The National Assembly, once considered the cornerstone of Nigeria’s democracy, has increasingly become a stage for shameful spectacle. Recent events have thrown the institution’s integrity into serious question, with allegations of sexual harassment, tear gas, and hired protesters overshadowing its legislative purpose. 


This week, Abuja’s streets transformed into an arena of chaos as a bitter clash between Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan and Senate President Godswill Akpabio played out like a Nollywood drama. The discord began when Akpoti-Uduaghan publicly accused Akpabio of sexual harassment—not just in a televised segment, but also during an open plenary session, marking a historic moment in Nigeria’s post-1999 democracy. Instead of an earnest investigation or a dignified response, this unprecedented accusation triggered a farce filled with sponsored protests, tear gas canisters aimed at demonstrators, and a legislative body more focused on procedural its technicalities than uncovering the truth.


Renowned journalist Reuben Abati, co-host of Arise TV’s The Morning Show, encapsulated this pivotal moment for the National Assembly, condemning it as a disgraceful display. “For the first time since our return to democracy in 1999, we have the chairman of the National Assembly being accused in open plenary of sexual harassment,” he said, driving home the point that this occurred during a visit from UK parliamentarians led by Kate Osamor, which made the optics all the more damning.


As the drama unfolded within the Senate, British lawmakers looked on in disbelief while outside, the streets became a battleground for rival factions. Supporters of Akpabio faced off against those backing Akpoti-Uduaghan, showcasing a curious alliance where poverty was wielded as a weapon to coordinate protests. Women donned matching outfits and waved extravagant banners, though the motivation behind their demonstrations was underwhelming. Videos circulating on social media illustrated the farcical nature of the protests. In one instance, a supporter of Akpabio struggled to articulate why she was there, admitting her lack of knowledge about the particulars of the case.


Another protester voiced her discontent about the lack of refreshments for the demonstrators, bemoaning, “Akpabio, don’t disappoint us. They’ve given us only water.” Perhaps most revealing were the admissions of payment for participation, with one woman confessing she was compensated 5,000 naira to attend. Such comments illuminated the empty foundations of these protests, where individuals were motivated not by principle but by monetary gain.


The unfortunate spectacle extended to the Senate itself, where debates over procedural minutiae overshadowed the gravity of the allegations. Accusations regarding the validity of Akpoti-Uduaghan’s petition were dismissed by the Ethics Committee as ‘Dead on Arrival’, primarily due to arguments claiming she had aired grievances outside the Senate first. While Abati pointed out her tactical misstep in addressing the media rather than the institution itself, he firmly resisted absolving the Senate from its failures.


Worse still, the tear-gassing of protesters revealed the degree to which the situation had spiraled into disgrace. Observers on the ground noted how women were coerced into taking sides, often lacking any genuine investment in the proceedings. As one onlooker lamented, “Someone made an allegation of sexual harassment, and women are coming out to protest in support of the accused. It doesn’t make any sense.”


The chaos surrounding the Akpoti-Uduaghan versus Akpabio saga reflects a deeper malaise within Nigerian society: a political landscape where poverty can easily turn average citizens into pawns. The National Assembly, once a beacon of democracy, now risks being remembered as a theatre of shame, with the eyes of the nation and the world upon it, lost in a spectacle devoid of dignity and accountability.