In 1993, Nigeria narrowly avoided catastrophe, a ruinous outcome the military dubbed “judicial anarchy.” Whether the nation will be as fortunate in 2027 may be anyone’s guess—perhaps even a matter for sorcerers.
That year reshaped Nigeria’s judiciary. Over five months, the military staged two coups. First, in June, General Ibrahim Babangida nullified an election meant to choose his successor. Then, in November, General Sani Abacha overthrew the Interim National Government installed after Babangida’s retreat. Both times, the judiciary played a pivotal role.
The election to replace Babangida was set for June 12, 1993. Two days prior, the regime backed the Association for Better Nigeria to secure a court order barring the National Electoral Commission from conducting the vote. The judge, Bassey Ikpeme, delivered a “candle-light judgment” after court hours, ruling the election could not be free and fair. She restrained the commission, despite military decrees forbidding such orders.
Public pressure and internal military discord allowed voting to proceed. But days later, another court order halted result collation. The regime annulled the election on June 22, citing the need to save the country from “judicial anarchy.” Babangida later stepped aside, but his decrees triggered more chaos. A Lagos High Court ruling invalidated the Interim National Government, and Abacha seized power.
These events revealed three truths: high court orders could create political vacuums; judges gained political relevance, whether acting alone or in collusion; and if judges could end power, they could soon determine who held it.
Today, history seems to repeat. In 2024, Kano State’s emirate succession dispute saw a Federal High Court judge invent federal jurisdiction, issuing contradictory orders that left Kano with two emirs. That judge was later elevated to the Court of Appeal and nearly became chairman of the Independent National Electoral Commission.
Now, the 2027 election timetable is under judicial siege. On May 20, Judge Mohammed Garba Umar nullified parts of INEC’s guidelines, ruling the commission cannot dictate when parties hold primaries. Six days later, Judge James Omotosho countered, upholding the timetable but ordering adjustments. Two judges, two timetables, one election—a recipe for confusion.
The core question is whether INEC can compress the timeline for primaries. The commission insists on completion by May, yet parties wait until September or October to submit candidate names. From the same court, contradictory answers emerge. Lawyers say appeals will resolve this, but by then, parties and citizens will have invested heavily in resources and emotions. If disputes linger after the vote, they could alter outcomes and spark instability.
In 1993, Nigeria dodged a bullet. Whether it will in 2027 is a question that may only be answered by the sorcerers.
