“Possibly he cohabited with Miss Bloggs, but don’t mention it in front of his wife, let the sleeping dogs lie.” Gordon Jarvie’s ‘Dictionary of Idioms’ contains that example of a warning that has been with us since Geoffrey Chaucer’s 1385 epic poem, Troilus and Criseyde. When the storm is angry and howling, the wise stay safe. I thought every man has that wisdom until I heard Senate President Godswill Akpabio at the weekend in Abuja vowing to devour a bowl of very hot 20-year-old pounded yam. To him, the sleeping dog must stop sleeping.

For some people, one trouble at a time is not enough. I count Akpabio among such persons. The mouthful wahala from delectable Senator Natasha is not enough; voracious Akpabio must do Oliver Twist; he wants one more problem to solve. He threatened at the weekend to sue former acting Managing Director of the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC), Joy Nunieh, over her 2020 allegations of sexual harassment leveled against him. Where are Akpabio’s younger friends? They should read to him Harry Porter’s exasperation: “And quite honestly, I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

In July 2020, Nunieh alleged that she slapped Akpabio, who was the then Minister of Niger Delta Affairs, because he allegedly sexually harassed her:

 “Why did he not tell Nigerians that I slapped him in his guest house at Apo? I am the only Ogoni woman, the only Nigerian woman that has slapped him. I slapped him because of his plan B. Since he couldn’t get me to take that money, he thought that he could come up on me,” she told Arise TV at the time and proceeded to explain that sexual harassment was what she meant by “come up on me.”

For five years, Akpabio slumbered and snored. A slap from a lady called Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan appears to have now woken up Nigeria’s number one lawmaker. Addressing the matter at the weekend, Akpabio announced his intention to take legal action against Nunieh. “My other sister, the one they sometimes refer to as Joy Nunieh, I will like to mention her name because she will be hearing from my lawyer anytime in the next one week. Crime never dies.”

When is trouble enough? And, does the right to seek judicial remedies exist forever? By July this year, it will be five years since Nunieh made her sensational slap statement. She uttered the claim, Akpabio pretended she said nothing significant. Akpabio is a lawyer. At the law school, his teachers taught him that rights of action are subject to specific time frames. The cause of action occurred in Abuja. The Limitation Act which applies in Abuja, what does it say on when a man is stopped from suing for defamation of character? Or does Akpabio want to approach this as a criminal offence which is not statute-barred, especially now that he is Nigeria’s very powerful number three citizen? In that case, it won’t be a case of “hearing from (his) lawyers”. It will be a case of the slapper hearing from the very duteous Nigeria police. We cannot wait.

What should be a leader’s reaction to attacks and allegations? The British House of Lords in 1987 delivered a controversial judgment backing the ban of Spycatcher, the memoirs of a former MI5 officer, Peter Wright. The Daily Mirror reacted with an upside down photo of the three law lords who decided the case in favour of Margaret Thatcher’s government. The picture came with the caption: ‘You Old Fools.’ Many thought that was insulting and contemptuous of the court. But, the Law Lord, Sydney William Templeman, did not think so. The lord noted that the caption contained three words ‘You’, ‘Old’ and ‘Fools’. The world might think the caption offensive but to my lord, they were not. Templeman said it was indeed true that he was an old man. He said being a fool or not was a matter of perception but he knew he was not a fool. He caused the matter to end right there.

Sir Alexander Cockburn was England’s Lord Chief Justice in 1879. He was incensed at scathing criticisms of one of his rulings. He thought the right course to take was to use his high office and his knowledge of the law to take down his critics. Cockburn did the very unusual: he published a 24-page pamphlet in rebuttal of the strictures and thoroughly abused his critics. But his pamphlet did not help him; his rebuttal attracted a string of counter-rebuttals. Records say that the Lord Chief Justice came out of that controversy diminished in social and intellectual standing. Roderick Munday who went over that case again in 1987, wrote that “this unedifying episode illustrates how even the holder of the highest office can make a spectacle of himself.” Munday’s conclusion is that “if ever a judge again feels disposed to respond to public strictures, he might first do well to ponder the experience of Cockburn C.J.”

A man in a hole is still digging. Senator Akpabio thinks an old and long-forgotten war is worth exhuming. He must combine it with the present and have both crushed.

Can I now examine how he is handling the present problem? Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan accused Akpabio of sexual harassment. Akpabio kept quiet for almost a week; when he spoke, it was as a judge in his own case. His wife and almost the whole of the Senate were the first to come out roaring. They said Akpabio did not do what he was accused of doing. They said the lady had assaulted the integrity of their presiding officer. They were very rancorous like passengers in a midair troubled plane.

One of the senators said Natasha should use the period of her suspension to learn the Senate rules. I found that quite ironic. It will be appropriate if that member and other members learn what the law says about a man judging his own case. Or, what did they think happened when Mr Akpabio appointed the jury, sat as the judge, read his judgment and convicted his accuser? If you are accused of harbouring unsightly intestines, why wouldn’t you use common sense to pack it well and far from public sneer. The convicted is already shouting fair hearing. A first-year law student knows that the Latin phrase, ‘Nemo Judex In Causa Sua’ means no one should be a judge in his own cause. It is a universal principle of fair hearing that in judicial and administrative proceedings, a judge or an administrator having personal or proprietary interest in the outcome of a proceeding must not exercise adjudicatory powers in the case in question. Was Akpabio set up to take that route? A smart Akpabio would have let his deputy handle that case. If he did, justice would have been seen to have been done. Or, could it be that Akpabio and his Senate believed that only weaklings without money and power bother about procedural fairness? And there are lawyers among them.

I do not know how they do it where Akpabio comes from but in my part of the country, no wise man is allowed to directly judge his own case. A man would be an original àgbà òsìkà to make himself judge over his enemies. Section 36 of our constitution is clear on this. And it is universal in its application. The US Supreme Court also carefully laid this out: “A fair trial in a fair tribunal is a basic requirement of due process. Fairness, of course, requires an absence of actual bias in the trial of cases… To this end, no man can be a judge in his own case and no man is permitted to try cases where he has an interest in the outcome.” In another case, the court held that “prejudice, in order to be disqualifying, must consist of a personal animosity toward one party or very strong feeling in favour of the other party.” In this case of Natasha, Chief Akpabio was actually the other party – the accused; and he was the judge.

