Opinion
Prison And Prisoners In Africa
Many people through the world are deeply alarmed and worried on the growing number of people held in prison.
This according to them emanates from growing incidence of crime in various communities.
In fact, a report from world prison population office published by United Kingdom Home office agrees that there are well over nine million people held in penal institutions worldwide.
To the prisoners, they feel vulnerable and impotent and concerned that governments are not adequately responding to their concerns.
In fact, this analogy may also apply to the way in which the society treats those who are imprisoned.
The point is how many of us think of prisoners as enemies or as citizens? Do we see them as hostile, dangerous and irredeemable, or do we see them as misguided, socially fractured human beings, who with the right professional care and a commitment on their part can be re-integrated into the society to lead responsible and fruitful lives?
This , in fact, calls for new ideas by seeing prison as a place where the deprivation and the cruelty is minimised and where prisoners are held securely but seen as citizens, with the right to express their ultruism and their humanity. This is considered necessary by making the prison become a place where the emphasis is on the chance for the prisoner to make his or her peace with the society through restitution and restoration.
For many, though, prisoners are pariah figures that have damaged the society in some way and should be incarcerated and forgotten about for the term of their imprisonment.
It is true that we cannot overlook or ignore the damage to life and property that some convicted criminals may have perpetrated.
The physical and psychological suffering endured by the victims of crime is reprehensible.
Yet, in any civilised society the idea of restitution, of allowing those who have offended to redeem themselves in the eyes of the community is important for the development of the social fabric.
This is done to embrace the idea of a collective forgiveness and recognition that none of us is perfect.
This reminds us of the word of Christ that “let he or she who is without sin cast the first stone.”
According to Director of International Centre for Prison Studies, Professor Andrew Coyle, levels of imprisonment rarely have anything to do with levels of crime.
According to him, over the years, we have allowed criminals justice to expand into areas where it has no locus.
In April 1999, a total of 120 people from 50 countries met in Egham, Surrey United Kingdom to discuss a new approach for penal reform in a new century. The conference, which focused on the role of the criminal justice system and in particular the prison in a civil and democratic society, agreed that criminal justice system are in need of reform and that prison system all over the world are in crisis.
Today, as it is, a total number of prisoners have been dramatically inflated by the use of imprisonment in an attempt to deal with the problem of the use of drug in the society.
Ironically, similar percentages of prisoners continue to use illegal drugs while in prison.
Again, vulnerable groups such as women, children, juveniles, mentally and terminally ill prisoners, the disabled, the aged, ethnic and religious minorities, foreign nationals and political detainees often do not receive the special attention they need.
The development of democracy and states of the world, it is believed, should offer a new challenge to the management of prisons and prisoners worldwide.
This, in fact, calls for duty of care by the government and the use of None-Governmental Organisations by making prisoners to be corrigible.
This is to be in remembrance of President Obama’s speech that all is born free, all are equal and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.
Omah resides in Port Harcourt.
Obed Omah
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
