A Chamber of Silence
It was April 2018 when Senator Ali Ndume dared to question the Nigerian Senate’s murky handling of constituency funds, only to be slapped with a 181-day suspension—later reduced under public outcry, but the signal was unmistakable: dissent comes at a cost. Fast forward to March 2025, and the script hasn’t changed. On March 6, 2025, Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, one of only four women in the 109-seat chamber, was suspended for six months after alleging sexual harassment by Senate President Godswill Akpabio and challenging a seat reassignment. Her punishment? A gavel swung to silence a critic, not to serve justice. Nigeria’s Senate, designed as a crucible of democratic debate, has devolved into a fortress of personal gain, where suspensions are wielded to crush opposition and protect the powerful.
This isn’t just about Ndume or Akpoti-Uduaghan—it’s a systemic rot that thrives on rascality and arrogance, sidelining the needs of 200 million Nigerians. With 133 million mired in multidimensional poverty (2024 World Bank data), the Senate’s obsession with self-preservation over public service is a betrayal of epic scale. This piece unpacks the legislative chaos, the hubris that fuels it, and the chilling tactic of muting dissent—all to shield personal interests at the expense of the nation.
It was April 2018 when Senator Ali Ndume dared to question the Nigerian Senate’s murky handling of constituency funds, only to be slapped with a 181-day suspension—later reduced under public outcry, but the signal was unmistakable: dissent comes at a cost. Fast forward to March 2025, and the script hasn’t changed. On March 6, 2025, Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, one of only four women in the 109-seat chamber, was suspended for six months after alleging sexual harassment by Senate President Godswill Akpabio and challenging a seat reassignment. Her punishment? A gavel swung to silence a critic, not to serve justice. Nigeria’s Senate, designed as a crucible of democratic debate, has devolved into a fortress of personal gain, where suspensions are wielded to crush opposition and protect the powerful.
This isn’t just about Ndume or Akpoti-Uduaghan—it’s a systemic rot that thrives on rascality and arrogance, sidelining the needs of 200 million Nigerians. With 133 million mired in multidimensional poverty (2024 World Bank data), the Senate’s obsession with self-preservation over public service is a betrayal of epic scale. This piece unpacks the legislative chaos, the hubris that fuels it, and the chilling tactic of muting dissent—all to shield personal interests at the expense of the nation.
Rascality: A Senate Unraveled
Rascality in the Senate isn’t mere mischief—it’s a lawless free-for-all that turns a legislative body into a battleground for egos and enrichment. Recall June 2018: thugs stormed the chamber, snatched the mace, and bolted—allegedly orchestrated by then-suspended Senator Ovie Omo-Agege in a brazen power play. The absurdity was a stark symbol of a Senate more invested in settling scores than solving problems.
The chaos persists. In March 2024, Senator Abdul Ningi’s exposé of N3.7 trillion in unaccounted budget padding sparked a three-month suspension, not a probe. Fast forward to March 2025, and the Akpoti-Uduaghan saga unfolds: her suspension followed a spat over seating and a rejected petition against Akpabio, with the Ethics Committee—chaired by a loyalist—dismissing her claims as “unprocedural.” These aren’t isolated tantrums; they’re symptoms of a Senate where rules bend to favor the powerful, not the public. Budget debates devolve into shouting matches over pork, not policy, while critical reforms—like fixing Nigeria’s crumbling power grid—languish.
The toll? Nigeria’s 11 million out-of-school children (UNESCO 2024), a maternal mortality rate of 512 per 100,000 births, and 70% of roads deemed unmotorable (2024 Federal Ministry of Works) fester as senators bicker. Rascality isn’t just noise—it’s a deliberate distraction from a nation in crisis.
Rascality in the Senate isn’t mere mischief—it’s a lawless free-for-all that turns a legislative body into a battleground for egos and enrichment. Recall June 2018: thugs stormed the chamber, snatched the mace, and bolted—allegedly orchestrated by then-suspended Senator Ovie Omo-Agege in a brazen power play. The absurdity was a stark symbol of a Senate more invested in settling scores than solving problems.
The chaos persists. In March 2024, Senator Abdul Ningi’s exposé of N3.7 trillion in unaccounted budget padding sparked a three-month suspension, not a probe. Fast forward to March 2025, and the Akpoti-Uduaghan saga unfolds: her suspension followed a spat over seating and a rejected petition against Akpabio, with the Ethics Committee—chaired by a loyalist—dismissing her claims as “unprocedural.” These aren’t isolated tantrums; they’re symptoms of a Senate where rules bend to favor the powerful, not the public. Budget debates devolve into shouting matches over pork, not policy, while critical reforms—like fixing Nigeria’s crumbling power grid—languish.
