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The Oracle

The Oracle: 25 Years of Uninterrupted Democracy in Nigeria: Prospects and Possibilities (Pt.1)

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By Prof Mike Ozekhome SAN

INTRODUCTION

A quarter of a century is a long time in the life of any nation. Nigeria is not an exception. In our case, it has been the longest period of sustained uninterrupted democracy. During that time, children have been born, come of age and become parents themselves. Democracy is the only form of government they have ever known in Nigeria. Their knowledge of military coups has only been gained from stories told by their parents, history books and news from around the world; and in our case, from neighbouring countries in the West African sub-region.

Twenty-five years is certainly enough time for stock-taking and reflection: are we better off today than we were twenty-five years ago under military rule? Has the experience been worthwhile, or is it a catalogue of missed opportunities? Could we or should we have fared better? What did we do wrong or where did we go wrong? How can we improve going forward? Let us attempt some answers, but first a brief look at the past and its challenges which we inherited in 1999.

DIAGNOSIS

Few analyses of Nigeria’s sustained 25 years of democratic rule are more apposite than its comparison by Ashindorbe and Danjibo with the third of three distinct but overlapping processes of democratisation identified by Nic Cheeseman, as follows: First, the transition, when a country adopts multi-party politics (as we did in 1999). The second phase is the reconstitution of a new political order; and the third phase which consolidates the gains of democracy. I agree with them that “two decades after the reintroduction of civilian rule, Nigeria seems to be stuck in the final phase of the democratization process”.

This is because, notwithstanding the undoubted big strides made since then, Nigeria’s democracy is still very fragile; the dividends of democracy are still not immediately tangible. There is increasing inequality between a tiny affluent minority and the overwhelming majority. “Dividends” being a word borrowed from the corporate world to signify distribution of profits or surplus as dividends to its shareholders, we must begin to ask the question whether Nigeria’s peculiar democracy has actually yielded profit from which dividends are expected by the people. For reasons which I will anon outline, I agree with them that the shift from the transition to the consolidation stages of the democratization continuum will require a deliberate public policy framework directed at, amongst others, addressing the ravages of debilitating poverty and penury; the sanitization of the electoral process; deepening fundamental rights and the rule of law and enhancing inclusion of women and the youth in governance.

HOW WE LOST IT

By way of statistics, it will be helpful to contextualize the economic realities of our not-so-distant history in order to see whether democracy has improved our lot or otherwise. In this regard, the following are undisputed facts:

Nigeria developed rapidly in the seventies and eighties. We were a productive and exporting country. We literally swam in crude oil. Nigeria used to have National Development Plan (NDP), e.g, the 1962 – 1968 NDP. Do we plan even for 4 years now, when all our Politicians do is to think about the next elections? Before our tragic fall, we excelled in all economic indices.
i. We had the Ajaokuta Steel Co. Ltd; the Delta Steel company; Steel Companies in Onitsha, Asaba and Owerri; Kano and Katsina Steel Rolling Companies; the Oshogbo, Ikeja, Ikorodu and Ibadan Steel Companies; etc, etc.
ii. We wore clothes at that time which were produced from the United Nigeria Textile Mills in Kaduna and Chellarams in Lagos. They were produced, not from any imported cotton, but from cotton grown in Nigeria, especially in the North and the West.
iii. The Oku Iboku Pulp and Paper Mill supplied our newsprint from its 16,000 hectares tree plantation.
iv. Nigerians cooked with LPG gas stored in gas cylinders that were produced at the NGC factory in Ibadan.
v. Nigerians were mainly flying our airways (the Nigerian Airways) to most places in the world. The Nigeria Airways was about the biggest in Africa at the time. I personally used to fly it to London and USA in the eighties with less than N500 trip.
vi. Nigerians used refrigerators, freezers and air-conditioners produced by Thermocool and Deboo Industries right here in Nigeria.
vii. Bata and Lennard Stores produced our needed shoes from locally tanned leather made in Kaduna.
viii. We drank clean pipe-borne water through pipes locally produced by Kwalipipe based in Kano and Duraplast located in Lagos.
ix. Nigeria was a net exporter of refined petroleum products. Today we import all our refined petroleum products from other countries. We are operating what late Prof Claude Ake once described as a disarticulate economy – an economy where we produce what we do not consume (crude oil), and consume what we do not produce (refined petroleum products).
x. In the eighties, the naira was stronger than the dollar, exchanging between 40k and 80k to one dollar (compared to N1,500 to one dollar today).
xi. We rode in locally assembled cars, buses and trucks. Peugeot cars were produced in a plant based at Kakuri, Kaduna under a joint venture agreement with Peugeot of Paris on 11th August, 1972. Volkswagen cars in Lagos were produced in Lagos, Nigeria (the Beetle) since 1975, until they ceased operations in 1990.
xii. Leyland Company established in Ibadan in 1976 and ANAMCO in Enugu incorporated on 17th January, 1977, but commissioned in January 1980 in agreement with Daimler AG, produced trucks and buses for our use without resort to importation of vehicles (new or “tokunbo”).
xiii. Steyr in Bauchi produced our agricultural tractors and it was not just assembling, we were producing many of the components.
xiv. We had Vono products in Lagos that produced the vehicle seats used by our vehicle plants.
xv. Exide Company in Ibadan produced batteries, not just for Nigeria, but for the entire West African sub-region.
xvi. IsoGlass and TSG also based in Ibadan produced the windshields used by such vehicles without any imports.
xvii. We had Ferodo a British brake company in Ibadan came on song to produce brake pads and discs used by the said vehicles.
xviii. Dunlop established since 1961 in Lagos and Michelin established in the fifties and based in Port Harcourt produced the tyres needed by the vehicles. And these tyres were produced directly from rubber plantations located in Ogun, the then Bendel (now Edo and Delta) and Rivers State.
xix. The radio and television sets were listened to and watched were assembled in Ibadan by Sanyo.
xx. Our toilets were fitted with WC produced in Kano and Abeokuta.
xxi. Nigeria generated her electricity through cables produced by the Nigerian Wire and Cable, Ibadan; NOCACO in Kaduna and Kablemetal in Lagos and Port Harcourt.
xxii. We grew plants that produced our food locally.

