As a law student in Nigeria several years ago, I prided myself on the number of legal Latin maxims I could recite effortlessly. Ab initio (from the beginning) was one of the first I learned. Then others followed: bona fide (in good faith), caveat emptor (let the buyer beware), sub judice (a matter under judicial consideration), res ipsa loquitur (the thing speaks for itself), audi alteram partem (the right to be heard), nemo judex in causa sua (no one should be a judge in their own case), prima facie (sufficient evidence unless rebutted), obiter dicta (non-binding remarks), ratio decidendi (the binding reason for a decision), stare decisis (the doctrine of precedent), ex parte (one-sided proceeding), status quo (the existing state of affairs), and many others. My brother and friend, Japhet Opawale, a reputable Kaduna based lawyer was a master at reciting Latin maxims at the time.
A notorious Latin maxim, often jokingly used by some of my friends after being turned down by a woman, was locus standi (the legal capacity to bring a matter before a court). Their question—“what is your locus standi for saying no?”—was their humorous way of asking why their request for a relationship had been declined.
Recently in Nigeria, the Latin phrase attracting widespread attention is status quo ante bellum (the state of affairs before the war). Rather than restoring order, the court’s use of this maxim has sparked legal disputes and competing interpretations. Lawyers, politicians, and commentators have interpreted it through the lenses of politics, academia, law, and even comedy. In the process, the ordinary person is left confused: What exactly are they saying? Why can’t judges and lawyers speak plainly? Why must one consult multiple dictionaries just to understand a court decision?
Shouldn’t the law serve the people?
My good friend and colleague, Chinua Asuzu of The Write House, has long championed the use of plain English in legal writing. His work remains as relevant as ever.
I was prompted to write this piece by a member of the JBLLC Mentorship Platform who asked for my thoughts on the overuse of Latin maxims and complex language by lawyers in Nigeria, and whether the same occurs in Canada. I shared a personal experience.
Several years ago, I moved to the United Kingdom, where I took on various jobs. During that time, I found myself unable to use the “big grammar” and Latin maxims I had mastered as a lawyer in Nigeria. A core part of my professional identity seemed to be fading.
Later, I relocated to Canada as a permanent resident. While preparing for my professional examinations, I worked in several roles, including as a liaison worker for a non-profit organization advocating for homeless individuals living with mental health challenges.
I took the job seriously and enjoyed it. When it came time to write my first report, I was determined to impress. I avoided Latin but used complex language—after all, I was a Nigerian-trained lawyer. When I finished, I was proud of my work.
An hour after submitting the report, my supervisor called me in.
“JB, this is an excellent report,” she said. “But I had to use a dictionary to understand several words. Frankly, you lost me. Your clients have a right to read this—will they understand it?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll rewrite it,” I replied.
“I know you’re a lawyer and that you’re brilliant,” she continued, “but if your audience cannot understand you, then you are not communicating. Even when you become a lawyer here, use simple English. Every complex word has a simpler alternative. Get to work.”
I rewrote the report. That advice stayed with me.
When I eventually began practising law in Canada, I noticed that legal writing—letters, submissions, and even court decisions—was generally clear and accessible. This clarity allows even self-represented litigants to engage meaningfully with legal materials.
Nigeria’s use of Latin maxims is rooted in English common law. During colonial rule, British courts introduced legal doctrines, procedures, and language, much of which was influenced by Roman law and ecclesiastical traditions. Latin, at the time, was the language of scholarship and law in Europe.
Today, however, the overuse of Latin maxims in Nigeria presents several challenges. It widens the gap between legal professionals and the public, reduces transparency, and fosters the perception that justice is elitist and inaccessible. It may also lead to errors when maxims are misapplied or used outside their proper context.
I am not suggesting that Latin maxims should be abandoned. Rather, they should be used sparingly, clearly explained in plain English, and never relied upon as the primary basis of legal reasoning. The focus should remain on logic, clarity, and statutory interpretation.
Legal education in Nigeria must also evolve. Law schools should emphasize critical reasoning and plain language advocacy over rote memorization of maxims. Judges and lawyers should be trained in accessible writing, and courts should prioritize substance over rhetoric.
Many common law jurisdictions have already moved in this direction. The United Kingdom increasingly favors plain English drafting. Canada emphasizes access to justice through clear and functional legal communication. Australia and the United States have similarly embraced plain language reforms.
It is important to remember that Latin maxims are illustrative tools—not decisive authorities. In Nigeria, they are too often treated as determinative rules of law. That approach should change.
With deliberate effort and commitment, Nigeria can demystify legal language and shift from Latin-based authority to clear, reasoned, and accessible justice.
*Johnson Babalola is a Canada based lawyer.
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