The toll? Nigeria’s 11 million out-of-school children (UNESCO 2024), a maternal mortality rate of 512 per 100,000 births, and 70% of roads deemed unmotorable (2024 Federal Ministry of Works) fester as senators bicker. Rascality isn’t just noise—it’s a deliberate distraction from a nation in crisis.
Arrogance: Lords Above the Law
If rascality is the chaos, arrogance is the swagger that sustains it. Senators don’t just act untouchable—they flaunt it. Senate President Akpabio, facing Akpoti-Uduaghan’s March 2025 allegations, dismissed them outright, presiding over her suspension debate despite the glaring conflict of interest. His earlier 2023 quip—“Let them protest; we’re working”—rings hollow as fuel queues lengthen and inflation tops 34% (March 2025 estimates). Working for whom? Not the Nigerians rationing meals or dodging kidnappers on highways.
This arrogance is shameless. Senators cruise Abuja in N300 million SUV convoys, their N13.5 million monthly take-home (Revenue Mobilisation Allocation and Fiscal Commission) a slap to the N70,000 minimum wage they begrudge workers.
If rascality is the chaos, arrogance is the swagger that sustains it. Senators don’t just act untouchable—they flaunt it. Senate President Akpabio, facing Akpoti-Uduaghan’s March 2025 allegations, dismissed them outright, presiding over her suspension debate despite the glaring conflict of interest. His earlier 2023 quip—“Let them protest; we’re working”—rings hollow as fuel queues lengthen and inflation tops 34% (March 2025 estimates). Working for whom? Not the Nigerians rationing meals or dodging kidnappers on highways.
This arrogance is shameless. Senators cruise Abuja in N300 million SUV convoys, their N13.5 million monthly take-home (Revenue Mobilisation Allocation and Fiscal Commission) a slap to the N70,000 minimum wage they begrudge workers.
Personal Gains: The True Mandate
Behind the rascality and arrogance lies the Senate’s real mission: personal enrichment. Constituency projects, touted as community boons, are a goldmine. In 2024, N150 billion was allocated, yet BudgIT’s March 2025 report revealed ghost projects—boreholes and clinics “built” only on paper, funds funneled to senators’ allies. The 2020 Auditor-General’s report of N2 trillion in unremitted oversight funds still haunts, with little accountability.
Legislative gridlock serves the same end. The Petroleum Industry Bill, stalled for a decade to shield oil cronies, passed in 2021 with gaps intact—by design, not chance. Senators’ jumbo pay contrasts with 40% of Nigerians living below $1.90 daily (World Bank 2024). Meanwhile, Akpoti-Uduaghan’s constituents in Kogi Central lose representation for six months, their voices traded for Senate power plays. This isn’t governance—it’s plunder, leaving education, healthcare, and roads to rot while senators count their spoils.
Behind the rascality and arrogance lies the Senate’s real mission: personal enrichment. Constituency projects, touted as community boons, are a goldmine. In 2024, N150 billion was allocated, yet BudgIT’s March 2025 report revealed ghost projects—boreholes and clinics “built” only on paper, funds funneled to senators’ allies. The 2020 Auditor-General’s report of N2 trillion in unremitted oversight funds still haunts, with little accountability.
Legislative gridlock serves the same end. The Petroleum Industry Bill, stalled for a decade to shield oil cronies, passed in 2021 with gaps intact—by design, not chance. Senators’ jumbo pay contrasts with 40% of Nigerians living below $1.90 daily (World Bank 2024). Meanwhile, Akpoti-Uduaghan’s constituents in Kogi Central lose representation for six months, their voices traded for Senate power plays. This isn’t governance—it’s plunder, leaving education, healthcare, and roads to rot while senators count their spoils.
Suspension of Dissent: Silencing the Watchdogs
The Senate’s rascality and arrogance peak in its crackdown on dissent. Ndume’s 2018 suspension for budget scrutiny set the tone—six months of silence for Borno’s people amid insurgency. Ningi’s 2024 suspension for flagging budget fraud buried the issue, not the culprits. Now, Akpoti-Uduaghan’s March 2025 suspension—ostensibly for “disorderly conduct” but tied to her Akpabio petition—follows suit. The Standing Orders, elastic and vague, let leadership brand critics “unbecoming” with no recourse. Since 2015, 13 suspensions have hit dissenters, per a 2023 SERAP tally, all shielding corruption or consolidating power.
