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When Mercy Betrays Justice, by Boniface Ihiasota

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When Mercy Betrays Justice, by Boniface Ihiasota

 

Presidential pardon is meant to be a sacred act — an instrument of compassion used sparingly to correct excesses of the law or ease human suffering. But in Nigeria, it often mutates into a political favour that undermines justice rather than serving it.

 

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s recent exercise of clemency — which reportedly included drug barons and Maryam Sanda, convicted of killing her husband — has provoked deep national outrage. It raises a fundamental question: is the Nigerian presidency using mercy to uphold justice, or to reward privilege?

 

Under Section 175 of the 1999 Constitution, the President has the power to pardon or commute sentences upon the advice of the Council of State. But constitutional power does not translate to moral righteousness. Mercy must be anchored on fairness, transparency, and moral justification — none of which have been evident in this latest gesture.

 

The case of Maryam Sanda stands out like a bruise on the conscience of the nation. Convicted in 2020 for the gruesome murder of her husband, Bilyamin Bello, Sanda’s trial was thorough, her conviction upheld through due process. Her sudden pardon, reportedly influenced by family intervention, reeks of class privilege and political influence. It sends a dangerous message — that the wealthy and well-connected can always negotiate their way out of justice.

 

Even more troubling is the inclusion of convicted drug traffickers. At a time when the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) is battling to dismantle narcotics syndicates, the Presidency’s pardon of drug offenders undermines years of painstaking enforcement. It emboldens traffickers and discourages officers who risk their lives to keep the country safe.

 

This is not the first time Nigeria’s leaders have abused the prerogative of mercy. In 2013, President Goodluck Jonathan’s pardon of Diepreye Alamieyeseigha, the ex-Bayelsa governor convicted of corruption, drew global condemnation. It tainted Nigeria’s anti-graft image and emboldened those who see public office as a licence to loot.

 

The consequences of such indiscriminate pardons are dire. They erode public trust in the judiciary, demoralise judges who labour for years to deliver justice, and delegitimise the rule of law. When presidential pens can nullify judicial rulings overnight, justice becomes negotiable — a commodity for the powerful.

 

Across the world, the abuse of clemency has produced similar consequences. In South Korea, repeated presidential pardons for convicted ex-presidents Park Geun-hye and Lee Myung-bak sparked nationwide protests, forcing lawmakers to debate curbing the practice. In Brazil, President Jair Bolsonaro’s politically motivated pardon of a far-right ally convicted for attacking the Supreme Court was condemned as an attack on democracy.

 

In Peru, the 2017 pardon of former dictator Alberto Fujimori, who was serving time for human rights abuses, triggered mass protests and international backlash, forcing courts to overturn the pardon two years later. In South Africa, early releases of politically connected individuals in the name of “national healing” have often deepened public cynicism and distrust in government institutions.

 

Even in the United States, where presidential pardons are common, the process attracts intense scrutiny. Barack Obama’s clemency programme focused on non-violent drug offenders serving disproportionate sentences. Each pardon was documented publicly to ensure fairness. By contrast, Donald Trump’s pardons of political allies and campaign donors drew sharp criticism, raising concerns of corruption and cronyism.

 

Nigeria, however, lags behind global accountability standards. The Presidential Advisory Committee on Prerogative of Mercy operates in secrecy. The public is rarely informed of the criteria or rationale for pardons. Were the convicts reformed? Were they victims of judicial error? Or were they simply politically connected? Without transparency, clemency becomes a mockery of justice.

 

Yet, clemency itself is not the problem. When properly used, it can heal wounds, decongest overcrowded prisons, and give reformed offenders a second chance. In Canada, for instance, pardons (called record suspensions) are carefully reviewed, excluding violent crimes and ensuring public safety. In Germany, presidential pardons are extremely rare and only considered under compelling humanitarian grounds.

