| Confidence in the judiciary, therefore, is based on a kind of literary psychology. A good work of fiction induces the individual to forget that the story is contrived and move mentally into the arena of action. This wonderful illusion is called “the suspension of disbelief”. Until last February, Nigerians luxuriated in the judicial variant of this illusion. The legal system was, to many, an oasis of success on a desolate institutional landscape—a veritable wellspring of integrity and stability, beckoning to those who thirsted for justice. The Salami/Katsina-Alu affair has not necessarily shattered the illusion. But the episode and its aftermath is a jarring national experience. The nation, for whom magistrates had been heroes, is now aware that behind the façade of decorum and protocol, are festering moral abscesses. Reality intruded with the failed attempt of Aloysius Katsina-Alu, then Chief Justice of Nigeria, to kick Justice Isa Ayo Salami upstairs—to promote him to the Supreme Court and, in doing so, render the politically sensitive position of Appeals Court President vacant. Resisting the transfer, Salami released a letter, in which he linked the “promotion” to his refusal to either alter or delay the Court’s judgment in the Sokoto State gubernatorial election appeal. With Katsina-Alu as Chairman, the National Judicial Council, NJC—the oversight body for magistrates—leveled its own accusations. It claimed that Salami had leaked the findings of the Appeals Court in Sokoto. The magistrates then threw caution to the wind, making no attempt to conceal factional infighting and personal antagonisms from public view. The NJC set up a succession of investigative panels, whose findings failed to satisfy one side or the other. Bolarinwa Babalakin, a former Supreme Court Justice, headed the first of these committees. It found that the CJN had over extended his powers by interfering with the Sokoto State Appeals Court. The Babalakin Report apparently didn’t go down well with the Council, which constituted a second panel, under the chairmanship of Justice Umaru Abdullahi, erstwhile President of the Appeals Court. Abdullahi’s panel reportedly found as well, that the Chief Justice had over-stepped his powers—but with the best o intentions. The panel advised further, that there was a breakdown in communication between Katsina-Alu and Salami, which needed to be addressed. Unimpressed, Katsina-Alu now established still another body, this time with Ibrahim Auta, Chief Judge of the Federal High Court, presiding. Under Auta, the political pathogen, which had long been incubating in the judiciary, matured into a destructive organism. Auta was obviously the man CJN had been waiting for. His panel dispensed with niceties and quickly brought the crisis to a head. It reportedly exonerated Salami and other Justices of colluding with the Action Congress of Nigeria to influence Election Tribunal decisions in Osun and Ekiti states. But this was the panel’s only sop to Salami. It denied outright that Katsina-Alu had interfered with the Sokoto Tribunal and accused Salami of “misconduct under Rule 1(1)” for saying so. That was not all. The panel gave the Appeals Court President one week to apologise to Katsina-Alu and the National Judicial Council—a demand which, most jurists agree, amounted to a legal trap for Salami. An apology would have been an admission of guilt, for which he could be held accountable. But there was to be no escape route, either for the Appeals Court President, the judiciary or the nation. Salami was suspended, with the Head of State’s blessing, while the image of the judiciary was savagely racked and ravaged. The nation, on its part, was rudely distracted from its psychic retreat: Robbed of the solace it had always found in the dedication, moral diligence and decorous behaviour of our magistrates. Katsina-Alu has since retired, leaving behind a legacy that is better forgotten than remembered. Under his stewardship, the social fiction of the king’s divinity was replaced—momentarily I hope— by images of a crusty old curmudgeon, gouging himself in public. The lesson for many of us is not the issue here. Yes we have learned lessons and I want to think the judiciary itself has also been in the classroom. No the issue here is we have seen trial and error at the executive, entertained the equivalent of several Tyson/ Holyfield episodes in the legislature but please, do not let this creep into the judiciary. My recollection is the saying is “two can play that game.” Not three. http://www.vanguardngr.com/2011/10/divine-kings-divided-courts-2/ | 
