared winners of the election scored up to 25% of the 82,164 eligible votes, that is, 20,541. It therefore beats the imagination, how any beneficiary of a such a flawed process, a person in a glass house built on irregularities and an inconclusive election, believes that they can throw stones at the legacy of another, built on hard work and perseverance, so much so that they think they can erase it. 

Truly, some concerned stakeholders such as the 25th President of the NBA, J.B. Daudu, SAN, in a statement he issued, said he was unable to congratulate anyone who emerged as winner from the 2026 NBA elections, and  called for a rerun of the elections for the 70% that were disenfranchised (like me), many as a result of platform failure, authentication issues, non-receipt of the OTP etc. Some have nonetheless, argued that, since some past elections were questionable and allowed to stand, this one shouldn’t be any different. If the so-called election winners are confident about their popularity, surely they mustn’t be afraid to test it with the other 70%. When the majority of the disenfranchised voters have voted, in an election that due process is strictly followed, Lawyers will be satisfied that the 2026 elections are free, fair and credible, even if the outcomes remain the same.

I am proud to say that when I became the Editor of This Day Lawyer in October 2016, the two ladies who held the position before me, Mrs May Agbamuche Mbu and Ms Funke Aboyade, SAN, supported and assisted me to make my transition into the role easy. Each one of them gave me a volume of their publications to study, and for the first few weeks Funke would critique my work until she felt I could go it alone! I remain eternally grateful to both of them. I stood on their shoulders, and built upon their legacies. And, wherever I see them, I make a point of going to greet them, just to honour them. This is the way it should be – according your predecessors their due respect, not pushing your candidacy by diminishing them. We are eager to have a second female NBA President, but, one who emerges properly, not under a cloud – I don’t believe that this is asking for too much.  

Conviction of the Oriire 3

As for the Oriire 3 who were apprehended, prosecuted and convicted on their guilty pleas, the first thing that their trial showed is that the wheels of the Nigerian justice system can not only move fast, but can move with unusual alacrity. Nigerians would like to see more of this type of quick dispensation of justice in their day-to-day cases, and not just for high profile cases, and election petitions which are time bound – see Section 285 of the 1999  Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended)(the Constitution).

Even though criminal cases are also somewhat time bound (see Section 35 of the Constitution), the time lines aren’t specific enough, nor are they adhered to. A person who is placed under arrest, must be informed in writing of the grounds for their arrest within 24 hours of arrest, must be brought to court within a reasonable time (one to a few days) and tried within two months of the date of arrest or detention, if such person is in custody or not entitled to bail, or within three months of arrest or detention, if such accused person has been released on bail – see Section 35(3)-(5) of the Constitution. However, arraignment to judgement becomes fluid, with Section 396 of the Administration of Criminal Justice Act 2015 (ACJA) providing for a day to day trial after arraignment ‘where practicable’, and adjournments during trial (see Section 396(4) of ACJA). Each party is allowed 5 adjournments with intervals of a maximum of 14 days, between arraignment and judgement. Judgement must also delivered in writing within 90 days of the conclusion of evidence and final addresses – see Section 294(1) of the Constitution.  

In the case of the Oriire 3, the trial Judge beat the aforementioned timelines, as part of their trial was concluded in record time. The Oriire abductees were rescued on July 10, the date also reported as the date of arrest of the 3 suspects. By July 23, the Oriire 3 had been convicted on the charges they had pleaded guilty to. The trial continues, on the charges they pleaded not guilty to. Unfortunately, so far, they have only been sentenced to life imprisonment. 

While the world may be moving away from the death sentence, I believe that in certain cases, such as kidnapping where the victim dies in captivity, it should be applied. See the Oyo State Kidnapping (Prohibition) Law 2016; Section 24(2)(b) of the  Terrorism (Prevention and Prohibition) Act 2022 (TPPA).

Several sections of the TPPA provide for the acts which the Oriire 3 were involved in, and their punishments cover various terms of imprisonment ranging up to life imprisonment which they bagged. However, the offences that the Oriire 3 pleaded guilty to, don’t carry the death penalty. Of course, the TPPA has offences that attract the death penalty upon conviction – hostage taking, kidnapping and hijacking are some of such offences. Section 2(2)(b), (d) of the TPPA prohibits any act that is preparatory to or in furtherance of, assists or facilities the act of  terrorism, while Section 2(3) thereof defines the act of terrorism to include various acts like intimidation of a population, attack on a person’s life, death and kidnap. Where a condition is given for the release of a person held hostage and death results from the act of kidnapping, the death sentence is applied – see Section 24(2)(b) of the TPPA.  