 

Nigeria can learn from these systems. Clemency should prioritise prisoners of conscience, the terminally ill, and those unjustly convicted — not murderers and drug traffickers. The National Assembly should urgently review the constitutional process to introduce transparency, public disclosure, and limits on eligible offences.

 

Crimes like murder, terrorism, drug trafficking, and grand corruption should not qualify for presidential mercy except under extraordinary humanitarian grounds. A pardon should not erase accountability; it should reflect reform and remorse. Anything less erodes the moral fibre of justice.

 

Beyond legality, the ethical question looms large: what happens when mercy becomes selective? Thousands of ordinary Nigerians languish in prisons for petty offences, many without trial for years. They are the forgotten souls who deserve presidential mercy — not those whose connections can bend the system.

 

The late Justice Chukwudifu Oputa once said, “Justice must not only be done but must be seen to be done.” Today, justice in Nigeria is neither seen nor done when presidential mercy is dispensed like patronage.

 

History shows that unchecked clemency corrodes institutions. If Nigeria continues down this path, we risk normalising injustice and undermining the credibility of our judiciary. The rule of law must remain the ultimate arbiter, not the whims of political benevolence.

 

Presidential mercy should be a balm for the broken — not a shield for the powerful. To forgive without fairness is to betray the very soul of justice. And when justice becomes negotiable, a nation’s conscience is no longer intact.

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Analysis

Why Plot Against Peter Obi Will Fail, by Boniface Ihiasota

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Why Plot Against Peter Obi Will Fail, by Boniface Ihiasota

 

From the diaspora, Nigeria’s political trajectory is often assessed with a mix of distance and clarity. The patterns are familiar—elite coalitions, shifting loyalties, and strategic calculations ahead of every electoral cycle. Yet, as the 2027 general elections begin to gather, one constant remains: the enduring relevance of Peter Obi. Despite recurring narratives about efforts to edge him out of contention, the structural and political realities suggest that such plots are unlikely to succeed.

 

A central reason lies in the nature of Obi’s political base. Unlike traditional candidates whose influence is tied to party machinery or regional kingmakers, Obi’s support cuts across demographics, particularly among young voters and urban professionals. This base, which gained visibility during the 2023 elections under the Labour Party, is not easily dismantled by conventional political maneuvering. It is decentralized, digitally connected, and ideologically driven—qualities that make it resilient in the face of elite opposition.

 

Looking ahead to 2027, this evolving voter bloc could become even more significant. Nigeria’s youth population continues to expand, and with it, a growing demand for governance defined by accountability and economic competence. Obi’s consistent messaging around prudent management of resources and institutional reforms positions him as a natural beneficiary of this demographic shift. Attempts to sideline him risk underestimating how deeply this sentiment has taken root, both within Nigeria and among its diaspora.

 

The diaspora itself remains a critical factor in shaping Obi’s political future. Nigerians abroad, many of whom actively supported his 2023 campaign, have sustained advocacy through funding, media engagement, and policy discourse. Their influence, amplified by digital platforms, has helped maintain Obi’s visibility beyond election cycles. As 2027 approaches, this network is likely to play an even more strategic role—not only in mobilization but also in shaping narratives that counter attempts to delegitimize his candidacy.

 

Equally important is the broader transformation within Nigeria’s political landscape. The 2023 contest, which featured Obi alongside Bola Tinubu and Atiku Abubakar, marked a departure from the long-standing dominance of two major parties. Obi’s performance challenged the assumption that electoral success must always flow through established structures. As political actors recalibrate for 2027, this disruption cannot be easily reversed. Any strategy aimed at marginalizing him must contend with an electorate that has already demonstrated a willingness to embrace alternatives.

 

Another reason such plots are likely to fail is Obi’s personal political brand. His tenure as governor of Anambra State continues to serve as a reference point for supporters who view him as disciplined and comparatively transparent.

