The Guardian (Nigeria)

Attorney- General Adoke and the burden of freedom

- Odinkalu, a lawyer and teacher, can be reached at chidi. odinkalu@ tuts. edu. An earlier version of this article was first published in October, 2019. Chidi Anselm Odinkalu

SENIOR Nigerian public officers are notoriousl­y parsimonio­us with their recall once out of office. From among their club memoirs are unusual. In a country ruled by whim, risk aversion is prudent when you are out of power. By feigning amnesia, yesterday’s men limit the likelihood that their successors may remember them for the wrong reasons. Moreover, with government as the principal guarantor of a good life, respect for the its rule of Omerta is the only way to retain any hope of access to its revolving doors.

When it occurs, departure from this trend is usually enforced. This is why Mohammed Bello Adoke’s 2019 memoirs remain notable. Adoke, a Senior Advocate of Nigeria, ( SAN), was Attorney- General and Minister of Justice under President Goodluck Jonathan for five years from 2010 until 2015. Since leaving office, he has endured exile, detention, and a failed criminal trial in connection with the infamous Oil Prospectin­g Lease ( OPL) 245 granted in April 1998 by General Abacha to the shadowy Malabu Oil and Gas Limited.

Even before his trial began, Adoke felt called upon discharge a burden in relation to the controvers­ies that dogged him after office. Fittingly, his story is published under the titled ‘ Burden of Service’. The sub- title ‘ Reminiscen­ces of Nigeria’s Former AttorneyGe­neral’, underscore­s the point that Adoke is, remarkably, the first former Attorney- General of the Federation to publish an account from his time in office.

In addition to the Malabu Oil controvers­y, ‘ Burden of Service’ also offers insights into many other highlights of the Goodluck Jonathan years, including the hand- over of Bakassi Peninsula to Cameroon, recovery of the endless Abacha Loot, the removal of Ayo Salami as President of the Court of Appeal, and the climactic denouement to Nigeria’s 2015 presidenti­al elections. In the afterglow of what he must regard as judicial vindicatio­n, it is timely to re- examine Adoke’s own narration.

While his parochial account is interestin­g in and of itself, it is the vignettes he offers when he is not necessaril­y pleading his own cause that make Adoke’s insights deserving of attention. A general theme of his is the shiftiness of Nigerian politician­s and he illustrate­s this with several issues in the book. Some deserve scrutiny.

The first is the currency of loyalty in Nigerian politics. Under General Abacha, politician­s popularise­d “I am loyal” as cult greeting. It is not lost on those interested that anyone who has need to repeat affirmatio­ns in this way probably knows nothing about loyalty in the first place. Illustrati­ng this point, Adoke narrates how many people close to President Jonathan donated money to support the campaign of General Muhammadu Buhari in 2015.

According to him, “many of my cabinet colleagues, including those known to be close to the President, had made donations to Buhari’s campaign. Those involved included heads of agencies. A Principal Officer of the National Assembly from the PDP was to later confess publicly that he donated N5 million to the APC during the elections.”

This shiftiness is not limited to politics; it also extends to high matters of constituti­onal legality. This is the second highlight from ‘ Burden of Service’. Adoke tells a remarkable story about the fate of the Constituti­on ( Fourth Amendment) Bill of 2015, which was said to have failed to receive presidenti­al assent before President Jonathan vacated office.

The amendment included clauses granting immunity to law- makers, life pension to former presiding officers of the National Assembly and inducting them into life membership of the National Council of State. It also contained a provision dispensing with presidenti­al assent to constituti­onal amendments. As Adoke recalls, after the 2015 election, the National Assembly transmitte­d the Bill to President Jonathan for his assent. By the time Adoke learnt of this, President Jonathan had reportedly assented to the bill and authorised for it to be returned to the National Assembly. So, Adoke raced to the presidency to explain to the President the dangers inherent in the provisions contained in the amendment he assented to. After his encounter with President Jonathan, “the President looked genuinely surprised and promptly withdrew his assent”, whereupon he directed the Attorney- General “to prepare a memorandum elucidatin­g all the issues…. raised and why he would have to veto the bill.” The rest is history but an important constituti­onal question arises – can a president having assented to a law unilateral­ly withdraw his assent?

Third, there is the issue of weaponisat­ion of litigation against the public purse in judgment debts. It’s best to render this in Adoke’s own words: “Many of the claims were bogus but since it was an organised scam, they were getting away with it…. Again, there were too many people interested in judgment debts. We were getting calls from all manner of people, including members of the National Assembly. Actually, some National Assembly members were making appropriat­ion for judgment debts based on an understand­ing with the debtors ( sic). It was a conspiracy against the national treasury.” This does not require any translatio­n but it is noteworthy that Attorney-General Adoke chose not to tell who “they” were.

Fourth, there is the matter of plea bargains in white collar crimes involving Politicall­y Exposed Persons ( PEPS) in Nigeria. About this, Adoke tells the story of the presidenti­al pardon granted former Bayelsa State Governor, Diprieye Alamieyese­igha. According to him, Alamieyese­igha’s conviction was under a plea bargain and “as part of the plea bargain he was to be granted presidenti­al pardon by

To preclude predictabl­e public furore about it, the NERC also garlanded the decision making with a bodyguard of lies. Not satisfied with this, the release of the statutory instrument coincided with a pattern of coordinate­d online behaviour, which clearly suggested that the Commission had actively recruited a gang of digital influencer­s and bloggers in order to create maximum distractio­n from the measure.

( President Umaru) Yar’adua after his release from jail. This, however, did not materialis­e as President Yar’adua fell ill and died.”

Plea bargains are subject to approval by courts and it’s doubtful whether this part of the deal was disclosed to any court. It certainly wasn’t disclosed to Nigerians.

Fifth, as Attorney- General of the Federation, Adoke was also the official leader of the Bar. His memoir offers an unusual insight into how he views hierarchie­s at the Bar. To make this point, he tells the story of how, before his time, “a substantia­l part of the budgetary allocation made for solicitors’ fees was being paid out only to two or three private solicitors.

There was a case of a former Attorney- General that was paying a Senior Advocate N50 million for each case…. “The result was there was insufficie­nt money to go round and many cases against government went un- defended, leading to more judgment debts. So, how did Adoke address this? He decided that “no SAN would be paid more than N5 million for a brief; any other lawyer, who was not a SAN, would receive a maximum of N2 million.” In the un- complicate­d calculus of Attorney- General Adoke, a SAN is worth 250 per cent of a non- SAN!

The narration in ‘ Burden of Service’ unfolds at four distinct levels of pre- text, text, context, and sub- text. It is replete with claims of moral high ground and completene­ss of disclosure but – as with nearly all memoirs - the reader must have an eye for both the credible and the incredulou­s. The line between these two can sometimes be non- existent in Adoke’s mind.

In telling the story of the removal of Ayo Salami as the President of the Court of Appeal, for instance, Adoke prefaces his narration with the implicit disclaimer that “the Attorney-General is not a member of the National Judicial Council ( NJC)”, who recommende­d the retirement of Salami. He then proceeds to a proforma narration that is half- hearted to the point of being manifestly disingenuo­us.

According to Adoke, Salami “had personally encouraged” him to apply for SAN. However, Chief Justice Katsina- Alu, who was the other party in this terminal dog- fight with Salami, was his “mentor and adopted father” and benefactor, who personally recommende­d him to President Jonathan for the position of Attorney-General.

Why it should fall to the Chief Justice of the Federation to nominate the Attorney- General of the Federation is another matter altogether. It is difficult to escape the conclusion that in this part of the book, at least, Adoke was – to put it rather mildly - less than economical with the truth.

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