By Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D
The Supreme Court has once again reminded Nigeria of a simple truth: in our political order, the final word is often not spoken at the ballot box. Last week’s verdicts by the Supreme Court of Nigeria in the leadership crises of the Peoples Democratic Party and the African Democratic Congress did more than settle internal disputes. They reshaped alignments, redefined legitimacy, and sent clear signals ahead of the 2027 general elections.
In the PDP case, the apex court nullified the party’s Ibadan national convention, effectively invalidating the leadership that emerged from it for defying a subsisting court order.
In the ADC matter, the court restored the David Mark-led leadership and returned key issues to the trial court for proper determination.
Taken together, these decisions reinforce a reality that has become difficult to ignore: the judiciary is now central to Nigeria’s political outcomes. And that raises important questions.
The first is about the boundary between law and politics. On the face of it, the Supreme Court acted within its constitutional mandate. Courts exist to interpret the law, enforce compliance and resolve disputes. Where court orders are ignored, consequences must follow. The rule of law demands nothing less.
But legal correctness does not exhaust the matter. When court decisions invalidate conventions, restore leaderships or reopen disputes, they do more than interpret the law. They shape the political field. They determine who leads, who contests and who has a pathway to power.
In effect, the courtroom has become an extension of the political arena. This is not inherently problematic. But it becomes troubling when politics relies too heavily on judicial resolution.
The second issue is consistency and perception. The PDP decision was split, with dissenting opinions raising questions about jurisdiction and procedure. For lawyers, this is routine. For the public, it is often confusing.
Citizens do not read full judgments. They read outcomes. And when outcomes appear unpredictable, confidence begins to erode.
The third issue is finality. The Supreme Court’s decisions are binding and not subject to appeal. This ensures certainty. But it also means that any perceived inconsistency becomes permanent.
There is no second look. That places an extraordinary burden on the court, not only to be right, but to be seen to be right. Because in democratic systems, perception is power.
The fourth issue is the future of party democracy. The nullification of the PDP convention sends a clear message: political parties are not above the law. Internal processes must comply with court orders. Party autonomy is not immunity. That is a necessary correction.
But it also creates a dilemma.
If internal party disputes continue to end at the Supreme Court, parties risk losing the ability to resolve their own conflicts. Leadership battles may shift from party organs to courtrooms. Cohesion may depend more on judgments than on consensus.
That is not a sustainable model. Political parties are meant to be self-regulating institutions. When they outsource their disputes to the judiciary, they weaken their own foundations.
Yet another matter, currently before the courts, is even more consequential for the future. A suit instituted by the Incorporated Trustees of the National Forum of Former Legislators, with the Independent National Electoral Commission and the office of the Attorney General of the Federation joined as defendants, seeks to compel the deregistration of several political parties based on their failure to meet constitutional thresholds under Section 225A of the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria as amended.
The significance of that case lies not in who is named as a defendant, but in the constitutional question it raises.
Political parties are not ornamental entities. They exist to compete, to win mandates, and to represent the electorate. Where they consistently fail to meet the minimum requirements set by law, the argument for deregistration becomes legally compelling.
But the implications go far beyond legality. If the courts ultimately affirm this position, and the matter proceeds through the appellate ladder to the Supreme Court, the consequences for Nigeria’s political landscape ahead of 2027 could be profound.
The number of parties may shrink. The space for smaller or emerging platforms may narrow. The structure of electoral competition may tilt more decisively toward dominant parties.
And once again, the judiciary will not merely interpret the rules of democracy. It will shape the field on which democracy is contested. This brings us back to the central tension. Should Nigeria follow the course of law, regardless of political consequences? Or should it temper legality with sensitivity to democratic inclusion? The answer is not as contradictory as it appears.
A constitutional democracy cannot be governed by sentiment. Institutions must be guided by law, not by emotion or political pressure. To do otherwise would be to invite disorder and weaken the foundations of governance. But fidelity to law must be matched with fairness, consistency and restraint.
Because when the law is applied in ways that appear selective or politically convenient, it loses moral authority. And when it loses moral authority, even correct decisions begin to attract suspicion. This is the delicate balance Nigeria must strike, not between law and sentiment, but between legality and legitimacy.
As Nigeria looks toward 2027, these dynamics take on even greater urgency.
Elections will be contested. Disputes will arise. Cases will be filed. And many will end at the Supreme Court. The question, therefore, is no longer whether the judiciary will shape political outcomes. It already does. The real question is how. Will it do so in a manner that strengthens democratic confidence? Or in ways that deepen uncertainty and perception battles?
Ultimately, democracy rests on three pillars: the ballot, the law and public trust. The Supreme Court sits at the intersection of all three. Its decisions may be final. But their legitimacy depends on something far less absolute.
Public confidence. And as Nigeria moves toward 2027, that confidence may prove to be the most important verdict of all.
Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D
lemmyughegbeofficial@gmail.com
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