In 2017, a joint report by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) and the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) ranked the judiciary as the second most corrupt public institution in Nigeria, trailing only the Nigeria Police Force. That damaging verdict has haunted the judicial system ever since, with repeated but largely unsuccessful efforts to cleanse its image.
When Justice Kekere-Ekun became Nigeria’s 23rd CJN—and the 18th Indigenous one—she made a solemn pledge:
“A better judiciary benefits the entire nation. Whatever shortcomings we observe today, we must remember that we are all part of this society. If we desire improvement, it must start with each of us and our approach to justice.”
True to her word, last week, the National Judicial Council (NJC), which oversees discipline in the judiciary, took decisive action by sanctioning several judicial officers. Though some believe the penalties were too lenient, the move signals a meaningful step toward reform. Critics, including myself, have often advocated for harsh penalties to deter misconduct in public institutions—just as I have recently suggested severe punishment for universities and officials engaged in fraudulent practices in the Nigerian Education Loan Fund (NELFUND), as revealed in a recent ICPC investigation.
That said, determining what level of punishment is appropriate for erring judicial officers remains a matter of perspective.
How much is enough or too much?
Justice Kekere-Ekun’s recent disciplinary measures are widely seen as a necessary “housecleaning,” aiming to restore public trust in a judiciary that had become so discredited, that many Nigerians no longer saw it as the proverbial last hope for the common man.
In an ideal democracy, citizens who feel wronged should be able to seek justice in the courts. But that system only works when the public believes in the fairness and independence of the judiciary. Sadly, in recent years, Nigerians have grown skeptical, often viewing court rulings as bizarre, politically influenced, or outright compromised.
By taking action against judges found guilty of misconduct—based on public petitions—Justice Kekere-Ekun has effectively acknowledged that corruption exists within the judiciary. More importantly, her bold stance is a much-needed step in rehabilitating its damaged reputation.
Allow me to illustrate how deeply public confidence in the judiciary has eroded—and how Justice Kekere-Ekun’s recent action may begin to change that.
Take, for example, the recent controversy involving Seyi Tinubu, son of President Bola Tinubu. In two separate incidents, he has faced both defamation allegations and accusations of physical assault against Atiku Abubakar Isah, the president of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS).
Ideally, both parties should have resolved their grievances through legal channels. Instead, they took to social media, allowing public opinion to shape the narrative—fueling tensions and deepening mistrust in institutions by conscious and concerned members of society.
Would Nigerians have accepted a court ruling in Seyi Tinubu’s favor, given that he’s the president’s son? Probably not, at least until now. But with the CJN’s recent efforts to clean up the judiciary, there’s hope that the public might begin to view the courts as impartial once again.
Meanwhile, the Socio-Economic Rights and Accountability Project (SERAP) has filed a lawsuit against the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) for its failure to lift what it called the “arbitrary, illegal, and unconstitutional” ban on Eedris Abdulkareem’s song “Tell Your Papa.”
SERAP argues—rightly—that freedom of expression is a cornerstone of democracy, and that this right includes the ability to voice opinions that may shock, offend, or challenge authority, especially in political discourse.
In my view, Seyi Tinubu—who appears to be the target of defamation and online attacks on the song—should have been the one to take legal action against Abdulkarim. Instead, it’s the other way around. In other words, while Seyi Tinubu is sitting on his rights, SERAP has picked up the gauntlet by fulfilling all righteousness whether it feels it can get a judgment or not is another kettle of fish.
Predictably, the song has stirred up a whirlwind of controversy, but that may well have been the artist’s intention—to provoke debate, generate buzz, and gain massive attention, all without spending a kobo on publicity.
From experience, it’s clear that radical hip-hop artist Eedris Abdulkarim thrives on controversy. Like many performers who crave the spotlight, he deliberately stirs public discourse to remain relevant and keep his music trending across social media and mainstream platforms.
In media theory, this is known as a “pull” strategy—where a message is so provocative or engaging that it naturally attracts media attention, much like butterflies are drawn to flowers. This is the opposite of a “push” strategy, where publicists aggressively promote a brand, idea, or product through advertising, PR, or other marketing tactics.
Eedris Abdulkarim’s latest track, “Seyi, Tell Your Papa”, appears to be a classic pull move. His history supports this view—he once released the controversial “Nigeria Jaga Jaga” during President Olusegun Obasanjo’s tenure, calling out Nigeria’s chaotic state and poor leadership. In response, Obasanjo mocked him rather than taking legal action, joking that Eedris’s father must be “Jaga Jaga” himself.
Perhaps if Obasanjo had taken legal steps then, we’d now have a judicial precedent applicable to the current situation, where Eedris is once again in the spotlight—this time for a song that some interpret as defamation against Seyi Tinubu, the President’s son.
