By Toyin Falola
وَلَوِ ٱتَّبَعَ ٱلْحَقُّ أَهْوَآءَهُمْ لَفَسَدَتِ ٱلسَّمَٰوَٰتُ وَٱلْأَرْضُ وَمَن فِيهِنَّ ۚ بَلْ أَتَيْنَٰهُم بِذِكْرِهِمْ فَهُمْ عَن ذِكْرِهِم مُّعْرِضُونَ
Quran Chapter 23, Verse 71 (Surah Al-Mu’minun, Ayah 71)
And if the truth had followed their desires, verily the heavens and the earth and whosoever is therein had been corrupted. Rather, we have brought them their Reminder, but from their Reminder they now turn away.
The Roundtable
On February 16, 2024, four formidable men are seen gathered around a metaphorical roundtable heavy with the weight of pressing national issues and questions. On this table lay a feast of the weighty problems: the turbulent waters of politics, the moral quagmire and complicit of the law and judiciary, and the poisoned tree of society. Each man took his turn, not to sip tea, of course, but to dissect the bitter truths of a nation at a crossroads. The setting is global. In Austin, Texas, it is 10 AM. In Nigeria, it is 6 PM. And in South Africa, it is 6 PM. The time difference, however, must not be mistaken for confusion. Instead, it reflects the vast reach of the conversation and the diversity of those seated at this metaphorical roundtable. On the one end of the table is Toyin Falola, an epistemologist and the evening’s anchor, depending, of course, on what the time says from where you are joining the discussion. Flanking him are two sharp-witted social commentators—Professor Farooq Kperogi and Mr. Rufai Oseni—both celebrated for their sharp social critiques and fearless engagement with the Nigerian reality. But at the centre of it all is the man of the moment—Dele Farotimi—who has found himself at the heart of public discourse following his explosive revelations about corruption within the Nigerian judiciary.
For those who prefer plain language over parables, the “roundtable” here is not a physical one; it is a discussion where power is questioned, narratives are challenged, and the future of a nation is debated. In this interview session with the man of the moment, Farotimi, the dialogue revolves around three crucial pillars—politics, law (with a sharp focus on the judiciary), and society.
The Satanic State:
In the end, when Farotimi was asked to make his closing statement, I finally understood that he was talking about no power other than the Shaiṭān. When I invited him to make his closing statement, he invoked a Quranic passage:
Walawi ittabaAAa alhaqqu ahwaahum lafasadati alssamawatu waalardu waman feehinna bal ataynahum bithikrihim fahum AAan thikrihim muAAridoona
It was at that closing moment that I realized that Dele Farotimi had created a new intellectual concept: the Satanic State. Even Professor Farooq Kperogi, acting as the أستاذ (Ustādh), that is, the teacher and master, asked Farotimi whether if Peter Obi had won, would he not have become a federal minister and “chopping life!”. Farotimi threw the stones at the devil, asking the Shaiṭān to leave him alone.
The Man Beyond the Storm
Dele Farotimi needs no introduction. Yet, when the anchor asked, “Who is Dele Farotimi?” it was not merely to set the tone for the evening’s dialogue. It was an invitation to explore the man beyond the controversies, beyond the storm that often surrounds him. Farotimi sees himself simply as a human being—no deity, no supernatural figure—just as a human being, a creation from God born through Yoruba parents in a space called Nigeria. He is just another man, an ordinary citizen—what lawyers would call the man on the Clapham Omnibus—seeking justice in a nation where oppression thrives. Unlike many, he refuses to remain silent in the face of oppression. He speaks his truth, even when the structures that sustain injustice in Nigeria would instead keep quiet.