 

While critics remain, his reputation has proven relatively durable in Nigeria’s often volatile political environment. This consistency makes it difficult for opponents to construct narratives that significantly erode his credibility ahead of another electoral cycle.

 

However, the road to 2027 is not without challenges. For Obi to convert goodwill into electoral victory, he will need to strengthen party structures, expand his reach in rural areas, and possibly build strategic alliances. Nigerian elections are not won on sentiment alone; they require organization, negotiation, and adaptability. The resilience of his support base does not eliminate the need for political pragmatism.

 

Yet, even these challenges reinforce the central argument: efforts to plot against Obi are unlikely to achieve their intended outcome because they often focus on the individual rather than the movement. What emerged in 2023 was not just a candidacy but a shift in political consciousness. That shift—driven by a demand for competence and accountability—has continued to evolve beyond the ballot.

 

In all, Obi’s prospects for 2027 will depend less on the success or failure of political plots and more on how effectively he harnesses the forces already working in his favor. For many in the diaspora, his continued relevance reflects a broader transformation within Nigeria’s democracy—one that is still unfolding, but increasingly difficult to reverse.

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Analysis

ADC and Its House of Confusion, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman

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ADC and Its House of Confusion, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman

 

In the space of a few days, the African Democratic Congress, ADC has managed to compress into itself the full drama of Nigeria’s party politics involving elite bargaining, judicial intervention, strategic defections, and the ever-present shadow of electoral deadlines. What should have been a defining moment for a party positioning itself as the nucleus of a broad opposition coalition ahead of 2027 has instead become a study in instability. The ADC today is not merely in crisis; it is in a state of suspended legitimacy.

 

The roots of the present turmoil can be traced to the ambitious political engineering that began in 2025, when the party’s founding leadership led by Ralph Okey Nwosu ceded control to a new power bloc designed to attract heavyweight politicians across party lines. The arrangement brought in former Senate President, David Mark as National Chairman and former Osun State governor, Rauf Aregbesola as National Secretary. The idea was straightforward: rebrand the ADC into a credible “third force” capable of uniting disparate opposition figures, including former Anambra State governor and the Labour Party presidential candidate in 2023, Peter Obi, ex-Kaduna governor Nasir El-Rufai, and other influential actors disenchanted with both the ruling party and the existing opposition structure.

 

For a brief moment, the strategy appeared to be working. Meetings were held in Abuja and Lagos throughout late 2025 and early 2026, with coalition talks reportedly involving figures such as former Rivers State governor, Rotimi Amaechi, former Sokoto State governor, Aminu Tambuwal, and ex-Senate President, Bukola Saraki. Though not all formally joined the ADC, the party became the focal point of negotiations around a possible mega opposition platform. The optics alone elevated its status in national discourse.

 

But coalition politics in Nigeria has a well-documented vulnerability: it often prioritises elite consensus over institutional clarity. The ADC’s leadership transition, while politically expedient, lacked the procedural rigour necessary to withstand internal contestation. Almost immediately, dissenting voices within the party began to question the legality of the handover, arguing that due process as stipulated in the party constitution had not been fully observed.

 

This internal disagreement escalated into litigation, with factions approaching the Federal High Court in Abuja to challenge the legitimacy of the Mark-led leadership. The situation became more complicated when conflicting orders emerged from different courts, a familiar pattern in Nigeria’s political jurisprudence. At one point, a Court of Appeal ruling imposed a “status quo ante bellum” order, effectively freezing the leadership structure as it existed before the contested transition.

 

That order, however, did not settle the matter; it deepened the confusion. Both factions interpreted the ruling in ways that favoured their positions, leading to parallel claims of authority. Party activities slowed to a near halt, as uncertainty over who legitimately controlled the ADC made it difficult to convene meetings, conduct congresses, or engage meaningfully with the Independent National Electoral Commission, INEC.