The pending offences of conspiracy to kidnap, aiding and abetting which the Oriire 3 pleaded not guilty to (see Section 26 of the TPPA), import the punishment of the substantive offence, that is, the death penalty, since Mr Esiyan Adegboye was shot dead during the initial invasion into the school, Mr Michael Oyedokun was beheaded while Deacon John Olalere was also killed, both in captivity. 

By virtue of Section 7(b) & (c) of the Criminal Code Act (CCA) those who actually commit the act, or aid those who commit the act are accessories before or during the fact, and are considered to be principal offenders too; they are liable to the same punishment as those who physically commit the offence. Section 10 of the CCA provides for an accessory after the fact, that is, a person who assists another he/she knows to be guilty of an offence, in order to help them escape punishment, In the case of terrorism, the punishment for an offence such as concealment which is akin to accessory after the fact, is at least 20 years imprisonment upon conviction – see Section 16(1)(b) of the TPPA. However, if charges like conspiracy to kidnap stick, the Oriire 3 may also face the death penalty, if they are convicted.  

Conclusion 

The attempt to diminish Dame Priscilla Kuye’s pioneering and principled leadership of the NBA, is despicable and unnecessary. The fact that the NBA has been in dire need of a female President is undeniable, but legacy earned through service, courage and sacrifice under military rule and as far back as the 1990s, should not be casually and unfairly erased by those seeking to manufacture ‘firsts’.  I rest my case here. 

And, when  terrorist acts result in the deliberate killing of victims, the law must be allowed to take its full course, including the death penalty where it is properly prescribed. Swift justice in high-profile cases is welcome; but, consistent, timely and proportionate justice in all cases, remains the real test of any system that claims to uphold the rule of law.

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On Tuesday, August 11, 2026 – second Nkwo market day in August – all roads from far and near will lead to Obohia, a bucolic agrarian community in Ahiazu-Mbaise local government area, Imo State, for their transcendental cultural fiesta – Eyirieyi Obohia, an age-long festival that unites the community as a people of common heritage. One of the unique characteristics of this cultural extravaganza is the permanence in date, which leaves no one in doubt. The name Eyirieyi (ihe eyiri eyi), literally means a festival that had been agreed upon with a fixed date.

It is not certain why the community’s forebears chose the second Nkwo market day in August for the festival. But the traditional Igbo week consists of four sacred market days – Eke, Orie, Afo, Nkwo – and most traditional Igbo communities name their central market squares after one of these four days – hence Nkwo Obohia. So, Eyirieyi, the cultural lodestar of Obohia people is held annually at Nkwo Obohia. It is a period of homecoming for many indigenes at home and abroad and many living in Europe, America and even Asia are already on their way home.

Anthropologist Edward Tylor famously described culture as “that complex whole that includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, customs, and any other capabilities and habit acquired by man as a member of society.” In other words, culture is a way of life. But for Obohia people, Eyirieyi, a festival of peace, is not only a way of life, it defines them. It is the essence of their being. Its transcendental values elevate the community, hence the general greeting during the season – udo Eyirieyi diri anyi nile – may the peace of Eyirieyi be upon us.

In the days preceding the festival, people are obliged to settle disputes as a gesture of spiritual purification in order to be considered worthy of partaking in the festivities. Those who do otherwise attract the wrath of the gods for flouting the inviolable obligations which the sacred period imposes on all. Elders lead the community in prayers and thanksgiving, thus ushering in a new season of renewal imbued with faith that accentuates the hope for ancestral blessings.

In essence, Eyirieyi Obohia is a sacred heritage, an affirmation of the people’s brotherhood. Even in its modern manifestation, nothing has changed fundamentally as it is still a period of camaraderie when all indigenes – men and women, young and old – rededicate themselves to the values that promote conviviality and eschew bitterness.

The most enduring legacy of Eyirieyi, which continues to unite the community as a people of common heritage, is its uncommon resilience in the face of corrosive Western values. Instead of being swept away, it has adapted without losing its essence. Not even the 30-month brutal civil war that left Igboland devastated and the people’s values unmoored could upend this culture. Instead, at the end of the war in 1970, Eyirieyi became the people’s anchor in their journey of self-rediscovery.

And two things helped. First was the formation of the elitist Obohia Development Front (ODF) by the community’s middle-class. ODF which played a dominant role in the social regeneration of the community nudged one of their own, Sir Amam Alban Acholonu, to embark on the first published research on Eyirieyi Obohia, a task he accomplished in 1974. The second major development of this era was the audacious entry of Monsignor Donald Okoro, Obohia’s first Catholic priest, into the cultural arena. The priest on returning from the U.S. in the early 1980s blunted the rather sharp edges of criticism of Eyiriryi as a pagan festival by baptising, in the Christian tradition, the preeminent culture.

