The Metaphor, the Message, and the Missed Mandate: A Further Analysis of Justice Nyako’s Ruling and Judicial Ambiguity—and Why the Chief Justice Must Now Act -By Professor John Egbeazien Oshodi

Following the recent circulation of my article, Justice Nyako’s Marriage Counselor Mentality, it is worth clarifying the conceptual origin of the symbolic framing it employed.

The metaphor of the “marriage counselor,” along with the notion of an “open-ended treatment plan,” emerged directly from my psychological reading of the July 4 ruling—not from legal journalistic commentary by Wale Igbintade, but from my grounding in forensic and institutional psychology. While the legal analysis of journalist Wale Igbintade was cited for its technical sharpness, the interpretive framework applied—how judicial language can retreat into therapeutic ambiguity—was developed independently as part of my broader analytical lens.

These metaphors are not rhetorical ornaments. They function as diagnostic instruments, intended to surface how courts, when hesitant to issue enforceable commands, adopt the posture of mediators rather than arbiters. This clarification is offered not because it is disputed, but because the symbolic structure has taken on a life of its own—and deserves to be properly situated within its psychological origin. The deeper purpose of this follow-up article remains unchanged: to illuminate how institutional fear, judicial ambiguity, and silent hierarchies continue to undermine legal clarity in moments that demand constitutional boldness. to expose how judicial language, stripped of enforceability, mimics therapeutic dialogue rather than constitutional command. It is from this foundation that this new article emerges—not to rewrite the original, but to deepen and amplify it.

Legal Declaration Without Enforcement: A Diagnosis That Refused to HealOn July 4, 2025, Justice Binta Nyako made what initially appeared to be a courageous and constitutionally grounded ruling. She declared that the Nigerian Senate acted unlawfully in suspending Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan. The surface clarity of that declaration promised justice. However, as the days that followed demonstrated, it was justice in form, not in function.

The judgment stopped short of commanding the Senate to act. It diagnosed a wrong, but it offered no curative pathway. There was no Writ of Mandamus, no order for immediate reinstatement. Instead, the ruling carried the soft tone of suggestion, not the sharp authority of command. It became what I have called a judicial conversation—a reflection rather than an instruction. It was, in essence, an open-ended diagnosis issued without a prescription.

And like a mismanaged diagnosis in medicine, the absence of treatment allowed the condition to worsen.

Igbintade’s Precision: Legal Clarity That Demanded Psychological Explanation

Wale Igbintade’s legal journalistic analysis in THISDAYLIVE offered surgical precision. He identified the judgment’s structural weakness and the risk it posed to judicial integrity. His commentary described the court’s output as “advisory” in tone, and noted that it lacked the necessary legal force to restrain the Senate from acting outside the bounds of the ruling.

It was this commentary that prompted my deeper exploration. Igbintade articulated what the court failed to do legally. As a psychologist, I sought to ask why this failure occurred. Why would a judge stop short of doing what the Constitution appeared to mandate?

That question demanded a psychological lens.

The “Marriage Counselor” Frame: A Symbol of Judicial Avoidance

The metaphor of a marriage counselor was not used to diminish the seriousness of the matter, but to reveal a troubling judicial tendency: when faced with politically sensitive disputes, the bench sometimes drifts from adjudication into therapeutic mediation.

A marriage counselor does not issue binding orders. They propose, they suggest, they seek harmony. Their tools are words, not authority. But in a court of law—especially when rights have been violated and power is unequally distributed—such a posture is inadequate.

Justice Binta Nyako’s July 4 ruling embodied this institutional retreat. While her judgment rightly acknowledged constitutional harm, it withheld the kind of direct remedy that could have rebalanced the scales. There was recognition, but no restoration. There was legal diagnosis, but no judicial prescription.

Psychologically, this reflects a pattern familiar to clinicians: avoidance under pressure. When confrontation carries institutional cost, ambiguity becomes a coping mechanism. It may emerge from self-protection, from fatigue, or from an unconscious accommodation to power. But whatever its origin, the result is the same—justice deferred, authority diluted, and the courtroom transformed from a place of decision to a space of suggestion.

The Danger of Counseling in the Face of State Power

When a judge chooses counsel over command in matters where the power dynamic is unbalanced, the result is not compromise—it is domination. The courtroom becomes a stage where moral persuasion replaces legal enforcement, and in that vacuum, the stronger party asserts its will without restraint.

That is precisely what unfolded. On July 22, 2025, Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, acting in the spirit of constitutional restoration, attempted to return to her seat in the National Assembly. She was met not with institutional compliance, but with a locked gate. The Senate, emboldened by the court’s lack of directive force, treated the ruling as an informal suggestion, not a mandate.

Days later, the consequences deepened. Natasha was reportedly placed on a travel watch list—an escalation that signaled not just resistance, but retaliation. The absence of a judicial command created space for discretionary punishment. A ruling that should have restored a public official’s dignity instead became a legal smoke screen, behind which new violations were staged.

This is the real peril when courts drift into the language of therapy rather than the force of law. In such moments, what masquerades as judicial neutrality becomes institutional complicity. The court’s silence becomes a shield for abuse. And the vulnerable party—expecting justice—finds herself re-entering a system that has merely changed its tone, not its posture.

