Nigeria’s democracy stands at a critical moment.
As the nation gradually approaches the 2027 General Elections, recent political and legal developments have raised serious concerns about the protection of our laws and the integrity of our democratic process. At the center of these concerns is the interpretation—and in some cases, the outright disregard—of key provisions of the Electoral Act 2026.
These are not minor technical issues. They strike at the very foundation of constitutional order, the rule of law, and the fairness of political competition in Nigeria.
One provision in particular has come under intense scrutiny: Section 83 of the Electoral Act 2026, which clearly states that no court in Nigeria shall entertain any suit or matter relating to the internal affairs of a political party.
The intention of this provision is straightforward—to prevent the judiciary from being drawn into intra-party disputes and to curb the abuse of legal processes for political advantage.
However, what is now unfolding tells a different story.
There has been a disturbing pattern where lawyers continue to file cases that directly violate this provision, seeking to involve the courts in matters they are expressly barred from handling. Even more troubling are instances where courts appear to grant interim or interlocutory injunctions in such cases—despite the clear limitations imposed by the law.
This trend does not just raise legal questions; it poses a direct threat to democratic stability.
When courts are drawn into internal political battles, and when legal practitioners exploit loopholes or ignore statutory boundaries, the result is a dangerous erosion of public trust. The judiciary risks being perceived not as a neutral arbiter of justice, but as a tool in political maneuvering.
Such practices open the door to forum shopping, disingenuous litigation, and applications designed not to uphold justice, but to secure strategic political advantage.
If left unchecked, this pattern could fundamentally distort Nigeria’s democratic process—transforming courts into arenas for political score-settling rather than institutions of fairness and justice.
It is important to remember why these provisions exist in the first place.
They were carefully designed to prevent exactly this kind of abuse—to ensure that political disputes are resolved within the proper channels, and that the judiciary is protected from manipulation. When these safeguards are ignored or selectively applied, the consequences go far beyond individual cases; they begin to shrink the political space and undermine healthy democratic competition.
Nigeria cannot afford such a trajectory.
The strength of any democracy lies not just in its elections, but in the respect for the laws that govern those elections. When those laws are bent, ignored, or exploited, the entire system is put at risk.
If these patterns continue unchecked, Nigeria risks turning its judicial system into a battleground for political advantage rather than a sanctuary for justice.
But this raises an important question—who is responsible for stopping this, and what happens next?