It is no exaggeration to say we were producing all of the above and many more at the dawn of democracy in 1999 or at any rate, just before then. How have we fared since then and has democracy made a positive difference or not? That is the question which I shall present and attempt to answer.

THE CRITICAL SITUATION NOW

Multinationals’ exit is said to cost Nigeria about N94tn in five years
The exodus of multinationals from the Nigerian economy is said to have cost the country a N94tn loss of output in five years, according to an economist and former Director of Research and Advocacy at the Lagos Chamber of Commerce and Industry in Nigeria, Dr Vincent Nwani.

Multiple multinationals have left Nigeria by either scaling down operations, transferring ownership or selling their stakes, the most recent being the sale of beverage company Diageo’s 58.02 per cent shareholding in Guinness Nigeria to Tolaram Group on June 11, 2024.

Over 10 companies shut down operations in 2020, most notably: Standard Biscuits Nigeria Ltd, NASCO Fiber Product Ltd, Union Trading Company Nigeria PLC and Deli Foods Nigeria Ltd.

In 2021, more than 20 companies exited, including Tower Aluminium Nigeria PLC, Framan Industries Ltd, Stone Industries Ltd, Mufex Nigeria Company Ltd and Surest Foam Ltd.

In 2022 alone, over 15 known brands left Nigeria, including Universal Rubber Company Ltd, Mother’s Pride Ventures Ltd, Errand Products Nigeria Ltd and Gorgeous Metal Makers Ltd.

More than 10 major companies left in 2023, notably Unilever Nigeria PLC, Procter & Gamble Nigeria, GlaxoSmithKline Consumer Nigeria Ltd, ShopRite Nigeria, Sanofi-Aventis Nigeria Ltd, Equinox Nigeria and Bolt Food & Jumia Food Nigeria.

In the first six months of 2024, five listed major companies had left Nigeria, including Microsoft Nigeria, Total Energies Nigeria (affected by its divestment), PZ Cussons Nigeria PLC, Kimberly-Clerk Nigeria and Diageo PLC.

Most alarming is a statement credited to the Manufacturing Association of Nigeria (MAN) to the effect that 767 manufacturing companies shut down operations in Nigeria, while 535 experienced distress in 2023 alone.

Procter and Gamble, a household goods manufacturer is restructuring to become a mere importer, while Bolt, a very user-friendly, a ride-sharing and goods delivery app which only opened shop in Nigeria in 2021 to give Uber a run for its money, is also affected.

The divestment gale is also evident in the oil industry, the very live wire of our economy. No fewer than 26 oil companies and investments pulled out and sold their stakes to domestic investors. These include influential oil mining multinationals such as Shell, ExxonMobil and ENI. These companies are going away mainly because of heightened insecurity in the Niger Delta and inability of the Nigerian government to provide their counterpart funds to enable the joint venture agreements to explore and exploit new oilfields. (To be continued).

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

“In politics, nothing happens by accident. If it happens, you can bet it was planned that way”. – Franklin D. Roosevelt.

