There’s something deeply troubling about the growing authoritarian streak among some of our elected governors. It stinks of petty tyranny. It reeks of ignorance clothed by power. It evokes the brand of madness that the late Czech writer, Franz Kafka distilled into haunting surrealism in The Trial – a world where men in power, gripped by paranoia, fabricate imaginary enemies and persecute shadows. In that absurd asylum, reason collapses under the weight of arbitrary authority, and justice becomes a grotesque illusion. This is the madness of hallucinating foes that do not exist, the delusion of rulers who mistake every knock on the door for rebellion. Here, ‘In The Trial’, Kafka presents a deeply surreal and maddening world where the protagonist, Josef K., is arrested for a crime he is never told about, by an authority he cannot locate, under laws he cannot understand. The madness here is both systemic and a reflection of power structures so opaque and indifferent that they become inherently violent. Here, too, I have seized the liberty of interpretation to invert the quintessential Kafkaesque madness, where irrational men are consumed by power. And, more dangerously, it betrays a creeping contempt for the Constitution they swore to uphold. 

Two recent incidents lay bare this descent into utter unconstitutional madness.

First, it was Benue. Now, Edo.

In April, Governor Hyacinth Alia of Benue State, a Roman Catholic priest-turned-politician, decided to play the role of Caesar. With the arrogance of one possessed by office, he issued a curious warning to Peter Obi, the 2023 Labour Party presidential candidate, effectively barring him from visiting Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) in the state. Obi’s offence? Trying to show empathy, demonstrate solidarity and compassion with our fellow citizens displaced by deadly Fulani herdsmen attacks. According to The Punch newspaper, in a statement signed by his chief press secretary, the priest-turned-governor announced that he was unaware of Obi’s intended visit and “could not guarantee his safety.” More alarmingly, the statement warned that any individual or group intending to visit IDPs must first obtain written permission from the Benue State Emergency Management Agency. Failure to do so would mean that such visits could be “construed as political gatherings.”

Let the threat sink in, like the chilling threat once issued by Idi Amin to Indians in Uganda, warning them not to dare darken their skin in a futile bid to pass as Africans. Idi Amin’s threat was a grotesque blend of racial paranoia and tyranny, where identity itself became the target of state violence as we shall see in the latter part of this piece, and with regards to Okpebholo’s bigoted attempt at understanding Obi based on his ethnic provenance. In Amin’s Uganda, resisting expulsion meant being accused of mimicry; seeking belonging meant being punished for presumption. The threat was not merely about the skin, as it was about erasure, humiliation, and the raw assertion of power over the very idea of who had the right to exist in a nation. Governor Alia merely plucked a page from Amin’s book. 

A citizen of the Republic, and not just any citizen, but a former governor and presidential candidate, must now obtain written permission to move within the borders of his own country? To offer relief to victims of terror? In a democracy? 

The absurdity didn’t end there.

A few days ago Governor Monday Okpebholo of Edo State arrived at his own Uselu- the mental hospital that instantly reminds readers of Aro in Abeokuta and another mental hospital that youngsters jocularly referred to as “Yaba Left” in Lagos – that storied asylum in the Uselu area of the ancient city which, among the people of Edo, has come to symbolise more than geography. It is now a metaphor, a byword for unmoored minds. In the local parlance, Uselu is depicted not merely as a destination but also as a descent into the asylum of mental disorder, into the theatre of the absurd, where habitués of demons rant among the very demons that possess them. That the governor stumbled into Uselu’s symbolic precincts, not by foot but by speech, is telling, for it is not only the place that makes the madman, but also the performance. And Okpebholo was truly performative last week.

In a video that has since gone viral, he issued an even more vulgar and infantile threat to Peter Obi: “Di man wey say he no get shishi. There’s a new charif (sic), I’m sending a direct message to him… He cannot come to Edo without telling me because his security will never be guaranteed… Whatever happen (sic) to him when he is in Edo State, he will take it. I’m serious about it… Tell Obi he can’t come to Edo without telling me.” This wasn’t a press release. This wasn’t an administrative caution issued before the glare of television cameras. It was an open, crass and irresponsible threat issued by a state executive. It was the language of a street corner enforcer, not that of a constitutional officeholder. This is not governance; it is ignorance masquerading as reason. It is a pettiness masked as power. It is authoritarianism masquerading in the ceremonial robes of democratic office, where the performance of power eclipses the purpose of the Constitution. 

The Constitution, under Section 41(1), is not ambiguous: “Every citizen of Nigeria is entitled to move freely throughout Nigeria and to reside in any part thereof…” It is a fundamental right. Not a courtesy. Not a privilege to be dispensed by self-important governors. It is the legal bedrock on which our country is founded. No governor, not Alia in Benue, not Okpebholo in Edo, can strip citizens of this right through mere speech. Not through a video. Not through a press release. Not even through a motion in the State House of Assembly. Only a law validly passed by the legislature and justified under the Constitution can limit this right, and even then, only under limited, specific, and lawful circumstances, such as a declared state of emergency, can make the invalidation of the right justifiable in a democratic society. Our courts have made this clear, time and again. In James v. Governor of Edo State, the Court of Appeal was emphatic: restrictions on freedom of movement must be based on clear, valid law, not on arbitrary directives or verbal orders. In the landmark case of Director of SSS v. Olisa Agbakoba, the Supreme Court affirmed that Nigerian citizens cannot be prevented from travelling, whether internally or abroad. The right to free movement is non-negotiable. It is protected. It is sacrosanct. The effects of the decisions of our courts are that Governors can’t shut the doors of the subnational states against citizens of the Republic. They can’t change the locks. They can’t rewrite the Constitution to suit their whims and caprices.

