– Austin Umunna.
In Nigeria, two institutions stand as gatekeepers of democracy: the Judiciary, tasked with upholding justice, and the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC), charged with ensuring free and fair elections.
Yet, these twin pillars, meant to safeguard the nation’s democratic ideals, have become mired in corruption, eroding public trust and threatening the very foundation of governance. As a nation teeters on the brink of disillusionment, a closer look at the rot within these institutions reveals both their shared vices and distinct flavors of malfeasance.
The Judiciary, often romanticized as the last hope of the common man, has increasingly morphed into a marketplace where justice is sold to the highest bidder.
Stories of judges accepting bribes to sway rulings—especially in high-stakes political cases—are no longer whispers but open secrets.
The 2016 raid by law enforcement, which uncovered $800,000 in cash stashed by senior judges, including a Supreme Court Justice, was a glaring testament to this reality. Political interference further compounds the problem, with state and federal executives wielding influence over judicial appointments and decisions. The result?
A legal system where courtrooms resemble auction houses, and verdicts often align with the interests of the powerful rather than the dictates of law.
INEC, on the other hand, operates as the architect of Nigeria’s electoral process, but its blueprint is marred by corruption that rigs the game before it even begins.
The 2023 general elections exposed this vividly, with widespread reports of “glitches” in the result transmission system conveniently favoring the ruling party.
Allegations of vote-buying, ballot stuffing, and outright manipulation have dogged INEC for years, yet accountability remains elusive.
Former INEC Chairman Attahiru Jega once remarked that corrupt judges are often drafted into election tribunals to “trade judgments,” a claim that underscores the symbiotic relationship between INEC’s failures and judicial complicity.
The commission’s inability—or unwillingness—to enforce financial disclosure laws on political parties further fuels a system where money, not votes, determines outcomes.
While both institutions suffer from corruption, their manifestations differ. Judicial corruption is more insidious, cloaked in the robes of legal procedure and intellectual debate.
It thrives on delayed cases, underfunding, and a lack of transparency, allowing judges to operate with impunity. INEC’s corruption, by contrast, is brazen and public-facing, unfolding in real-time during elections.
It’s the thuggery at polling stations, the sudden “technical failures,” and the unapologetic partisanship that Nigerians witness with their own eyes. If the Judiciary’s corruption is a slow poison, INEC’s is a gunshot wound—immediate, visible, and bloody.
The impact of these corruptions converges on one tragic outcome: Nigeria has democracy in name only.
When INEC rigs elections, the Judiciary often legitimizes the fraud, as seen in numerous post-election rulings that defy evidence and public sentiment. This unholy alliance ensures that the will of the people is subverted, leaving citizens disillusioned.
Voting, once a sacred act of agency, now feels futile to many, as one observer aptly noted: “INEC rigs for the APC, and the courts complete the rigging by approving.”
Yet, there’s a glimmer of difference in their reform potential. The Judiciary, with its deep-rooted structures, requires systemic overhaul—better funding, digitized records, and insulation from political pressure. INEC’s issues, while entrenched, could see quicker fixes: transparent technology, stricter oversight, and genuine independence from the executive. But both demand a political will that Nigeria’s elite, beneficiaries of the status quo, seem unwilling to muster.
As a columnist, I see these institutions not as isolated failures but as mirrors of a broader societal malaise. Corruption in the Judiciary and INEC reflects a nation where impunity reigns, and accountability is a distant dream.
Until Nigerians demand more—through protests, civic pressure, or a radical reimagining of governance—these twin pillars will remain crumbling relics, mocking the promise of democracy they were built to uphold.