The public pays the price. Ningi’s sidelining stalled 2024 budget transparency; Akpoti-Uduaghan’s absence leaves Kogi Central voiceless for nearly a year, factoring in recesses. These aren’t disciplinary measures—they’re gag orders, ensuring the Senate’s conscience stays mute and its excesses unchecked.
The Senate’s rascality and arrogance peak in its crackdown on dissent. Ndume’s 2018 suspension for budget scrutiny set the tone—six months of silence for Borno’s people amid insurgency. Ningi’s 2024 suspension for flagging budget fraud buried the issue, not the culprits. Now, Akpoti-Uduaghan’s March 2025 suspension—ostensibly for “disorderly conduct” but tied to her Akpabio petition—follows suit. The Standing Orders, elastic and vague, let leadership brand critics “unbecoming” with no recourse. Since 2015, 13 suspensions have hit dissenters, per a 2023 SERAP tally, all shielding corruption or consolidating power.
The public pays the price. Ningi’s sidelining stalled 2024 budget transparency; Akpoti-Uduaghan’s absence leaves Kogi Central voiceless for nearly a year, factoring in recesses. These aren’t disciplinary measures—they’re gag orders, ensuring the Senate’s conscience stays mute and its excesses unchecked.
Systemic Enablers: A House Built on Sand
This isn’t a few bad apples—it’s a rotten orchard. Weak institutions enable the rot: a judiciary that greenlights suspensions (Ndume’s 2017 challenge failed) or dodges corruption cases; an INEC that rubber-stamps godfather-backed elections; parties like APC and PDP that prize loyalty over reform. Nigeria’s “Big Man” culture lionizes power, unlike the U.S. Senate’s ethics probes or the UK’s Lords’ accountability. The Senate thrives in this vacuum, its rascality and silencing tactics unchecked.
This isn’t a few bad apples—it’s a rotten orchard. Weak institutions enable the rot: a judiciary that greenlights suspensions (Ndume’s 2017 challenge failed) or dodges corruption cases; an INEC that rubber-stamps godfather-backed elections; parties like APC and PDP that prize loyalty over reform. Nigeria’s “Big Man” culture lionizes power, unlike the U.S. Senate’s ethics probes or the UK’s Lords’ accountability. The Senate thrives in this vacuum, its rascality and silencing tactics unchecked.
The People’s Cry: A Rising Tide
Nigerians see through the charade. The 2020 #EndSARS fury targeted Senate excess; March 2025 protests in Lagos and Abuja decry “jumbo pay” as hunger bites. Civil society—BudgIT, SERAP—digs for truth, while Peter Obi’s 2023 youth surge signals a demand for a Senate that serves. Suspensions mute senators, but not the streets. Will this rage spark reform, or will arrogance weather another storm?
Nigerians see through the charade. The 2020 #EndSARS fury targeted Senate excess; March 2025 protests in Lagos and Abuja decry “jumbo pay” as hunger bites. Civil society—BudgIT, SERAP—digs for truth, while Peter Obi’s 2023 youth surge signals a demand for a Senate that serves. Suspensions mute senators, but not the streets. Will this rage spark reform, or will arrogance weather another storm?
Pathways to Reform: Breaking the Silence
Reform is urgent. Rewrite Standing Orders to cap suspensions at 14 days (per the Constitution), mandating judicial review. Slash pay to N1 million monthly, publish project audits yearly. Overhaul elections—credible primaries, voter education—to oust godfathers, empowering dissenters like Ndume or Akpoti-Uduaghan. A fearless judiciary must jail the corrupt, not coddle them. Above all, citizens must hold the Senate’s feet to the fire—because silence isn’t an option when 200 million lives hang in the balance.
Reform is urgent. Rewrite Standing Orders to cap suspensions at 14 days (per the Constitution), mandating judicial review. Slash pay to N1 million monthly, publish project audits yearly. Overhaul elections—credible primaries, voter education—to oust godfathers, empowering dissenters like Ndume or Akpoti-Uduaghan. A fearless judiciary must jail the corrupt, not coddle them. Above all, citizens must hold the Senate’s feet to the fire—because silence isn’t an option when 200 million lives hang in the balance.
