By Wale Ojo-Lanre, Esq.
Nigeria is a magnificent theatre where everybody is an expert in everything. We manufacture Professors of Football on Mondays, Professors of Fuel Scarcity on Fridays, and Professors of National Problems every Sunday afternoon.
But the moment a controversial judgment drops, a new academic discipline emerges: Senior Advocate of Social Media, SAN.
Overnight, hundreds of thousands become constitutional scholars, criminal procedure analysts, and human rights theorists.
And their first “legal opinion” always begins with the same familiar chorus: “Justice Omotosho is stupid.” “Justice Omotosho is wicked.” “Justice Omotosho is foolish.” “Justice Omotosho is an idiot.”
These declarations are made with the confidence of a man who owes nobody, the boldness of someone who has never seen a courtroom, and the recklessness of a person typing with one hand while stirring jollof rice with the other.
What these electronic freedom fighters do not realize is that the law they are mocking is not a comedian. The law does not have patience.
The law does not understand vexation, nor does it read comments and smile. The law is a cold, unbothered stone.
While everybody is shouting “Idiot!”, the law is whispering, “Section 133.” While they are typing “Stupid judge!”, the law is quietly asking, “How many months should we give this one?” While they are screaming “Wicked!”, the law is already tying its shoelaces and preparing for work.
Yet Nigerians—fearless on keyboards, timid at police checkpoints—believe they are performing a national service by insulting a judge.
The same people who tremble before LASTMA officers suddenly grow wings when faced with a Federal High Court judgment.
The same men who beg NEPA officials for mercy dare the judiciary with the boldness of a man who inherited courage from his ancestors.
But the Nigerian law is not vague. It is as clear as daylight in the Sahara. Insulting a judge is contempt. Scandalizing the court is contempt.
Mocking a judicial officer is contempt. Call it foolishness, call it vibes, call it freedom of speech gone mad—by the time you finish explaining, the prison gate would have opened.
Section 133 of the Criminal Code is waiting. Section 373 of the Penal Code is leaning on the wall. Order 35 of the Federal High Court Rules is polishing its shoes.
And Nigerian case law is there clapping like an audience. Nwankwo v. State sends greetings. R v. Osoba waves from history.
Okoduwa v. State nods in agreement. These cases all say the same thing: you cannot insult the judiciary and go home to eat pounded yam in peace.
And for anyone who thinks Nigeria is overreacting, let them examine the world they admire so much. In the UK, Gray insulted a judge—he slept in prison.
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In India, Arundhati Roy made one sharp statement—she spent a day in custody. Prashant Bhushan tweeted—he was convicted. In Singapore, Shadrake wrote one book—he earned six weeks behind bars. Canada too has its own collection of people whose mouths outran their wisdom.
But Nigerians believe they have diplomatic immunity because they use MTN or GLO. They believe that as long as they hashtag their insults, they are protected by an invisible armour.
The courage Nigerians display when insulting Justice Omotosho evaporates when faced with ordinary officials. When fuel attendants cheat them, they whisper.
When landlords increase rent, they sigh. When lecturers frustrate them, they mumble. But when a judge gives a ruling, they roar louder than an Ijebu generator.
If insults could reverse a judgment, chaos would be our national anthem. Every litigant would insult their way to victory.
Courts would become football fields. Judges would need helmets and shin guards. And Nigeria would not be a nation—it would be a WhatsApp group with no admin.
The irony is that the law does not care about their emotions. The law does not care about their tribal heat, political fever, or social media adrenaline.
The law does not care how strongly they feel, how loudly they shout, or how passionately they insult. The law cares about one thing and one thing alone: Did you follow the process? Not did you rant? Not did you trend? Not did your followers clap for you? If you are dissatisfied with a judgment, the law gives you one route: appeal. Anything else is noise pollution.
So let those shouting “Justice Omotosho is stupid!” continue. Let those typing “foolish judge!” continue. Let those making TikTok videos continue.
When contempt proceedings finally greet them like early morning harmattan breeze, let their retweets defend them.
Let their Instagram followers argue their bail. Let their emojis stand as sureties. Because the courtroom has no respect for influencers, and prison does not grant bail because “I was just joking.”
The foolishness must stop. Let Nigerians be guided.
Crediblenewsng.com
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