The senate riotously mobbed the accuser out of the chamber. She will be in the cold for six months. This is not about who is saying the truth and who is lying. No one outside the two actors can say what the truth is. What is true is known to the supposedly harassed and the alleged harasser. But I think Akpabio, for whatever reasons, should not have bungled his case. He shouldn’t have sat over the matter with the catty visage of the lion, king of the jungle. What he did is what the English qualify with the word ‘impunity’. And I think he did so because in this country, anyone blessed with his kind of uncommon bigness is hefty enough to pocket the law.

At the weekend again, Akpabio went regional in search of defence. He thought his tribulations should wear the tunic of politics. He vowed that the South South region (where he comes from) would not surrender the senate presidency no matter the level of gang up against him. He said: “The Senate President of today is not representing himself alone. He is representing a people who are very crucial to the economic life wire of this country. So, when people gang up and conspire, I hear voices from Adamawa shouting, I hear voices from Kwara State shouting, I hear some young people from the southwest being used for something they don’t know, they don’t know the rules of the Senate, you can’t be a herbalist and start quoting the Bible, you won’t know what to quote.” Interesting. So, are Akpabio’s enemies from the South West, the North Central and the North East? Who are they? Those who want to be lame should be completely lame, the blind should be blind totally; half blinded people always plunge the world into wars. If I were Akpabio, I would be total in naming names. That is what real men do.

If you carry a pot of uncommon palm oil, run away from stone throwers. Has Akpabio ever heard the Yoruba story of Eku kékeré tó ní òun yóò ba isé àgbè jé (The small rat that says it will destroy the farmer’s work)? The story, with a little adjustment, is reproduced here as told by James Bọ̀dé Agbájé in his ‘Proverbs: A Strategy for Resolving Conflict in Yorùbá Society’:

“There was once a small rat on a farm who said to the farmer that he would destroy all the farmer’s work. The farmer answered the rat: ‘How can you destroy my work, you tiny idiot?’ When the maize on the farm matured, the rat went to see the farmer and told him again that he would destroy all the farmer’s work. The farmer just burst out laughing and told the rat: ‘You are joking. How will you destroy this huge maize farm?’ The rat said okay and departed. When the farmer was harvesting his maize, the rat revisited the farm and again promised the farmer that one day all his harvest would be destroyed. The farmer just ignored the rat and the rat went away. After the farmer had finished packing all his harvested crops in the aka (‘barn’), the rat managed to enter the barn unnoticed. He started eating part of the maize and left the wasted remnants covering the ground.

“The farmer knew what was happening and announced, ‘I know you are in there. You just hide yourself there.’ He was determined to deal ruthlessly with the small wicked rat. The rat heard the farmer and answered him. He told him that he had promised the farmer that his farm would be destroyed and the time had now come for the operation. The angry farmer thought he should just smoke out the stupid tiny rat. A little fire he made went out of hand. Within the twinkling of an eye, all the maize caught fire. Just then, the rat escaped and the whole place was burnt to ashes. Later, the rat went to the farmer and said to him that the deed was done. The rat boasted: ‘I promised to shatter your efforts and you underrated what I said. Haven’t I destroyed all the fruits of your labour now?’ The farmer was downcast and started to bite his fingers in regret. He said that if he had taken the proper precautions and had not underrated the stupid tiny rat, the whole situation could have been averted.” The powerful should be very careful; the ground is wet and slippery.

Former Governor of Kaduna State, Nasiru El-Rufai, has left the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) for the Social Democratic Party (SDP).

In a statement he shared on Monday in Abuja, titled “Onwards to the Future,” the former Kaduna State governor noted, “As a founding member of the All Progressives Congress (APC), I have fond memories of working with other compatriots to negotiate the merger of political parties that created the APC.

“It had been my hope since 2013 that my personal values and those of the APC would align up to the time I chose to retire from politics.”

However, he said developments in the last two years confirm that those who currently control and run the APC have no desire to acknowledge, let alone address, the unhealthy state of the party.

*On my part, I have raised concerns in private and, more recently, in public regarding the capricious trajectory of the party.

“Founders rightly feel attached to institutions they helped create, but one must be pragmatic enough to admit when a divergence becomes unbridgeable.

“I have diligently served the APC and contributed to its viability as a political platform but recognize that the party has strayed, leaving me stuck in the vision of its well-meaning founding fathers and mothers.

“As a loyal party man, I worked to help secure the APC’s election victories in 2015, 2019, and 2023. I was one of the many governors elected on the party’s platform in 2015 and 2019 who stood for democratic and progressive principles to advance nation-building.

“My eight-year tenure in Kaduna State was devoted to implementing progressive policies to advance human development in education and healthcare, expand infrastructure, promote equality of opportunity, create jobs, and attract investments.

“However, these records count for little in the current APC, which has castrated its organs and treated its membership with contempt over the last two years. I find this no longer acceptable.”*

He added, *”On March 10, 2025, I submitted a letter resigning my membership of the APC to my ward in Kaduna, effective immediately.

“Subsequent to this, I concluded consultations with my mentors, colleagues, and loyalists about the future and have decided to join the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and adopt it as the platform for our future political engagements and activities.

“Without prejudice to this decision, as a member of the SDP, I will focus on engaging with and persuading other opposition leaders and parties to join us in forming a unified democratic platform to challenge the APC in all elections and by-elections between now and 2027, by the grace of God.

“I therefore call on all our supporters and other persons concerned about our country’s future to join us in the SDP in the journey towards making Nigeria flourish as a beacon of pride for Africans and the Black race.”

[Nigerian Tribune]

The autobiography is a most delicate, complex and indeed disruptive art form. It is the autobiographer’s authorial insistence to be heard in terms of his or her narrative addition to a historical discourse. In fact, it is the autobiographer’s narration of the historical event from his or her own perspective. And more often than not, when the autobiographer is a fundamental participant in the event, the complexities of that event and the circumstances surrounding it is multiplied. Only very few autobiographies enjoy global approval. And that is because the art form is seen as an ego trip. That sentiment is summed by the English biographer, Humphrey Carpenter: “Autobiography is probably the most respectable form of lying.” This is even made worse if the protagonists are critical individuals whose lives have affected national trajectories. General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida (IBB) is one such critical protagonist, and his autobiography has arrived. 