Obohia is a predominantly Catholic community with over 80% of its Christian population professing Catholicism. An enculturated priest, who had acquired the norms of his people’s culture, playing an activist role, led the charge for the Christianisation of Eyirieyi. Thus, every Eyirieyi ceremony would start with a concelebrated Mass at the St. Peter’s Catholic Church. Not only that, he led his Amaiyi village in the popular Ekpe dance. And since, to borrow a cliché, no one can be more Catholic than the Pope and by extrapolation, no one can be more Catholic than his priest, most indigenes whose faith in their culture was waning came to the understanding that there was no contradiction, after all.

But the most significant transformation came about in 2020 when Obohia youths – vibrant, progressive culture aficionados – stepped up to the plate by taking ownership of the festival with the establishment of Eyirieyi Obohia Council and leveraging technology to export Eyirieyi to the international community. They have also modernised the festival by introducing new concepts. From a one-day affair, Eyirieyi has become a weeklong celebration of culture.

This year’s festival which officially commenced on Monday, July 12 with the bringing down of the traditional musical instruments used for the Ekpe dance at Elekeneowasi is following in the same tradition.

On August 5, there will be a football match between youths (aged 18 and below) of Amano and Umuanunu at St. Bede’s Primary School field in Umuihuocha. On August 6, women will participate in a cooking competition of Ofe Ugummanu, the festival’s signature soup prepared with cocoyam tendrils which only Obohia women know how to cook. August 7 is the day for the fifth edition of the Eyirieyi lecture to be delivered by Prof Basil Uchegbu, a lecturer at the Alvan Ikoku Federal University of Education, Owerri. The lecture will explore the importance of interpersonal relationships in catalysing communal development. He will be following in the footsteps of other illustrious sons of Obohia, including Prof Emma Ezeji Chigbu, who delivered the first lecture and Rev. Fr. Val Chima Anyanwu, who did a yeoman’s job with his 2023 lecture titled, Eyirieyi Obohia Festival: Rekindling and consolidation of the values and spirit of our cultural heritage in the present day society. My 2024 lecture with the theme: Eyirieyi Obohia: the socio-economic potentials of a transformative culture, explored the possibilities of maximising the cultural festival in enhancing the socio-economic wellbeing of the people.

After the lecture, there will be a fashion parade where the youths will adorn and showcase the traditional attires of the people and then the day will be rounded off with a comedy competition. On August 8, there will be a dancing competition involving different women cultural troupes from Obohia and other Mbaise communities. Winners of all these competitions will go home with various cash rewards.

Then, on the eve of Eyirieyi, the youths will embark on a road walk around the community aimed at priming the people for the big day, August 11, which will start with a Mass at St. Peter’s Catholic Church, Amaiyi Obohia at 9am. Immediately after, there will be the initial beating of the Ekpe at Nkwo Obohia before the people will go home to entertain their visitors. At the same time, the Eyirieyi Kitchen will open at the central market square where those who have no relations to visit will have the opportunity of savouring the same special delicacies, especially Ugummanu soup.

At 2pm, all the activities will shift to the Nkwo Obohia market square for the traditional Ekpe and special masquerade –Ubu – dances in a colourful ceremony. While all males – young and old – dressed in traditional attires, participate in the Ekpe dance, each village presents its own Ubu in the dance which is always a spectacle.

The chairman of the 2026 local organising committee, Sir Ben Adim, has promised a spectacular festival that will rival any other cultural festival anywhere in the world, even as he emphasised that Eyirieyi is not just an annual celebration, but the strongest symbol of unity among the four autonomous communities – Amano, Elekenowasi, Umuihuocha and Umuedo – that presently make up Obohia because it serves as a platform for reconciliation, cultural revival and community development.

But beyond the cultural significance of Eyirieyi Obohia, there is also the issue of its huge tourism potentials. And this is where governments at both local and state levels and the private sector come in. There must be a synergy to ensure that the cultural festival which showcases the heritage of Obohia people, equally becomes a tool to attract investments that will ultimately boost local economy.

Sociologists agree that cultural festivals are a fun way to bring people together, attract tourists and celebrate something special. They also provide an opportunity to promote local businesses and act as catalysts for sustainable development. Eyirieyi is no exception. Properly harnessed, the cultural festival which showcases the customs and art forms of Obohia – things that make the people unique – has the potential of attracting tourists seeking authentic experiences and a deeper understanding of the local culture.

· Ikechukwu Amaechi, FNGE is a Lagos-based journalist and member League of Nigerian Columnists.

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All we want Major Al-Mustapha to do is produce the CCTV tape on Abacha’s last hour. Or else, he should keep mum. This is no time or topic for theatre.

