One of the enduring strengths of democracy is the existence of institutions capable of checking excesses and correcting errors. Across the world, courts have often provided relief to citizens and groups who found themselves at the receiving end of decisions perceived as unjust or oppressive.
In Nigeria, where public confidence in the judiciary has at times been shaken by controversial rulings, the recent intervention of the Court of Appeal in Abuja has offered a reminder that the courts can still serve as the last hope of the common man.
Recently, Justice Peter Lifu of the Federal High Court, Abuja, ordered the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) to deregister the African Democratic Congress (ADC) and four other political parties for allegedly failing to satisfy the constitutional requirements for continued existence. The judgment was anchored on Section 225 of the Constitution, which provides grounds for the deregistration of political parties that fail to meet certain electoral thresholds.
However, in a swift turn of events, the Court of Appeal on Wednesday ordered a stay of execution of the judgment pending the determination of the substantive suit filed by the affected parties. The ruling came as a huge relief to many Nigerians who viewed the earlier judgment as both disruptive and suspiciously timed.
There is no argument against the supremacy of the Constitution. If the law prescribes sanctions for political parties that fail to secure elective positions, then those provisions must be respected. Yet, beyond the legal technicalities lies a more troubling question: Why now?
The parties affected by the deregistration order failed to win elective offices during the 2023 general elections. That fact has been known for three years. If their continued registration violated constitutional provisions, why did the matter suddenly become urgent in 2026, barely months before another election cycle?
Timing, in politics, is everything.
The affected parties had already conducted internal activities, held congresses and primaries, and spent substantial resources preparing for upcoming elections. Aspirants had invested money, time and political capital. Candidates had emerged. Whether those candidates would eventually win or lose should ordinarily be left to the judgment of voters at the ballot box.
Democracy thrives on competition, not elimination.
Political parties that lack public support will naturally be rejected by the electorate. The ballot box is a more democratic instrument than administrative or judicial exclusion. If deregistration became necessary, common sense would suggest waiting until after the electoral process rather than disrupting preparations midway.
This is what makes the entire episode appear unnecessarily hurried.
The speed and timing of the move inevitably fuel suspicions. Many Nigerians have therefore asked whether the legal action was purely about constitutional compliance or whether there were political calculations behind it.
That question becomes even more relevant when viewed against the current political landscape.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu appears to enjoy a commanding political advantage ahead of 2027.
The ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) controls an overwhelming majority of states. Through a series of defections in 2025 and 2026, several governors elected on opposition platforms have joined the APC, further strengthening the ruling party’s grip on power.
With such dominance, it is difficult to argue that the President faces any serious structural threat to his re-election ambitions. Indeed, critics already warn that Nigeria may be drifting toward a de facto one-party state.
If that is the reality, then who stood to lose most from the deregistration order?
The obvious answer points to the opposition coalition gathering around the African Democratic Congress. Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar and former Rivers State Governor Rotimi Amaechi, who recently emerged as presidential and vice-presidential standard-bearers of the ADC, would have suffered a major setback had the deregistration order been implemented immediately.
Coincidentally or perhaps not the legal action seeking the deregistration was reportedly initiated by the Incorporated Trustees of the National Forum of Former Legislators.
That development naturally raises questions.
Was the suit merely a constitutional exercise, or was it politically motivated? Was the ADC simply caught in the crossfire of legal activism, or was it the principal target all along?
Equally puzzling is INEC’s role in the matter. The electoral commission is not a newcomer to the Constitution. It is fully aware of its powers and responsibilities.
If the affected parties had genuinely failed to meet constitutional requirements, why did INEC not act years ago?
Did the commission suddenly discover provisions that had existed all along? Or was there another reason for the delayed enforcement?
These questions may not yet have clear answers. But they deserve to be asked in a democracy where transparency and accountability are essential.
For now, the Court of Appeal has wisely pressed the pause button. That intervention has preserved political stability and prevented what could have become a major electoral controversy.
As the substantive case proceeds, Nigerians will be watching closely, not merely to determine the fate of a handful of political parties, but to understand whether the law was being applied impartially or deployed selectively.
In politics, perception often matters as much as reality.
And until convincing answers emerge, many Nigerians will continue to wonder whether the attempted deregistration was truly about constitutional compliance or about stopping someone before the race even began.