A Journey in Service has since started generated lots of furors in all strata of the Nigerian public space, online and offline. Lots of opinions have tied IBB to several significant historical moments in Nigeria, especially the annulment of the June 12 elections, and the demise of MKO Abiola. What many have conveniently glossed over, and a case I have consistently made, is that personal narrative in the forms of autobiography and memoirs serve a unique function in terms of their historical import. If A Journey in Service had not been written, we will all be gasping within the yawning silence of the political and administrative gaps that ought to have been filled with whatever the autobiographer has to say. But now it has been written, and we can then commence the journey of unraveling how the narrative fits or fails to fit in with the existing accounts of Nigeria’s political development. 

This personal narrative has a critical import for me as a historian of Nigeria’s administrative and reform trajectories. The Babangida administration played a very fundamental role in articulating a significant portion of Nigeria’s administrative reform architecture. And so, that portion of the trajectory, and the entire institutional reform agenda of the Nigerian state, will not be complete without adding the voice and perspective of the key protagonist to the understanding of how the reform policy emerged. No matter what anyone thinks, the imperative of national history demands that such an account be added to the stock of what we already know, and to flesh out a better understanding of what we already know. The idea therefore is to see how the protagonist, no matter the groundswell of national opinion for or against him, fits into a larger picture of the political and administrative frameworks that enable us to see where the nation is coming from and where it is headed. This is a task every institutional reformer must long for without getting sidetracked by sentimental opinion that accords blame and sling mud. This is part of what makes IBB and A Journey in Service such a delight for me. Unfortunately, the head of the historic administration does not consider that irreducible reform agenda that distinguishes his administration so significantly as to celebrate its conception, elements and operation, as well as its limitations, in a significant autobiography. That responsibility has been passed to posterity. This piece rescues that fundamental omission.    

The pre-Babangida administrative reform narrative must always revert back to the 1974 Udoji Commission. That Commission is singular because it was the first to attempt an alignment between Nigeria’s reform efforts and the emerging managerial revolution in public administration across the globe. The Udoji Commission took its immediate inspiration from the Lord Fulton Committee of 1968 in Britain. The task of the Fulton Report was to inquire into the capability readiness of the British civil service to confront the modern British society and its technological complexity. Fulton’s most significant recommendation was the displacement of the cult of generalist amateur civil servants in an approaching administrative dispensation that requires a critical mass of new managers who possess the professionalism and specialist expertise to harness the talents needed to make the civil service economic, effective and efficient. 

By the time the Udoji Commission was inaugurated, Nigeria had also reached the critical juncture where it became imperative to ask whether the Weberian assumptions underlying the British administrative legacy were capable of tackling the urgent governance requirement of a postcolonial society. The wage impasse which the system had been confronting before independence, for the Commission, was a symptom of a deeper administrative malady represented by a bureaucratic culture that had arrested innovation and entrepreneurial creativity in the analysis and implementation of policies. Managerialism therefore provides the most timely and perfect means of making the civil service system align with the goals of national development. The Udoji Commission went on to leverage the global good practice of the time that calls for a new style public service that deploys new management techniques of Planning, Programming and Budgeting System (PPBS), Management by Objectives (MBO), the precursor of what is today called the performance management system, project management system, among others, that was totally alien to the Nigerian public service, at the time. The new management architecture that the envisioned management system would have institutionalized would obviously have been inadequate but would have laid a critical substructure that would have set Nigeria on the new productivity paradigm that assisted Malaysia, Singapore, the Asian Tigers and many other developing countries that are within Nigerian global ranking at the time. 

The most devastating blow that the civil service suffered were those created not by it but the governance tradition that militarism and “New Federalism” of the post-civil war years created where the rigorous analytical frame that governed development investment got replaced with the unreflective “with immediate effect” command and control governance tradition which created huge process, policy, capacity, performance and resource gaps. The Udoji Commission and its limitations, as well as the succeeding Phillips and Ayida Commissions, could be understood only within this military tradition of which IBB was a significant part. When he assumed office in 1985, one of the most immediate decisions was, according to his admission, the need to “strengthen the practice of the presidential system with clear economic, political, and social reforms to strengthen the nation as a constitutional democracy based on the presidential system.” Assuming the title of a “President” was therefore more than a mere nominal gesture to narcissism. Rather, he said, it was “a summation of our consensus on the need to preserve and strengthen the presidential system and make it work better for the nation.”

But a nominal title was not enough. A commitment to the presidential system, IBB insisted, defined the necessity of “structuring a reform programme around institutions to make it work.” And given the tension that already was prevalent in the heated polity, IBB surmised, the reforms that must make any significance must be as comprehensive as the administration could make it. And the first act of symbolic gesture was negative: the urgency of the need “to review the various draconian decrees, convictions, and pending cases that bordered on human rights violations.” The Exchange Control (anti-sabotage) Decree 7 and Decree 4 (Public Officers Protection Against False Accusation) had to be significantly reviewed. This was followed by the real positive task of reforming the economy and governance in ways that go beyond “knee-jerk populist reflexes.” 

The task, in governance and economic terms, was therefore to “Remove the government from the role of an enormous money changer to that of an enabler of the appropriate economic environment. We also needed to let the economy, in general, breathe more freely.” It was to liberalize the economy and make government an able enabler rather than occupying the ‘commanding heights of the economy.” Unfortunately for us all, IBB fails to dwell on what could have been a defining dimension of A Journey in Service, the civil service reform framework of the Babangida administration. This is shocking but revealing in itself. One possible reason is that the author subsumed the civil service reform under the broader political reforms: “Our political programme targeted the critical areas of political and socio-cultural restructuring highlighted by the Political Bureau report: the party system, the electoral process, including election administration, the federal structure, the civil service, and the problem of succession, including political leadership.” 

And yet, this fails to do justice to the significance of the Babangida administration and its inheritance of the Dotun Philips Commission from the Buhari-Idiagbon administration. The Phillips Study Team is significant because it had the task of re-organizing the operations of the civil service in terms of professionalism that will eventually align it with the managerial revolution recommended by Udoji. And that reform effort alone cements his administration’s significance in the annals of administrative history in Nigeria, and a fundamental contribution to the cumulation of reform knowledge in Nigeria. IBB already gave the significant intellectual basis of the restructuring that was an imperative: to achieve “national rebirth and future greatness,” there is a need for political and economic restructuring that free up the national space for transformation. And one way to do this, according to him, was cultivate intellectuals: “We needed the input of intellectuals to enlighten the business of government.” There was also the crucial need for the public service as the engine of government business. It beats me how IBB did not see that. 

