A Personal Opinion on the Obi–Adeyanju Suit

A Personal Opinion on the Obi–Adeyanju Suit

By Gimba Kakanda

Ordinarily, I would have thought that the reason Peter Obi initiated a lawsuit against Deji Adeyanju was purely for the purpose of intimidation. However, I believe he knows Deji well enough to understand that he is someone who would rather go to jail than yield to threats. I also do not think a lawyer who has practised long enough to attain the prestigious rank of Senior Advocate of Nigeria would have appended his name to the suit if it were frivolous, as some have suggested in the public domain. It is either that he knows something the public does not, or that he is unaware of the evidential weaknesses which may accompany some of Adeyanju’s more audacious allegations.

For me, the strongest case against Adeyanju lies in his description of Mr. Obi as “the leader of a mob.” In law, that phrase carries a far more serious meaning than a casual insult. According to Black’s Law Dictionary, the world’s most cited legal dictionary, a mob is “an assemblage of many people, acting in a violent and disorderly manner, defying the law, and committing, or threatening to commit, depredations upon property or violence to persons.” In legal usage, it is practically synonymous with “riot,” though the latter is the more precise term. This dovetails with Nigerian criminal law.

Under Section 69 of the Criminal Code, which applies in the South, an unlawful assembly arises when three or more persons gather with intent to carry out an unlawful purpose, or a lawful purpose by unlawful means, in such a way as to cause reasonable fear of a breach of the peace. Under Section 71, when such an assembly begins acting in a violent, tumultuous, or disorderly manner, it escalates into a riot. Sections 97 and 98 of the Penal Code, applicable in the North, adopt a similar definition.

By calling Mr. Obi the “leader of a mob,” Adeyanju arguably imputes that he “organises, directs, or incites riotous and unlawful behaviour.” This is defamatory per se because it imputes criminal conduct—riot, unlawful assembly, or incitement to violence. Under Nigerian defamation law, imputing a crime is actionable without proof of special damage. The statement therefore crosses the line from political hyperbole into a false factual allegation of criminality, unless Adeyanju can justify it with hard evidence.

What may unfold in court, I think, is whether Adeyanju’s later “edit” of the phrase to “leader of the Obidient mob” is defensible, or whether it merely attempts to soften the criminal connotation of the word “mob” by supplying a political context. Another question is whether he can justify using “mob” to describe the Obidient supporters. Under the republication rule, editing and reissuing a defamatory phrase counts as a new publication and can aggravate liability if done after notice. Whether “mob” or “Obidient mob,” the word still carries its ordinary and legal sense of a disorderly, riotous, and criminal gathering. The edit may suggest an attempt to tone it down, but it does not erase the portrayal of Obi as a leader of lawlessness. Nigerian courts tend to focus on the “sting” of a statement, and here the sting remains the same.

On balance, while Adeyanju may seek to defend himself under the banners of truth or fair comment, both defences appear precarious. If the court adheres to the dictionary and statutory meaning of “mob” as a group engaged in riotous or unlawful conduct, the litigation could prove compelling. If Adeyanju argues fair comment, he must show that his words amount to honest opinion based on true facts, rather than imputations of criminal behaviour. The strength of Obi’s suit, I suspect, rests on proving the meaning of “mob,” and demonstrating that Adeyanju’s republication—through “editing”—sustains liability for defamation on this point.