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The Oracle

The Oracle: When a Nation Undermines Citizens’ Rights (Pt. 4)

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By Prof .Ike Ozekhome SAN

INTRODUCTION

In our last outing on this treatise, we addressed the operational weaknesses and structural mismanagement of the Police; the failure of internal accountability; collusion of its men with criminal networks; erosion of civil liberties by its illegitimate enforcement practices; and cycle of impunity. And later followed by analysis of the abuse of judicial power as well as executive lawlessness directed at the Bench. We then concluded with suggested pathways and recommendations. Today, we shall continue with the same theme focusing on strengthening judicial independence; institutionalizing a comprehensive anti-corruption framework; enhancing the protection of civil liberties; community-based security initiatives; electoral integrity; transparency in the public sector; protecting vulnerable and marginalized groups as well as institutionalizing a culture of consequences. Enjoy.

Judicial Strengthening and Independence
The Judiciary should be insulated from political interference through secure tenure, adequate remuneration, and independent budgetary control. Court processes must be digitized to reduce delays and enhance transparency. Special courts should be created to fast-track cases of corruption, rights violations, and electoral offences so as to prevent them from being lost in a backlog of other matters.

Comprehensive Anti-Corruption Framework
Anti-corruption agencies must operate without political bias. Investigations and prosecutions should be based solely on evidence, regardless of the political or social standing of the suspect. Asset recovery processes should be transparent, and recovered funds must be channeled directly into public services such as healthcare, education, and infrastructure.

Strengthening of Civil Liberties Protections
Security laws and policies must be reviewed to remove provisions that allow arbitrary arrests, prolonged detention without trial, and excessive surveillance. The rights to free expression, peaceful assembly, and privacy should be reaffirmed through legislation, judicial precedent, and administrative directives. Security personnel should receive specific training on respecting these rights in the course of their duties.

Enhanced Community-Based Security Initiatives

Community policing structures should be developed in partnership with local stakeholders, including traditional leaders, civil society, and youth groups. These initiatives should focus on early conflict detection, intelligence sharing, and non-violent dispute resolution. Proper integration of community policing into the national security architecture can improve trust and cooperation between citizens and the State.

Electoral Integrity and Protection of the Political Process

To reduce politically motivated violence, security forces must adopt a neutral stance in elections and enforce the law impartially. Electoral offenders, including those within security agencies, must face swift prosecution. The deployment of technology in elections, such as biometric verification, should be protected by strong legal safeguards to prevent manipulation. More importantly, the Electoral Act must be urgently amended to include the use of BIVAS, electronic voting and real time transfer of results into IReV.

Public Sector Transparency and Open Data
Transparency in governance can significantly reduce opportunities for abuse of power. All government agencies should be required to publish regular reports on budgets, procurement, and performance indicators. Public access to information should be enhanced through stronger Freedom of Information laws and proactive disclosure of records.

Protection of Vulnerable and Marginalized Groups

Special attention should be given to protecting women, children, marginalized vulnerable persons and minorities and communities, who are disproportionately affected by rights violations and insecurity. Law enforcement and judicial olicers should be trained to handle cases involving such vulnerable groups with sensitivity. Dedicated units within security agencies should be tasked with preventing and responding to gender-based violence, child labour, human trafficking and exploitation.

Institutionalizing a Culture of Consequence
The single most important factor in ending impunity is ensuring that misconduct always attracts consequences. Disciplinary actions, criminal prosecutions and public reporting of case outcomes should become the norm. Political leaders must set the example by submitting themselves to the rule of law. They must lead by example and not by precepts.

CONCLUSION

The challenges confronting Nigeria in the areas of security, protection of citizens’ rights and enforcement of the rule of law are deeply rooted in a pattern of institutional neglect and governance failure. Throughout this work, it has become evident that insecurity in the country is not only result of violent crime or terrorism but also a product of weak and compromised institutions that allow such threats to flourish. When the very institutions tasked with safeguarding the people become unreliable or complicit, the result is a petrified environment where justice is selective, rights are precarious, and the social contract between citizens and the State is broken.

The evidence is clear that insecurity in Nigeria is a multi-dimensional crisis. Political violence undermines democratic processes. Economic hardship is exacerbated by corruption and the diversion of resources. Physical insecurity in many regions persists because law enforcement is either absent or compromised. The deterioration of education and healthcare further exposes the population to long-term instability. Each of these problems is interconnected and magnified by the failure of the justice and enforcement systems to function impartially and effectively.