The Dotun Philips Study Group was constituted by the Buhari-Idiagbon administration in 1985, with the objective of undertaking an interrogation of the structure, mode of operation and strategy of the civil service in the light of contemporary administrative situation, as well as finding means by which the eroded professionalism of the system could be restored. After the 1985 coup, Babangida inherited the study group and transformed it into a full-blown commission whose task was to keep up with the objective of aligning the spirit of managerialism and a professionalized civil service with the form and spirit of presidentialism. This was to be incorporated into the total package of the Civil Service Reforms through a Civil Service Reorganisation Decree No. 43 of 1988. Given the administration’s concern with the rigid Soviet-styled centralization of the economy and the need to open the economy up to market forces, it was only logical that the administration would adopt the critical managerial principle of letting managers manage by having greater control on critical resources. This possesses the capacity to inspire a wholesale decentralization of the HRM function to MDA. The policy choice here is between centralized resource governance for example where the civil service commission wields constitutional powers for recruitment, promotion and discipline exercised at top management levels by the Commission while delegating the powers to MDAs at middle to lower levels. 

The Philips reform was compromised essentially because (a) it took the issues involved in professionalism too far (for instance, by attempting to make a professional out of everybody within the civil service); and (b) its own unique managerial thrust was directed towards integrating the civil service into the presidential system of government, with one unintended consequence being that professionalization turned into politicization through an attempt, for instance, that turned an administrative post (permanent secretary) into a political one (director-general). And yet, this is not a failure because it was a logical reform complements to the short-circuited Udoji Commission recommendation of a public service founded on performance management, and its underlying managerial philosophy was significant in getting the Babangida administration its governance template for transforming national development. 

I insist that an administration is only as good as its reform agenda, both in design and implementation. The Babangida administration gave Nigeria’s reform trajectory one of the key moments in the protracted attempt to translate the gains and efficiencies of a managerial opportunity to a bureaucratic system. 

MTN Nigeria Communications Plc and Airtel Africa have aggressively cut their foreign debt, repaying $1.2 billion in 2024 to ease foreign exchange burden as they chart a path back to profitability.

Following the naira’s steep depreciation in 2023, both telcos suffered $1.56 billion in foreign exchange losses.

The Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN)’s unification of the country’s foreign exchange market in June 2023 triggered a sharp devaluation of the naira to 471/$ from 1043.09/$ by December 28, 2023, and 1512.3/$ by March 7, 2025.

MTN Nigeria declared its first loss after tax of N137 billion since its 2019 listing on the Nigerian Stock Exchange in 2023. Airtel Africa, which had 50.9 million subscribers in Nigeria as of March 2024, reported a loss after tax of $89 million for its full year ended March 2024, primarily due to FX headwinds in Nigeria and Malawi.

To mitigate further FX-induced losses, MTN and Airtel have aggressively cut FX liabilities. MTN Nigeria slashed its outstanding letters of credit (LC) dollar obligations from $416.6 million as of 31 December 2023 to $20.8 million by the end of 2024.

Airtel Africa, on its part, repaid $739 million in foreign currency debt over the last year, reducing its foreign currency debt exposure. Both companies believe that reducing their foreign currency obligations is key to strengthening their financial positions.

At the end of 2023, Olusegun Ogunsanya, the then-chief executive officer of Airtel Africa, stated, “We will continue to focus on reducing our exposure to currency volatility.

“Although this reduction resulted in realised foreign exchange losses, it has substantially strengthened our financial position and lowered the financial risks associated with the depreciation of the naira and its related finance costs,” MTN said in its 2024 results.

However, the debt reduction came at a cost, significantly impacting MTN’s financials. Despite reporting a record revenue of N3.36 trillion for 2024, it recorded a N400.44 billion loss after tax due to forex losses arising from the revaluation of foreign currency-denominated obligations.

It noted that it would have reported a profit after tax of N247.3 billion if not for the net forex loss.

Airtel Africa, on the other hand, recorded a 5.78 percent revenue decline to $3.64 billion from $3.86 billion in the nine months ending December 2024. However, its profit after tax grew 12,300 percent to $248 million from $2 million.

Both companies are shifting towards local debt as their appetite for FX debt wanes. Airtel Africa now holds 92 percent of its debt, excluding lease liabilities, in local currency, up from 79 percent a year ago.

Sunil Taldar, chief executive officer of Airtel Africa, noted, “Our capital structure remains robust with just 8 percent of OpCo debt in foreign currency — a substantial improvement over the last year.”

MTN has also restructured its loan portfolio, with 72 percent now in naira and 28 percent in dollars, compared to 56 percent naira and 44 percent dollars in 2023. Its total net debt dropped 29 percent to N591 billion by the end of 2024.

To finance operations locally, it raised N190 billion under its N250 billion Commercial Paper Issuance Programme.

On an investors’ call, Modupe Kadri, MTN Nigeria’s chief financial officer (CFO), noted that as of December 2023, the telco had an overall foreign exchange exposure of $1 billion, but it was reduced to about $300 million by the end of 2024.

Renegotiation of tower lease contracts

Beyond debt restructuring, telcos renegotiated tower lease contracts with infrastructure companies such as IHS, INT Towers Limited, and ATC Nigeria to curb FX and energy-related costs.

MTN’s renegotiation with IHS alone resulted in N113.8 billion in operational savings. Telcos are also increasingly adopting local solutions to minimise FX exposures and improve margins.

“We will focus on cost savings through our expenditure resiliency programme and implement localisation initiatives to further reduce foreign exchange exposure and operating expenditure and to improve financial resilience.

“We believe these efforts will help us maintain our competitive edge and drive additional growth in service revenues, support margin recovery, and restore our capital position,” said Karl Toriola, chief executive officer of MTN, during the telco’s investors’ call.

With the recent regulatory approval for a 50 percent increase in telecom tariffs, experts believe that this, combined with ongoing FX debt reduction efforts, will set the sector on a path to profitability.

