Tinubu’s State of Emergency in Rivers: A Constitutional Imperative Amid Chaos

The declaration of a state of emergency in Rivers State by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has ignited a firestorm of reactions, with legal luminaries, political heavyweights, and media outlets weighing in on the unprecedented move. Figures like Femi Falana, Atiku Abubakar, and Reuben Abati have been quick to brand the action as unconstitutional, arguing that it oversteps the president’s powers and undermines Nigeria’s democratic framework. However, a closer examination of the situation—and the Nigerian Constitution—reveals that Tinubu’s decision, while bold, falls squarely within the bounds of legal authority and serves as a necessary intervention to avert anarchy in a state teetering on the edge.

Rivers State has been a political powder keg for months, with Governor Siminalayi Fubara locked in a bitter feud with his predecessor, Nyesom Wike, and a faction of the state’s lawmakers. The crisis has escalated beyond mere political rivalry, spilling into the streets with militant groups and agitators issuing chilling threats—captured in widely circulated videos—to kill, maim, and cripple Nigeria’s economy. These are not idle boasts; Rivers, a linchpin of the nation’s oil production, is too vital to be left in the hands of a governor who appears either unwilling or unable to rein in the chaos.

For a sitting governor to fail to distance himself from such elements—clowns and militants alike—who openly threaten national stability is a dereliction of duty that cannot be ignored. When law enforcement struggles to maintain order and the state descends into a theater of violence and economic sabotage, the president cannot simply sit back and watch the flames engulf Rivers and, by extension, the nation. Tinubu’s declaration of a six-month state of emergency, accompanied by the suspension of Fubara, his deputy Ngozi Odu, and the state’s lawmakers, is not an overreach—it’s a constitutional duty fulfilled.

Critics like Abati argue that the 1999 Constitution does not permit the president to “unilaterally remove” a governor. They’re half-right but miss the nuance. Tinubu hasn’t removed Fubara; he’s suspended him for six months, a temporary measure to restore order. Section 305 of the Nigerian Constitution empowers the president to declare a state of emergency when there is a “breakdown of public order and public safety” that requires “extraordinary measures” to avert disaster. The proliferation of militant threats, pipeline vandalism, and legislative paralysis in Rivers easily meets this threshold.

The process is clear: the president declares the emergency, nominates an administrator—here, Vice-Admiral Ibok-Ete Ibas (Rtd)—and seeks National Assembly approval within 10 days, as mandated by Section 305(6). Reports indicate Tinubu has already consulted the legislative leadership, signaling compliance with this requirement. Far from dissolving democratic structures, the president has left the state judiciary intact, reinforcing his commitment to constitutional order. This isn’t a coup; it’s a calibrated response to a crisis.

From an international law perspective, Tinubu’s actions align with principles of state sovereignty and the responsibility to protect. The United Nations recognizes that governments may take extraordinary measures, including temporary suspensions of normal governance, to safeguard public security and economic stability—provided such actions are proportionate and time-bound. A six-month suspension, with a neutral administrator appointed to oversee affairs, fits this mold. It avoids favoritism by sidelining both Fubara and his legislative adversaries, ensuring an impartial hand steers Rivers back to peace.

Contrast this with inaction: allowing a governor to preside over a state where militants dictate terms and lawmakers trade blows instead of laws would violate Nigeria’s obligations under international law to maintain order within its borders. Tinubu’s intervention is not just lawful—it’s a strategic necessity.

The president’s detractors paint this as a partisan ploy, but the facts suggest otherwise. By suspending both the governor and the opposition-dominated House of Assembly, Tinubu has avoided taking sides in the Fubara-Wike saga. Appointing a retired naval officer as administrator further insulates the process from political bias. This isn’t about consolidating power; it’s about dousing a fire that threatens to engulf a critical state. To fold his hands while Rivers burns would be the real dereliction of duty—leaving Nigeria’s oil hub and economic lifeline at the mercy of chaos.

The reaction on X has been predictably frenetic, with a mix of reasoned debate and reckless misinformation. To those peddling lies—claiming Tinubu has “dissolved” the government or staged a “military takeover”—a word of caution: the truth matters. Spreading rumors about an elected governor being “removed” when he’s merely suspended for six months undermines public trust and fuels unrest. Check the Constitution, verify the facts, and stop amplifying falsehoods that could destabilize an already fragile situation. The stakes are too high for cheap clout-chasing.

Tinubu’s state of emergency is not a perfect solution, but it’s a defensible one. Critics like Falana and Atiku are right to demand scrutiny—democracy thrives on accountability—but their blanket condemnation overlooks the reality on the ground. A governor incapable of managing a state sliding into anarchy forfeits the moral and practical authority to lead unchecked. The president’s intervention, grounded in Section 305 and international norms, is a temporary reset, not a permanent usurpation.

As the National Assembly reviews this declaration, Nigerians should demand clarity and adherence to due process. But they should also recognize that in times of crisis, decisive action—within the law—is not tyranny; it’s leadership. Rivers State cannot afford to be a testing ground for constitutional purism while its people suffer and its economy bleeds. Tinubu has acted, and the Constitution backs him. The rest is up to the lawmakers—and the court of public opinion—to ensure the remedy doesn’t outlast the disease.