Former Kaduna State Governor and ex–Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Nasir el-Rufai, made a stunning admission on live television yesterday: that one of his supporters secretly tapped a phone conversation of Nigeria’s National Security Adviser, Nuhu Ribadu.
His justification? “Governments tap our conversations, so we tap theirs too.”
He acknowledged it was a crime, and still doubled down when ARISE TV interviewer Charles Aniagolu reminded him of the legal implications.
Let that sink in for a moment: a former governor, on national television, openly admitting to a criminal act, without flinching.
The bad blood between El-Rufai and Ribadu is no secret. Once political allies, they have since become bitter rivals, particularly after El-Rufai was denied a ministerial slot in President Bola Tinubu’s administration despite being screened and cleared by the Senate. El-Rufai has since accused Ribadu of being behind his ordeal and of targeting northern politicians he believes could stand in Ribadu’s way of a 2031 presidential ambition. In a separate Hausa-language interview, he went as far as cursing the day he ever met Ribadu.
That personal feud, frankly, is none of my business. In fact, such elite infighting often exposes what power prefers to keep hidden. Nigerians may be entertained by the political drama, but more importantly, we get rare glimpses into what happens behind closed doors.
What triggered El-Rufai’s latest outburst was a botched attempt by the Department of State Services (DSS) to arrest him at Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport upon his return from a private trip to Egypt. Though he was not arrested, DSS operatives reportedly seized his passport from one of his aides. His supporters, and curious bystanders, many of them from his ethnic group, stood their ground, forcing security agents into an uncomfortable retreat.
That, in itself, tells a story about Nigeria: some people are simply more powerful than others. We just pretend otherwise. Imagine if el-Rufai was from somewhere else!
I have been thinking about that airport drama alongside El-Rufai’s on-air confession. It is deeply unsettling. Imagine, just for a moment, that El-Rufai was part of the “dot in the circle”, to borrow the late Muhammadu Buhari’s infamous phrase. Imagine he were an ordinary Nigerian, or worse, from one of the perpetually marginalized groups. I have no doubt he would be spending Valentine’s Day in a DSS cell.
The usual armchair moralists would have flooded the airwaves and social media, quoting laws, demanding prosecution, and calling for his head. Yet, after this brazen public admission of criminal conduct, the silence is deafening. No national outrage. No sustained calls for accountability. Maybe something will still be done. I cross my fingers and wait.
But this is Nigeria. Selective outrage has become normalised. It thrives because some people act and are treated as if they own the country.
As an Igbo man, I say this without equivocation: we must confront and defeat this culture of selective justice. The El-Rufai episode should force deep national introspection. We cannot continue to apply one standard to the powerful and another to the powerless, especially when those concerned are from certain “privileged” backgrounds.
If Nigeria must survive as a nation, the rules must mean the same thing for everyone.
El-Rufai’s confession is not a joke. It is an admission of a crime. And in any society that takes itself seriously, such an admission demands consequences.
Enough of undeserved privilege.
The law must be blind, or Nigeria will remain broken.
(c) Fred Chukwuelobe