The Supreme Court’s recent ruling on the status of the 27 lawmakers loyal to former Governor Nyesom Wike has deepened public concern over Nigeria’s judiciary. The apex court ruled that there was no legal basis for Governor Siminalayi Fubara’s claim that the lawmakers defected from the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) to the All Progressives Congress (APC). This verdict effectively restored the legislative authority of the lawmakers, further complicating Fubara’s control over the state government. However, the judgment is being widely perceived as favoring Wike’s camp, raising questions about judicial neutrality and reinforcing broader apprehensions about institutional credibility. If the courts are perceived as political tools rather than impartial arbiters, then the foundation of Nigeria’s democracy is at risk of crumbling under the weight of selective judicial obedience.

Double Standards in Obeying Court Orders

Who Decides Which Rulings Matter? If Nigeria’s Senate, under the leadership of Godswill Akpabio, can boldly disregard a Federal High Court order by suspending Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan despite a court ruling to the contrary, then how can Nigeria turn around and expect Governor Fubara to fully comply with a Supreme Court ruling he perceives as flawed? The inconsistency in judicial compliance at different levels of government creates a dangerous precedent where court orders are no longer universally binding, but instead selectively followed based on political convenience. If Fubara were to openly question or even delay compliance with the Supreme Court’s ruling, it would not be without justification, considering the growing evidence that judicial rulings in Nigeria may no longer carry the same weight they once did.

Rivers State Electoral Body Defies the Legislature: 

The Rivers State Independent Electoral Commission (RSIEC) has also joined the cycle of legal defiance. Following the Supreme Court ruling, the Rivers State House of Assembly issued a 48-hour ultimatum to Governor Fubara to re-present the 2025 budget and summoned the chairman of RSIEC, Justice Adulphus Enebeli (rtd), along with commissioners, to justify financial expenditures without an appropriation law since January 2024. In an act of outright defiance, both Governor Fubara and RSIEC have rejected the ultimatum, further fueling the constitutional standoff. RSIEC issued a Pre-Action Notice, challenging the legal authority of the Assembly to issue such an ultimatum and claiming it violates Section 36 of the 1999 Constitution, which guarantees fair hearing. The refusal of RSIEC to comply now raises serious concerns about whether judicial decisions and legislative authority hold any real weight if major political actors selectively choose which rulings to follow.

Judicial Favoritism? When the Law Serves Political Interests

If the judiciary is truly independent, then its rulings should be seen as sacrosanct, regardless of the parties involved. However, when some court orders are obeyed while others are openly flouted, the entire justice system is weakened, leaving room for anarchy and eroding public confidence. The judiciary must not only be impartial but must be seen to be impartial. A judicial system that tilts toward one political faction while aggressively enforcing rulings against another risks losing credibility in the eyes of the public. If the Certified True Copy (CTC) of the Supreme Court ruling now contains elements of defection that were never part of the original litigation, then the judiciary itself is under scrutiny for possible post-ruling modifications that serve political interests rather than legal precedent.

Fubara’s Imminent Political Battle: 

Governor Fubara is now in an increasingly precarious position. The Supreme Court ruling, which strengthens the authority of Wike’s lawmakers, emboldens them to further assert control over the state legislature. This ruling provides them with a legal foothold to renew impeachment threats and legislative challenges against Fubara. By narrowing his legal avenues to challenge the defected lawmakers, the ruling forces him to engage in careful political maneuvering. He must now either broaden his alliances to counterbalance Wike’s grip on the Assembly or seek a diplomatic resolution to maintain governance stability. However, given that the Senate has already openly defied a Federal High Court order, some argue that Fubara may feel justified in questioning or delaying compliance with the Supreme Court’s ruling.

The Supreme Court’s Role in Defection Cases: Has the Outcome Been Pre-Determined?

Furthermore, the Supreme Court’s involvement in defection cases has led to increased scrutiny on whether ongoing cases in lower courts have been effectively pre-determined. If the Supreme Court ruling includes preemptive decisions on defection that were not part of the case before it, it could signal that lower court rulings may already have a foregone conclusion, limiting any future legal challenges. This calls into question whether Nigeria’s judicial system is still a neutral venue for resolving disputes, or if it has become a tool for political leverage.

Erosion of Trust: 

What Happens When Citizens No Longer Believe in the Courts? The judiciary’s credibility is critical in maintaining democratic order, and the perception of judicial bias could exacerbate political tensions across Nigeria. Rivers State, which is already experiencing deep political divisions, is now at the heart of an institutional crisis. The selective adherence to judicial rulings raises questions about whether Nigeria is moving toward a lawful democracy or a system of rule by political decree. Public trust in the judiciary is essential, yet the growing sentiment is that some politicians and institutions are above the law while others are held strictly accountable.

The Unraveling of Nigeria’s Democracy: 

A Nation on the Precipice: In an era where political loyalty seemingly dictates legal outcomes, what happens when the people lose faith in the very institutions meant to uphold justice? If judicial orders are perceived as suggestions rather than mandates, then how does Nigeria maintain a functional democracy? With both the legislative and executive arms of government now engaged in selective compliance, the judiciary finds itself in an unprecedented crisis of legitimacy.

A Final Warning: If Court Rulings No Longer Bind, What Holds Nigeria Together?

Nigeria stands at a dangerous tipping point. The nation’s stability depends on the ability of its institutions to command respect and enforce accountability fairly and consistently. If the courts fail to uphold the principle of equal justice under the law, then democracy itself is at risk. The slow unraveling of trust in the judiciary is not just a legal or political issue—it is an existential threat to Nigeria’s ability to function as a state governed by law. If left unchecked, this erosion of trust will not only embolden further disobedience to legal authority but will set the stage for a future where governance is dictated by power rather than principles. If court rulings are no longer binding, then what remains to hold Nigeria together?

Vergangenheitsbewältigung (German: [fɛɐ̯ˈɡaŋənhaɪtsbəˌvɛltɪɡʊŋ], “struggle of overcoming the past” or “work of coping with the past”) is a German compound noun describing processes that, since the later 20th century, have become key in the study of post-1945 German literature, society, and culture. (“Overcoming the past”) is generally associated with Germany’s process of coming to terms with the history of National Socialism and the Holocaust.

Diego Maradona’s “Hand of God,” a moment of audacious deception and divine attribution, remains etched in the collective memory of football. It’s a story that transcended the boundaries of a simple sporting event, becoming a cultural touchstone, a symbol of cunning and controversy. The replay, the analysis, the debate – all contributed to the solidification of this moment into a piece of history, albeit a contested one. In Nigeria, we yearn for such clarity, such a tangible, debated, and ultimately understood narrative of our past.