Dennis Amachree, a seasoned senior man in the State Security Service, writes a book about his time and stewardship of decades. And he dismisses it without any facts or rigour. Just flippant words like calling him a boy, a man that is older than Mustapha.

“I was seven years old when Nigeria had independence,” responded Amachree in a phone call with this essayist. “And he is calling me a boy. At independence, we were flying the flag of this country and singing the Nigerian anthem. He is 66 years old and was born in 1960 just a new-born baby that year,” Amachree intones in a sardonic voice.

“I retired as an assistant director, which in army terms will be a brigadier. Al-Mustapha retired as a major.”

Al Mustapha needs to respond with facts and not spite. In telling the story in his book, DSS@40, he did not publish arbitrarily. Amachree sent the book to the Directorate of State Services for vetting. That shows he is a man of the institution. An organisaton man. The top brass told him he should launch the book to coincide with the 40th anniversary of the service.

So, it was not an Amachree project alone, even if it was the story of his career. The DSS appreciated his institutional integrity. They decided to launch the book as a DSS affair. He lives in the United States. They provided him business class tickets to attend the event. It was not a public presentation, but it was conducted in the presence of all key men in the security community nationwide, including state directors of the service and some members of the diplomatic community.

That tells you that the book enjoys institutional backing. Secondly, it has not run foul of institutional memory. Those who were in the service then are now top men in the service, and they know the story. They do not yell even when the public or even the media errs. If it is not urgent to deny, they do not ruffle their feathers. Closed lips is their mantra. Unless it is time to unveil it.

Does Mustapha have any evidence that he was with Abacha when he died? No. so let him give us the CCTV. Will it show the girl’s coital conquest? Did Mustapha have CCTV in his bedroom?

Amachree said his director called him and asked him to arrest a certain young lady that morning.

“He called me twice that morning,” he recalled. ‘‘The first time he asked me ‘how is Lagos.’ And I said ‘it is calm.’ He said he would call back in 30 minutes. But he called me ten minutes later and asked me to interrogate a young lady in Ogudu in Lagos.”

Amachree sent two men to the address. The gate was locked, and the operatives knocked several times without any response. They lingered before they opened it. The young lady was living with her mother, he said.

Once he entered his office, she said, “I did not kill him. He died on top of me.” Amachree had heard that Abacha had died. He had not found out how. It was from her lips that he knew she was the finality of the big elephant. The endgame of an era.

Read Also; Dennis Amachree on Abacha’s death: Bogus investigation, scandalous conclusion

“I calmed her down, and asked her tell me what happened,” he said. She had gone to Abuja to attend the conference of the Pharmaceutical Society of Nigeria. She is a pharmacist. Her elder sister was not only residing in Abuja. She was Abacha’s lover. At Abacha’s expense, she was lodging at the Nicon Noga Hilton Hotel for not less than six months. And Abacha had just bought her a new SUV. She showed off the car to her sister by taking a ride around town. While they were at it, she stopped over at the Villa. No appointment needed. Abacha saw his lover and gazed with zest at his lover’s sister.

“You want am?” she asked the general inpidgin English.

He said yes, and she said amen and translated her armour to sister and general for a coital night, for the sin in his sinews. The man had waxed fat and doughy in those days. Was he still doughty like a general between the sheets? Amachree describes her as smallish and dark-skinned Igbo girl.

Well, while at it, the commander stopped moving. The pharmacist lover called “oga, Oga…” She tested his pulse. The French call orgasm le petit mort, which means the little death. This was not a little death. It was the big one. Abacha had gone, so was army rule.

“You know, Abacha was on pacemaker,” revealed Amachree. Maybe the machine snapped in his chest. It means he had undertaken a major heart surgery. He also had liver disease. The girl was a more potent pacer. She was flown to Abuja, and she and her sister were locked up for about six months before they were released. They are still in the country, and alive, said Amachree.

“We have to protect their identities” he said.

The girl is the genuine hero of democracy. She deserves an anonymous award for felling a goliath. She did not need a gun nor a poisoned apple. She was the apple, Abacha’s Adam’s apple. NADECO home and abroad fought shy. The U.S or EU could not dare. All the big-time names, like now President Tinubu, Segun Osoba, Frank Kokori, Akinrinade, the media, all the redoubtable generals of the army were puny at the stakes. Wole Soyinka’s poetics failed.

For irony, many Igbos fled home and forswore June 12. A smallish Igbo belle unleashed the death knell. He was 54.

“The girl had the look of a teenager,” said Amachree. United States vice president Nelson Rockefeller fell in coital collapse over his 27-year-old secretary.

