Supreme Court or Supreme Shrine? A Nation’s Temple of Justice or an Altar for the Favored Few?
On her Facebook page Tari Ogoun wrote “Supreme Court or Supreme Shrine?
Only those who can pour Libation n apiece D Shrine Gets Justice. Shame of a Country”
The Supreme Court, often hailed as the temple of justice, appears to have taken on a new role—one less of an impartial arbiter and more of a mystical shrine where verdicts are divined rather than delivered. In this sacred enclave of robes and rituals, justice is no longer a function of law but a spectacle dictated by unseen hands, whispered incantations, and, of course, well-timed libations.
One cannot help but ask: Is this a courtroom where the law is supreme, or an altar where supplicants must come bearing offerings? Has justice, that blindfolded lady with her scales and sword, been replaced by a high priesthood that only recognizes those who know the right rites? What is the price of a favorable verdict these days—a well-crafted argument, or a well-lined pocket?
The Supreme Court of Nigeria, once regarded as the fortress of democracy and the last hope of the common man, now resembles an elaborate oracle chamber where judgments are not reasoned but revealed, not debated but dictated. Gone are the days when justice was based on the letter of the law; today, it appears more like an esoteric craft, accessible only to those who have mastered the rituals of appeasement.
Let us be blunt: justice in Nigeria has become a marketplace. Here, the highest bidder triumphs, and the common man watches helplessly from the sidelines. The scales of justice, instead of balancing facts and evidence, now tilt in the direction of power, wealth, and influence. Our once-revered judicial institution now behaves like a sanctum of legal sorcery, where judgments are conjured up like spells, ensuring that the politically anointed are blessed while the uninitiated are cast into the abyss of despair.
Have we not seen it? The audacious rulings that defy reason, the legal gymnastics that twist the constitution into an unrecognizable form, and the verdicts that read less like judicial pronouncements and more like decrees from a divine oracle? The courtroom, instead of being a battleground for truth and justice, now feels like a stage where actors in black robes perform a script long written behind closed doors.
And yet, we still call this a democracy! What a shame of a country! Where the votes of millions can be overturned in a blink, not because of the strength of evidence but because of the strength of unseen hands pulling the strings. Where the judiciary claims independence, yet its judgments follow a choreography that only the most politically connected can decode. Where citizens are told to trust the courts, yet every landmark ruling leaves them questioning if they live in a nation of laws or a fiefdom of powerful overlords.
Should we still pretend that justice is blind? No! Justice in Nigeria has long since removed her blindfold; her eyes are wide open, scanning the horizon for signals from her benefactors. The courtroom, once a sacred space, has become an altar where only the privileged can worship, and where the common man, no matter how strong his case, is merely a spectator in a grand judicial drama.
But must we accept this as our fate? Will justice forever be held hostage in this grand temple of political rituals? Or will the voices of the people rise loud enough to shake the walls of this shrine, forcing it to return to its true calling—a sanctuary of fairness, not favoritism? A house of law, not a house of libations?
Only time will tell. But until then, let us call it what it is: not a Supreme Court, but a Supreme Shrine—where the gods of power reign, and justice bows in their presence.
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