Ekomobong Akpan
In a democracy, dissent is supposed to find its loudest voice in town halls, on the airwaves, in our newspapers, and across social media not in police cells or dark corners of detention. But in Nigeria, when power feels threatened, what too often follows is not rebuttal or dialogue, but intimidation and suppression. And the case of Fejiro Oliver, arrested and held after criticizing the Delta State government, is a chilling reminder of how fragile our freedoms really are.
The continuous detention of Fejiro Oliver, journalist, activist, and anti-corruption crusader, should alarm every Nigerian who believes in democracy. Yes, we all know Oliver is no stranger to controversy, he has long spoken against corruption and excesses of those in power. But in mid-September, operatives of the Force Intelligence Department swooped into his office in Abuja, bundled him away, and flew him to Asaba like a common criminal. His “crime”? Not theft, not trafficking, not terrorism. His “crime” is using his pen and his voice to hold power accountable and daring to call out Governor Sheriff Oborevwori.
While reports suggest that his social media criticisms, including calling the governor by the nickname “Amuneke” provoked Delta’s political class into retaliation, is that enough reason to trade dialogue for handcuffs? Instead of meeting Oliver’s words with words, why choose brute force?
Civil society groups have called this detention “unlawful, unconstitutional, and politically motivated.” They are right, because more two weeks after his arrest, Oliver has remained in detention at the State Criminal Investigation Department and has not been properly arraigned in court. No transparent charges have been brought forward. No due process. This is not justice, it is intimidation, plain and simple.
Let’s not sugarcoat it, this is not about law. This is about fear. It is about a government that feels so fragile that even a journalist’s words can shake it. When leaders cannot stand criticism, they show us that their thrones rest on sand, not stone.
Democracy dies the day dissent becomes a crime. Criticism of government is not an attack on the state, it is part of the oxygen that keeps it alive. If Governor Oborevwori and his allies cannot stand the heat, then they should not sit in the kitchen of governance. If they cannot tolerate being called out, then they have no business signing documents in the government house. Leadership comes with scrutiny.
The Delta state government may believe this is about silencing one man. But this is bigger than Oliver. If one journalist can be silenced for his words, then every Nigerian who speaks out, whether in a newspaper column, in a market square, on Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, even in a church gathering becomes a potential prisoner. Today it is Oliver. Tomorrow, it could be you, me, or anyone who dares to tell them uncomfortable truths.
Our Constitution guarantees freedom of expression. The laws demand suspects be brought before a court within 48 hours. Both have been trampled. And when the police become tools of political punishment rather than impartial guardians of justice, the line between democracy and dictatorship blurs dangerously.
And let those in power take note, silencing one voice does not end the song, it multiplies it. The louder the chains rattle around Oliver, the louder Nigerians must shout. Because the question before us is not just “Where is Fejiro Oliver?” The real question is…Where is our democracy?