The Architecture of Fear: Psychological Pressures Within the Judiciary

There is, in the Nigerian judicial process, a quietly consequential interval—an often-overlooked moment between what a judge declares in open court and what finally appears in the Certified True Copy (CTC). This period, where the registrar quietly takes their time, can stretch for days, sometimes even weeks. And in that waiting space, something subtle may unfold. A phrase is possibly reworded. A tone is apparently softened. What enters the public record may reflect the ruling’s intent, yet fall just shy of its original decisiveness.

These shifts are rarely confronted directly. But within the legal ecosystem, the awareness is there—what is transcribed may not always mirror the spirit or firmness of the bench’s voice. Some say that judges, upon seeing the final CTC, may pause momentarily—registering the softened edge—but move on. The culture of quiet accommodation discourages revision. The courtroom may roar with resolve, but the document—emerging from the quiet hallways of registry—sometimes speaks in a different key.

Why would a seasoned judge, fully aware of constitutional authority, permit such shifts or even issue a judgment that stops short of enforceable clarity? The answer lies not only in jurisprudence, but in psychology.

Judges in Nigeria function within a deeply hierarchical, politically sensitive, and often unpredictable institutional structure. From silent career threats to fears of professional isolation or retaliation, many learn to navigate by skirting confrontation. Strategic ambiguity becomes a form of self-preservation. The registry, with its discretionary timing and possible editorial smoothing, becomes a quiet collaborator in this psychological dance.

Seen through this lens, Justice Nyako’s July 4 ruling reveals itself as a carefully crafted ambiguity—a diagnosis without prescription. It was not simply a legal decision; it was a calibrated survival move. But the cost of such choices is high: justice is deferred, public trust is quietly depleted, and the Constitution, meant to command, is reduced to polite suggestion.

Institutional Silence: The CJN’s Absence as National Disorientation

All this brings us to the question that now looms largest: Where is the Chief Justice of Nigeria?

Justice Kudirat Kekere-Ekun, as Chief Justice of Nigeria and Chair of the National Judicial Council, has remained publicly absent. As of July 4, 2025, there has been no media-visible statement, no clarification, and no demonstrable action from her office. Yet her voice—expected to serve as a moral and institutional compass in moments of judicial ambiguity—remains unheard.

This silence is not neutral. It is deafening. It sends a signal—to judges, to litigants, to institutions—that ambiguity is acceptable, and that even in high-stakes constitutional matters, the highest judicial authority may choose to disengage.

In psychological terms, this is familial abandonment. The counselor has failed. The house is in crisis. And the supervisor has exited the room.

Final Reflection: When Metaphor Becomes Reality

What began as a judicial hesitation has quietly evolved into a national metaphor. The court assumed the posture of a counselor. The Senate stepped forward as aggressor. The harmed party returned in good faith—only to be met with closed doors and a quiet escalation. The supervisor—the Chief Justice—remains silent.

Now, the house is smoldering.

One spouse points to the judge. The other declares vindication. The ruling itself sits between life and erasure—not dead, not alive, but dangerously unresolved. And the citizens watch, not with confusion, but with growing certainty that something essential is slipping away.

This is no longer about a single decision. It is about the architecture of responsibility. A moment like this demands more than interpretive silence. It calls for institutional courage. It calls for the one who supervises the house to step forward—not just to speak, but to lead.

Because once the fire consumes what remains, even the counselor’s chair will turn to ash.

Professor John Egbeazien Oshodi

This writer, a psychologist, has no personal connection to any of the individuals mentioned. This commentary is written solely in pursuit of democratic accountability, justice, and good governance.

Professor John Egbeazien Oshodi is an American psychologist, educator, and author specializing in forensic, legal, clinical, and cross-cultural psychology, with expertise in police and prison science, juvenile justice, and family dependency systems. Born in Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria, and the son of a 37-year veteran of the Nigeria Police Force, his early immersion in law enforcement laid the foundation for a lifelong commitment to justice, institutional transformation, and psychological empowerment.

In 2011, he introduced state-of-the-art forensic psychology to Nigeria through the National Universities Commission and Nasarawa State University, where he served as Associate Professor of Psychology. Over the decades, he has taught at Florida Memorial University, Florida International University, Broward College (as Assistant Professor and Interim Associate Dean), Nova Southeastern University, and Lynn University. He currently teaches at Walden University and holds virtual academic roles with Weldios University and ISCOM University.

In the U.S., Prof. Oshodi serves as a government consultant in forensic-clinical psychology and leads professional and research initiatives through the Oshodi Foundation, the Center for Psychological and Forensic Services. He is the originator of Psychoafricalysis, a culturally anchored psychological model that integrates African sociocultural realities, historical memory, and symbolic-spiritual consciousness—offering a transformative alternative to dominant Western psychological paradigms.

A proud Black Republican, Professor Oshodi is a strong advocate for ethical leadership, institutional accountability, and renewed bonds between Africa and its global diaspora—working across borders to inspire psychological resilience, systemic reform, and forward-looking public dialogue.