Truth, Power, and Persecution
One might expect that after his ordeal with the very system he denounced in his widely discussed and controversial book, Nigeria and its Criminal Justice System, Farotimi would reconsider his stance—perhaps tread more cautiously. But watching him at the roundtable, it is evident that Farotimi cannot negotiate truth for comfort. His words, posture, and unwavering conviction reflect the grit and courage of a man who refuses to be silenced. We must, however, not mistake this for his proclivity for conflict. On the contrary, he exults peace and peaceful resolution of disputes. Farotimi is very emphatic that such should not come at the cost or expense of his silence. Although about four civil suits are still pending against him in different courts, he resists being cowed into silence. Being a consummate professional, he understands that his professional duty as a lawyer compels him not to comment on ongoing judicial proceedings in a way that could sabotage due process. But beyond that obligation, he maintains that he is under no legal or moral restraint from speaking his truth whenever the occasion demands.
And the truth? His book—the very book that landed him in prison custody for weeks. Farotimi said his book was not built on hearsay, idle beer-parlour gossip, or unfounded rumours. That will not be hard to believe. As a lawyer who knows his craft, he sure will appreciate the dangers of building a story on hearsay or rumour that would amount to a perilous dance into dangerous waters. He said his book was a product of thorough research based on his experiences and observations about the Nigerian judicial system. He does not seek validation or offer apologies for speaking the truth. His challenge remains: “Let us deal with veracity. Anybody can go and read and then come back and challenge me with the lie I have told.” His book was not borne out of malice or personal vendetta with Chief Afe Babalola or anybody. It was, and remains, a fearless indictment of the impunity and corruption that have replaced Lady Justice with a tainted symbol of power. As he puts it,
“Multiple names were mentioned in the book, and offences were mentioned. I did not set out to libel anybody… I simply told the truth of what I saw. All I did was to write a book. Maybe we have become too accustomed to lies and allergic to truth—to the point where telling the truth has become a sin.”
The Man on Trial
Farotimi laughs at the irony of those who think it is Farotimi as a person who stands trial for daring to speak truth to power. It is not Farotimi on trial. The actual defendant is not the man—it is the very superstructure of corruption that his book exposed—the Shaiṭān. The world watches as this system grapples with the truth it desperately wishes to silence. A man may be prosecuted or persecuted as the lines tend to be often blurred in Nigeria for his lies, but not for telling the truth. And the truth again? His book! The law must deal with facts. When it does, the workings of justice are neither mysticism nor rocket science. Law, like science, follows a method. Law, like mathematics, reaches conclusions with precision and certainty—provided it is grounded in facts. And undiluted and irrefutable facts are what he claims as the contents of his book. He wants to be challenged on falsehoods, if any exist, but not on the undeniable truth he has laid bare. His work is a critique and a prescription for a system diseased by corruption.
The Fruit and the Evil Tree
To Farotimi, the judiciary is merely a fruit—just one of the many heads in a hydra-like superstructure. One must take a holistic view to understand the deeply entrenched issues within Nigeria’s system truly. He aptly says, “You have to look to the tree producing the fruit if you want to change the fruit you are complaining about.” A hydra cannot be defeated by cutting off a single head; its body must be taken down. Similarly, corruption in the judiciary cannot be addressed in isolation. It is merely a symptom of a more significant problem—the poisoned tree that is Nigeria itself. This superstructure is tainted by impunity at every level.
To Farotimi, Nigeria has evolved into a modern feudal system, marked by a rigid class hierarchy where some individuals exist above the law. This reality is not accidental; it is by deliberate human design, structured to reinforce and entrench systemic injustice. The judiciary, rather than serving as an impartial arbiter of justice, has been weaponized to uphold the impunity of the ruling class. Thus, focusing solely on the judiciary is futile. It is just one of the many rotten fruits hanging from a poisoned tree. The real solution lies in examining and confronting the entire superstructure. Meaningful reform requires honesty and sincerity in addressing these systemic flaws. Only then can meaningful change begin.
A Country in the Lows
What could be more a story of the 21st century than our ugly realities? Farotimi finds it deeply troubling that while other nations are advancing discussions on specialised rights—such as animal rights, child rights, and gay rights—Nigeria has yet to secure even the most basic human rights. Here, he distinguishes between fundamental human rights and specialised human rights and asks how a country can engage in debates over specialised rights when it has failed to uphold fundamental human rights that go to the core of human dignity. Shockingly, these fundamental rights are still up for negotiation in Nigeria.
