I am a lawyer. I studied law and have remained in the practice of law in memory of my late mother, who paid for me to study law at Holborn Law Tutors in the UK. I eventually continued my legal education at the University of Ibadan and graduated from there. She paid almost £7,000 upfront for one year, which was the total tuition fee for one year at that private law school. I will be eternally grateful to her. May her soul continue to rest in perfect peace. We all know what the exchange rate would be today.

In her memory, I decided to remain in the practice of law throughout my legal practice and thereafter, even until now. I tried my hand at property marketing at one time, but I had to drop it, even though I made some money from it. I stopped because it was affecting my legal practice.

There is nothing you do, from my point of view, outside your profession that will not affect your profession. Politics is one of them. Politics itself is an art and a profession, but I must add that, if it is truly for the people and the betterment of the people, it is a good one.

One of the most respected politicians in this country was Chief Obafemi Awolowo, of blessed memory. He practised law and politics successfully, but he was more of a politician. He used his knowledge of law to better the lot of so many people during his lifetime, and, till today, his name remains a reference point in using politics to serve humanity.

Mahatma Gandhi was first a lawyer before he became a politician to serve his people. His name is known more in politics than in law.

Chief F.R.A. Williams was a politician until he dropped politics to devote his entire life to law. He was not a crossbreed. His pathological devotion to law can be seen and read in the political history of Nigeria. In legal practice, to which he committed his entire life after publicly renouncing politics, his invaluable impact is evident in law books, legal records and law reports. He was an enigma and an icon who will forever be remembered, like others too numerous to name, who stayed in the service of law.

The lawyer is meant to be the beacon of society. The lawyer’s creed is to ensure that society is governed according to the law. Chief Gani Fawehinmi was the people’s lawyer. He used the law to better the lot of society. His foray into politics was disastrous because the perception of the lawyer in practice and the lawyer in politics are not symbiotic. They are strange bedfellows.

The people may hail the lawyer in law, but not the lawyer in politics. The ingredients you add to the soup that make a lawyer are different from the ingredients you add to the soup that make a politician. Femi Falana, SAN, my dear friend, was in the same boat as the late Chief Gani Fawehinmi. I feel him more in law now than when he did both.

A lawyer is known to keep to his or her word. Robert Traver, in his book The Anatomy of Murder, stated thus:

“That’s what makes the practice of law, like prostitution, one of the last of the unpredictable professions—both employ the seductive arts, both try to display their wares to best advantage and both must pretend enthusiastically to woo total strangers.”

Joseph Story lived from 1779 to 1845. He was an American lawyer, politician and jurist who served as an Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court from 1812 until his death in 1845. He stated thus:

“I will not say….that ‘The law will admit of no rival’, but I will say that it is a jealous mistress, and requires a long and constant courtship. It is not to be won by trifling favours…”

Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862) was not a lawyer. He was an American essayist, poet and philosopher. He said:

“The lawyer’s truth is not Truth, but consistency, or a consistent expediency. Truth is always in harmony with herself, and is not concerned chiefly to reveal the justice that may consist with wrongdoing.”

I have gone through the lawyer’s creed, which is to uphold the rule of law, personal dignity and independence; to offer faithfulness, competence, diligence and good judgment while providing vigorous and honest representation without sacrificing professional ethics; to practise with fairness, integrity and civility, avoiding malicious tactics, unnecessary delays or abusive discovery; to show profound respect, candour and courtesy, ensuring that the search for truth and justice remains uncompromised; to the court or tribunal; to make justice accessible to the poor; and to protect the legal profession as a noble calling rather than a mere business.

I have gone this far in order to buttress the topic for discussion. The practice of law and politics can never converge. You cannot be a master of both. You can be successful in both, no doubt, but along the way, there are sacrifices that will most likely be at cross-purposes with the law.

Very few lawyers, like Chief F.R.A. Williams, of blessed memory, have sacrificed politics for law. The political lawyer will criticise anything, even when the law is clear that, without evidence, you are not expected to speculate.

Nowadays, many lawyers in politics take to the airwaves and the print media, especially in this era of social media, to generalise when making statements. How can a lawyer, trained in the practice of law, make general statements on any topic, especially these days when the judiciary, even in retirement, has become a topic for discussion without any evidence? How can people make general statements about Senior Advocates of Nigeria or lawyers generally?

It is pathetic that those who ought to know, by virtue of their level of education, professional qualifications and recognition in the legal community, are more guilty of this. How can a lawyer remain silent even when injustice happens in front of him and behind him, too, but he keeps quiet?

Many keep quiet these days because they want to satisfy their paymasters, even when it is glaring that the legal profession is suffering from their silence and/or complicity and complacency. These days, many voice personal opinions without let or hindrance for personal and political reasons. Some attack their professional colleagues, even the judiciary, when they cannot get what they want, but they must vent their anger on someone. Some are paid to attack or bring down their fellow colleagues, whether at the Bar or on the Bench.

