
The judgement of the Federal High Court in Abuja directing the deregistration of five political parties has again exposed the uneasy tension between constitutional text and democratic spirit in Nigeria. Justice Peter Lifu ordered the Independent National Electoral Commission to strike the African Democratic Congress, Accord, Action Alliance, Action People’s Party and Zenith Labour Party off the register for failing to meet performance thresholds in the general elections.
While a subsequent stay of proceedings issued by the Court of Appeal has bought the affected parties a critical reprieve, the core questions remain: can the state lawfully “kill” a political party, and should it?
At the heart of this debate lies a direct constitutional tension between two provisions of the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended). Section 40 guarantees every citizen the fundamental right to assemble freely and associate with others, explicitly protecting the right to form or belong to political parties. By contrast, section 225A operates as a constitutional callback clause, restricting that freedom based on strict performance metrics.
Under section 225A, INEC is empowered to deregister a political party that:
breaches any of the fundamental requirements for registration.
fails to win at least 25 per cent of votes in at least one state in a presidential election or one local government area in a governorship election.
fails to win at least one ward in a chairmanship election, one seat in the National or State House of Assembly, or one councillorship seat.
Fundamental rights are not absolute, but any derogation must be reasonably justifiable in a democratic society. Proponents of section 225A argue that it serves a legitimate public interest by preventing an unmanageable ballot paper populated by “shell” parties with no real electoral footprint. Critics respond that it creates a high-stakes barrier to entry for minor and emerging parties, effectively raising the constitutional ladder once a handful of dominant parties have climbed up.
This framework is not theoretical. In February 2020, INEC invoked section 225A to deregister 74 political parties that failed to win any elective office in the 2019 general elections, leaving only 18 parties on the register. The definitive judicial authority on this power is the Supreme Court’s decision in INEC v National Unity Party (2021), where the apex court held that section 225A is self‑executing and vests INEC with unequivocal administrative power to delist non‑performing parties.
However, the litigation that followed the 2020 mass deregistration shows that this power is constrained by procedural fairness.
In ACD & 21 Others v INEC (Court of Appeal, 2020), the court reinstated 22 of the deregistered parties, insisting that even where the Constitution grants an express administrative power, it must be exercised in strict compliance with section 36 on the right to fair hearing. The Court of Appeal stressed that INEC must give affected parties adequate notice, provide reasons and avoid pre‑empting issues already submitted to judicial determination.
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These decisions demonstrate that deregistration is not a mechanical exercise. It sits at the intersection of constitutional authority, due process and judicial supervision.
The current suit involving ADC and the four other parties introduces an important shift that legal practitioners will quickly recognise. Historically, deregistration has been an administrative act initiated directly by INEC after it audited election results. In this case, the process was triggered by a judicial order of the Federal High Court, based on a suit filed by the Incorporated Trustees of the National Forum of Former Legislators and supported by the Office of the Attorney‑General.
This development risks transforming what was conceived as a neutral administrative housekeeping tool into a weaponised mechanism of political litigation. When private actors or the executive branch use the courts to compel INEC to deregister specific, often opposition‑leaning or reformist platforms, it raises legitimate suspicions of selective targeting and further narrows the political field in the run‑up to the 2027 general elections.
The Court of Appeal’s sharp rebuke of the lower court’s handling of the case underlines a fundamental rule-of-law concern. In a recent ruling, a three‑member panel led by Justice A.B. Mohammed criticised the trial court for going ahead to deliver judgment despite an existing appellate order directing it to halt further proceedings. Once an appellate court has intervened, the doctrine of lis pendens requires all parties, including lower courts and INEC, to maintain the status quo pending final determination. Proceeding in defiance of a superior court order offends the basic principles of judicial hierarchy and constitutional order.
Looking forward, Nigeria needs a more principled approach to Section 225A. At a minimum, three safeguards are essential:
Guidelines: INEC should publish transparent, structured guidelines explaining how and when it conducts performance audits and what triggers a deregistration review.
Notice: Affected parties must receive advance administrative notice and a genuine opportunity to contest any proposed delisting before a final decision is taken.
Insulation: The deregistration process should remain an impartial administrative function, insulated as far as possible from politically‑driven litigation by interested actors.
Ultimately, the real question is no longer whether the Constitution permits deregistration; the Supreme Court in INEC v NUP has settled that point. The real test is whether the way we apply that power will deepen or diminish Nigeria’s fragile multi‑party democracy.
Godwin Daramola, legal practitioner and PhD researcher, writes from the UK
View original source — The Punch ↗
