There are moments in the progression of a state when legality is inadequate – when the real test is not what the law permits, but what morality demands. Nigeria now stands at such a moment – precisely the kind Chief Obafemi Awolowo warned against. Awolowo was clear: leadership is, above all, a question of character. Public office, in his view, is a moral trust – not a reward for political survival. It is against that standard that Nigeria must judge the unfolding spectacle surrounding former Kogi State Governor, Yahaya Bello – and, increasingly, other actors within the political system.
The APC's Decision and Its Implications
The decision by the All Progressives Congress (APC) to clear Bello to contest for the Senate is not just politically questionable; it is ethically indefensible. It exposes the gulf between Nigeria's anti-corruption rhetoric and its political practice. The facts are not in dispute. Bello is standing trial over alleged money laundering alongside related proceedings reportedly exceeding ₦190 billion. These are live cases. Judicial determinations are ongoing. Yet, in the midst of this, his party has endorsed him for legislative office.
This episode reflects a broader distortion in Nigeria's political system. I have argued earlier in this same newspaper that the now familiar pattern of governors exiting office only to populate the Senate is itself unhealthy. It reduces the legislature to a retirement corridor for executive actors. But Bello's case goes further. It does not merely recycle power; it attempts to sanitise controversy – to convert political liability into legislative ambition.
The Okowa Case: A Similar Pattern
However, Bello is not alone. The case of former Delta State Governor, Ifeanyi Okowa, reinforces the same troubling pattern. Okowa is under investigation over alleged mismanagement and diversion of approximately ₦1.3 trillion in oil derivation funds, alongside accusations of abuse of office and acquisition of assets linked to public resources. Despite these unresolved allegations, he has emerged as the APC senatorial candidate for Delta North. Here again, legality has prevailed over propriety.
The elevation of individuals under active investigation into legislative authority reflects not isolated lapses, but a systemic erosion of ethical standards in public life. Awolowo would have found this deeply disturbing. He insisted that those holding public office must be above reproach, not merely within legal bounds. In his philosophy, a leader facing credible suspicion cannot command public trust.
The Need to Step Aside
In sane political cultures, the expectation is straightforward: step aside. Allow the law to take its course. Preserve the dignity of the office and the credibility of the system. What we see instead is the opposite – defiance framed as entitlement, resistance reframed as privilege. There is something fundamentally wrong when individuals answering to allegations of this magnitude can, without hesitation, present themselves as candidates for public trust.
This is not normal. It is a symptom of moral erosion, a marker of ethical decay, a reflection of institutional catastrophe, a sign of normative breakdown, and an indicator of systemic dysfunction. Nigeria's defenders retreat to constitutionalism: presumption of innocence, absence of conviction, legality of candidacy. These arguments are not incorrect – but they are insufficient. Democracies are not sustained by law alone. They depend on shared ethical boundaries – on a collective understanding that there are lines one does not cross, even when the law permits it.
The law sets the minimum standard; public morality imposes a higher obligation. This aligns with Awolowo's principle of the highest standards of integrity in public life. Other democracies have acted on this principle. In South Korea, former presidents – Park Geun-hye and Lee Myung-bak – were investigated, convicted, and imprisoned for corruption. In Brazil, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva's conviction once halted his presidential ambitions. In Peru, Alejandro Toledo and Ollanta Humala have faced prosecution and detention, while Pedro Pablo Kuczynski resigned under pressure. In France, Nicolas Sarkozy was convicted and sanctioned for corruption. Across these systems, credible allegations interrupt political ambition. Nigeria, by contrast, allows ambition to prosper by weaponising claims of injustice.
The Symbolic Danger
But the greater danger lies not only in the candidacies of Bello and Okowa – it lies in what they symbolise. By approving their bids, along with those of others facing similar clouds of suspicion, the system sends a troubling signal: that allegations, no matter how serious, no longer constitute any meaningful barrier to political advancement. That signal will not be lost. It invites imitation. It creates a bandwagon effect. Others with tainted records – those investigated, indicted, or disgraced – will take note. The conclusion will be obvious: if Bello or Okowa can contest, so can we.
Nigeria has already seen this pattern emerge. Figures such as Joshua Dariye and Jolly Nyame, once convicted of corruption, have re-entered public life following pardon. Their return has quietly shifted the boundaries of acceptability. The line between accountability and rehabilitation is becoming dangerously thin. If this trajectory continues, the consequences will be severe: a political culture in which disgrace is temporary, accountability is negotiable, and public office becomes a refuge rather than a responsibility.
What Becomes of the Anti-Corruption Fight?
What becomes of the anti-corruption fight in such a system? What signal does it send to those in positions of trust? What lesson does it teach the next generation? The answer is stark: the state begins to lose its moral authority. The EFCC will argue – correctly – that it has fulfilled its legal duty by prosecuting these cases. But legality is only one side of the equation. Justice must not only proceed; it must resonate. A prosecution that drags on while the accused seeks higher office sends the opposite message.
This is not about denying Yahaya Bello or Ifeanyi Okowa their rights. They are entitled to due process. But public life is governed not only by rights – it is defined by responsibility. And one of those responsibilities is knowing when personal ambition must yield to the integrity of the system. This is the line that has been crossed – and the line Awolowo would have insisted upon.
Nigeria must now decide whether that line still exists – not in theory, but in practice. For the question before us is no longer whether they can contest. It is whether they should. And as Awolowo once warned: “The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership.” If that warning still holds true, then moments like this demand not silence, but clarity. For a nation that excuses everything will ultimately stand for nothing.
Dr Babatunde, a legal practitioner, lectures at London South Bank University, UK.
