By Dansu Peter The Lagos State House of Assembly, once the epitome of legislative vibrancy in Nigeria, now finds itself in an eerie state o...
By Dansu Peter
What started as an internal power struggle quickly morphed into a high-stakes political drama, exposing deep-seated divisions within the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) in Lagos. At the heart of the crisis was the dramatic impeachment of Speaker Mudashiru Obasa, a close ally of Tinubu, and the subsequent emergence of Mojisola Lasbat Meranda as his replacement.
In an unprecedented move, members of the Lagos State House of Assembly staged a rebellion against Obasa, citing allegations of high-handedness, corruption, and an overbearing leadership style. The lawmakers, emboldened by what seemed to be a consensus among key political stakeholders in the state, swiftly removed Obasa and installed Meranda as Speaker.
However, even in his ouster, Obasa remained defiant. "I will return," he reportedly bragged to close allies, confident that his godfather, President Tinubu, would not abandon him. And true to his words, the political machinery of the Presidency would soon swing into action.
The Governor’s Advisory Council (GAC), the apex decision-making body of the APC in Lagos, was tasked with resolving the crisis. However, rather than providing a unified front, the GAC itself was torn apart. Some members supported Obasa’s impeachment, arguing that the legislature should not be turned into an appendage of one man’s empire. Others, particularly those loyal to Tinubu, insisted that Obasa's removal was an affront to the political structure that had sustained Lagos for over two decades.
The GAC's failure to reach a consensus signaled a deeper fracture within the ruling class in Lagos. With the matter lingering, President Tinubu took decisive control of the situation, overruling the GAC and outsourcing the resolution to a three-man committee led by Chief Bisi Akande, a political elder statesman and Tinubu’s longtime confidant.
The intervention of the Bisi Akande-led committee, which included former Ogun State Governor Olusegun Osoba and other senior political figures, underscored Tinubu’s firm grip on Lagos politics. Within days, Meranda, who had barely settled into her new role, was forced to resign under circumstances that reeked of high-level coercion.
The swiftness of Meranda’s exit and Obasa’s triumphant return left many Lagosians stunned. It was a clear message that, in Lagos, legislative autonomy was secondary to the whims of the man in Aso Rock.
While political negotiations raged behind closed doors, legal fireworks were simultaneously being set off. Obasa challenged his removal in court, arguing that due process was not followed. But in the end, the legal battle seemed merely ceremonial—the real decision had already been made in the corridors of power.
With a directive from the Presidency, Obasa was reinstated, sending a chilling message to any legislator who might have thought of resisting Tinubu’s influence. The Assembly, once a beacon of legislative independence, had become nothing more than a rubber stamp.
Since Obasa’s return, the Lagos State House of Assembly has not reconvened. The legislative vibrancy that once defined it has dissipated, replaced by a deafening silence. Lawmakers, perhaps wary of crossing the President’s chosen Speaker, have retreated into political survival mode.
What was once the most active state assembly in Nigeria, known for its groundbreaking laws and fiery debates, now lingers in a state of near-extinction. The chamber doors remain shut, its members subdued, its authority eroded.
For many Lagosians, this crisis is more than just a political power play—it is a grim reminder of how unchecked executive interference can cripple democratic institutions. With Obasa firmly back in the saddle and the Assembly in a state of inertia, one question lingers: Has Tinubu, in his bid to control Lagos politics, sacrificed the very institution meant to uphold democratic governance in the state?: will the Lagos Assembly ever recover from this blow, or has it permanently lost its voice?
Only time will tell. But for now, the silence is deafening.
Dansu Peter is the Publisher of Badagry Today, a former aspirant of Lagos State House of Assembly for Badagry Constituency II.
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