Military tanks, bullets, bazookas, packaged in a little fireworks of a beauty, stopped the five leprous fingers, the five parties scrambling to endorse him for president. Dostoyevsky said beauty will save the world. An Igbo beauty saved Nigeria. She deserves an anonymous monument. If we have the unknown soldier, why not the unknown heroine? She was our beloved slut, the Rahab of our time. The first righteous democrat of the republic. It was unintentional heroics, accidental patriotism. She deserves an altar. All politicians and office holders should pay homage. She sacked the army. One woman division. One woman apple, a general’s death. For irony, a Cameroonian young lady hid Abacha in a wardrobe when soldiers came for him on the night of the Orkar coup at Alexander Avenue in Ikoyi. This time, a girl could not save him. She saved us instead, in between her legs, like the woman in Gunter Grass’ novel Tin Drum.

She tops Delilah who meant evil. Different from Marita Lorenz that CIA sent to kill Castro but fell in love and bore him a child. Different from Jael in the Bible who downed a general Sisera by charming him into her tent, giving him warm milk for water and running a pole through his head. In the battle of the sexes, females always win. Ask your mother.

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By Kachi Okezie, Esq.

The debate over devolved policing (often, and inaccurately, reduced to ‘state police’) is not really about policing. It is more about character. The proposed structure is decent, but what is lacking is the collective will to make it work. The way and manner the bill was rushed through the legislature without public scrutiny or citizen participation is telling.

Let me be clear from the outset: this is not an argument against devolved policing. Quite the contrary. In a true federation, devolved policing is both logical and necessary. A country as vast, diverse and complex as Nigeria should not depend solely on a centrally controlled police service directed from Abuja. States should have their own police services or constabularies: properly trained, adequately equipped, professionally managed and subject to robust constitutional oversight.

I support that position unequivocally and have consistently advocated it, including in my work as a consultant to the Senate Committee on Constitutional Review during the 10th Senate. But that is not the real issue.

Read Also: Where We Truly Stand: A final reply to Professor Ajovi Scott-Emuakpor on State Police

Read Also: State Police Debate: My final response to Dr. Atake, By Prof. Scott-Emuakpor

The clamour for ‘state police’ has become Nigeria’s latest political fad: the familiar excitement that accompanies every new institutional proposal. It is as though we believe that creating a new structure will somehow solve old problems. Yet, if we are honest with ourselves, the absence of state police is not the root cause of Nigeria’s insecurity issues. It follows, therefore, that its creation, by itself, cannot be the solution.

Our crisis has never been merely structural. It is fundamentally a crisis of leadership, integrity and constitutional discipline. What has been missing is the political will to discharge constitutional responsibilities faithfully and without compromise. What has been absent is the moral courage to do what is right because the Constitution demands it, not merely because it is politically expedient.

You can devolve guns, uniforms, patrol vehicles and command centres to all thirty-six states and the Federal Capital Territory. But if you fail to devolve integrity, accountability and professionalism, you have simply decentralised failure.

We already know where the rot lies. Too often, those entrusted with leadership lack either the competence or the commitment their offices demand. Or both. Some harbour divided loyalties, placing ethnicity, religion or tribal identity above the national interest. Corruption diverts weapons, fuel, equipment and operational allowances before they ever reach officers on patrol. Recruitment and promotion are distorted by nepotism rather than merit. Security responses frequently depend on who lives in a given community instead of what justice requires.

Compounding all this is a citizenry that too often mistakes social media outrage for civic engagement, demanding accountability only when a crisis is trending. Without addressing these realities, devolved policing will merely reproduce today’s dysfunction at thirty-seven different levels.

An incompetent governor can abuse a state police service just as easily as an Inspector-General can misuse a federal one. A corrupt state police commissioner can establish the same unlawful checkpoints, extort the same motorists and shield the same criminal interests. Local commands captured by ethnic or political loyalties will protect ‘their own’ whilst victimising everyone else. The uniforms may change, but the injustice will not.

If, however, we address the underlying failures, the debate over policing structures becomes far less consequential.
Institutions cannot outperform the character of those who lead and sustain them. They, ultimately, reflect the character of such people.

Train officers properly. Equip them adequately. Pay them fairly and on time. Prosecute commanders who divert operational funds or lease weapons to criminals. Imprison politicians who sponsor armed groups during elections and later rebrand them as ‘vigilantes’.

Replace quota-driven mediocrity with recruitment and promotion based solely on character and competence. Publish every security vote, every procurement contract, every operational allocation and every transfer of public funds. Allow citizens to scrutinise them.

Strengthen a judiciary that dispenses justice rather than preside over transactional justice. Build a civil service in which postings and promotions are earned, not purchased.