Civil liberties, guaranteed by the Constitution and supported by international treaties, are repeatedly undermined by arbitrary arrests, unlawful detentions, and the suppression of free expression. When citizens live in fear of those entrusted to protect them, the legitimacy of the State is called into question. A society where speaking out invites retaliation and where wrongdoing by the powerful is met with silence or even approbation cannot claim to uphold the principles of democracy and justice.

The normalization of impunity is perhaps the most dangerous of all the trends identified. Impunity corrodes public trust, emboldens offenders, and creates a culture where breaking the law is not an aberration but an accepted norm of political and social life. Without decisive action to reverse this culture, every other reform will be weakened before it begins to take root.

Nigeria’s peculiar security realities demand a holistic approach. This includes rebuilding law enforcement into a professional, rights-respecting institution, ensuring the judiciary is free from political interference, and creating genuine accountability mechanisms that apply to everyone regardless of status. It also requires an investment in transparency, community trust, and the protection of vulnerable groups who suffer most from both insecurity and rights violations.

The task is undeniably challenging, but it is not impossible. The pathway to a more secure and just Nigeria begins with the recognition that true security cannot exist without justice, and justice cannot thrive without the rule of law. By committing to comprehensive reforms and by holding both leaders and institutions accountable, Nigeria can reclaim the promise of a society where rights are protected, laws are respected, and security is the shared foundation for national progress. In all these, one may ask, where is the Bar and what is its historic role? A once vibrant Association feared by the corrupt and dreaded by all successive governments has since become comatose, hardly responsive to societal needs. Aside many lawyers now professionally practising Bar instead of practising law by oscillating from one office to another over a period of decades, what has the Bar got to show for its continued relevance in terms of interrogating the status quo and challenging impunity? How has the Bar fared in holding governments responsible and accountable to the Nigerian people? Aside converging every year at designated venues for the annual ritual of the AGC, what dividends have we yielded from our usual banal communiqué?

How have we pushed to ensure we engaged the three arms of government to overhaul or at least improve on the status quo? Can we now blame some lawyers who are increasingly feeling disenchanted with the status quo and seek alternative platforms such as the Nigerian Law Society (NLS)? I think not. Colleagues, let us as lawyers and Judges wake up from our deep slumber of complicit silence and stop seeing law solely as a bread-and -butter profession. We must see law from the prism of Professor Dean Roscoe Pound-an instrument of social engineering. Anything short of this is not befitting of the legal profession. (Concluded).

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

“We cannot reform institutional racism or systemic policies if we are not actively engaged. It’s not enough to simply complain about injustice; the only way to prevent future injustice is to create the society we would like to see, one where we are all equal under the law”. (Al Sharpton).

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The Oracle

The Oracle: When a Nation Undermines Citizens’ Rights (Pt. 3)

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By Prof Mike Ozekhome SAN

INTRODUCTION

The last installment of this series continued from where the inaugural one stopped: the analogy of each corpse buried without justice being a clause in the Constitution buried in effigy. It then explained how inequality breeds violence, before moving onto how systemic lapses in law enforcement is the hidden engine of insecurity and erosion of rights. Later, it examined the contrast between constitutional mandate and institutional reality, followed by the politicization and weaponization of law enforcement; corruption as operational culture; and finally operational weaknesses and structural management. The week, we shall continue with same theme, after which we shall delve into the failure of internal accountability; collusion with criminal networks; erosion of civil liberties through enforcement practices; the cycle of impunity; abuse of judicial power and executive lawlessness targeted at the Bench. Thereafter, we shall consider various pathways and recommendations for addressing insecurity, rights protection and institutional weakness. Enjoy.

OPERATIONAL WEAKNESSES AND STRUCTURAL MISMANAGEMENT

Nigeria’s police-to-population ratio remains alarmingly low. With about 371,800 officers serving a population of over 236 million people, the country is well below the United Nations’ recommended benchmark of 222 officers per 100,000 people. This manpower gap severely hampers the Force’s capacity to tackle crime, especially in volatile areas plagued by insurgency and communal violence. To make matters worse, many of the limited officers available are deployed to safeguard high-profile politicians and elites rather than serving the broader public. In rural communities, especially in conflict-affected northern states, residents report waiting hours, sometimes days, for police to respond to distress calls, if they ever respond at all.

Compounding this problem is inadequate training. Many recruits receive minimal exposure to forensic methods, human rights protocols, or community policing principles. As a result, investigative work relies heavily on confessions, which are frequently extracted through coercion or torture. This not only violates constitutional guarantees against inhuman treatment but also produces unreliable evidence that weakens prosecutions.

