By Emmanuel Onwioduokit
There is a timeless lesson that history teaches rulers, governments, parliaments, presidents, kings, and political actors: whenever power becomes intoxicated with itself, it begins to believe that laws can be manipulated permanently for selfish advantage. Yet history also teaches something deeper: no law built on injustice survives forever. Sooner or later, truth, public conscience, and the force of justice rise against it.
The controversy surrounding the 2026 Electoral Act and the recent court judgment regarding the timetable of the Independent National Electoral Commission should serve as a serious moral and political warning to those who govern Nigeria today and those who may govern tomorrow.
What happened in 2026 was extraordinary. The Electoral Act was reportedly signed into law the very same day the National Assembly of Nigeria transmitted it to the President. In a country where critical national bills often spend weeks, months, or even years undergoing scrutiny, review, consultation, and political bargaining, such speed was unprecedented. Indeed, it would be difficult to find parallels in democratic history across the world where a law so central to electoral integrity moved from legislative transmission to presidential assent almost instantly.
That singular event immediately raised profound questions in the minds of many citizens: Was the urgency driven by national interest or political convenience? Was the law crafted for democratic strengthening or strategic advantage? Was the nation being governed through wisdom and consultation, or through the impatience of political calculation?
Today’s court judgment on the INEC timetable has reopened those questions before the conscience of the nation.
The deeper issue goes beyond legal interpretation. It touches the moral philosophy of governance itself. Laws are not meant to be weapons in the hands of temporary officeholders. They are not supposed to be crafted as traps for opponents or shields for incumbents. Laws must rise above partisan convenience because governments come and go, but institutions remain. A law written to serve one administration can become the burden of another. A precedent created to protect one group today may tomorrow empower their fiercest rivals.
This is why every society that desires stability insists that leaders must govern with the fear of God, humility before history, and responsibility toward future generations.
Power is temporary. Institutions are enduring.
Many governments throughout history made the fatal mistake of believing they could outsmart justice through legislation. Some altered constitutions to extend tenure. Some manipulated electoral systems to weaken opposition. Some captured institutions to guarantee political survival. For a moment, such strategies appeared successful. But eventually, reality intervened. Public anger grew. Courts rediscovered courage. Political alliances shifted. History turned. And the very structures designed for self-preservation became instruments of humiliation.
That is the tragedy of self-serving governance: it plants the seeds of its own destruction.
A government that fears fair competition will eventually lose moral legitimacy. A political class that bends institutions for convenience weakens the very foundation upon which national stability rests. Democracy survives not merely because elections are held, but because citizens trust that the rules are fair, transparent, and not manipulated to favour those already in power.
The danger becomes even greater when leaders surround themselves only with praise singers and political loyalists. Such environments create the illusion that every action is justified. Criticism is dismissed as opposition. Caution is treated as disloyalty. Wise counsel disappears. But governance without self-examination is dangerous. Nations collapse gradually when leaders stop asking themselves one important question: “If our opponents did this same thing tomorrow, would we still defend it?”
That question is the true test of justice.
Nigeria’s democratic journey has already suffered enough institutional distortions, electoral crises, judicial controversies, and political mistrust. What the nation needs now is not clever manipulation of rules, but courageous commitment to fairness. The country desperately needs leaders who understand that good governance is not about defeating opponents at all costs; it is about building systems that even opponents can trust.
The fear of God in governance is not mere religious language. It means recognizing that power carries accountability beyond human applause. It means understanding that there are moral consequences for abusing public trust. It means knowing that political victory achieved through manipulation may secure temporary control but can destroy long-term national peace.
Every administration should remember this: no government remains forever. One day, those writing the rules today may sit in opposition under the same rules tomorrow. One day, those applauding institutional manipulation may become victims of it. History has a cruel way of reversing roles.
That is why wise statesmen build strong institutions instead of temporary political advantages.
The recent judicial developments should therefore not merely be viewed through partisan lenses. They should be seen as a national cautionary moment: a reminder that democracy cannot thrive where laws are hurried, institutions are pressured, and electoral frameworks appear designed around political interests rather than national consensus.
The future stability of the Nigeria will depend largely on whether leaders choose the path of fairness or the temptation of political engineering.
In the end, justice has a stubborn quality: it may be delayed, resisted, manipulated, or suppressed for a season, but it eventually reasserts itself.
And when it does, those who governed without conscience often discover too late that power borrowed from manipulation never lasts.
Let us remain guided and informed.