So, what are both governors doing?

They are violating their oath of office. They are trampling on the Constitution. They are usurping powers they do not possess. They are acting as though they are monarchs presiding over medieval fiefdoms. And they are insulting the intelligence of our fellow citizens by pretending they are acting in the name of security. What security? I dare ask. Governor Okpebholo, who cannot secure the lives of the indigenes of Agenebode, a northeastern town situated on the banks of the River Niger and serving as the headquarters of Etsako East Local Government Area. Or Governor Alia who continues to display utter incompetence in protecting Yelawata, where over 200 people were recently massacred by marauding Fulani herdsmen, and the entire Guma Local Government Area of Benue State. But let’s situate this so-called “security”. When Alia and Okpebholo warn that they “cannot guarantee” the safety of citizens like Peter Obi, they are not merely talking in nonsense; they are indicting themselves. Security is not optional. It is the foremost duty of a state governor under the Constitution. To publicly declare that they will not guarantee the safety of a citizen within their state is a confession of catastrophic personal and administrative failure, as well as moral bankruptcy. It goes beyond all of this. It is a dog whistle to thugs. I make no pretence here. When a governor says “we won’t guarantee your safety,” what he’s saying is: “You’re on your own, and if anything happens to you, it’s your fault.” In a country already wracked by banditry, insurgency, and political violence, such statements are nothing short of incitement.

Governors aren’t elected to stoke tensions, but to calm them when they erupt. They are elected to build bridges, not Berlin walls. But instead, our class of governors, intellectually insecure, emotionally unstable, and constitutionally illiterate, believes that power is a license to intimidate. Witness men who won elections but behave like warlords. Administrators who confuse their persons with their offices and demand personal loyalty as though the state is their private estate. This is dangerous. As I have consistently warned in my columns, this is how democracies die. Not through tanks rolling in at midnight, but through the slow, deliberate erosion of rights and the normalisation of autocracy. Today, it is Peter Obi. Tomorrow, it will be the journalist who asks too many questions. Then, the civil society activist. Then the political opponent. Then the ordinary citizen who tweets the wrong thing.

The world experienced this before. This was the trajectory in Uganda under Idi Amin. This was the path taken in Zimbabwe under Robert Mugabe. This was how Hugo Chavez hollowed out Venezuela’s institutions. Citizens cannot sit and watch as their country is pulled in that direction by men who confuse bravado for leadership. They must not. They must call it what it is: an attack on the Constitution. An attack on the rule of law. An attack on citizenship itself.

Peter Obi does not need permission to visit IDPs in Benue or anyone in Edo. He does not need to “tell” Governors Alia and Okpebholo of his presence in their respective States. He does not need a letter of clearance to show compassion. Alia and Okpebholo are not border control officers. They are not customs officials. They are public servants, not overlords. And they must be reminded of the limits of their powers. The Nigeria Governors’ Forum should speak up. The Nigerian Bar Association should issue statements. Civil society must not be silent. This is the time to defend the Constitution, not with platitudes, but with principle and action.

Of course, there is also an ethnic undertone that cannot be ignored. Peter Obi is Igbo. The governors who threatened him are not. Are these threats expressions of ethnic insecurity? Or signs of latent bigotry? Would these governors have dared to utter such nonsense if Obi were a former northern governor? Or a Yoruba political titan? Here’s the admission our fellow citizens must be willing to make: honesty is the currency they have to tender at the bank of truth, for without it, the transaction of integrity is impossible. The truth is: our country is a fragile state. Its fault lines are deep. In such a context, these kinds of statements issued by both governors are not only unconstitutional but also inflammatory. They inflame tribal resentments. They feed the narrative of exclusion. They deepen the mistrust that has already fractured our national psyche.

Power is transient. There’s always respite wrought by time. No matter how loud Alia and Okpebholo bark today, they will lose power one day. History will remember. Our citizens will remember. What is written in headlines today will be inscribed in the footnotes of our country’s political history, with a harsher judgment to come. For now, Alia and Okpebholo should be reminded that they are not emperors. They are not gods. They are not above the law. They were elected to serve, not to rule. They swore an oath to defend the Constitution, not defile it. They are mere tenants in public offices built by the Constitution, not landlords of the Republic. Finally, Peter Obi, or any citizen, does not need their permission to walk the soil of our country.

Alia and Okpebholo should get over themselves quickly, lest they be asked the very question Christ asked the demon-possessed man: “What’s your name?”

You already know the answer to such a question, dear readers.