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There is something fundamentally wrong with a society when the institutions created to protect the citizen become institutions that the citizen must learn to fear. Law enforcement agencies exist to enforce the law, protect lives and property, investigate offences and bring suspects before the courts. They are not created to become the law themselves.

Yet, increasingly, one gets the impression that in Nigeria the powers given to law enforcement agencies are sometimes exercised with greater force than accountability. The police, the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC), the Department of State Services (DSS), the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) and other agencies have legitimate responsibilities. But the existence of legitimate responsibilities does not mean that every action taken in the name of enforcement is automatically legitimate.

The real question is simple: who watches those entrusted with enforcing the law?

The recent deaths of 37 suspected illegal miners in the custody of the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps in Minna should trouble every Nigerian. The circumstances are being investigated, and officers have been suspended pending the outcome. But the larger principle is more important than the incident itself: once the state takes a citizen into custody, it assumes responsibility for that citizen’s safety. Suspicion is not conviction, arrest is not conviction, and detention is not a sentence. If they committed crimes, the law should deal with them. If those entrusted with their custody violated the law, the law must deal with them as well.

That is the disturbing thing about Nigeria today. Arrest increasingly appears to be treated as if it were conviction. Detention can become punishment before a court has determined guilt. Public accusations can destroy reputations long before evidence is tested in court. And once an individual has been labelled a suspect, society often forgets that the Constitution still presumes that person innocent until proven guilty.

This is particularly troubling when law enforcement intersects with politics. Whenever an opposition politician, former public official or politically exposed individual is arrested or prosecuted, the government may insist that the law is simply taking its course. The opposition, on the other hand, may allege persecution or political victimisation.

Neither claim should be accepted merely because it is made.

The proper test is evidence, procedure, transparency and ultimately the courts. If a public official has committed an offence, political status should not provide immunity. But neither should political opposition make a person automatically guilty in the eyes of the law.

The principle of justice cannot depend on whose turn it is to be afraid.

Today it may be an opposition politician. Tomorrow it may be a government supporter. Yesterday it may have been someone who had neither political influence nor the resources to hire a battery of lawyers. The standard must therefore be the same for everybody.

That distinction is important because we must resist one equally dangerous temptation: to assume that every investigation conducted by a government agency is automatically impartial simply because the agency says that it is acting within the law. That assumption is insufficient. The evidence, the procedure, the court record and the eventual judgment must speak for themselves. The only standard that can protect Nigeria from selective justice is a standard that applies regardless of who occupies Aso Rock and regardless of who sits on the opposition benches.

And this brings us to the judiciary.

The courts are not supposed to be an extension of law enforcement. They are supposed to be the place where law enforcement is tested. The investigator investigates. The prosecutor prosecutes. The defence defends. The judge decides. That separation is not an inconvenience; it is one of the foundations of justice.

The accused person must have the opportunity to challenge the evidence. The prosecution must prove its case. The court must remain independent of political pressure. And punishment must follow conviction, not precede it.

One case that raises this question is that of El-Rufai. Has punishment come before conviction?

This is not an argument against fighting corruption. Far from it. A country cannot develop where corruption is tolerated simply because the accused is powerful. But the fight against corruption must itself be conducted within the law. Otherwise, the country risks replacing one form of impunity with another.

There is also a deeper problem. Nigeria has created numerous institutions with enormous powers of arrest, detention, investigation and prosecution. But have we built equally strong systems for holding those institutions accountable?

The answer cannot simply be another agency investigating the agency. We need transparent procedures, effective oversight, independent investigations where necessary, judicial scrutiny and consequences for officers who abuse the powers entrusted to them.

This was one of the concerns I raised more than two decades ago when I questioned the structure of Nigeria’s policing system. The issue was not whether Nigeria needed the police. Of course it did. The issue was whether an institution that exercises enormous coercive power could remain sufficiently accountable to the people it is supposed to protect.

That question remains relevant today.

A police officer who arrests a citizen must be accountable for the manner in which that arrest is conducted. An officer who detains a suspect must be accountable for the conditions of detention. An investigator must be accountable for the integrity of the investigation. A prosecutor must be accountable for the evidence presented. And ultimately, the courts must be able to scrutinise all of it without fear or favour.

Strength is measured by whether that agency can enforce the law while respecting the law.

The state must be strong enough to confront criminals, corrupt officials, illegal miners, kidnappers, terrorists and anyone else who violates the law. But the strength of the state is not measured by how many people it can arrest or how long it can keep someone in detention. It is measured by its ability to enforce the law without becoming lawless itself.

This is why the issue is bigger than any particular agency, individual or political party.

Today it may be the EFCC. Tomorrow it may be the ICPC. Another day it may be the DSS, the police or the NSCDC. The names of the institutions may change, and the people running them will certainly change. But the principle must remain constant: no institution of government should be above the law it is empowered to enforce.

Nigeria does not need a law enforcement system that citizens fear because of its power. Nigeria needs one that citizens respect because of its fairness.

The law must be strong. But it must also be blind to political affiliation, wealth, social status and connections.

Otherwise, we risk creating a system in which law enforcement is no longer merely enforcing the law.

It becomes the law.

Engr. Hf Dauda MoiSoro

September 21, 2026

hdfika@gmail.com