If a lawsuit had been filed, and a court had ruled against Eedris, it could have set an example for other artists to consult legal professionals and steer clear of defamatory content in their creative works.
That brings me to the decision by the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) to ban “Seyi, Tell Your Papa” from the airwaves. I believe NBC’s action was hasty and misguided. Rather than evaluate the potential implications carefully, the Commission took the path of executive fiat—a move that undermines due process and violates the principles of a democratic society.
A more appropriate course of action would have been for Seyi Tinubu himself to file a defamation lawsuit, especially if he believed the song infringed on his rights or amounted to cyberbullying or hate speech. These claims are protected under the 1999 Nigerian Constitution and international human rights charters. If a court had agreed, the music could have been suspended legally pending the outcome—not through censorship.
NBC’s unilateral decision to ban the song, without any known petition from Seyi Tinubu, makes it appear that proper legal channels were bypassed. This raises concerns about abuse of power, as civil society group SERAP has rightly pointed out in their lawsuit against NBC.
We’ve seen similar overreactions from government agencies in the recent past. When citizens nicknamed President Tinubu “T-Pain” as a reflection of the hardship caused by his economic policies, some presidential aides were quick to condemn the nickname. I responded with an article defending the right of Nigerians to express their frustrations, however unflattering, as a legitimate form of free speech enshrined in Section 39(1) of the Constitution and the UN Human Rights Charter.
Similarly, when a young woman serving in the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) posted a viral video describing the president as “terrible,” the agency’s response was unprofessional. She was reportedly threatened and harassed by NYSC officials and a presidential spokesperson. It was later suggested that she was simply participating in a social media challenge to gain followers—a claim that is now irrelevant.
The larger issue remains: our legal framework is designed to balance individual freedoms with protection from harm. One person’s right to free speech should not infringe on another’s right to dignity or safety. If Seyi Tinubu’s legal team can demonstrate that the song constitutes hate speech or defamation, then Abdulkarim could be held accountable. Otherwise, the public will continue to enjoy the song for its entertainment value.
In my view, the actions taken by NBC and NYSC are doing more harm than good for the Tinubu administration. Their attempts to silence critics—whether an artist or a youth corps member—come across as overzealous and undemocratic. These agencies appear to be “doing eye service,” acting out of fear or loyalty rather than principle.
President Tinubu himself has demonstrated tolerance in the past. As an opposition figure, he was highly critical of government leaders and, during his presidential campaign, endured fierce insults and ridicule. Yet he remained undeterred and eventually emerged victorious. That resilience showed he understands the democratic process and the importance of free expression.
Therefore, it is disappointing to see regulatory bodies now acting in ways that contradict the very democratic ideals the President once championed. The rule of law—not arbitrary power—should guide our responses to criticism, controversy, or satire.
Just as the controversy surrounding the “Seyi, Tell Your Papa” song appeared to be fading from the public space even though the hearing in court is pending, another scandal involving Seyi Tinubu has emerged. This time, Atiku Abubakar Isah, the newly elected president of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS), has accused Seyi of orchestrating his abduction and assault during the NANS leadership transition. Isah made the claims during a press conference last Wednesday, asserting that Seyi Tinubu not only tried to bribe him with N100 million to step down but also directed thugs to beat and strip him naked in a bid to force his resignation—an ordeal he says was recorded and saved on his phone.
These are grave allegations that Seyi Tinubu must defend himself against if untrue. Otherwise, unsubstantiated and undebunked narratives such as these could seriously damage not only Seyi Tinubu’s image but also President Bola Tinubu’s 2027 re-election prospects, especially if they fuel the narrative of executive overreach and abuse of power. Therefore, these claims must be treated with the seriousness they deserve by which Seyi Tinubu should approach the court to absolve himself if he has been lied against.
However, under the law, “he who alleges must prove.” The NANS president must provide concrete evidence—messages, videos, or witnesses—that support his claims of bribery, assault, and media manipulation. In my assessment, there appear to be some inconsistencies in the narrative of the presumed victim.
For instance, if the Nigerian Television Authority (NTA) was indeed involved, its Director-General (not Managing Director, as mistakenly stated) and the Minister of Youth Development—alleged accomplices—must either confirm or deny the charges without further delay. Additionally, the victim must disclose how the alleged abduction took place, where he was taken to, how long he was held, and whether the incident was reported to the police as well as which police station.
