Malami, Dasuki and the Irony of Power
By Ifeanyi Favour Ogochukwu
“What goes around comes around,” the old saying warns—a timeless reminder that power is fleeting and authority, when exercised without restraint, often returns to confront its wielder. In Nigeria’s political and legal history, few contemporary episodes illustrate this irony more vividly than the intersecting narratives of Abubakar Malami, former Attorney-General of the Federation, and Colonel Sambo Dasuki (rtd.), former National Security Adviser.
For Malami, once the nation’s chief law officer and a central figure in the prolonged prosecution and detention of Dasuki, the spotlight of public scrutiny has reportedly shifted. In what many observers describe as a striking case of the hunter becoming the hunted, reports of investigations involving Malami have reignited national debates about justice, power, and accountability.
Politics—especially in fragile democracies—has a habit of recycling its contradictions. The current discourse surrounding Malami, still subject to verification and due process, inevitably invites comparison with the Dasuki affair, one of the most controversial legal sagas of the Muhammadu Buhari administration.
According to reports in the public domain, Malami was first questioned by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) over alleged financial improprieties before being re-arrested by the Department of State Services (DSS) in connection with separate allegations bordering on terrorism financing and the reported discovery of arms at a property linked to him. Malami has reportedly described these actions as unjust and a violation of his fundamental rights. Whether or not these claims are ultimately substantiated, they have triggered a powerful sense of déjà vu among Nigerians.
To understand the depth of public reaction, one must return to 2015, when the Buhari administration launched its anti-corruption crusade. At the centre of that campaign was Colonel Sambo Dasuki, accused of diverting about $2.1 billion meant for arms procurement in the fight against Boko Haram—an episode that came to be known as Dasukigate.
Dasuki’s arrest and prosecution were initially handled by the EFCC. The case, however, soon assumed broader legal and political dimensions when the Office of the Attorney-General of the Federation, under Malami, became the institutional anchor for his continued detention by the DSS over related allegations, including unlawful possession of firearms.
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What followed was one of the most contentious chapters in Nigeria’s recent legal history. Despite multiple court orders granting Dasuki bail—including rulings by Federal High Courts and the ECOWAS Court of Justice—the federal government refused to release him. Malami publicly defended the stance at the time, arguing that national security considerations outweighed individual liberty and that Dasuki’s release posed a threat to the state.
That justification provoked sustained condemnation. Civil society organisations, senior lawyers, and international human rights groups accused the government of undermining the rule of law and selectively obeying judicial pronouncements. For nearly four years, from 2015 to 2019, Dasuki remained in detention until persistent domestic and international pressure eventually led to his release under strict conditions.
Fast-forward to the present, and the political script appears—at least symbolically—to have reversed. Malami, once the institutional face of prolonged detention justified by “national security,” is now reportedly confronting the same coercive instruments of the state. His claims of unlawful detention and abuse of power echo arguments earlier advanced by Dasuki and his supporters, lending force to public narratives of poetic justice or political karma.
Yet reducing this moment to karma alone would be intellectually lazy and legally dangerous. Nigeria remains a constitutional democracy. Allegations are not convictions, and every citizen—regardless of past office or public sentiment—is entitled to the presumption of innocence, due process, and the protection of fundamental rights. Malami, like Dasuki before him, has the right to challenge any perceived injustice through lawful means.
Still, public memory is stubborn.
For many Nigerians, the Malami–Dasuki comparison transcends personalities. It exposes a deeper pattern: power exercised without restraint and institutions bent to serve political convenience. It raises uncomfortable but necessary questions. Should national security be a blanket justification for disobeying court orders? Who holds an Attorney-General accountable when he becomes a symbol of alleged injustice? And can a system that once applauded the suspension of due process credibly defend it when roles reverse?
Ultimately, the intertwined stories of Malami and Dasuki serve as a cautionary tale for Nigeria’s democracy. Justice must be consistent to be credible. The rule of law cannot depend on who wields power—or who has fallen out of favour.
Whether history records this moment as karma, coincidence, or corrective justice remains to be seen. What is undeniable is that Nigeria can only move forward when the law stands above individuals—not beneath them.
Ifeanyi Favour Ogochukwu is a Corps Member serving at PRNigeria and can be reached via [email protected].