IBB

Our historical landscape is cotton woven with threads of omission, selective memory, and a profound reluctance to confront the more painful chapters of our national story.

The systematic removal of history from secondary school curricula, a decision that effectively severed a generation from its roots, speaks volumes about our discomfort with our past. This deliberate erasure has created a void, a chasm where a shared understanding of our nation’s journey should reside.

The prioritization of foreign empires, like the Songhai, over the intricate and complex story of Nigerian history further compounds this issue. While these external narratives offer valuable perspectives, they cannot replace the fundamental need to understand our internal dynamics, our struggles, and our triumphs. The absence of a comprehensive exploration of the “Nigerian empire,” whatever form it may have taken, leaves a critical gap in our understanding of our own identity.

The Biafran War, a brutal and deeply divisive conflict, stands as a stark example of our reluctance to confront our past. The persistent refusal to commission a televised narrative, a project that could have served as a powerful tool for healing and reconciliation, underscores our collective unease. The parallels with “Hotel Rwanda” and “Sometimes in April,” films that dared to confront the horrors of genocide, are undeniable. By shying away from our painful truths, we perpetuate a cycle of misunderstanding and mistrust.

The Jos September 21 crisis, a more recent but equally devastating event, suffers from a similar lack of comprehensive documentation and public discourse. The absence of a clear, accessible narrative leaves the wounds of this tragedy festering, hindering the process of healing and reconciliation. Without a shared understanding of these events, we are condemned to repeat the mistakes of the past.

Equally troubling are the unresolved controversies that loom like specters over Nigeria’s political history. The 1986 assassination of Dele Giwa, founder of Newswatch magazine, via a letter bomb remains a festering wound. Despite evidence implicating state actors, the case languishes in obscurity, buried under layers of official obfuscation. Similarly, the 2001 murder of Bola Ige, then-Attorney General and Minister of Justice, remains shrouded in mystery. The unanswered question of who killed Bola Ige has become a metaphor for the culture of impunity that haunts Nigeria’s corridors of power. These are not mere cold cases; they are testaments to a state’s refusal to confront its shadows.

Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida, IBB

This opacity extends beyond individual tragedies. The Nigerian state’s insistence on classifying vast swathes of historical records—often under the guise of “national security”—denies citizens access to their own story. While democracies like the United States declassify documents after set periods, Nigeria’s archives remain locked, fueling speculation and conspiracy. What truths lie hidden in files marked confidential? What role did the state play in pivotal moments like the annulment of June 12 or the fuel subsidy protests? By clinging to secrecy, the state reduces history to a weapon, wielded to control narratives rather than enlighten the public.

Compounding this is the relegation of national discourse to the realm of myth and rumor. Without official records, history becomes a battleground of competing anecdotes. Was MKO Abiola’s death natural or engineered? What truly transpired during the Dimka coup? In the absence of facts, hearsay thrives. The danger is not merely academic; it erodes trust in institutions and fractures collective memory. When history is negotiable, manipulated by those in power, or concocted in the echo chambers of social media, society loses its anchor. A nation cannot mature when its past is a puzzle with missing pieces, assembled by guesswork and bias.

The silence of key figures, particularly those who played pivotal roles in shaping our nation’s destiny, exacerbates the problem. General Gowon, a man who stood at the helm of the nation during a tumultuous period, remains silent, his war memoirs unwritten. His perspective, his insights, and his reflections are invaluable, yet they remain locked away, depriving us of a crucial piece of our historical puzzle.

The recent launch of IBB’s autobiography, while a welcome addition to the sparse collection of personal narratives, underscores the challenges we face. In a nation starved of historical context, such accounts become not just personal reflections but de facto historical records. However, these accounts, by their very nature, are subjective, offering a single perspective on complex events. They cannot replace the rigorous, objective analysis of professional historians and the wealth of information contained in well-maintained archives.

Unlike nations with robust archival systems and transparent processes for declassifying historical documents, we rely heavily on “tales by moonlight,” anecdotal fragments that, while valuable, lack the rigor and objectivity of structured historical analysis. This reliance on oral traditions and personal accounts blurs the lines between public relations and historical record, allowing narratives to be shaped by personal agendas rather than a pursuit of truth.

The power of literature, as evidenced by Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart,” lies in its ability to illuminate the human experience and offer insights into the past. However, literature alone cannot replace the foundational role of history. History is not constructed logically; it happens, it is recorded, and it is taught. Without that foundation, we are left with fragments, interpretations, and the ever-present danger of repeating the mistakes of the past.

Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida

We must reclaim our history. We must demand comprehensive education, open archives, and honest narratives. We must encourage those who shaped our nation to share their stories, not as PR exercises but as contributions to a collective understanding.

Only then can we move forward, not as a nation adrift, but as a people grounded in the truth of our shared journey. Only then can we ensure that the “Hand of God” of our past does not become a tool for manipulation but a lesson for a more informed and united future. We need to create a culture where history is valued, debated, and understood, not suppressed or manipulated.

This means investing in historical research, supporting archival institutions, and fostering a spirit of open dialogue about our past. It means ensuring that our children are taught the full, unvarnished truth about their nation’s history, both the triumphs and the tragedies. Only then can we build a future where the lessons of the past guide us toward a more just and equitable society.

I would end by stating painfully that we are in a coffin, where young Nigerians exhibit a profound disconnection from their historical heritage and cultural roots, reflecting a broader societal shift away from the collective memory and traditions that once defined their identity. This detachment not only undermines their sense of belonging but also diminishes their understanding of the cultural, social, and historical narratives that have shaped the nation. In an era dominated by globalization and digital modernity, the erosion of this connection to the past poses significant challenges to the preservation of Nigeria’s rich cultural legacy and the cultivation of a cohesive national identity. Do we remain in the coffin or resurrect—Only time will tell.

Senate President Godswill Akpabio has lamented the supposed trauma he and the Senate have suffered due to the sexual harassment allegations leveled against him by Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan. However, if truth be told, the real victim of trauma is Natasha herself—a woman who dared to speak up against male dominance in a legislature historically hostile to women’s leadership.