I like the Yoruba language a lot. I am sorry I will not be able to interpret the idioms I will use:

“Tó bá máa jẹ Oshakala, jẹ Oshakala; tó bá máa jẹ Oshokolo, jẹ Oshokolo. Oshakala, Oshokolo kò yẹ ọmọ ènìyàn.”

“Arítení mo ń wí, àfi àpáàdì bó tiẹ̀ mọ́lẹ̀.”

“Kò sí ẹni tí a máa sí idi ẹ̀, tí a kò ní bá ẹ̀ẹ̀pà níbẹ̀.”

Apologies to those who will read this who are not Yoruba, or those who are Yoruba but do not understand these idioms.

To those who criticise, not out of holiness per se, not out of being a “straight” lawyer or simply out of a desire to be fair, but generalise in order to look good or elicit unmerited applause, look in the mirror and think back to whether you have not done anything you accuse others of doing.

In writing or criticising generally, come out, but most importantly, PRACTISE WHAT YOU PREACH BEFORE YOU CRITICISE.

As I noted in my last two interventions, beyond the challenges confronting the judiciary and lawyers in the core dispensation of justice, there are equally troubling issues in the routine administration of the lawyers’ association—the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) itself. It is important that we do not treat this subject as a peripheral concern, for the strength of the Bar is intrinsically tied to the health of the justice system. When the Bar falters, the temple of justice trembles.

Since 1992, the Association has hardly been free from crisis. Not only has it experienced a steady decline in cohesion and influence, but its elections have consistently been marred by controversy, disputes, and lingering litigation. What ought to be a dignified and orderly process of leadership transition has, over time, become a theatre of contestation. As we approach another election cycle, there are already about three cases pending in court—a development that does little to inspire confidence in the integrity of the process.

One is compelled to ask: how did we get here? This naturally raises a fundamental question: what exactly is at stake in the Bar Association that contesting for leadership positions has become a do-or-die affair? Is it truly a desire to serve that motivates those seeking office, or are there underlying incentives that have transformed service into a contest for personal gain, influence, and relevance?

These are not idle questions; they go to the very heart of what leadership within the Bar ought to represent. If service were the primary driver, it is doubtful that the contests would be this bitter, divisive, and, at times, openly hostile. The intensity with which these elections are fought suggests that something deeper is at play. The Bar, historically conceived as a noble institution grounded in ethics, intellectualism, and public service, now finds itself grappling with tendencies more commonly associated with partisan politics.

There now appears to be little distinction between the conduct of political actors and that of lawyers aspiring to leadership within the Bar. Campaign strategies, alliances, endorsements, lobbying tactics, and even propaganda mirror the patterns seen in the political arena. Indeed, there appears to be a crop of professional “Bar politicians,” some of whose legal practice is nothing to write home about, yet who thrive on Bar politics, evidently for survival.

It is therefore no surprise that maladministration has crept into the system, as the competence of this group or class is, at best, doubtful. Indeed, the financial demands of running campaigns have escalated significantly, reaching levels comparable to those required of politicians seeking public office.

Campaign offices, branded materials, digital outreach, mobilisation logistics, and strategic alliances all require substantial funding. This monetisation of the electoral process not only excludes capable but less affluent candidates, it also raises serious ethical concerns about expectations of “returns” once in office. As the Yoruba would say, bí a bá ná owó ìtànkál, a máa retí èrè rẹ—he who invests heavily in a venture inevitably expects a return.

The reality in contemporary times is that charlatans now occupy many of these offices. Even more troubling is the growing tendency among younger members of the profession to demand material benefits from aspirants. What was once subtle lobbying or voluntary support has now evolved into open transactional engagement.

This ranges from the payment of enrolment and conference fees to the sponsorship of accommodation, transportation, and even feeding allowances for attendees at Bar conferences, meetings, and events. In some instances, these demands are made as a precondition for support. One is left to wonder whether we are nurturing future leaders or breeding a culture of dependency and entitlement.

Regrettably, it is this contaminated pool that eventually produces the leaders of tomorrow—not only of the Bar Association but of the country as a whole. This, in part, explains the leadership challenges the nation is presently experiencing. This culture of entitlement is not only unhealthy; it is corrosive. It undermines the very principles of merit, integrity, and selfless service upon which the legal profession is supposed to stand.

The legal profession, by its very nature, demands discipline, restraint, and a commitment to higher ideals. When its members begin to commodify their support and reduce leadership contests to transactional exchanges, the moral foundation of the profession is gradually eroded.