With regards to specialised rights, particularly gay rights, Farotimi considers himself a conservative, sort of. That notwithstanding, he distinguishes between private and public morality, as some legal theorists before him had made when confronted with questions of law and morality. Farotimi believes it should not be the headache of the state what two consenting adults choose to do in the comfort of their private lives, much more subjecting to criminal legislation.
Farotimi and Politics
Moving to politics, the dialogue becomes even more tense and heated. Here, we can see Professor Farooq Kperogi asking Farotimi a critical question—would it not be fair for the masses to see him as part of the political class, given his involvement in the last general elections and perceived affiliation with the Labour Party? In response, Farotimi firmly denies ever being a member of the Labour Party. Instead, he parallels the late elder statesman, Ayo Adebanjo, who was an influential voice in the national discourse despite never holding political office. Adebanjo was a moral compass, speaking truth to power without fear or care about whose ox got gored.
Similarly, Farotimi clarifies that his support for Peter Obi, the Labour Party’s presidential candidate, was not rooted in party loyalty but in principle. His decision was not based on party politics but on considering the best option among the three frontrunners. To him, Obi represented the closest vision of Nigeria he dreamed of—a country governed by the rule of law rather than one entrenched in oppression and victimization. While he acknowledges Obi’s imperfections, refusing to idolize him, he maintains that Obi was the most fitting candidate for the transformative leadership Nigeria needed. More significantly, through the lens of justice and equity, Obi embodied the struggle of the marginalized—a symbol of the ordinary masses oppressed by a political and economic system designed to serve a privileged elite.
Alliances and the Citizens’ Pact
Farotimi firmly believes that meaningful revolution can only be achieved by building strong alliances, not among self-serving politicians, but among ordinary people united by a shared vision, struggle, and hope. His support for Peter Obi was an extension of this belief—a commitment to align with the aspirations of everyday Nigerians seeking change. He argues that disengagement and non-alignment are not acts of wisdom but of complicity. True national transformation demands active participation, and abstaining from alliances built on truth and justice only prolongs the country’s decay. According to him, Nigeria’s continued descent into horrification is a direct result of collective inaction and the failure of its people to confront systemic shortcomings. To purify the nation, citizens must reclaim their agency, reject complacency, and unite to pursue a just and equitable society.
Peas in a Pod
At the other end of this roundtable discussion, Professor Kperogi probes the rationale behind the choice of Peter Obi, especially given that his ideology is not materially different from those of his political peers. For instance, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu supported the removal of the petroleum subsidy. From the centre of the table, Farotimi points out that Nigeria lacks the strictly compartmentalized, ideology-driven governance systems seen in countries like the UK or the USA, where politics is often divided along leftist and rightist lines. He doubts that Peter Obi would have implemented policies with the same severity as Tinubu. Even if Obi had decided to remove the fuel subsidy, Farotimi believes he would have been more responsive in introducing measures to mitigate the adverse effects on the people.
Ultimately, he asserts that policy decisions are neither inherently good nor bad—it all depends on the sincerity of implementation and the willingness to make necessary adjustments. For instance, how do you reconcile or explain away the hypocrisy of claims of removing fuel subsidy as a cost-cutting measure yet purchasing an unnecessary yacht?
Looking into the Future
What does the future hold for Farotimi? What role will he play in the 2027 general elections? Even Farotimi himself does not have the answers. But one thing he is sure of is his commitment to ensuring that every vote counts. However, he leaves us with a caveat: achieving this goal requires immediate and sustained efforts to reform the system. The future remains uncertain, but if there is one legacy he hopes to leave behind or for anyone to read in his obituary, it is that of “a man who lived by his conscience.”
PS: This is the first report on the interview with Dele Farotimi on February 16, 2025. For the transcript, see:
