Citizen’s arrest of elected officials? A delightfully hopeless idea

Ah, what a beautiful fantasy—marching up to the President of Nigeria, wagging a finger, and declaring, “Sir, you are under arrest for your actions in Rivers state!” Imagine the moment of stunned silence, the nervous side glances from his security detail, the brief flicker of panic—right before everyone bursts into laughter. But before we get carried away with this amusing little daydream, let’s take a moment to appreciate the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999 (as amended)—a document that promises accountability but delivers immunity with remarkable efficiency.

Citizen’s arrest: A glorious myth

Now, in some countries, the concept of citizen arrest gives regular people the power to step in when law enforcement is absent or unwilling to act. And in Nigeria? Well, the law gives us just enough false hope to make it hilarious.

Take Section 24(e) of the Constitution, which reminds us that every citizen has a duty to “render assistance to appropriate and lawful agencies in the maintenance of law and order.” Sounds empowering, doesn’t it? Almost makes you feel like an active participant in democracy—until you realize that “appropriate and lawful agencies” is just a polite way of saying, “Call the police and mind your business.”

But wait! The Criminal Code Act, in Section 272, says any private citizen can arrest another person if they witness a crime that carries a prison sentence. So, theoretically, if one were to catch the president actively violating the principles of democracy in Rivers state—perhaps by weaponising law enforcement, silencing dissenting voices, or turning governance into a private political chess game—one should be able to take action, right?

Wrong.

Because in Nigeria, the ability to enforce the law doesn’t belong to those who obey it—it belongs to those who execute it. And those who execute it? Well, they don’t arrest presidents. They serve them.

Section 308: The elected executive’s get-out-of-jail-free card

Now, if you’re wondering why no one in government is rushing to stop what’s happening in Rivers state, let me introduce you to Section 308 of the Nigerian Constitution—the part that turns the president into a democratic monarch.

This wonderful section states that while in office, the president cannot be arrested, sued, or held accountable in any legal capacity. So, even if he were to single-handedly dismantle democratic processes in a state, override the judiciary, or mobilise state security agencies for political warfare, no court, no police force, and certainly no citizen can do a thing about it.

Yes, dear Nigerians, the law protects those who execute it, and in this case, it ensures that the most powerful man in the country can do as he pleases while we watch in awe.

What about law enforcement? Surely, they must intervene?

Ah, what a wholesome, naive thought. You see, the very institutions that should uphold the rule of law—the police, the DSS, the military—are not neutral enforcers of justice. They are, in practice, the president’s personal instruments of control.

Consider Rivers state today: the moment one side falls out of favour, security agencies suddenly remember their duties, raiding offices, making arrests, and ensuring “order”—but only in ways that serve the powers that be.

If you’re hoping that the Inspector General of Police will take a bold stance against political interference, let’s be honest—he reports to the President. His loyalty is not to justice but to the man who holds the pen that signs his appointment letter.

Protests? Good luck with that

So, if arresting the president isn’t an option, and law enforcement is busy enforcing his laws, what about public protest? Surely, in a democracy, the people can at least demand accountability?

Well, history suggests otherwise. Nigerians who have dared to protest against government overreach have often been met with:
•Police intimidation (because apparently, unarmed citizens are more dangerous than armed bandits)
•The sudden appearance of thugs (who mysteriously always seem to support the government’s stance)
•Curfews and emergency declarations (because governance failures are best solved by locking citizens in their homes)

If none of those tactics works, there’s always the classic “we are investigating” response—meaning, we will do absolutely nothing, but we need you to stop making noise.

What can Nigerians actually do?

So, since citizen’s arrest is impossible and law enforcement takes orders from those in power, what options remain? Here’s a short list of entirely symbolic actions:
1. Petitions – Because nothing unsettles a sitting president like a strongly worded letter.
2. Social media outrage – If enough people tweet about it, the government might pretend to care for a few days.
3. International pressure – A CNN or BBC report might get them to act—not because they care about Nigerians, but because they don’t like bad PR.
4. Elections – Assuming, of course, that votes will be counted accurately and the results won’t be magically adjusted.

Conclusion: The joke is on us

At the end of the day, Nigerians don’t live under the rule of law—we live under the rule of those who execute it. And those who execute it have no intention of turning it against themselves.

So, as Rivers continues to be tossed around like a political football, and the president plays referee, judge, and enforcer all at once, just remember: in Nigeria, the law is not a tool for justice—it is a tool for power for those to execute the constitution