These reforms matter far more than the name given to the police institution. Devolved policing is entirely consistent with federalism. It is good governance. But good governance is not merely a constitutional arrangement; it is a culture. It is the daily discipline of obeying the law even when no one is watching. It is refusing to deploy the police as a private army for those in power. It is recruiting on the basis of character, competence and merit rather than family connections or political patronage. It is protecting a farmer in Zamfara with the same urgency as an oil installation in Bonny because every Nigerian life carries equal constitutional worth.

Until Nigerians demand that standard from those who govern them, we shall continue to receive the quality of governance we tolerate. Whether policing remains federal or becomes devolved, the outcome will be much the same if the values underpinning the institution remain unchanged.

So yes, to devolved policing. A hundred times, yes. But an even louder yes to the harder task: cultivating leaders of integrity, funding security transparently, enforcing professional standards without fear or favour, and nurturing a citizenry that insists upon accountability every single day.

Structures do not deliver security, standards do. So do character, integrity, accountability and active citizenship. When Nigeria embraces those values, devolved policing will succeed, not because the structure changed, but because the nation did.

That is the choice before us. And the time to make it is now.

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

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By Kachi Okezie, Esq.

Last October, in just one night, the River Niger rose and swallowed entire streets in Lokoja. In Makurdi, families slept on rooftops as water took their homes. In Bayelsa, communities were cut off for weeks. Schoolchildren paddled canoes to class. Farmlands vanished. And yet, by January, the conversation had moved on.

This is the danger we face as a country. We treat climate shocks as “natural disasters” — acts of God we respond to, mourn, and forget. But they are not natural. They are governance failures. And they are landing, again and again, at the doorstep of local government.

Policymakers in Abuja and the states must understand this: the frontline of the climate crisis is not in international conferences. It is in the ward, the LGA secretariat, the market square, and the community town hall. If we do not build resilience from the bottom up, we will keep spending billions on relief while losing lives, livelihoods, and trust.

Climate resilience is not just bigger drains and sandbags. It is the ability of a community to anticipate a shock, absorb it without collapsing, adapt so it hurts less next time, and recover in a way that leaves people stronger. That is what resilience really means.

In simple terms: Can a community in Sokoto survive a 40-degree heatwave without losing elders? Can a community in Ogun survive 3 days of heavy rain without losing homes? Can farmers in Benue plant and harvest even when the rains come late?

Right now, for too many of our LGAs, the answer is no. Not because our people are weak, but because our systems are. The Nigerian reality: it is already here.

We do not need to look to Germany or Canada to understand the threat. It is in our backyard.

Take Jigawa, 2022. Weeks of rain collapsed roads, submerged 200 communities, and displaced over 200,000 people. The state government responded, but many LGAs had no contingency fund, no early warning system in Hausa and Fulfulde, and no updated list of vulnerable households. Relief came late. Preventable deaths happened.

Take Lagos, every rainy season. In Ajegunle and Ibeshe, a 2-hour downpour means waist-deep water. Why? Because waste blocks drainage. Because buildings sit on waterways. Because the LGA environmental department has 3 trucks for 1 million people, and community waste cooperatives are not formally part of the plan. 

Take the North Central. In Benue and Nasarawa, erratic rainfall and desertification have intensified farmer-herder clashes. This is not just “insecurity.” It is climate stress breaking down traditional agreements on land and water. Our LGA peace committees were not trained or funded to manage climate-driven conflict.

The Global North debates air conditioning and insurance payouts. In the Global South, including Nigeria, the debate is more basic: Will my children have water tomorrow? Will my shop survive the next flood? The missing piece: community-based governance.

For 30 years we have tried “government knows best.” It has not worked. Top-down projects collapse the moment the contractor leaves. 

Climate resilience demands something different: community-based environmental governance.

This means the LGA stops being only the “doer” and becomes the broker. The community brings local knowledge: where does water always enter first? Who are the elderly living alone? What trees have we always planted before rains? The private sector brings technology and financing. Government brings policy, coordination, and some funding. We already have proof it works in Nigeria.

In Lagos, the Waste-to-Wealth program succeeded where pure government collection failed because CDAs and youth cooperatives were paid to do house-to-house collection. They knew which streets to enter. Vandalism dropped because the bins belonged to them.

In Kano, some LGAs working with NGOs have revived traditional “fadama” water conservation and tree planting led by community leaders. Where there are trees and small dams, runoff is slower and farms survive dry spells better.

Resilience is built in these small, unglamorous places. Not in a press conference. Here is what must be done — and now:

To policymakers and LGA Chairmen reading this: the next flood season is 6 months away. Here is what is demanded of you:

First, budget differently. Every LGA should ring-fence at least 10% of its allocation for climate adaptation. Not for new SUVs. For clearing drainages before rain, for training “Resilience Champions” in every ward, for small contingency funds that can be released in 24 hours, not 24 weeks.

