By Okey Ndibe
Nigeria—or the Department of State
Security (DSS), to be precise—starts an ostensible war against corruption in
the judicial and said war quickly degenerates into an absurd exercise.
First,
Nigerians woke up two weeks ago to the startling news that
DSS agents had carried out overnight raids on
the homes of “corrupt” judges, including two
justices of the Supreme Court. For the first
day or two, there were insinuations and murmurings,
but little concrete information, about the
operation.
Pundits
and partisans seized the vacuum, offering deodorized or
damning interpretations of what had transpired.
Some praised Warrior-General, Muhammadu
Buhari. They proclaimed that, at last, with
not a moment too soon, he had set his sights on
judicial sleaze. Others, less impressed, declared
that a vindictive president with a military mindset
had merely decided on a dangerous mission: to
go after every judge who had ever delivered a
judgment against his administration or dealt a
blow to the electoral desires of the ruling All Progressives
Congress (APC).
By
the time DSS came round to disclosing the haul of cash,
especially hard currency, they had allegedly
seized from the judges’ homes, the atmosphere
was already rowdy, rife with partisan sniping.
The so-called effort to sanitize the judiciary
has become another Nollywood production. We
are in the midst of a fiasco. It’s open to
question whether anything going on here represents
a legitimate, serious-minded war against
corruption in the judicial branch. But here’s what
I know: we have produced yet another proof that
Nigeria is a space where something can be both
totally white and totally black at the same time.
Let
me illustrate with the current brouhaha over the arrest of some
judges. If the operation by the DSS is indeed
part and parcel of a strategy to identify and
flush depraved judges, stinky interlopers who
have stolen into the citadel of justice, it
could also be the case that we are witnessing,
simultaneously, an exercise to target justices
who have checked the ambitions of the ruling
party or its powerful members.
The
DSS had its day and its say. Then the besieged judges
took the stage to tell their own stories.
Justice John Inyang Okoro of the Supreme Court
gave an account of how he was tricked out of his
home when an unknown caller told him he had a
message from the President Muhammadu Buhari.
He opened his door to the sight of a battalion
of armed DSS agents who then proceeded to
search his residence for more than four hours— after
which they took him away.
Justice
Okoro protested his personal probity, and alleged that former
Governor Rotimi Amaechi of Rivers State—and
now Minister of Transportation— had once paid
him a visit at home and made an unsuccessful
pitch to tempt him to suborn justice for a
fee. The justice claimed that he had alerted Nigeria’s
Chief Justice, Mahmud Mohammed, about the
attempted inducement. He then accused a
vengeful Amaechi of instigating the siege on his home and of manufacturing his travail. Mr. Amaechi responded, characterizing Justice Okoro as a dabbler in art of fiction.
If
the minister’s characterization were valid, then Justice
Okoro would be a short story writer compared
to his other embattled colleague, Justice Sylvester
Ngwuta, also of the Supreme Court of Ngwuta.
In a lengthy statement, Justice Ngwuta gave an
account of the raid on his residence that is worthy
of a middlebrow novel. Like his colleague, he
again cast Mr. Amaechi in the role of dreadful, mean-spirited
antagonist.
Justice Ngwuta wrote: “My present
plight started sometime between 2013 and 2014. I represented the then Chief Justice of Nigeria in an event organized in the International Conference Centre. Hon. Rotimi Amaechi
came in late and sat next to me at the high
table. He introduced himself to me and we
exchanged contacts. A few weeks after,
Fayose’s case was determined in the Court of
Appeal. Amaechi called me by 6.45
am. He said he had come to see me but was told I had left for my office. When he said he would return in the evening, I demanded to know what he wanted but he would not tell me. He did not come that evening but came the following morning when I was already prepared to go to work. He begged me to ensure that Fayose’s election was set aside and another election ordered for his friend Fayemi to contest.
I told him I would not help him and
that even if I am on the panel I have only my
one vote.
“After
the Rivers State Governorship election was determined by the
Court of Appeal, he called to tell me his ears
were full and he would like to tell me what he
heard. I told him I was out of Abuja at the time.
On my return he came in the evening and even
before he sat down he barked, ‘You have seen
Wike’. I asked him whether that was a question
or a statement. Then he made a call and asked
me to speak with someone. The man he called said
he was a DSS man. We exchanged greetings and I handed the phone to him. Next, he said, ‘Oga is not happy’. I asked him who is the unhappy ‘Oga’ and he answered ‘Buhari’. I retorted ‘go and talk to his wife’. He got very angry, and left, remarking ‘we shall see’ several times.
Former Governor Amaechi’s response
to Justice Ngwuta was far less charitable than his retort to Justice Okoro. He declared his second judicial accuser as a shameless liar.
The verbal duels underscore what
has become of Nigeria, a veritable republic of the absurd. In how many countries in the world do we have such squalid drama? In how many other countries would there be this kind of sordid conversation, exposing the ethical puniness of the men and women who preside over, and ruin, every sector of our life?
There’s a design to the madness of
the people who have wrecked—and continue to wreck—Nigeria.
They
have something on one another, some narrative with
which to wiggle out of trouble at any moment.
Some pundits are bogged down, debating who’s
telling the truth, who lying. I have a sneaking suspicion
that truth as such was an early casualty in
all this drama, that the major actors are role players
in a complex game of deception. Nigerians know
that their judiciary reeks of corruption, that too
many judges hawk their verdicts to the highest bidder.
Nigerians know that their politicians and rogue
judges fraternize in ways that are unhealthy, undermining
the idea of law and order. We know that
politicians use public funds to romance filthy judgments
out of wigged touts passing themselves off as
judges.
A war against judicial corruption
should be fought as part of a broader war against
corruption in
Nigeria.
Tragically, President Buhari has not defined that broad,
systemic template that would combat corruption
within the Presidency and the DSS and the
police and the military and academia and among
the clergy, and so on. Heck, when the government
acts in way that mocks the constitution,
that’s is, above everything else, a corrupt
act.
You can
follow Okey on Twitter @okeyndibe and reach him at
okeyndibe@gmail.com .
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