The psychological toll of her suspension, public vilification, and institutional gaslighting reflects the entrenched patriarchy in Nigeria’s political system. The Senate, under the leadership of Akpabio and Majority Leader Opeyemi Bamidele, has turned a blind eye to the systemic suffering inflicted upon women who challenge the status quo. Instead of addressing the allegations with due process, they have chosen to silence and isolate the accuser, reinforcing a culture of impunity.

The Trauma of Silencing Women in Power

For Akpoti-Uduaghan, the trauma is profound. Her suspension is more than a political penalty; it is an act of psychological warfare against all women in leadership. The Senate’s decision sends a chilling message to Nigerian women: speak up, and you will be punished. This calculated retaliation induces fear, stress, and emotional distress, creating an environment where women are systematically discouraged from seeking public office.

The impact of such institutional bullying includes:

Public humiliation and degradation: She was forcibly walked out of the Senate chamber by the Sergeant-at-Arms, a move intended to break her spirit in full view of her colleagues and the nation.

Economic and career sabotage: Her office was locked immediately after her suspension, denying her access to essential legislative tools and resources. Her salary was cut off without due process, ensuring that she was left financially vulnerable.

Verbal attacks and intimidation: Male senators, one after another, hurled painful words at her on the Senate floor, weaponizing their voices to degrade and shame her. They dismissed her claims, questioned her character, and cast her as unruly and unfit to serve.

Institutionalized media manipulation: A dark cloud of misinformation was spread through compromised media outlets, framing her as the aggressor rather than the victim. Headlines painted her as disruptive, unworthy, and a political opportunist, erasing the context of her ordeal.

Authoritarian suppression of her voice

Her microphone was abruptly cut off during her last moments on the Senate floor, a symbolic and literal silencing of her words. Akpabio himself presided over this entire charade, ensuring that she had no chance to defend herself.

Psychological toll: Should she decide to seek therapy to heal from the trauma inflicted upon her, the Senate must be held financially responsible for the cost of her treatment. It is the institution that inflicted this harm, and it must bear the burden of redress.

The Role of the Senate in Perpetuating Psychological Abuse

The Nigerian Senate, through Akpabio and Bamidele, has mastered the art of psychological manipulation by making Akpoti-Uduaghan’s experience seem like an overreaction. The Senate President’s remarks, filled with sarcasm and dismissal, seek to trivialize her experience.

Akpabio’s statements—such as suggesting that no one heard of the harassment until a committee change—are not just defensive; they are deliberate attempts to question her credibility and normalize gendered political suppression. This is a classic example of gaslighting, a psychological abuse tactic designed to make victims question their own reality.

Moreover, the refusal to acknowledge Akpoti-Uduaghan’s trauma is part of a broader pattern in Nigeria’s male-dominated power structures, where men in leadership feign victimhood when held accountable. By shifting the narrative, the Senate avoids addressing the systemic issues that enable gender-based violence in governance.

The Broader Impact: What This Means for Nigerian Women

The handling of this case has ramifications beyond the walls of the National Assembly. It discourages young women from entering politics, reinforces gender discrimination, and perpetuates a toxic culture where women are expected to endure mistreatment in silence.

The Senate’s actions violate international commitments Nigeria has made to protect women’s rights, including:

The United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW)

The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR)

The Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action

The Urgent Need for Accountability

Nigeria cannot continue to present itself as a champion of gender equality while engaging in high-profile acts of gender suppression. Women’s rights organizations, international human rights bodies, and legal advocates must challenge this injustice at the national and global levels. The following organizations should take a stand:

United Nations Women (UN Women)

Human Rights Watch (HRW)

Amnesty International

The International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH)

The Global Fund for Women

The African Women’s Development and Communication Network (FEMNET)

Nigeria’s National Human Rights Commission (NHRC)

The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights

These leaders treat Nigeria as their personal playground, unchallenged because they have the police and judiciary under fear and compromise. The institutional corruption that enables them must be dismantled, and they must be held to account by both local and global legal frameworks.

Who is the Real Victim?

Senate President Akpabio and his allies may claim to be traumatized, but the real question is: who holds the power and who is actually suffering the consequences? The victim here is not the man who has access to unlimited political resources and media control—it is the woman who has been silenced, vilified, and excluded from the legislative process for daring to speak her truth.

If justice is to be served, Akpoti-Uduaghan must be reinstated, her allegations must be investigated with transparency, and the Nigerian Senate must be held accountable for its systemic oppression of women in governance. Until then, this remains a glaring example of how power protects itself at the expense of truth, justice, and democracy.

The Nigerian Senate, a crucial pillar of democracy, stands at a crossroads. Once a revered institution, the Senate finds itself at the centre of a crisis threatening its legitimacy and reputation. The ongoing crisis culminating in the suspension of Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan is not just about her or Senate President Godswill Akpabio—it is about the integrity of the Senate itself. The Senate, which should serve as a beacon of democracy and a voice for the people, is increasingly being perceived as a self-serving institution that adds no value to the life of the average Nigerian. The arc of public opinion on the Senate has reached an all-time low. No matter the divide on this matter, the common ground is that Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan’s saga is a dent on the reputation and stature of the Nigerian Senate.

The consequences of this growing distrust are dire. A democracy without a credible legislature is a failing one. If this trend continues, the Senate will lose not only its authority but also its aura, clout, respect, and relevance in the Nigerian democratic system. This could lead to a vacuum in the governance structure, potentially paving the way for a constitutional crisis. It is imperative that lawmakers recognise the damage a reputational crisis could do and take immediate steps to restore the sanctity of this institution.

As a former legislator, I understand the role of a presiding officer in allocating and reassigning seats based on legislative tradition. On this count, Senator Natasha Akpoti overreached herself and may have lessons in composure and understanding rules. On the issue of her suspension for six months, the Akpabio-led Senate danced to the wrong tune and ended up losing the deal. I concede to the Senate its right to use its duly constituted committees to ensure discipline. However, Natasha’s rights of fair hearing must be balanced against the entitlement of the Senate to order and discipline. There are many things wrong with both the suspension and the Senate’s approach to the issues that leave that institution vulnerable, and I will highlight a few.

Due to legislative breaks, weekends, and recesses, she could be out of the chamber for almost a year, although suspended for 6 months, leaving the people of Kogi Central without representation. This not only undermines the democratic rights of the people but also hampers their ability to address local issues and concerns. According to the National Assembly website, each senator represents an average of 1.5 to 2 million Nigerians. This means that millions of citizens effectively have no representation. Another issue that the manner of her suspension has thrown up is the Senate’s increasing tendency to suppress dissent and operate without transparency. The Senate is both a public and a democratic institution. 

