When the Remedy Becomes the Malady

Femi Akintunde-Johnson

In the ever-dramatic theatre of Nigerian politics, the recent declaration of a State of Emergency (SoE) in Rivers State by President Bola Tinubu has ignited a cacophony of critiques and commendations, each more colourful than a Lagos market on a Monday morning. The suspension of Governor Siminalayi Fubara, his deputy, and the state legislature has sent tongues wagging faster than a rumour in a pepper soup joint.

 On one hand, supporters of the President’s move laud it as a decisive action to quell the escalating political turmoil and pipeline vandalism that have plagued the oil-rich state. They argue that such firm measures are necessary to restore order and protect the nation’s economic lifeline. Some lawmakers, perhaps with patriotism swelling in their hearts (and certainly not influenced by any alleged $5,000 inducements, as they vehemently deny), backed the emergency rule, emphasising the need to prevent a breakdown of law and order in Rivers State.

Conversely, a chorus of critics has emerged, decrying the action as an unconstitutional overreach. The Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) wasted no time in branding the suspension of elected officials as illegal, asserting that a declaration of emergency does not automatically dissolve or suspend elected state governments. They contend that the President lacks the unilateral power to remove or replace elected officials, viewing such actions as a fundamental breach of Nigeria’s federal structure. Nobel Laureate Professor Wole Soyinka, never one to mince words, lambasted the move as excessive and a violation of the principles of federalism, suggesting that it undermines the nation’s democratic foundations.

The past six months in Rivers State have indeed been tumultuous. Political infighting reached a crescendo with lawmakers initiating impeachment proceedings against Governor Fubara over allegations ranging from illegal budget presentations to questionable legislative compositions. The situation was further inflamed by incidents of pipeline vandalism, including a fire on the Trans Niger Pipeline, which threatened the state’s economic stability. While these events paint a picture of disorder, the critical question remains: did they meet the constitutional threshold for declaring a State of Emergency? Critics argue that, despite the unrest, the situation did not warrant such an extreme measure, especially one that involves the suspension of democratically elected officials.

Rivers State is not alone in its socio-political turbulence. States like Kaduna, Zamfara, and Benue have grappled with severe security challenges, including banditry, communal clashes, and insurgencies. Yet, these states have not been subjected to the heavy hand of emergency rule. This selective application raises eyebrows and questions about the consistency and motivations behind such presidential interventions. Is there a method to this apparent madness, or is it merely the capricious dance of political expediency?

The Nigerian Constitution, in Section 305, outlines the circumstances under which a President can declare a State of Emergency. However, it does not explicitly grant the President the authority to suspend or remove elected governors and legislators. Such actions tread on the delicate toes of democratic principles and the separation of powers. The NBA and other legal luminaries argue that the removal of elected officials under the guise of emergency rule is an unconstitutional usurpation of power. If the President indeed lacks these powers, why then has this action not been reversed or robustly challenged in a constitutional court? Perhaps the wheels of justice turn slowly, or maybe they are stuck in the muddy waters of political intrigue.

 While Rivers State basks in the unflattering spotlight of emergency rule, numerous sectors across Nigeria languish in dire need of urgent intervention. The education system, for instance, resembles a poorly scripted Nollywood sequel – wholly futile and unproductive. Classrooms overflow like jollof rice pots at a wedding, yet the quality of education remains as thin as a Lagos traffic officer’s patience.

 Agriculture and food security receive more lip service than a love-struck suitor, with policies that promise much but deliver little. Farmers face challenges ranging from herdsmen conflicts to inadequate infrastructure, resulting in food scarcity and soaring prices that make a mockery of the average Nigerian’s wallet.

National and regional security are in a worrisome state, with citizens harbouring a morbid sense of individual well-being. The streets are rife with tales of kidnappings, robberies, and insurgencies, painting a grim picture of a nation under siege. The abysmal healthcare delivery system compounds this misery, with skyrocketing costs that transform common ailments into death sentences for the less privileged.

The political system and democratic institutions appear ruinous and moribund, plagued by corruption, inefficiency, and a disconnect from the populace. Elections often resemble theatrical performances, complete with dramatic disputes and outcomes that defy logic.

The criminal justice system operates at a lethargic pace, with detention centres overflowing like Lagos danfos during rush hour. Thousands of Nigerian youths languish in awaiting-trial hell, their lives wasting away in overcrowded and disease-ridden correctional facilities.

The declaration of a State of Emergency in Rivers State should force us to ask a more fundamental question: who will declare a State of Emergency on Nigeria itself? If Rivers, with its manageable political skirmishes, deserves emergency rule, then what about a country that is lurching from one crisis to another like a drunken sailor on third-rate ogogoro? What about a nation where millions are slipping into poverty at breakneck speed while politicians, insulated from reality, squabble over who controls the spoils of a broken system?

Where is the SoE for an education sector that manufactures graduates who can barely write their own names without autocorrect? Where is the SoE for an agricultural sector that has been relegated to mere campaign slogans while food prices skyrocket beyond the reach of the ordinary citizen? Where is the emergency intervention for a security apparatus that has, at best, resigned itself to helplessness and, at worst, become an accomplice in the very crimes it is meant to fight?

The real emergency, one might argue, is not in Rivers State but in the seat of power itself – a government that, time and again, finds creative ways to dismantle democracy under the guise of preserving it. What we are witnessing is not governance but an elaborate power play, an abuse of authority draped in the robes of constitutional duty. If this was about protecting democracy, then the President would be setting an example by strengthening institutions, not suspending them at the first sign of trouble.

Nigeria is no stranger to political chicanery, but even by our famously low standards, this is a masterstroke of hypocrisy. A government that preaches the sanctity of democracy but suspends elected officials without due process; that decries insecurity but fails to protect its own citizens from armed marauders; that trumpets economic reforms while inflation chews through wages like a hungry termite.

If ever there was a time for a genuine emergency declaration, it is now. Not in a state that is merely inconvenient to those in power, but in a nation whose very fabric is being shredded by political ambition, economic mismanagement, and systemic decay. The real question is: who will be brave enough to pull the alarm?