It is also plausible that Isah may have been attacked by political rivals within NANS, with Seyi Tinubu’s name falsely invoked to intimidate him. Until proven otherwise, these remain allegations, and if unfounded, Seyi Tinubu has every right to pursue legal redress for defamation and character assassination. Like the “Seyi, Tell Your Papa” he should not allow another civil society to sue him or petition the police by only refuting the allegations in the social media which is a mere metaphorical court of public opinion and not a court of law.
Across the globe, even in the world’s most advanced democracies, the children of presidents and prime ministers are often used as political pawns to weaken or discredit their parents. In the UK, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher’s son, Mark, was accused of questionable activities abroad, casting a shadow on her leadership. In the U.S., Donald Trump’s children came under intense scrutiny during his presidency and campaign periods, with Trump Jr. and Eric facing lawsuits linked to the Trump Organization. Similarly, President Joe Biden’s son, Hunter, was embroiled in controversial dealings in Ukraine—issues that Donald Trump attempted to capitalize on during the 2020 campaign.
Nigeria is no exception. Former President Olusegun Obasanjo’s children were also dragged into political mudslinging to undermine his credibility. So, attempts to tarnish the image of Seyi Tinubu—President Tinubu’s son—are not unusual. They follow a global pattern.
What is new, however, is how regulatory bodies in Nigeria are reacting. For instance, the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) issued a circular prohibiting airplay of Eedris Abdulkarim’s song criticizing Seyi Tinubu. This overreach only handed critics and opposition parties fresh ammunition to accuse the Tinubu administration of censorship and abuse of power. Compare that to the U.S., where two hip-hop artists, Drake and Kendrick Lamar, are currently embroiled in a high-profile legal dispute over defamation in their lyrics—with no involvement from the government or its agencies. That’s how it should be.
Similarly, Donald Trump has a long history of suing media outlets he believes defamed him, including major names like The New York Times, CBS, and Penguin Random House. Yet, he never deployed the U.S. government machinery to silence critics. Even when ridiculed with a giant baby-blimp during his UK visit, Trump didn’t suppress free expression with executive power—though he did threaten lawsuits.
Currently, the Trump White House is in court with Reuters over a dispute involving press credentials—not because of criticism or satire. Meanwhile, Trump’s ongoing tariff wars and Elon Musk’s cost-cutting reforms have triggered both real and online protests, including unflattering parodies. Yet, both men remain largely unbothered, understanding that public scrutiny comes with the territory of leadership.
However, there’s a caveat: while presidents are fair game for public satire, their children—especially those not holding public office—deserve more protection. Seyi Tinubu, not being an elected or appointed official, may have a legitimate claim of cyberbullying or hate speech, especially if the lyrics in Abdulkarim’s song are deemed defamatory. Courts might agree that parodying him goes beyond political satire and into personal attack.
Still, Abdulkarim’s legal team may argue that Seyi, by his public statements and proximity to power, is a public figure and fair target for criticism—albeit indirectly aimed at his father. Ultimately, the courts will determine whether the song constitutes protected speech or crosses into defamation and cyber harassment.
If the matter goes to trial, it may still end in an out-of-court settlement. Should the court find Abdulkarim liable, Seyi Tinubu could choose to waive financial damages or imprisonment in the spirit of reconciliation, especially if the musician seeks leniency.
My goal in recounting this episode is to remind Nigerians of the importance of resolving conflicts—whether political, social, or business-related—through lawful means, not jungle justice. Unfortunately, only politicians seem to use the courts regularly to assert their rights, while ordinary citizens often remain passive, even when their rights are violated.
That is likely because justice was being bought in courts by the highest bidder, not based on the principle of equity and justice. Apparently, only politicians and business people can afford to procure justice that is not derived from the rule of law or based on objective legal principles.
This lack of faith in the justice system, especially the police once fueled dangerous trends like mob justice and, more recently, the #EndSARS protests in October 2020, sparked by police brutality. Though the protests resulted in tragic loss of lives and property by both police and civilians, they brought much-needed attention to systemic abuse and have since led to some reforms in the police force.
It is in the continued process of law enforcement and judicial system reforms that last week, Nigeria’s judiciary took a major step towards restoring public confidence in its service as well. Under Chief Justice Kudirat Kekere-Ekun, disciplinary actions were taken against corrupt judges—an internal clean-up reminiscent of self-regulation. This is a more dignified approach compared to the harsh tactics employed during President Buhari’s tenure when security operatives raided judges’ homes at night in a Gestapo-style crackdown. While that strategy may have made headlines, it did little to stamp out judicial corruption. So, why resort to such an unproductive harsh approach again this time?
Now that trust is gradually returning to our justice system, people like Eedris Abdulkarim, Seyi Tinubu, and the NANS president, Atiku Abubakar Isa should seek justice in the court of law not of public opinion. They can take a cue from Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan and Senate President Godswill Akpabio, who have both taken sensitive matters—such as alleged sexual harassment—to court rather than the court of public opinion where they were initially slugging it out.
