
The Constitutional and Legal Realities of Enforcing the Enugu Coal Miners Judgment
By the time Justice Anthony Onovo finished reading his judgment in Suit No: E/909/2024, the ghosts of Iva Valley had finally been invited into a courtroom—75 years late, but still legally audible.
The judgment is bold, morally compelling, and historically cathartic. It declares the 1949 Iva Valley massacre an unlawful, extrajudicial violation of the right to life and orders the British Government to pay £20 million to each of the families of the 21 slain coal miners—£420 million in total—plus post-judgment interest. It also orders apologies, newspaper publications on two continents, and diplomatic activism by Nigeria.
The harder question, however, is not whether the judgment is righteous, but whether it is enforceable. Courts may speak with authority, but international law has a habit of clearing its throat and saying, “It’s complicated.”
1. Jurisdiction: Can a Nigerian Court Judge the British Crown?
Justice Onovo’s first hurdle was jurisdiction, and he leapt it with confidence.
The court anchored its jurisdiction in:
- Section 33(1) of the 1999 Constitution (right to life),
- Section 46(1) (enforcement of fundamental rights),
- and Nigeria’s domestication of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights.
The court’s reasoning is that grave violations of the right to life are continuing wrongs, not extinguished by time, regime change, or the lowering of the Union Jack. This is consistent with international human rights jurisprudum, particularly where crimes amount to extrajudicial killings.
This is legally defensible within Nigeria’s constitutional order. The problem is not jurisdiction to hear, but jurisdiction to compel compliance.
2. Sovereign Immunity: The Elephant in the Courtroom
The British Government predictably raised sovereign immunity. Justice Onovo dismissed it.
Domestically, Nigerian courts are increasingly willing to treat sovereign immunity as qualified, not absolute—especially where human rights violations are concerned. That approach mirrors modern trends in international law, which carve exceptions for:
- commercial activity, and
- serious human rights abuses.
However, here lies the rub:
Nigeria’s interpretation of sovereign immunity does not bind the United Kingdom.
Under UK law—particularly the State Immunity Act 1978—foreign states are generally immune from the jurisdiction and enforcement processes of UK courts, except in narrow circumstances. Human rights violations committed by the UK government outside the UK and before modern human rights statutes are not easily shoehorned into those exceptions.
In short, Nigeria can reject immunity in theory; Britain can reassert it in practice.
3. Enforcement Within Nigeria: A Judgment Looking for Assets
Even if we assume the judgment is valid and final, enforcement requires assets within the jurisdiction.
To enforce a foreign judgment, one usually needs:
- identifiable assets of the judgment debtor,
- located within the enforcing court’s territory,
- not protected by diplomatic or sovereign immunity.
The British Government does not keep attachable commercial assets in Nigeria that are not shielded by diplomatic protection. You cannot seize:
- embassy buildings,
- consular property,
- or diplomatic bank accounts.
The sheriff of the Enugu High Court, formidable though he may be, cannot knock on the gates of the British High Commission with a writ of fieri facias.
4. Registration and Enforcement Abroad: London Is Not Enugu
Could the judgment be enforced in the UK?
Highly unlikely.
For enforcement, the judgment would need to be:
- Registered in a UK court as a foreign judgment; and
- Survive the UK’s own doctrines of sovereign immunity and limitation.
The UK courts would almost certainly refuse enforcement on grounds that:
- the acts occurred before modern UK human rights legislation,
- they were acts of state during colonial administration,
- and enforcement would offend UK public policy.
The Mau Mau settlement, cited persuasively in the judgment, was not court-enforced. It was politically negotiated, not judicially extracted.
That distinction matters.
5. The Real Enforcement Mechanism: Section 19(d) and Diplomacy
This is where Justice Onovo was at his most constitutionally astute.
Rather than pretend the court can directly compel Britain, the judgment pivots to Section 19(d) of the Constitution, which commits Nigeria to:
“respect for international law and treaty obligations.”
Combined with Section 150(1) (the Attorney-General’s duty), the court holds that Nigeria’s prolonged inaction amounts to a constitutional dereliction.
In effect, the judgment does not merely order Britain to pay; it orders Nigeria to act.
This transforms the judgment from a hopeless enforcement fantasy into a diplomatic mandate:
- Nigeria must initiate state-to-state engagement,
- pursue reparations,
- and leverage international forums, bilateral relations, and moral pressure.
This is not symbolic. It is constitutional.
6. What the Judgment Really Achieves
Legally speaking, the judgment will not result in an automatic £420 million wire transfer from Whitehall to Enugu.
But it does three powerful things:
- Judicially establishes liability for the massacre.
- Creates a formal state record of British responsibility.
- Forces Nigeria’s executive arm to stop pretending the issue is dead.
In international law, money often follows acknowledgment—slowly, grudgingly, and after several rounds of diplomatic discomfort.
Conclusion: A Judgment That Cannot Be Ignored, Even If It Cannot Be Executed
Justice Onovo’s ruling may not be enforceable by bailiffs, but it is enforceable by history, diplomacy, and constitutional obligation.
The British Government can ignore a court order. It cannot easily ignore:
- a judicial finding of extrajudicial killings,
- a constitutionally mandated diplomatic campaign,
- and the growing global intolerance for unresolved colonial crimes.
The judgment does not end the struggle. It starts it—this time with a certified true copy.
And that, in international law, is often how reparations begin.