 

The turning point, if it can be called that, came on April 30, 2026, when the Supreme Court intervened. In a judgment delivered in Abuja, the apex court set aside the Court of Appeal’s status quo order and directed that the substantive case be returned to the Federal High Court for determination. The ruling was immediately seized upon by the Mark-Aregbesola faction as validation of their leadership, while their opponents insisted that the court had merely removed an interim order without deciding the core issue.

 

Legally, as a Lawyer friend argued, the latter interpretation is closer to the truth. The Supreme Court did not pronounce on who leads the ADC; it addressed only a procedural question. By vacating the preservative order, it reopened the space for the Mark-led executives to function, but it left the substantive dispute unresolved. In practical terms, the party now operates in a grey zone, neither fully validated nor definitively invalidated.

 

This ambiguity could not have come at a worse time. Nigeria’s electoral cycle, though seemingly distant from 2027, is already in motion. The Independent National Electoral Commission, INEC requires political parties to adhere to strict timelines, beginning with the submission of updated membership registers and culminating in the nomination of candidates. While INEC has yet to release the full timetable for the 2027 general elections, precedents from previous cycles indicate that primaries and candidate submissions typically occur at least a year before the polls.

 

Under the Electoral Act 2022, particularly Sections 29 and 84, parties must conduct primaries within specified windows and submit their candidates within deadlines that are not subject to extension. Any irregularity in the process, especially one arising from disputes over party leadership can render a candidate’s nomination invalid. Nigerian courts have consistently upheld this principle, as seen in cases involving Zamfara and Rivers states in previous election cycles, where parties lost entire slates of candidates due to procedural defects.

 

For the ADC, this legal framework presents an existential risk. If the leadership question remains unresolved by the time primaries are due, any exercise conducted by one faction could be challenged by another, leading to protracted litigation that may ultimately disqualify the party from fielding candidates in key elections. This is not a theoretical concern; it is a scenario with ample precedent in Nigeria’s electoral history.

 

Meanwhile, the political consequences of the crisis are beginning to manifest. High-profile figures who had been linked to the ADC are reportedly reconsidering their options. Peter Obi, whose 2023 presidential bid galvanised a significant youth following, has been cautious in his engagement with the party, mindful of the legal uncertainties. Similarly, Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso and some political bigwigs seen as potential power brokers in any opposition coalition are said to be weighing alternative platforms should the ADC fail to stabilise.

 

The logic behind these recalibrations is straightforward. Political heavyweights require not just a platform, but a secure one. A party entangled in litigation cannot guarantee ticket security, campaign coherence, or post-election legitimacy. In a system where court judgments often determine electoral outcomes, legal vulnerability is a liability no serious contender can afford.

 

The irony is that the ADC’s crisis is largely self-inflicted. In its bid to rapidly transform into a coalition platform, it overlooked the slow, painstaking work of institution-building. The absorption of powerful figures was not matched by the creation of mechanisms to manage their competing ambitions. Nor was there sufficient attention to aligning the party’s constitutional framework with the new political realities. The result is a structure that is expansive in ambition but weak in cohesion.

 

There is also a deeper structural issue at play: the tendency of Nigerian political actors to resort to the courts as the first line of dispute resolution. While judicial intervention is essential in a constitutional democracy, its overuse in intra-party conflicts often leads to prolonged uncertainty. Courts are bound by procedure and timelines that do not always align with the urgency of political processes. As the ADC is now discovering, a case can move through multiple judicial layers without delivering the kind of decisive clarity required for political stability.

 

Yet, it would be premature to write off the party entirely. The ADC still possesses assets that many smaller parties lack: national visibility, a growing network of political actors, and a narrative that resonates with voters seeking alternatives. If it can resolve its leadership dispute quickly, either through judicial determination or political compromise, it may yet reclaim its position as a viable opposition platform.