One area where the Tinubu administration has struggled to gain public credit is the anti-corruption front. Despite major steps like the recent shakeup in the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPC Ltd)—long viewed as a corruption hub—and the suspension of former Humanitarian Affairs Minister,Betta Edu, these efforts remain underreported. That failure lies partly with the President’s media team, which has missed opportunities to highlight these important reforms and bolster the administration’s credibility.
Instead, the media space is saturated with negative headlines involving Seyi Tinubu or accusations that the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) is being weaponized to force opposition politicians to join the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC). But this narrative is questionable. The EFCC was established in 2003 under President Obasanjo, and even during Ibrahim Magu’s aggressive leadership under Buhari, it did not compel defections. Yet today, political defections are interpreted as the result of coercion, not Tinubu’s political strategy or influence.
It is important to recall that Obasanjo also consolidated power by applying a strategy of persuasion similar to the methodology currently deplored by Tinubu before his 2003 re-election, winning over Southwest governors—except Lagos—through political maneuvering (as well as documented records in books by some of the dramatis personae), not fear. What we are witnessing now is more likely a reflection of Tinubu’s political strength than EFCC intimidation.
In conclusion, the rule of law—not sensationalism or executive fiat—must – guide how allegations, criticism, and governance issues are handled. The recent reforms in the judiciary and police are steps in the right direction. If they continue, they could help rebuild public trust and foster a more just and accountable democracy in Nigeria.
We are awaiting the steps that would be taken by the military which seems to have been overwhelmed by non-state actors- terrorists, bandits, kidnappers, human ritualists, and animal herders clashing with farmers- following the recent marching order by President Tinubu for it to flush out the outlaws from our forests during his recent state visit to Katsina state which is a notorious theatre or ground zero for insecurity.
For long, we have been advocating for the military to adopt a non-kinetic strategy as opposed to the kinetic approach that it had been applying since Obasanjo’s presidency in 1999.
Our position remains that our armed forces and the police should put more boots on the ground to ward off the marauders.
Based on the principle behind the conventional wisdom: nature abhors a vacuum, and unoccupied Sambisa and other forests commend themselves as a fortress for criminal elements. Hence, they are thriving there.
With a teeming population of unemployed and able men/women, it beats me hollow why the military and police estimated to be a mere 400,000 apiece for both security agencies in a country with a population of over 200 million, have not beefed up their numbers through fresh recruitments.
Pivoting from security to the ramping up of activities in the political arena towards the fast-approaching 2027 general elections, some politicians, recognizing President Tinubu’s extraordinary political skill—evident in his hard-fought 2023 presidential victory—are advising their colleagues to shelve any 2027 ambitions. The main opposition parties, PDP, which garnered the second and LP the third highest votes behind APC, which scored the highest votes in the 2023 presidential elections, are engulfed by internal schism Given the feedback from a recent Ibadan, Oyo state capital meeting where the PDP state governors rejected the option of a merger with other parties, pundits are averring that the PDP may not field a presidential candidate in 2027. The same applies to the LP, which controls only one (1) state as compared to PDP’s eleven (11.
In fact, the number of all the opposition states combined is dwarfed by APC-controlled states, which stands at 22 as of the end of April 2025.
Therefore, the suggestion by some pragmatic opposition politicians: to wait until 2031 when Tinubu would likely exit the stage after a second term, seems to be pragmatic and gaining traction. And it is a testament to Tinubu’s mastery of the political game. Anyone who still underestimates his strategic genius is simply in denial.
In the end, the real takeaway from my review of events in the current political season is this: those advocating that Seyi should have sued Abdulkarim, not the other way around, are highlighting a legal precedent that entertainment lawyers in Nigeria should study closely. This shouldn’t just be another case overtaken by events, as civil servants would say, but a teachable moment—both in legal education and in understanding the limits of expression in a democracy.
Also, the allegations against Seyi Tinubu by the NANS president, Atiku Abubakar lsa should not be swept under the carpet but be passed through the crucible of law.
Finally, those alleging that President Tinubu and the ruling party are using the EFCC as a weapon to compel opposition politicians to defect to the APC should think twice.
In operations management realms, once a challenge is properly identified, it is 50% solved.
The opposition leaders and parties should do better by correctly identifying the challenge that is paralyzing them.
Magnus Onyibe, an entrepreneur, public policy analyst, author, democracy advocate, development strategist, an alumnus of the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, Massachusetts, USA, a Commonwealth scholar, and a former commissioner in the Delta State government, sent this piece from Lagos, Nigeria