Second, plan with people, not for them. Before you approve any project, ask: “Which community committee co-designed this?” Publish flood and heat risk maps at the ward level. Use town criers, WhatsApp groups, and radio in local languages for early warnings. In 2022, many people in Jigawa did not get warnings because they came in English, days late.

Third, protect our land. Stop approving houses being built on floodplains and water channels. It is politically hard, but morally non-negotiable. Partner with traditional rulers and CDAs to enforce this. Give communities alternative, safe land.

Fourth, invest in green and social infrastructure. Plant trees in our markets. Restore wetlands. Support climate-smart agriculture. But also check on our elderly during heatwaves. Resilience is as much about neighbours looking out for each other as it is about concrete.

Finally, measure what matters. Stop reporting “we built 10km of road.” Start reporting “2,000 households in Ward 3 did not flood this year.” Let communities score their LGA on resilience every quarter.

The choice before us. Climate change will not wait for us to get our politics right. The rains will come. The heat will rise. The question is whether our communities will break or bend.

We cannot prevent every shock. But we can prevent shocks from becoming disasters. And that work happens at the local level.

To the leaders and managers in local government: your job description has changed. You are no longer just collectors of revenue and patchers of roads. You are the first line of defence for the people against the greatest threat of this century.

The floods will keep coming. The question is: Will our LGAs be ready? Our people are watching. And the water is rising.

Kachi Okezie, Esq, a thought-leader on environmental law and justice, is a member of the Abuja branch of the Nigerian Bar Association.

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

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By Kachi Okezie, Esq.

Nigeria is at a crossroads again. As election season approaches, the drums of citizen participation and grassroots mobilisation will sound in every ward, village, and market square. Politicians will come with promises, with bags of rice and branded face caps.

But after the votes are counted, one question will remain: Who will do the hard work of turning those promises into roads, clinics, jobs, and peace in our communities?

That, it would appear, was the thinking behind President Bola Tinubu’s appointment of Special Advisers on Community Development immediately on assuming office. It is the recognition of a truth we have ignored for too long, namely, that governance fails or succeeds at the community level. And community engagement cannot be left to chance, to party boys, or to goodwill. It must be practiced with professionalism.

For too long in Nigeria, “community development” has been treated as an afterthought. It is what we do when we want to win votes. It is what NGOs do with “donor” (international development partner) money. It is what a youth corper does for three weeks in the place of primary assignment (PPA). It is not what we train for, certify for or build a career in.

This must change, because the biggest problems and the biggest opportunities in Nigeria reside within local communities.

Those communities are littered with all manner of problems needing to be solved. Just look around. The borehole that was commissioned but broke down in three months. The classroom that has no teachers. The youth empowerment programme that gave twenty people POS machines and disappeared. The security vote that never made any community safer.

Why do these projects fail? Not because there is no money. But because there was no process. No one asked the community what they actually needed. No one trained locals to maintain it. No one created a structure for accountability.

We keep applying Abuja solutions to Tudun Wada problems. And it is not working. At the same time, the pressure on our democracy is growing.

Citizens are angry. Trust in government is low. Voter apathy is high. And yet, elections will still be won and lost at the polling unit. The power to mobilise, to calm tension, to deliver projects, still rests with community structures: Non-governmental organisations (NGOs), Civil society organisations (CDAs), Host Community Development Associations (HCDAs). Or, indeed, women leaders, youth leaders, faith leaders and traditional rulers.

This eclectic mix of people inspired by their shared vision of a better community and propelled by their passion to make it happen can only go so far, sadly. If we leave the task to amateurs, we will only keep obtaining amateur results. The case for professionalising Community Development is therefore profoundly persuasive.

A profession has three elements: knowledge, ethics, and tools. A doctor studies anatomy. A lawyer studies law. A community development practitioner should study people, power, planning, and participation.

What would this look like? First, it gives us a language and a method. Instead of “let’s do a town hall”, a trained practitioner knows how to do a participatory needs assessment. Instead of “let’s empower youth”, they know how to design a livelihood programme with market linkage. Instead of “let’s give them money”, they know how to do co-financing so the community owns the project.

Second, it creates a culture of accountability. When you have certified professionals, you can hold them to a code of ethics. You can measure their work. You can say: this LGA chairman recruited three certified Community Development practitioners and here are the ten projects they delivered with the community.

Third, in the case of Nigeria under President Tinubu’s Renewed Hope Agenda, it aligns with the President’s vision. The appointment of Special Advisers on Community Development only makes sense if those advisers are equipped with much more than political loyalty. They need skills in conflict mediation, project management, data collection, and stakeholder engagement. Otherwise we have just created another political office.

