by Mohammed Bello Doka
21 May, 2026.
In a landmark court proceeding that has sent shockwaves through Nigeria’s fragile democracy, a Department of State Services witness confirmed that the National Security Adviser, Nuhu Ribadu, admitted the intercepted conversation cited by former Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai was authentic. The witness told the court that investigators concluded the conversation was genuine, making further forensic analysis of the NSA’s device unnecessary after Ribadu personally confirmed its authenticity. Yet here we stand, watching El-Rufai dragged through the mud of criminal prosecution while the NSA, the very official whose phone was allegedly compromised, walks free without a single question asked. This is not justice. This is the theatre of the absurd dressed in judicial robes.
The government finds itself trapped in an impossible contradiction, one that the ancient legal maxim “falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus” exposes with brutal clarity. False in one thing, false in everything. If El-Rufai lied about intercepting the NSA’s conversation, then the content of that conversation—his claim that he uncovered a plot to arrest him—must also be false. The prosecution cannot simultaneously argue that El-Rufai illegally obtained the call while insisting the NSA’s confirmation of its authenticity means nothing. Either El-Rufai accessed an illicit wiretap, in which case the explosive content he revealed demands an independent investigation into the NSA’s conduct, or El-Rufai fabricated the entire affair, rendering the NSA’s confirmation inexplicable. The government cannot have it both ways. Justice cannot be a selective menu from which the powerful order exoneration while the vulnerable consume persecution.
What exactly did El-Rufai allege he uncovered from that wiretap? He claimed he listened to Ribadu directing security operatives to orchestrate his arrest. When El-Rufai arrived at Abuja’s Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport on February 12, 2026, returning from Cairo, security operatives attempted to detain him on the spot. His lawyers immediately condemned what they called an attempted illegal arrest, a brazen display of executive overreach and deliberate disregard for the rule of law. El-Rufai has further alleged that Ribadu manipulated security agencies to sideline political rivals, interfered in judicial bail decisions, and orchestrated a petition to block his ministerial nomination. These are not the ramblings of a desperate man. These are the accounts of a citizen whose constitutional rights were trampled before the cameras rolled.
The African Democratic Congress has described El-Rufai’s ordeal as political persecution dressed up as prosecution. Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar has demanded his release, arguing that regardless of political disagreements, El-Rufai remains entitled to the full protection of the Constitution, including the rights to dignity, liberty, and due process. When multiple opposition voices, spanning ideological divides, converge on the same diagnosis, wise governments pause to listen. This one appears determined to press forward, adjourning El-Rufai’s pre-trial motions to June 1 while the broader question of who actually violated the law remains unanswered.
The German philosopher Immanuel Kant warned in his Critique of Pure Reason that without the control of criticism, reason exists in a state of nature, where claims are settled only by war rather than by reasoned judgment. Nigeria today finds itself in precisely such a state of nature. The government’s case against El-Rufai crumbles under the slightest critical scrutiny. Yet the machinery of prosecution grinds on, indifferent to its own logical collapse. Kant further observed that human reason recognizes no other judge than the universal reason of humanity. By that universal standard, no reasonable observer could conclude that this prosecution serves justice rather than vengeance.
The French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau offered an even starker warning. In The Social Contract, he observed that the strongest is never strong enough to be always the master unless he transforms strength into right and obedience into duty. The Nigerian government has wielded its strength to charge El-Rufai under the Cybercrimes Prohibition Act and the Nigerian Communications Act, alleging he breached national security by receiving an intercepted conversation. But where is the transformation of strength into right? Where is the duty to investigate the NSA’s role in whatever conversation actually took place? Rousseau reminds us that as soon as it is possible to disobey with impunity, disobedience becomes legitimate. When the powerful can intercept communications with impunity while the powerless face prosecution for merely receiving the fruits of that interception, justice has abandoned the courtroom.
The trial of Nasir El-Rufai can only be described as a political trial for one inescapable reason: it prosecutes the recipient of information while immunizing the source of the underlying conduct. A genuine judicial proceeding would have asked two questions immediately. First, did the NSA abuse his position to orchestrate the arrest of a political opponent? Second, if the NSA’s phone was compromised, who compromised it and why has no investigation been launched? The absence of these questions transforms the courtroom into an arena where the state settles scores while pretending to uphold the law.
Confucius taught that the uprightness of the people should be measured not by strict legalism but by moral education and an inner sense of shame that deters wrongdoing. What sense of shame can exist in a system where the state confirms the authenticity of a wiretap and then prosecutes only the man who revealed its contents? The ancient Chinese philosopher also warned that it is not scarcity we should fear but inequality. The inequality here is not merely economic but juridical. The NSA enjoys immunity from scrutiny while El-Rufai faces five criminal counts. That inequality corrodes the foundation of any society that claims to be governed by laws rather than men.
Socrates, facing his own unjust prosecution in Athens, understood the relationship between justice and law with painful clarity. He argued that the observance of the laws is the same thing as justice. Yet Socrates also made clear that laws passed by men could be rejected and amended when they ceased to serve justice. The law being weaponized against El-Rufai was never designed to protect national security. It was designed to protect the powerful from accountability. When a government uses cybercrime legislation to silence a political opponent who exposed an alleged plot against him, the law becomes an instrument of tyranny.
The government now faces a choice. It can investigate the NSA’s conduct, determine who accessed his communications and why, and apply the same legal standards to every citizen regardless of political affiliation. Or it can continue this charade, hoping that the Nigerian people will mistake prosecution for justice. But the Nigerian people are not fools. They have watched this script before. They know that when the state comes for its political opponents with charges that crumble under the weight of their own contradictions, something has rotted at the core of the republic.
Justice must flow in two directions. If El-Rufai accessed an illegal wiretap, the NSA’s own confirmation of that wiretap’s authenticity demands an accounting of how the interception occurred and why its contents revealed an alleged plot against a citizen. If El-Rufai fabricated the entire affair, the prosecution should demonstrate that fabrication without relying on the NSA’s confirmation of the conversation’s authenticity. The government cannot have it both ways. The courtroom cannot be a one-way street where only the accused faces judgment while the accuser enjoys immunity.
The adjournment of El-Rufai’s case to June offers the government a final opportunity to reflect. Will it pursue genuine justice, or will it continue down the path of political persecution dressed in legal robes? The answer to that question will determine not merely the fate of one former governor but the character of Nigerian democracy for generations to come. When the powerful can wiretap with impunity while the powerless face prosecution for listening, justice has not merely stumbled. It has died. And a nation that permits its death cannot long survive.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
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