If our democracy fails tomorrow, history may well record that the judiciary handed it the poison. This isn’t mere political rhetoric—it’s a grim warning echoing from the very heart of our legal system. When the Nigerian Bar Association President describes the courts as a “marketplace where justice is auctioned to the highest bidder,” we should all pause and listen. When judgments are rumoured to depend more on the “fatness of envelopes” than the weight of evidence, what happens to the common man’s last hope?
The answer lies in delayed court dates, denied remedies, and deepening despair—and it threatens the very foundation of our nation.
When the Courthouse Becomes a House of Frustration
For most Nigerians, the courthouse isn’t a symbol of refuge. It’s a fortress of frustration.
Take Ovie, an Ogor businessman who’s been locked in a contract dispute for seven years. His case has been adjourned over a dozen times. Each court appearance costs him a day’s earnings and chips away at his faith in the system.
“I have the law on my side,” he says, exhaustion evident in his voice. “But my opponent seems to have the judge’s ear. We’re no longer seeking justice. We’re just hoping for a favourable settlement, however unjust it might be.”
Ovie’s story isn’t unique. It’s playing out in courtrooms across Nigeria every single day. The Federal High Court is buckling under more than 165,000 pending cases. The Court of Appeal has a backlog of 31,000 appeals. Behind each of these numbers is a real person—a life in suspension, a business in limbo, a grievance festering into something more dangerous.
As the NBA warns, this is a system that risks delivering “judgment without getting justice.”
The Cancer at the Heart of the System
The problem runs deeper than delay. Corruption has become woven into the very fabric of our judicial process, touching everything from traffic offences to electoral tribunals.
The numbers are staggering. A 2024 survey by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime and the National Bureau of Statistics estimated that ₦721 billion in cash bribes changed hands in 2023, with judicial officers frequently among those implicated.
The result? A two-tiered system: one for the connected and wealthy, another for the poor and powerless.
“Unethical behaviour has been institutionalized by deviant stakeholders,” laments the Attorney General of Jigawa State. From the police station to the Supreme Court, the chain of justice has been compromised, making a mockery of the principle that all are equal before the law.
When Justice Fails, Democracy Falls
A compromised judiciary doesn’t fail in isolation. It triggers a catastrophic domino effect that threatens everything we hold dear.
First, the rule of law becomes the rule of power. When court rulings are perceived as bought or biased, impunity flourishes. The powerful act with arrogance, knowing the system is unlikely to hold them accountable. The fundamental social contract binding our society begins to unravel.
Second, citizens lose their final arbiter. Elections are increasingly decided not at ballot boxes but in courtrooms. When people have no confidence that electoral petitions will be judged fairly, the legitimacy of our entire political process collapses.
Third, frustrated citizens resort to self-help. When formal justice becomes elusive, people seek alternatives—vigilantism, communal violence, non-state armed groups. When the state cannot provide justice, it surrenders its most basic authority.
There Is Still Hope
All is not yet lost. Our judiciary has a proud history of courage under fire.
During military dictatorship, judges like Kayode Eso stood firm against tyranny. In Gen. Sani Abacha vs. Chief Gani Fawehinmi, the Supreme Court upheld liberty when doing so required enormous bravery. More recently, in 2023, it checked executive overreach in the controversial naira redesign policy case, reminding government that to disregard court orders is to make “democratic governance a mere pretence.”
This inherent strength can be the foundation for genuine reform. But the path forward requires urgent action on multiple fronts.
Government must implement proposed amendments to increase the number of judges, but that’s just the beginning. Courts need comprehensive digitization. E-filing, virtual hearings, and automated case assignment can dramatically reduce delays and limit opportunities for human interference.
The judiciary itself must transform .
The National Judicial Council must become truly independent and transparent. Appointments must be based purely on merit, with full transparency. Judges under investigation for corruption must be suspended immediately, not allowed to continue presiding over cases while allegations hang in the air.
The Nigerian Bar Association must continue its fierce advocacy while also cleaning its own house. Lawyers who act as conduits for bribes must be disbarred and prosecuted—no exceptions.
And citizens? We all have a role to play. We must collectively raise our standards and refuse to participate in the bribery ecosystem. There are encouraging signs. A 2024 report found that over 70% of Nigerians who were asked for a bribe refused at least once, and reporting is on the rise. This shift in public tolerance is planting seeds of real change.
The Choice Before Us
The “last hope of the common man” cannot be its first point of failure. Our democracy is an ongoing experiment that simply cannot survive without a functioning, trusted judiciary.
Cleansing the “temple of justice” isn’t just a task for lawyers and judges. It’s an urgent national priority for every Nigerian who believes in the promise of a fair and just society.
The warning from the bench itself is clear: the fight against corruption must be relentless. We must choose—and act now—to rebuild this pillar before the entire democratic structure comes crashing down around us.
The question isn’t whether we can afford to fix our judiciary. It’s whether we can afford not to.
Engr. Matthew Onokpasa, a development Consultant writes from Otogor, Delta State