By joshua 
El-Rufai: From The Court to the Convention
By Christopher Sunday
I am not a fan of Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai. I was not in consonance with some of his so called “elite” policies while he held sway as governor of Kaduna State. My concern, however, is rooted in a deeper unease: the possibility that his present ordeal reflects political victimization rather than the pure triumph of justice. It is worth recalling that El Rufai belongs to the CPC bloc of the All Progressives Congress. So too does Abubakar Malami, the former Attorney General and Minister of Justice under Muhammadu Buhari.
We have witnessed, over time, how certain corruption cases appear to hibernate within the vaults of anti graft agencies. Consider Ifeanyi Okowa and Yahaya Bello, both former governors of Delta State and Kogi State respectively. When one juxtaposes El Rufai and Malami with Okowa and Bello, a troubling pattern seems to emerge, one that suggests that loyalty rather than legality may determine the tempo of justice. Bello and Okowa appear to enjoy relative liberty, arguably sustained by their continued alignment with the ruling establishment, while El Rufai and Malami face legal pressures that coincide with their perceived political divergence.
This is where the philosophical dilemma begins.
Justice ideally should be blind, immune to political calculations and partisan convenience. Yet, in practice, justice in fragile democracies often operates within a web of power relations. The conditions attached to El Rufai’s bail, the financial bond, the requirement of credible sureties, the restriction on public commentary, and mandatory reporting to the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission, all signal the formal seriousness of the legal process. But beyond these procedures lies a more unsettling question: Is the law being applied uniformly, or selectively?
The political philosopher John Rawls would argue that justice must operate under a veil of ignorance, where decisions are made without regard to status or affiliation. In contrast, the Nigerian reality often resembles a system where visibility, your alliances, your loyalties, your perceived obedience, shapes outcomes. This is not merely a legal problem; it is a moral one.
The phrase “table manners,” as used in political circles, is itself revealing. It suggests that power operates like a private dining arrangement, where those who conform are fed and those who dissent are excluded or even disciplined. If this perception holds, then the prosecution of political actors risks being interpreted not as accountability, but as enforcement of conformity.
Yet, it would be intellectually dishonest to dismiss all legal action as persecution. The state has a duty to investigate and prosecute wrongdoing. The real issue is consistency. When similar allegations produce different institutional responses, the credibility of the system is weakened. Selective justice is, in effect, a subtle form of injustice.
Today, however, the narrative takes a dramatic turn. Even as he navigates the weight of legal scrutiny, El Rufai steps into the political arena to attend the African Democratic Congress Convention. This movement from the courtroom to the convention ground is not just symbolic, it is profoundly political. It represents a defiance of silence, a recalibration of alliances, and perhaps a subtle declaration that in Nigerian politics, legal battles do not necessarily end political relevance.
From the court, therefore, we move to the convention, the broader political arena where narratives are shaped and reshaped. In Nigerian politics, the courtroom does not exist in isolation; it is deeply entangled with political calculations. Legal battles often bleed into political strategies, and defendants sometimes re emerge as symbols, either of accountability or of resistance.
For El Rufai, this moment represents a transition. It is not merely about legal survival, but about political redefinition. His presence at the convention raises deeper questions. Is he signaling a shift in political loyalty, or merely asserting his continued relevance within the national discourse? In a system where perception often outweighs procedure, such appearances carry enormous weight.
The broader implication for Nigeria is profound. A democracy cannot thrive where justice is perceived as selective. Institutions like the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission and other anti graft bodies must rise above political currents if they are to retain legitimacy. Otherwise, every prosecution risks being interpreted through the lens of politics, thereby eroding public trust.
Ultimately, the journey from the court to the convention is symbolic of Nigeria’s democratic struggle. It is a journey between legality and legitimacy, between procedure and perception, between power and principle.
If the law is to command respect, it must be consistent. If democracy is to endure, it must be fair.
Anything less reduces justice to strategy and the nation to a stage where power, not principle, writes the script.