Opinion
Corrupt Judges In A Whirlpool?
There is no doubt that many individuals and organizations, on daily basis, suffer unquantifiable damages and trauma following unsuspecting actions of some persons in positions of authority, whose place it is to protect their rights and privileges and those of the downtrodden in general.
While some of the injured and traumatized may vent their feelings against the actions of such persons or institutions which they represent, others allow theirs to suffocate in them. The result is a total loss of faith in both the defaulting authorities and the institutions.
Every office or institution has an oath that guides its operations. Its integrity is daily reaffirmed as long as the oath is not violated. Unfortunately, it is only selfish desires that lure serving office holders to violate the oath of office which they have afore-hand, sworn to do justice to all without favour, ill-will or affection, preserve, defend and protect the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. This is in addition to refraining from allowing their personal interests to influence their official conduct or decision.
Thus, selfishness, when not nibbed in the bud, often develops into severe cankerworms that eat deep into the fabric of any system from which Nigeria is not exempted.
For the purpose of upholding the tenets of professional and institutional operations in Nigeria, regulatory bodies are put in place to check and hold operations in line with ethical standards for efficient delivery. Although some regulatory bodies only exist in names, there are still such that have continued to be alive to their responsibility of making sure standards are not compromised.
The National Judicial Council (NJC) is one of such bodies whose effort in this regard cannot be overlooked. The recent surveillance by the body of its members may not be unconnected with allegations of corrupt practices leveled against some of the members, which is becoming messier as some lately admitted to have been approached for favour by some politicians.
As a growing child, I was told that the judiciary is the last hope of the common man, a reason that justified the advocacy for the independence of the judiciary. Unfortunately, recent developments in the judiciary tend to run fowl of this age-long recitation and belief, leaving the talakaewa to ask if the institution still remains the commoners’ messiah, or should we expect another?
To clear all doubt, the NJC, during the reign of Justice Mukhtar Aloma, as the Chief Justice of the Federation, recommended the retirement of some judges, as penalty for corrupt practices, a move that was adjudged laudable and courageous.
The NJC could well be said to have merely exercised its constitutional powers, as a key player in the appointment, promotion and discipline of judges at both Federal and State levels. On the other hand, as an institution domiciled in Nigeria, where standards sometimes seem to be compromised, the then action of the NJC, which manifested in the compulsory retirement of two judges found wanting in the execution of their statutory duties, went a long way to rekindle the common man’s hope in the judiciary as well as reaffirmed the truism that nobody is above the law.
The subsequent implementation of the NJC’s recommendation by the Jonah Jang’s administration in Plateau State further sent a signal to all and sundry that corruption in the judiciary could no longer be tolerated.
Just recently, the NJC constituted panels to investigate 15 high court judges over their alleged involvement in various acts of judicial corruption, among whom are two serving chief judges. In the case of Justice Musa Ibrahim, whom the council urged the Zamfara State government to sack from office after it was proved that he demanded and got gratification from a litigant, Nigerians are watching the outcome of the investigation.
No doubt, the foundation of the nation’s judiciary has of late been shaken by unprecedented scandal. Nothing more than treating allegations of corrupt practices among judicial personnel with the urgency it requires can suffice, if the image of the judiciary must be sustained.
Sylvia ThankGod-Amadi
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