Logistical deficits are equally damaging. Many police divisions operate without functioning patrol vehicles, secure communication equipment, or modern crime labs. The Inspector General of Police has acknowledged that, outside of Lagos, forensic capability is virtually non-existent. Without scientific investigation, crimes are either left unsolved or result in wrongful arrests, further undermining public trust

FAILURE OF INTERNAL ACCOUNTABILITY

In a functioning democracy, law enforcement personnel are subject to robust oversight, both internally and through independent bodies. In Nigeria, oversight mechanisms exist in name but not in consistent practice. The Police Service Commission (PSC), which is meant to handle recruitment, promotion, and discipline, is itself politically influenced and suffers from inadequate funding. Complaints of misconduct often disappear into opaque disciplinary processes, and there is little transparency about the outcomes.

When abuses are too public to ignore, as with the October 2020 End SARS protests, Commissions of Inquiry are established, testimonies are heard, and reports are submitted. Yet, implementation of recommendations remains rare. In Lagos, for example, despite the panel’s findings implicating specific officers in excessive force and unlawful killings, few have been prosecuted. Instead, many have returned quietly to duty. This pattern sends a dangerous message to the rank-and-file officers: violations carry reputational risk but rarely legal consequence.

COLLUSION WITH CRIMINAL NETWORKS

Perhaps the most alarming dimension of enforcement failure is the documented collusion between security personnel and criminal actors. In the Niger Delta, security forces have been implicated in illegal oil bunkering, the very crime they are deployed to prevent. In parts of the North-West, reports from Amnesty International and local media allege that bandit groups pay “protection fees” to avoid military or police raids.

Such collusion transforms law enforcement from an adversary of crime into a stakeholder in it. This is not merely passive negligence; it is active participation in the shadow economy of insecurity. In these areas, communities quickly learn that reporting crimes may not only be futile but dangerous, as information shared with authorities can be leaked to perpetrators.

EROSION OF CIVIL LIBERTIES THROUGH ENFORCEMENT PRACTICES

The systemic lapses in law enforcement also directly erode civil liberties. Arbitrary arrests, prolonged detentions without trial, suppression of lawful assembly, and harassment of journalists are not isolated acts but part of an entrenched enforcement culture. The constitutional right to personal liberty under Section 35 is regularly violated under the guise of maintaining public order.

Protesters face preemptive crackdowns, often justified by vague references to national security. During the #Revolution Now protests in 2019, dozens of demonstrators were detained, some for weeks, without formal charges. In many cases, court orders for their release were ignored by security agencies, underscoring the absence of legal consequence for disobedience of judicial authority.
This disregard for civil liberties creates a chilling effect on political participation and civic engagement. Citizens learn that speaking out carries personal risk, and self-censorship becomes a survival strategy. Over time, this quietens public dissent, enabling further abuses by both government and non-state actors.

THE CYCLE OF IMPUNITY

The combination of politicization, corruption, operational weakness, and lack of accountability feeds into a self-reinforcing cycle of impunity. Officers learn that their actions are judged not by legality but by political expediency. Politicians, in turn, see law enforcement as a tool to protect themselves and punish adversaries. Criminal networks exploit these gaps, securing protection through bribery or political patronage.

Once entrenched, this cycle is difficult to break. Each unpunished violation becomes a precedent, normalizing the idea that power grants immunity from the law. This normalization spreads beyond law enforcement to other institutions, eroding the very foundations of democratic governance.

THE ABUSE OF JUDICIAL POWER AND EXECUTIVE LAWLESSNESS AGAINST THE BENCH

In a functioning democracy, the judiciary serves as the impartial referee between the powerful and the powerless. It is the last line of defence for the citizen and the final hope for justice. But what happens when that sacred institution itself becomes the object of aggression? What happens when the enforcers of state power turn their weapons not on criminals, but on the judges who interpret the law? Nigeria confronted these very questions in October 2016, when the homes of senior judges across the country were invaded by heavily armed operatives of the Department of State Services under the cover of night.

These raids, carried out in Abuja, Gombe, and Port Harcourt, targeted some of the most senior members of the judiciary, including Justices Walter Onnoghen and Sylvester Ngwuta of the Supreme Court, and Federal High Court judges Adeniyi Ademola and Nnamdi Dimgba. The DSS claimed they were investigating corruption, yet their conduct betrayed a more sinister motive. Homes were stormed in Gestapo fashion, judges were treated like fugitives, and search warrants reportedly carried incorrect names or were not presented at all. The judiciary was under siege. In Rivers State, Governor Nyesom Wike arrived at the residence of one of the judges to intervene and was reportedly shoved, injured, and threatened by DSS operatives. It was not an arrest. It was a constitutional assault.

