Why philanthropy stops at building a courthouse

“Nothing should be done that would even raise the suspicion of improper interference with the course of justice.” Lord Hewart, Nov. 9, 1923 R v. Sussex Judges, [1924] 1 KB 256

Something extraordinary happened in Ikere-Ekiti in Ekiti State, South West Nigeria, on January 19, 2023. On that day, the governor of the state said, Abiodun Oyebanji, received and commissioned a new courthouse built by senior attorney, Chief Oluwole Oladapo Olanipekun. Outliers from various sectors, such as politics, religion, business and the liberal professions, graced the event. This day newspaper led in describing the project as an act of “selfless philanthropy.” Governor Oyebanji himself invited the “indigenous people around the world to emulate this act of generous restitution.”

Chief Olanipekun, who built the courthouse, is a proud son of Ikere, where the new courthouse is located. His credentials in the universe of Nigerian philanthropy are not in question. He’s a benefactor of leading universities in the country, including the universities of Ibadan and Lagos, as well as the Ajayi Crowther University. He gave generously to alleviate suffering during the worst months of the COVID-19 pandemic. Chief Olanipekun has been doing that for decades run a scholarship program supporting the tuition fees and allowances of poor students at various levels of education in Nigeria up to graduate studies and vocational studies at the Nigerian Law School. With some justification has been philanthropy described as his way of life.

Chief Olanipekun is arguably the most successful Nigerian lawyer of his generation. He runs one of the largest law firms in the country and is the lawyer of choice for presidents, politicians and for-profit corporations. He became a Senior Advocate of Nigeria in 1991 before being elected President of the Nigerian Bar Association eleven years later. He has served as pro-chancellor and chairman of the board of several universities across the country. He also now heads the Body of Benchers, the statutory body responsible for admitting new lawyers to the legal profession. He himself is the father of two SANs.

The construction of this courthouse was not done in secret. As Chief Olanipekun made clear during the commissioning ceremony, the project was “initiated with the agreement and consent of the Honorable Chief Justice of Ekiti State, who also approved and appropriately modified the drawings.”

Here’s where the trouble begins: What exactly was the chief justice thinking when he authorized a lawyer in active private practice to build a courthouse and “donate” it to the judiciary? For all that can be said in favor of well-appointed courthouses, the idea of ​​anyone building one and ‘donating’ it to the judiciary, anywhere, is so staggering in its implications that it must be firmly rejected as a model for the addressing the manifest challenges of Nigeria’s justice system. Of the many reasons that can be put forward for this, five stand out.

Let’s start with the most basic. Courthouses go to the essence of the state. The state exists for the good of all who live in it. To protect them, it enjoys certain basic monopolies. One is a presumptive monopoly on the legitimate use of force; the other is a monopoly of legitimate adjudication. The latter monopoly actually precedes the former. If the state credibly enforces justice, it reduces the likelihood of grievances turning into violence. Therefore, the monopoly of legitimate justice is not something to be trifled with.

Second, the credibility of the judicial function and public confidence in its institutions is a high constitutional value that depends (in the words of the Nigerian constitution) on public perceptions of the “independence and impartiality” of the courts. When a man builds a courthouse in a state where he comes from and in which he owns property or business, it is hard to see how decisions enacted in that courthouse can be free from a hint of partiality. Even people who come from his village and whose cases are to be decided in that court will never be free from the perception that their cases have been decided in a certain way because the courthouse was built by their famous son. Judges sitting in such courts could live under an eternal cloud. No matter how hard they try to be fair, firm and just, their decisions will never be impartial enough.

Third, a lawyer in active practice cannot be allowed to build or donate a courthouse for obvious reasons: such a project can never be free of perceptions of professional influence. This particular donation can quickly prove to be more expensive than it is worth. Over time, it will become a ground of appeal against decisions of judges who sit on it, exposing them to innuendo and stripping them of the intangible assets of trust upon which the judicial function is anchored.

Fourth, this idea of ​​courthouse endowment invites the classic slippery slope. Let’s start with the premise that this donation is motivated by the purest of intentions. Not every person who chooses to invest in this model of “philanthropy” after this can be credited with the same purity of purpose. If one man can build and donate a courthouse, then every great man who has stolen money will sooner or later adopt the same model as his own deposit with impunity. In no time, courthouses across the country could be annexed into private estates of questionable provenance and their concern will be focused not on justice, but on decision-making about who is being tricked, both in reality and in the public perception.

Above all, it is impossible that such projects violate the constitutional rules of fair hearing and the Judicial Code of Conduct. Rule 1(4) of the Code prohibits any judge from “contacts which may cause people to speculate that there is a special relationship between him and any person whom the judge may be tempted to favor in some way.” in the exercise of his judicial duties.” How does a judge sitting in a court built by one man avoid the impression that he or she has a special relationship with the “owner” of the court?

There is no doubt that Nigeria’s legal system has far-reaching problems of both capital and recurrent nature. The state may not be able to pay in full for everything the courts need. If private contributions are needed, one response could be to adopt the security trust fund model established by many states to address insecurity and policing. A parallel for the judiciary could take the form of a Trust Fund for the Administration of Justice under appropriate legal safeguards.

The only question that remains is what to do with this ‘donation’ already made in Ekiti State. It would be appropriate to thank the donor for his high devotion to duty. However, the facility can be reused for other purposes, such as a public library, which will not affect the public perception of the administration of justice. The public interest in a justice system that works for everyone demands no less.

Clearly, this is not something any state should have accepted or allowed. Projects like this guarantee an impression of improper interference with the administration of justice. This deserves the attention of the NBA, the Chief Justice of Nigeria and the National Judicial Council to ensure that the former will also be the last and only instance of this kind of “donations” anywhere in Nigeria.

Odinkalu teaches at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy