By Festus Adedayo
“If you are unlucky not to have a representative in the judicial council, even if you are innocent, you can be found guilty.”
That is the essence of the Yoruba saying, “B’eyan o l’eni ni’gbimo, bo ro’jo are, ebi lo mi a je,” a warning that the absence of influence or representation can sometimes affect the outcome of a dispute.
The saying, immortalised in one of the songs of late Apala musician Alhaji Ayinla Omowura, points to a troubling reality that corruption and favouritism did not begin with colonial rule. Read alongside D.O. Olagoke’s 1962 play, The Incorruptible Judge, it raises a fundamental question about Nigeria’s long struggle to build institutions capable of delivering justice without undue influence.
Nigeria’s latest debate over corruption at the time centred on the disputed 2023 presidential election. Three major political figures — Atiku Abubakar, Peter Obi and Bola Tinubu — contested the February 25 election, after which the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) declared Tinubu of the All Progressives Congress (APC) the winner.
His two major challengers rejected aspects of the outcome and pursued their grievances through the legal process. Amid the controversy, allegations emerged that the then Chief Justice of Nigeria, Justice Kayode Ariwoola, had travelled outside the country to meet Tinubu, who was then the president-elect.
A photograph showing Ariwoola using a wheelchair was circulated in connection with the allegation. It was subsequently claimed that the alleged meeting was connected with attempts to influence the judicial process over the election petitions.
Those claims, however, required evidence beyond photographs, speculation and social media narratives.
Historical accounts of corruption in Nigeria have long documented the depth of the problem. Works such as Karl Maier’s This House Has Fallen and Stephen Ellis’ This Present Darkness examined corruption, patronage and the weaknesses of institutions in Nigeria and other parts of Africa.
Corruption has often been described as the abuse of entrusted power for private gain. Viewed from that perspective, Nigeria’s struggle is not merely about individual misconduct but also about the weakness of institutions designed to prevent abuse of public office.
Since independence in 1960, successive governments have introduced various measures intended to tackle corruption. Yet the problem has persisted across civilian and military administrations, raising questions about the effectiveness of institutions and the commitment of political leaders to accountability.
During the military era, allegations of corruption also became prominent. Under the administration of General Yakubu Gowon, concerns were raised about the accumulation of wealth by some public officials and military officers.
Gowon’s government responded with measures including the Investigation of Assets Decree No. 37 of 1968. In 1973, Alhaji Kam Salem was appointed to head the police “X-Squad”, an anti-fraud unit established to investigate corruption within the force.
The administration was also confronted by the controversy surrounding Federal Communications Commissioner Joseph Tarka. Allegations of corruption involving Tarka generated significant public attention and eventually led to his resignation in 1974.
Another major controversy emerged around the importation of cement, popularly known as the “Cement Armada”. The scandal involved allegations of irregularities in the procurement and importation of cement and implicated officials within government institutions.
These episodes demonstrated that allegations of corruption involving public officials were not new to Nigeria.
The judiciary, which is expected to serve as one of the strongest safeguards against abuse of power, has also faced its share of allegations and controversies.
Over the years, there have been allegations involving judicial officers, including claims of bribery and improper financial dealings. In some instances, law-enforcement investigations resulted in arrests and the recovery of large sums of money and documents from properties associated with serving judges.
One of the most notable episodes occurred in 2016, when the State Security Service (SSS) carried out raids on the residences of several senior judges in different parts of the country. The agency said the operation followed investigations into suspected financial misconduct.
The development generated widespread debate about judicial independence, corruption and the methods employed by security agencies in investigating serving judicial officers.
Election petition cases have traditionally attracted even greater public attention because of their implications for political power. Allegations that judicial officers could be influenced by politicians are particularly serious because the courts are ultimately expected to determine electoral disputes according to evidence and the law.
It was against this background that the allegations involving Ariwoola gained traction.
Nigeria had already witnessed controversies involving previous Chief Justices of Nigeria. Justice Walter Onnoghen faced allegations relating to asset declaration, while his successor, Justice Ibrahim Tanko Muhammad, later came under criticism following complaints by Supreme Court justices concerning the administration of the apex court.
These precedents inevitably made the public more sensitive to allegations involving the office of the CJN. Yet previous controversies involving occupants of an office cannot, by themselves, establish wrongdoing against another person who later occupies that office.
That distinction is important.
Around the same period, then Minister of State for Labour, Festus Keyamo, criticised those challenging the 2023 election result and those organising protests over the outcome.
In a statement, Keyamo argued that those dissatisfied with the election should allow the courts to determine their grievances rather than combine legal action with street protests. He accused some individuals and groups of attempting to undermine democracy and warned against what he described as the spread of hate, division and falsehood.
His comments raised another question: can citizens who believe that their votes were unlawfully denied them be prevented from peacefully protesting while simultaneously pursuing their grievances through the courts?
Peaceful protest and litigation are not inherently incompatible with democracy. Indeed, both are recognised avenues through which citizens can express dissatisfaction and seek redress, provided they are exercised within the law.
The more troubling issue, however, was the allegation that the head of Nigeria’s judiciary could have been involved in an arrangement to compromise the determination of the presidential election petitions.
Given the history of corruption allegations surrounding public institutions, it is understandable that some Nigerians found the claims believable. But suspicion, no matter how strong, is not the same as proof.
The photograph of Ariwoola in a wheelchair was presented by some commentators as evidence that he had travelled to meet Tinubu. Yet the mere fact that a person appeared in a wheelchair at an airport or another location cannot establish the purpose of the journey, the identity of anyone he met or the substance of any conversation that may have taken place.
That distinction should not be lost in the rush to judgment.
Nigeria has witnessed several instances in which serious allegations generated public outrage before later being challenged or disproved. One example that comes to mind is the controversy surrounding a purported 1989 report in Ebony magazine concerning the administration of military President Ibrahim Babangida.
The alleged publication generated significant reactions, including student unrest, while educationist and social critic Tai Solarin was reportedly accused of circulating the material. The publisher of Ebony subsequently denied publishing the report, pointing to the danger of relying on unverified material in matters capable of provoking public outrage.
The lesson remains relevant: serious allegations require serious evidence.
Those accusing Ariwoola of attempting to influence the presidential election petitions therefore needed to provide verifiable evidence of the alleged meeting and its purpose. If there were records showing where the meeting took place, who attended it, when it occurred and what was discussed, such evidence would have been far more consequential than a photograph of the CJN using a wheelchair.
For a matter as serious as alleged judicial interference in a presidential election, the standard should be evidence, not conjecture.
Nigeria cannot afford a situation in which electoral disputes are compounded by unsubstantiated allegations of judicial corruption. Equally, the country must not allow the demand for accountability to become a justification for condemning individuals before the facts are established.
The integrity of the judiciary is too important to be reduced to social media speculation.
If there was indeed an attempt to compromise the judicial process, the appropriate response should be a transparent investigation capable of establishing the facts. If there was no such attempt, then the public deserves clarity and the accused deserves protection from allegations that cannot be substantiated.
Ultimately, the question should not be whether Ariwoola was seen in a wheelchair. The real question is whether there is credible evidence that he met anyone for the purpose of compromising the judicial determination of the 2023 presidential election.
That is the evidence Nigerians should demand.
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