I spoke firmly and publicly against this invasion. I said then what I still affirm now: the DSS acted outside the bounds of the law. As I told journalists and as reported by Premium Times, the operation was not only illegal and unconstitutional but a dangerous desecration of the rule of law. No agency of government, including the DSS, has the authority to arrest or search the premises of serving judicial officers without going through the National Judicial Council, which is constitutionally empowered to discipline judges. If there are allegations of corruption, there is a process. That process was willfully ignored. What we saw instead was a show of force meant to intimidate and humiliate. It was executive lawlessness under the guise of anti-corruption.

The greatest tragedy, however, was not merely that these events occurred. It was the manner in which they were received. The Bar, which ought to have risen as a united force, was sluggish in its response. Statements were issued, but no real action followed. There were no mass protests, no urgent court filings to challenge the illegality. The judiciary itself offered little more than murmurs of disapproval. That silence was deafening. It spoke to a larger issue: the slow death of institutional courage. When judges are raided in their homes and lawyers look away, then the entire legal profession stands indicted. If we cannot defend our own, how then can we defend the people?

This unfortunate episode also calls into question the internal health of the judiciary. The Nigerian Law Society recently criticized the widespread abuse of power within judicial institutions, pointing to opaque appointments, poor welfare, and inconsistent rulings. According to their statement reported by the Guardian, the lower courts remain underpaid and under-respected, leaving many judicial officers vulnerable to compromise. It is undeniable that some within the judiciary have failed in their duties, and that corruption has indeed crept into its chambers. However, even in the face of that, the remedy is never brute force. It is lawful accountability, constitutional procedure, and institutional reform. The rule of law must never be sacrificed on the altar of expediency.
When security agents raid the homes of judges without due process, they are not upholding the law, they are undermining it. And when the legal community reacts with silence or justification, it invites a repeat. What began with judges will not end there. Such violations set a precedent that can easily extend to journalists, lawmakers, academics, and eventually, ordinary citizens. Today it is the gavel. Tomorrow it will be the pen, the vote, the voice. That is how authoritarianism begins not always with a declaration, but often with silence.

It is not too late to reset the balance. But we must remember that a judiciary that submits to fear is no judiciary at all. A legal profession that only whispers in the face of injustice is unworthy of its robes. We must return to our roots, as defenders of liberty and protectors of due process. Let the judiciary regain its independence, and let the Bar reclaim its courage. Only then can we begin to restore the broken faith between the Nigerian people and the system that was meant to serve them.

PATHWAYS AND RECOMMENDATIONS FOR ADDRESSING SECURITY, RIGHTS PROTECTION, AND INSTITUTIONAL WEAKNESS IN NIGERIA

The challenges outlined in this paper reveal a complex web of governance failures, enforcement gaps and systemic disregard for constitutional rights. Addressing these issues requires deliberate and sustained action across multiple fronts. The following ten pathways provide a practical blueprint for reform.

Reform of Law Enforcement Institutions
The Nigerian Police Force, the Department of State Services, and related agencies need deep structural reforms. Recruitment should be based on merit and integrity rather than political patronage. Training should include human rights education, forensic investigation, and conflict-sensitive community policing. The practice of diverting a large proportion of officers to serve political elites must be stopped so that policing resources are redirected toward public safety.

Creation of Independent Oversight and Accountability Mechanisms

A civilian-led oversight authority should be established with the power to investigate and prosecute cases of misconduct by law enforcement officials. This body must have full access to records, the ability to compel testimony, and legal safeguards for whistleblowers. Its findings should be made public to ensure transparency and build trust. (To be continued).

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

“Money and corruption are ruining the land, crooked politicians betray the working man, pocketing the profits and treating us like sheep, and we’re tired of hearing promises that we know they’ll never keep” – Ray Davies

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The Oracle: When a Nation Undermines Citizens’ Rights (Pt. 2)

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By Prof Mike Ozekhome SAN

INTRODUCTION

The inaugural installment of this treatise dealt with the scope of insecurity in Nigeria and examined its dimensions. It was followed by a discussion of the constitutional framework of the right to life graphically depicting it as “each corpse buried without justice” being a clause in the Constitution burned in effigy.

This week’s episode will continue with same theme, followed by an in-depth analysis of how inequality breeds violence as well as how systemic lapses in law enforcement are the hidden drivers of insecurity and the erosion of rights. Thereafter, we shall discuss the contrast between constitutional mandate and institutional reality of law enforcement; its politicization and weaponization; the incidence of corruption as operational culture in law enforcement and its inherent operational weakness and challenges in its structural management. Enjoy.