The implications of this trend are far-reaching. Leaders who emerge from such a process are often burdened by obligations—both explicit and implicit—to those who financed or facilitated their emergence. This is reflected in the constitution of committees and the appointment of incompetent individuals to key institutions and bodies.

We have seen Bar “activists” with little or no substantial practice emerging as Benchers and Life Benchers—positions meant for lawyers who have attained distinction. This inevitably compromises their independence. It becomes increasingly difficult for such leaders to take principled stands, particularly when those stands conflict with the interests of their benefactors or political patrons. In effect, the leader becomes a product of compromise even before assuming office.

Consequently, the Bar—which ought to serve as a fearless watchdog and moral compass in society—risks becoming subdued, compromised, and reactive rather than proactive. The once vibrant Bar we knew—an institution defined by courage, intellectual rigour, and principled advocacy—has gradually lost much of its essence.

There was a time when the Bar stood as the conscience of the nation, speaking truth to power without fear or favour. Today, that voice appears increasingly muted. Rather than agitating on substantive issues, it often pursues shadows. When a Bar Association cannot speak meaningfully on unemployment, the energy crisis, or food insecurity, but instead expends its energy interrogating relatively inconsequential matters such as tinted glass permits—an issue affecting less than two per cent of motorists—one begins to question its priorities.

Increasingly, its officers rely, directly or indirectly, on patronage from public office holders. Even the sponsorship of the Association’s events is now routinely placed on the shoulders of government officials and entities, notwithstanding the dues and conference fees charged to members. The recurring refrain is that these resources are insufficient.

One would expect the Association to operate within its means rather than going cap in hand like mendicants. This dependence erodes institutional autonomy and weakens the Bar’s ability to discharge its constitutional and moral responsibilities. When those who should hold the government accountable begin to seek its favour, the consequences for justice and democracy are dire.

As another Yoruba proverb warns, ẹni tí ó bá jẹ́ kó níyì, tí ó sì tún jẹ́ kó níṣòro, kì í lè jẹ́ olóòótọ́—he who is beholden cannot be truly independent; he who pays the piper dictates the tune.

It is also important to note that this decline did not happen overnight. It is the product of years of gradual compromise, the normalisation of unethical practices, and the absence of decisive internal reforms. Like a slow but persistent erosion, the values that once defined the Bar have been worn down by expediency and silence.

Silence, in many instances, has enabled misconduct. Complicity—whether active or passive—has allowed it to thrive. And where there ought to have been firm resistance, there has often been accommodation.

This brings us to a critical and somewhat uncomfortable question: who will reform those who are meant to be the reformers? If the Bar itself is entangled in the very vices it ought to challenge, where then lies the hope for institutional renewal?

The answer, perhaps, lies in a collective awakening—a moment of introspection and recommitment by members, especially the younger generation, to the foundational ethics of the profession.

Reform must be both structural and cultural. It is not enough to amend rules; we must also reshape attitudes. It is not enough to enforce compliance; we must inspire conviction.

There is a need to revisit and strengthen electoral guidelines within the Bar. Spending limits must be clearly defined and strictly enforced. Transparent monitoring mechanisms should be introduced to ensure compliance. The use of inducements, whether direct or indirect, must attract meaningful sanctions.

Unanimously acceptable technology must also be embraced to enhance transparency in voting and reduce opportunities for manipulation. Indeed, the contest for the office of President of the country is, in some respects, less demanding than that of a national officer of the Bar Association, who is expected to visit numerous branches across the country to garner support. This is unduly burdensome.

Although I may not have a complete solution at this stage, it is evident that this model must be urgently reviewed to reduce the strain associated with participation. The sheer number of required branch visits—and the attendant financial implications—is sufficient to discourage genuinely capable aspirants.

Equally important is the reorientation of members away from material inducements towards issue-based engagement. Members must begin to assess candidates not on what they can offer materially, but on what they stand for intellectually and ethically. What is their vision for the Bar? How do they intend to strengthen the profession? What reforms do they propose?

These are the questions that should define electoral choices.

Leadership within the Bar must once again be seen as a call to service, not an avenue for personal advancement or patronage. The dignity of the profession demands nothing less. As custodians of justice, lawyers must hold themselves to a higher standard. Anything short of this diminishes not only the profession but also the society it serves.

Ultimately, we must ask ourselves whether we are prepared to restore the dignity of the profession or continue on this path of gradual decline.

The Bar cannot afford to mirror the worst tendencies of the political class it is meant to check. If it does, it loses not only its moral authority but also its relevance in the broader quest for justice and societal progress.

The choice before us is clear, but demanding. It requires courage, honesty, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. It requires leaders prepared to rise above personal interests and members willing to reject inducements in favour of integrity. It requires, above all, a return to first principles.

For if the foundation is destroyed, what can the righteous do?

The Association—like the profession itself—urgently requires rescue.