“….economic mismanagement, rabid corruption, irresponsible political behavior and squandermania, the near abandonment of the state by its very custodians weakened it and made it largely irrelevant to the daily lives of the people. The state was now seen and treated as enemy by the people, a force that was to be avoided, hated, attacked, and subverted as opportunity permitted. Such a state had no room for the development, rule of law, social justice, human rights, and constitutionalism. All these were sacrificed on the altar of political expediency, political rascality, the hunger for raw power, and the arrogance of a political elite with only a tenuous relationship to real production.”
Julius Ihonvbere, (2002)
When he uttered these words in October 2002, Julius Ihonvbere was a distinguished Professor of political science about to make the transition from exile into public office. He spoke as a guest of the Institute for Governance and Development (IGD) at the Ambrose Alli University in Ekpoma, Edo State, whose academic community were his audience. The topic of his lecture was the timeless subject of “Constitutionalism and Democratisation in Africa.” His focus was Nigeria.
Nearly 22 years later, Professor Ihonvbere has logged an impressive public service resume in both the executive and legislative arms of government as well as at both federal and state levels. Among other things, he has served as an intimate adviser in the presidency; Secretary to the State Government in Edo State and also as a federal legislator. As the Majority Leader in the House of Representatives today, Professor Ihonvbere is the undisputed manager of legislative business in that chamber.
The progressive credentials of his opposite number in the Senate, Michael Opeyemi Bamidele (MOB), are just as intimidating. A lawyer with transboundary qualifications, Òpé, as he was known back in the day, was a firebrand president of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS) under whom the association logged an impressive record of resilient and effective opposition to the worst excesses of military rule.
This coincidence of enlightened and progressive credentials was – until this parliament – unknown in the annals of parliamentary floor management in Nigeria. It was entirely natural, therefore, that the public was willing to suspend credulity and heap a burden of high expectations on this 10th National Assembly (NASS). What they have reaped in return has been nothing short of a dis-spiriting anti-climax.
In its first year, this 10th National Assembly compiled a record that makes Professor Ihonvbere’s 22-year-old Ekpoma declamation sound rather damp. To be sure, they signaled their direction very early, handing the administration the largest cabinet in the history of elective presidentialism in Nigeria in return for a scandalous harvest of four-wheel drives for every member.
The National Assembly of Professor Ihonvbere and Opeyemi Bamidele will go down in history as the one that casualized the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) programme by clearing for appointment, ministerial nominees who manifestly had not fulfilled that requirement. Their handling of appropriations will deserve special treatment on its own. But it is their treatment of constitutive national symbols and institutions that will probably define the legacy of this 10th National Assembly.
On the first anniversary of the regime of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu in May 2024, the NASS altered the National Anthem and secured presidential assent for the change even before the record of Votes and Proceedings could have been compiled or transmitted, an essential requirement for presidential assent to bills passed by the National Assembly. This uniquely symbolic event occurred without as much as notice to Nigerians or an opportunity for public participation in the process.
The speed of parliamentary business under the joint floor leadership of Professor Ihonvbere and Opeyemi Bamidele has been nothing short of disconcerting, to the extent that it routinely catches many of their own conscientious colleagues entirely unawares. This has led to accusations of legislation by ambush. They have indeed been described as “worse than a rubber stamp…. A copy-and-paste arm of the executive.”
The latest example of legislation by copy-and-paste was the swift decision in the past week by both chambers of the National Assembly to amend the Nigeria Police Act of 2020, in order to extend the tenure of the present Inspector-General of Police (IGP) for a transparently political hit-job in 2027. As with the National Anthem, this also blind-sided the country.
The Nigeria Police (Amendment) Bill, 2024 is one of the shortest pieces of law-making in Nigeria’s parliamentary history. It comprises three sections which, together with the marginal notes, add up to a mere 100 words. The only substantive provision in the new law proposes to insert into the Nigeria Police Act 2020, a provision to the effect that “any person appointed to the office of Inspector-General of Police shall remain in office until the end of the term stipulated in the letter of appointment in line with section 7(6) of this Act.”
The Police Act provides for a tenure of up to four years for the Inspector-General of Police. However, all police officers are also liable to retire on attainment of the age of 60 years or 35 years in service whichever occurs earlier. Under this rule, Dr. Kayode Egbetokun, the current IGP, will retire on 4 September when he turns 60.
As the rumours of a tenure extension for him built up in the past few weeks, the police authorities were forced at the beginning of this month to deny allegations that IGP Egbetokun “made moves to influence the National Assembly to pass a bill seeking to raise the retirement age of officers.” Those denials have proved to be worthless.
There are two possible scenarios. One is that Egbetokun was appointed in 2023 with a clear tenure stipulation in his letter of appointment. If that is the case, however, then the new amendment is an irresponsible waste of parliamentary bandwidth. This throws up an alternative explanation: that this amendment is intended to extend Egbetokun’s tenure, keeping him in office until after the 2027 presidential elections. As a matter of law, that should be impossible under the terms of legislation that is clearly not retrospective in its text or ordinary effect.
On either of these readings, IGP Egbetokun has to go on his 60th birthday on 4 September. If a letter materializes on that date granting him longer tenure, it would almost assuredly be a lawless forgery. That is not to say that the regime may not attempt it.
The Constitution and the Police Act together empower the president to appoint the IGP. They place only three constraints on this. One, the person must be from the ranks of serving police officers. Two, only officers on or above the rank of Assistant Inspector-General of Police are eligible for consideration for the position of IGP. Third, the president is obliged to consult with the Police Council in the appointment but the decision is ultimately the president’s alone to make. On 4 September, Kayode Egbetokun will no longer be eligible to be appointed IGP because he would no longer be a Police Officer as a matter of law.
The perversely targeted amendment of the Police Act by the National Assembly of Julius Ihonvbere and Opeyemi Bamidele is the latest curiosity from a Parliament whose only aspiration appears to be the transformation of the NASS into presidential plaything. The objective of this amendment is rather transparent. That is not surprising: in a previous life, the Kayode Egbetokun served for a long time as Aide-de-Camp to Bola Ahmed Tinubu.
The enthusiasm of Julius Ihonvbere and Opeyemi Bamidele in readily enabling this prostitutes the National Assembly. To reprise the thoughts of Professor Ihonvbere from over two decades ago, this NASS under the joint enterprise of himself and Opeyemi Bamidele manifestly has “no room for development, rule of law, social justice, human rights, and constitutionalism.” Instead, it has become “a place where all these were sacrificed on the altar of political expediency, political rascality, the hunger for raw power, and the arrogance of a political elite with only a tenuous relationship to real production.” Who would have thunk it?
By Chidi Odinkalu
A lawyer and a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at chidi.odinkalu@tufts.edu