 

Such a resolution, however, will require more than legal victories. It will demand a conscious effort to rebuild trust within the party, clarify its organisational structure, and establish transparent processes for decision-making. The ambitions of key stakeholders such as Atiku Abubakar, Abubakar Malami, Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, Rotimi Amaechi, Peter Obi, Nasir El-Rufai, and others must be reconciled within a framework that prioritises institutional stability over individual advantage.

 

The stakes are high, not just for the ADC but for Nigeria’s democratic trajectory. A fragmented opposition benefits the incumbent by default, reducing electoral competition and limiting voter choice. Conversely, a cohesive and credible alternative can energise the political landscape, introduce new ideas, and enhance accountability.

 

As things stand, the ADC is at a crossroads. One path leads to consolidation and relevance; the other to fragmentation and irrelevance. The difference between the two will be determined in the coming months, as court proceedings continue and political actors make strategic decisions about their futures.

 

For now, the party remains what it has become over the past few days, ‘a house of confusion’, where legal uncertainty, political ambition, and institutional weakness collide. Whether it can transform that confusion into clarity will not only shape its own destiny but also influence the contours of the 2027 general elections and the balance of power that emerges in their aftermath.

 

Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com

 

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Diaspora

POLITICS

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POLITICS

Fifteen foreign nationals deported from the United States, mostly believed to be South Americans, have arrived in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) under a temporary hosting arrangement that is already drawing international attention and debate over migration policy and diplomatic cooperation.

The deportees landed at N’djili International Airport in Kinshasa in the early hours of Friday, according to airport sources who confirmed that the group was largely made up of Colombian and Peruvian nationals.

The arrangement marks the first known batch of deportees sent to the Central African nation under a broader US policy of relocating “third-country migrants”,  individuals returned to a country that is neither their origin nor initial destination.

A Congolese government source said the individuals were admitted under short-stay permits and in line with national immigration laws governing the entry and residence of foreigners.

However, authorities stressed that the arrangement is strictly temporary. “The individuals concerned are admitted to the national territory under short-stay permits, in accordance with national legislation concerning the entry and residence of foreigners,” the government stated, while offering no additional details about the identities or conditions of the deportees.

Kinshasa had earlier defended its decision to participate in the arrangement, describing it as consistent with its commitment to human dignity, migrant protection, and international solidarity.

Officials were quick to clarify, however, that the agreement should not be interpreted as a long-term relocation scheme or a form of outsourced migration control.

The United States, under its ongoing immigration enforcement policy, has expanded the practice of transferring deportees to third countries. Similar arrangements have reportedly been made with Ghana, South Sudan, and Eswatini, as Washington intensifies its crackdown on irregular migration.

Although the US State Department declined to comment on specific diplomatic communications with partner countries, it reaffirmed the administration’s hardline stance.

The department said the government remains “unwavering in its commitment to end illegal and mass immigration and bolster America’s border security.”

A minority report from the US Senate Foreign Relations Committee further suggested that the administration may have spent more than $40 million on third-country deportations up to January 2026, though officials concede that the full cost remains unclear.

The report also indicated that over $32 million had been directly disbursed to several partner countries, including Equatorial Guinea, Rwanda, El Salvador, Eswatini, and Palau.

Beyond immigration cooperation, the development comes at a time of deepening US engagement in the DRC over strategic mineral resources.

Washington is reportedly negotiating access to the country’s vast reserves of cobalt, lithium, tantalum, and copper,  minerals critical to global technology and energy industries.

The arrangement also coincides with renewed diplomatic efforts aimed at stabilizing eastern Congo, where conflict involving the Rwanda-backed M23 rebel group continues to threaten regional peace.

Following recent talks mediated by the United States and Qatar in Switzerland, both the Congolese government and rebel representatives agreed on measures including humanitarian access, civilian protection, and steps toward a monitored ceasefire.

Despite these diplomatic advances, tensions remain high.

Rwanda has repeatedly denied allegations of supporting the M23 rebels, insisting instead that its military posture is defensive in nature and aimed at countering security threats from armed groups operating within Congolese territory.

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