EACH CORPSE BURIED WITHOUT JUSTICE IS A CLAUSE OF THE CONSTITUTION BURNED IN EFFIGY (Continues).

Even the criminal justice system, meant to operationalize the Constitution, has virtually collapsed into spectacle. The police extort with impunity. The courts delay justice until justice becomes irrelevant. Prisons overflow with awaiting trial inmates while politicians accused of looting billions of our common patrimony stroll freely through airport lounges, attending graduation events where they are conferred with purchased honorary doctorate degrees. A man who steals bread is lynched. A senator who steals a nation is given a chieftaincy title. Is this the rule of law, or the rule of rot?

Let us not forget Chapter II of the Constitution, the so-called Directive Principles of State Policy. These are the clauses that outline a vision for a just and egalitarian society free education, affordable healthcare, equal opportunity, protection of the vulnerable, decent wages, access to housing, food security, and the equitable distribution of national wealth. But here lies the deception: these provisions are rendered non-justiciable under Section 6(6)(c). In plain terms, they are promises the people cannot enforce. The Constitution dreams on their behalf, but denies them the legal means to wake that dream into action.

When a State says to its citizens, “we guarantee you food, education, and health,” and then adds a footnote saying, “but you may not ask us for it,” what emerges is not democracy it is deception. And deception is the mother of despair. Despair, when left to fester, breeds defiance. And defiance, when met without justice, becomes insurrection. That is the cycle Nigeria is now trapped in a spiral of constitutional promises turned into societal wounds.

The Constitution becomes a parody in the mouths of politicians who have never read it and judges who are too timid to enforce it. For the powerful, it is a shield; for the poor, a sword turned inward. The elite recite its sections during legal battles over electoral fraud. But where are these recitations when 652 children die of hunger in Katsina? Where are the legal arguments when a woman in Makurdi loses all her children to a communal massacre? When the man in Sokoto can no longer afford petrol, food, or peace of mind, what legal relief can he seek?

It is also worth noting the performative constitutionalism that plagues Nigeria’s legislative process. Lawmakers gather to amend the Constitution every four years like surgeons with blunt scalpels. They debate the minutiae of electoral timelines, federal character quotas, and party primaries. But no one rises to demand justiciability for Chapter II. No one proposes constitutional protections for internally displaced persons. No one fights to enshrine the right to a living wage. They adjust the frame while the house is on fire.

In the final analysis, a Constitution that cannot be felt in the body of the poor, in the belly of the child, in the safety of the mother, and in the labour of the working man, is a document not of power but of pretense. A parchment without protection. A creed without consequence.

Yet, it is not too late. What is written may still be made flesh. But first, we must acknowledge the gap. We must look the failure in the face and name it for what it is: a breach of trust, a betrayal of covenant, a blood-soaked irony. For the Constitution, like the prophets of old, still cries out: “Will you honour me with your lips and deny me with your deeds?” The answer, for now is a crass denial of deeds.

HOW INEQUALITY BREEDS VIOLENCE

Poverty is not just a condition; it is an accelerant of conflict. There is a direct and growing body of empirical evidence linking economic inequality with national insecurity. A 2024 study revealed that in Benue State, each 1% rise in insecurity led to a 0.211% drop in crop production and a 0.311% drop in livestock output. This data translates into a disturbing truth: insecurity is not only the consequence of poverty it is its co-creator. In rural communities, farmers flee their land not because of market pressures, but because of fear of bandits, herdsmen, and armed militias who now prowl agricultural heartlands, maiming, killing, raping and burning.

In the same year, Reuters reported that over 31 million Nigerians nearly 15% of the population were pushed into acute food insecurity, largely due to a combination of rising prices, mass displacement, and insecurity in farming regions. Nigeria, once a net food exporter, is now reliant on imports for survival. This is not just an economic regression; it is a national humiliation, a betrayal of the very right to life itself.

Without access to these basic social services, rights such as freedom of expression, political participation, and even the right to vote become illusory. The weaponization of poverty in Nigeria is not simply an unfortunate byproduct of mismanagement. It is a system. A structure. A design. It is the very architecture of modern power. In this architecture, deprivation is used to secure obedience, silence dissent, and eliminate competition. The economically excluded are not merely poor they are disempowered, voiceless, and disposable. That is the Stalin philosophy: impoverish and demean the people and their obedience is guaranteed in the form of Stockholm Syndrome.

This is a direct affront to the Constitution, which promises in its Preamble to promote “the welfare of the people.” It is a betrayal of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, ratified by Nigeria, which enshrines the right of all peoples to the satisfaction of economic, social and cultural rights essential to development (Article 22). It is a violation of the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals, especially Goal 1 (No Poverty) and Goal 10 (Reduced Inequality).