However, the way the Senate has handled the issue of sexual harassment allegations against its president raises serious concerns. Such allegations must be taken seriously and appropriately investigated, yet the Senate appears more focused on silencing the accuser than addressing the claims. A 2021 report by the National Bureau of Statistics indicates that 30% of Nigerian women have experienced sexual harassment in workplaces and institutions. Ignoring such an accusation at the highest level of governance sets a dangerous precedent.

It is true that Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan had previously benefitted from Senate President Akpabio’s liberal disposition when she was appointed Chair of the Senate Committee on Local Content. Yet, the way the sexual harassment allegations have been handled suggests an institution that does not take its moral standing and reputation seriously. The institution’s approach to this issue shows a troubling disregard for fairness and transparency.

Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan was suspended without a fair hearing. She did not appear before the ethics committee because of subsisting court order. This matter was already in court. The Senate should have respected the judicial process instead of preempting its outcome. Acknowledged, the Legislative Houses (Powers and Privileges) Act 2018 outlaws the courts interfering in internal legislative processes; the Senate ought to approach the court and do the right thing. Whereas some argue that legislative matters are beyond judicial interference, precedent shows otherwise.

The Supreme Court had previously halted legislative processes during a constitutional amendment, proving that the judiciary has a role in ensuring constitutional compliance. Past rulings have shown that the courts can intervene in legislative matters, yet the Senate proceeded without regard for judicial authority. According to a 2018 report by the Centre for Democracy and Development, Nigeria has a history of executive, legislative, and judicial overreach and rascality that has significantly weakened public trust in governance.

This saga takes us back to the constitutional question, does any legislative house under our current constitution has the power to suspend an elected member for any duration without going against the spirit and letter of our constitution. It is evident that the Senate lacks the constitutional authority to suspend a senator for six months. As previous court rulings have reaffirmed, the Senate’s internal rules cannot override constitutional provisions. 

In 2017, the Federal High Court ruled that the suspension of Senator Ali Ndume for 90 days was unconstitutional. The court ordered his reinstatement and the payment of all outstanding salaries. In 2018, the Federal High Court also nullified the suspension of Senator Omo-Agege, ruling that the Senate could not suspend a member beyond 14 days. These precedents show that the Senate’s decision to suspend Akpoti-Uduaghan for six months is unconstitutional and will likely be overturned if challenged in court.

It is unacceptable that Senate President Akpabio, who is accused of sexual harassment, presided over the suspension of his accuser. This is a fundamental violation of legal ethics—no one should be a judge in their own case. Senator Akpabio should have recused himself to ensure fairness. There is a precedent in this regard: Senator Bukola Saraki, during the 8th Senate, was accused of nonpayment of customs duty on a bulletproof official car he imported. SP Bukola Saraki stepped aside and allowed his deputy to preside over his investigation. Senator Akpabio was in the Senate at the time and should have taken a cue. 

The Senate, in this instance, has demonstrated an alarming lack of openness. The Ethics and Privileges Committee should have conducted its proceedings publicly to maintain credibility. Instead, the Senate moved forward with a suspension that appears politically motivated and legally unsound.

The Senate’s refusal to properly investigate the allegations against its president sends a dangerous message: that sexual harassment claims can be dismissed with political manoeuvring. This is a grave injustice that damages the Senate’s reputation. One wonders how the Senate Committee on Ethics, Privileges, and Public Petitions suddenly becomes so efficient and fast in dispensing punishment to Senator Natasha in this case when it usually is sluggish in dealing with the many petitions and cases before it. This smack of a hatchet job and it does not help the public standing of the Senate.

It is unfortunate that the Senate has conducted its affairs opaquely for a matter that has come to the public’s attention. The Senate’s lack of transparency in this matter is a clear indication of the need for openness and honesty in governance. For the Senate to ignore and sweep under the carpet the issue of sexual harassment is a disservice to the President of the Senate and the institution.

Mr. Senate president can show he has power by suspending Senator Natasha, but it is not a cure for such a serious allegation. The best the Senate can do is to conduct a proper investigation on the issue and come out with a clean bill of health. The Senate must understand that the Nigerian public wants transparency and full disclosure of all the problems. It is not a private matter. Sexual harassment is a serious accusation and cannot be dismissed as trivial as the Senate did. It’s a dark spot on the reputation of the Senate. It is also not acceptable in a democracy.

The suspension of a senator without due process creates a dangerous precedent. If allowed to stand, this decision could pave the way for further suppression of dissenting voices, weakening democracy in Nigeria. The Nigerian Senate is already struggling with negative public perception. This incident further erodes confidence in its ability to act as a “check and balance” on the other arms of government.  

The Senate must acknowledge its overreach on the Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan matter. The Nigerian public demands accountability. It is common sense to recognise that the Senate is at risk of permanent reputational damage.  A Senate with sullied reputation does no one or the country any good. If it continues to prioritise power plays over democratic principles, it will lose whatever legitimacy and respect it still holds and enjoys. To save itself, the Senate must return to the principles of integrity, fairness, openess and constitutional adherence. The Nigerian people deserve a legislative body that upholds justice, fairness, and transparency, not one that operates in secrecy and impunity. The future of Nigerian democracy depends on it. 

The National Working Committee (NWC) of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) has approved that the earlier postponed party’s zonal congress in the South South Zone will now hold on Saturday, April 12, 2025.

Hon. Debo Ologunagba, National Publicity Secretary of the PDP in a statement also said the NWC has approved the shifting of the South West and North Central Zonal Congresses from the earlier scheduled date of Saturday, March 22, 2025 to Saturday, April 12, 2025.

PDP said the zonal congresses will hold simultaneously in Port Harcourt, Rivers State (South South Zone); Ibadan, Oyo State (South West Zone) and Jos, Plateau State (North Central Zone) to elect the executives officers and national ex-officio members for the respective zonal chapters in line with the constitution and guidelines of our great party.

The NWC also “Charges all aspirants, leaders, critical stakeholders, teeming members of our party in the respective zones, the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), security agencies and the media to note the scheduled date of Saturday, April 12, 2025 for the zonal congresses for South South, South West and North Central zof our party and be guided accordingly.”

 [DailyTrust]