What is missing is a mastery of Community Development for Nigeria. Mastery turns mobilisation from a campaign gimmick into a governance strategy.

For political change agents, it means building a base that is not bought with money but built with trust. When you let a community choose three projects and you deliver them, they will defend you in the next election without you sharing a kobo.

For activists, it means moving from protest to proposition. Instead of only saying “government has failed”, you can walk in with a community development plan, a budget, and 200 signatures.

For government at all levels, it means better service delivery. Participatory budgeting reduces corruption. Community project committees reduce project abandonment. Mapping local assets reduces waste.

Countries that have done this well, like Rwanda, Brazil, South Korea, did not do it by accident. They invested in people who understand how communities work. Nigeria can follow suit. To do so, we must do three things urgently:

First, we must institutionalise training. Universities, polytechnics, and the NBA, NMA, and other professional bodies should offer certification in Community Development Practice. The National Institute for Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS) should have a Community Development track.

Secondly, we must create career paths. The Federal and State Ministries of Special Duties and LGA Departments should recruit certified Community Development Officers and make their jobs measurable with KPIs, not a favour.

Thirdly, we must introduce “fund and measure”. For example, 5% of LGA allocation should go to community-led projects, managed by trained Community Development practitioners and monitored with data.

The President’s advisers can be the pilot. But the goal must be bigger: a generation of Nigerian professionals whose job is to make sure democracy works in the place where people actually live. Afterall, Nigerians don’t live in “the economy”. They live on Allen Avenue. They live in Makurdi. They live in Bichi.

If we want to deliver real governance impact at the most local level, we must stop treating community development as politics and start approaching it as a profession.

The next election will test our ability to mobilise. But the 4 years after will test our ability to develop. Let us prepare for both.

Kachi Okezie, Esq is a Nigerian lawyer and management consultant with a passion for community development. He is a member of the International Association for Community Development (IACD).

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

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Juxtaposing life of opulence by public officials in the third world countries and acute public infrastructure deficits.

This is a deep socio-economic fractures and systemic governance challenge which contrast manifests through gated luxury existing directly beside systemic decay , forcing communities to individually compensate and improvised for failed public goods.

The striking contrast between public official wealth and crumbling public works in developing nations reveals severe resource misallocation, where elite self-enrichment starves essential sectors like power, healthcare, and roads of needed funding.

These challenges create an environment where criminalities developed for criminals to networks and insurgencies thrive.

Simply put, the example of Nigeria a country of over 230 million people grappling with fiscal stress, inequality, and weak public services, is not great. As the line between private innovation and economic vanity has become increasingly obscured.

Suffice it to say Nigeria struggles with a high cost of governance driven by large official convoys and expensive bulletproof vehicles for top public officials, contrasted with the modest behavior of these same politicians when traveling abroad.

GOVERNANCE COSTS IN NIGERIA

Large Convoys: Allegedly, top leaders maintain extensive vehicle fleets, including 50 cars for the president, 30 for the first lady, and 40 for the FCT minister.

Luxury Vehicles: Official cars often exceed ₦150 million each and feature heavy security upgrades.

Economic Impact: High public spending on administrative luxury contributes heavily to national financial strain and budget deficits.

SOCIAL-ECONOMIC CONSEQUENCES

Stunted Productivity: Decayed roads, erratic power grids, and weak transport networks raise business costs and choke local industry growth.

Widening Inequality: Pervasive deficits lock communities in poverty while political classes insulate themselves from daily hardships.

Eroded Trust: Visible wealth alongside systemic decay breeds deep public cynicism toward state institutions and governance models.

THE COST OF OPULENCE

Drained Resources: Public funds are diverted into heavy administrative costs, executive jets, luxury convoys, and generous allowances instead of vital infrastructure.

Deepened Inequality: A vast chasm separates the lavish lifestyles of public office holders from the daily hardships and poverty faced by ordinary citizens.

Stifled Growth: Money spent maintaining an over-bloated political class starves the education, health, and power sectors of necessary investments.

A PLEA FOR CHANGE

Redefining Service: Political power must be viewed as an assignment to serve the public rather than an avenue for personal enrichment.

Prioritizing People: Budgets should directly reflect the real-life needs of the populace by funding job creation, schools, and reliable healthcare.

Building Together: True national development arrives only when leaders demonstrate the same restraint and resilience they ask of the citizens.

Conclusively, I’d like join millions of our compatriots home and abroad to plead with leadership at all levels to consider the following:

Nigeria’s future depends on leadership sacrifice, structural discipline, and resource redistribution.

True progress requires leaders to abandon excessive luxury and embrace a modest, purposeful approach to governance.

Citizen Richard ODUSANYA.

Public Affairs Enthusiast and Good Governance Advocate[email protected]

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

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