SYSTEMIC LAPSES IN LAW ENFORCEMENT: THE HIDDEN ENGINE OF INSECURITY AND RIGHTS EROSION

The crisis of insecurity in Nigeria cannot be understood without confronting the institutional collapse of its law enforcement architecture. While terrorism, banditry and economic collapse dominate headlines, these phenomena are but symptoms; the underlying illness is a chronic and systemic failure of the bodies meant to enforce the law. This failure is not simply operational, a matter of inadequate equipment or insufficient manpower, it is structural, political, and cultural. It shapes the relationship between the citizen and the State, corrodes the rule of law, and serves as the silent engine powering the erosion of civil liberties and the normalization of impunity.

CONSTITUTIONAL MANDATE VS. INSTITUTIONAL REALITY

Under Section 214 of the 1999 Constitution, the Nigeria Police Force (NPF) is established “for the maintenance of law and order, and for the protection of lives and property.” Supplementary security agencies such as the Department of State Services (DSS), Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC), and specialized military units exist to support this mandate. In theory, these agencies stand as the custodians of safety and justice, sworn to uphold both constitutional rights and statutory law.

In practice however, these institutions are often the very conduit pipes through which laws are brazenly violated. The gulf between the constitutional ideal and the operational reality is vast. A system intended to serve the people now often serves power, wealth and political expediency against the very people. The principle of equality before the law has been replaced by a hierarchy of enforcement, where the reach and rigour of the law depend on the identity of the suspect.

POLITICIZATION AND WEAPONIZATION OF LAW ENFORCEMENT

One of the most corrosive dynamics in Nigerian policing is its politicization. Rather than functioning as neutral enforcers of the law, security agencies are frequently deployed as instruments of partisan advantage. Opposition protests are met with rapid deployment of armed police, teargas and mass arrests. In contrast, political rallies for ruling party figures proceed with minimal security interference, but with reinforced security protection even when they breach public safety and order regulations.

This political double standard is not a matter of perception alone; it is reality evidenced by documented patterns. During the 2019 and 2023 general elections, numerous observers including the Transition Monitoring Group and international missions reported instances where law enforcement personnel either failed to intervene during ballot snatching episodes, or were directly complicit. Police units habitually provide cover for armed gangs removing election materials. In many of such cases, no officers have been disciplined, further embedding the perception that law enforcement loyalty is to political patrons, not the law or the country.

The politicization extends beyond elections. Journalists investigating corruption or security failings have been arrested and detained under dubious charges, often invoking broadly worded laws such as the Cybercrimes Act or Terrorism Prevention Act. Meanwhile, known political figures implicated in large-scale embezzlement routinely enjoy “soft landing” agreements or indefinite delays in prosecution.

CORRUPTION AS OPERATIONAL CULTURE

Corruption within Nigerian law enforcement is neither sporadic nor isolated; it is systemic. The 2019 Global corruption Barometer for Africa found that Nigerians rate the police the most corrupt institution in the country. Half of those surveyed reported paying a bribe to the police in the previous 12 months.

This corruption operates at multiple levels. At street level, officers extort motorists at checkpoints, detain individuals without charge to compel “bail” payments, and demand fees before registering complaints. At higher levels, investigators may bury case files in exchange for cash; prosecutors may dilute charges; and senior officers may shield their subordinates from accountability if they share in illicit proceeds.

Even operational deployments are shaped by rent-seeking. Officers are routinely assigned to guard private residences, businesses and political figures for unofficial payments, leaving ordinary citizens with limited police presence in their communities. This practice distorts the deployment of resources, creating a policing landscape where protection is essentially commodified.

OPERATIONAL WEAKNESSES AND STRUCTURAL MISMANAGEMENT

Nigeria’s police-to-population ratio remains alarmingly low. With about 371,800 officers serving a population of over 236 million people, the country is well below the United Nations’ recommended benchmark of 222 officers per 100,000 people. This manpower gap severely hampers the Force’s capacity to tackle crime, especially in volatile areas plagued by insurgency and communal violence. To make matters worse, many of the limited officers available are deployed to safeguard high-profile politicians and elites rather than serving the broader public. In rural communities, especially in conflict-affected northern states, residents report waiting hours, sometimes days, for police to respond to distress calls, if they ever respond at all. (To be continued).

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

“Money and corruption are ruining the land, crooked politicians betray the working man, pocketing the profits and treating us like sheep, and we’re tired of hearing promises that we know they’ll never keep”. (Ray Davies).

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