A landmark judgement delivered by Hyeladzira Nganjiwa, a judge at the Federal High Court in Warri, Delta State, marks a significant step forward for constitutional rights and civic freedoms in Nigeria.
In awarding N5 million in damages to a private citizen who challenged unlawful police stop-and-search operations conducted without proper identification, the court has sent a clear and timely message: citizens have the right to hold law enforcement accountable, including by recording their activities in public.
This judgement could prove pivotal in curbing a troubling pattern of police assault against journalists and ordinary Nigerians who attempt to document public events or police conduct.
The right to document public life is not a privilege; it is a cornerstone of freedom.
For too long, security personnel have operated with a sense of impunity, often reacting violently to being filmed. Recording security personnel on duty is neither illegal nor unjustified in a democratic society.
The ruling comes after numerous documented abuses.
In 2024, Kasarachi Aniogolu, a journalist, suffered a harrowing ordeal in Wuse, Abuja, where police officers reportedly slapped her, struck her with a gun, and dragged her into a van. Her offence: recording a police raid.
That same year, Gabriel Idibia of Daily Times was beaten and tortured in custody for filming police activity in Kaduna.
In 2023, Mohammed Adamu was brutalised in Bauchi for filming an Eid celebration, while Jimoh Ogirima was assaulted and had his camera destroyed in Edo State during protest coverage.
Perhaps one of the most widely known cases dates back to the #EndSARS protests in 2020. DJ Switch, a prominent figure during the Lekki Toll Gate shooting, reportedly received death threats and was forced into hiding after livestreaming events that brought global attention to police brutality in Nigeria.
Such incidents are not isolated. In Anambra State, a clergyman was brutalised by naval personnel at an illegal checkpoint for allegedly filming them.
Across the country, similar patterns persist: citizens are ordered to delete footage, beaten for refusing, or having their devices seized or destroyed. These actions are not only unacceptable; they are unconstitutional.
In a 21st-century democracy, this behaviour is a misnomer. Law enforcement officers are public servants, not overlords.
When officers attack citizens for recording them, it raises an uncomfortable question: what are they trying to hide? The answer, in many cases, points to systemic issues of corruption and lack of accountability.
It is no secret that some officers routinely demand bribes for both real and fabricated traffic offences. Others go as far as asking motorists to “fuel our vehicle.” Transparency threatens these illicit practices, which explains the hostility toward cameras and documentation.
Nganjiwa’s ruling directly challenges this culture of opacity. By affirming the right of citizens to observe and record police activity, the court has reinforced a fundamental democratic principle: accountability thrives in the presence of scrutiny.
Globally, many countries have embraced this principle by mandating the use of body-worn cameras for law enforcement officers.
In the United States, bodycams are widely used across police departments to document interactions and provide evidence in cases of misconduct. The United Kingdom has similarly adopted body-worn cameras as standard equipment for many officers, enhancing transparency and public trust.
In Canada, several provinces have implemented bodycam programmes to ensure accountability during police operations.
Nigeria should aspire to these standards. Incorporating mandatory bodycam usage into the Police Act would be a meaningful reform. It should also be complemented by comprehensive training to ensure officers understand that citizens have a legal right to record them while on duty. Such measures would not only protect citizens but also safeguard officers against false accusations.
The importance of video evidence in exposing abuse cannot be overstated. Beyond Nigeria, footage captured by citizens has played a critical role in holding authorities accountable. For instance, without recorded evidence, allegations of misconduct—such as recent ICE agent assaults in Minnesota, United States—might have remained unproven.
Nigeria must evolve with the times. Clinging to outdated, heavy-handed policing methods risks dragging the country backwards into what can only be described as stone-age atavism.
To be clear, this judgement alone will not end police misconduct. Enforcement and institutional reforms are necessary to ensure compliance. While a few erring officers have faced dismissal, most cases go unpunished, perpetuating a cycle of abuse. This must stop.
Nonetheless, this ruling is a crucial step in the right direction. It empowers citizens, protects journalists, and reinforces the constitutional freedoms that underpin democracy. It also serves as a warning to overzealous officers that their actions have consequences.
Police officers are entrusted with enforcing the law, not breaking it.
By upholding the right to film police activity, Nganjiwa has reaffirmed that no one is above the law. If properly implemented and respected, this judgement could usher in a new era of responsible policing in Nigeria.
