Introduction: The Uncomfortable Truth “We are all criminals.” The statement sounds outrageous. It offends our moral sensibilities. It appears to insult the honest citizen, the religious devotee, the respected public servant, the loving parent, and the law-abiding professional. Yet, before dismissing it as absurd, it is worth examining what we mean by crime, criminality, conformity, and deviance. The central argument of this essay is simple, yet profoundly disturbing: the line separating the criminal from the conformist or law-abiding person is far thinner than society is willing to admit. Indeed, that line is often so thin, so fragile, and so dependent on circumstance that many of us stand on both sides of it simultaneously. To understand this, we must begin where all discussions of crime properly begin – not with the criminal, but with the law. Crime Exists Because Law Exists A crime is not merely a harmful act. It is not simply an ...
Power, when unchecked, breeds impunity; but sometimes, all it takes is a single thorn to pierce the flesh of a seemingly untouchable force. In the hallowed chambers of Nigeria’s Senate, where power is often bartered in whispers and handshakes, a tempest erupted—one that neither tradition nor intimidation could silence. (It may interest you to read: The Mightiest of Them all, which depicts the boundless power of man, or, should we say woman, to do and undo.)
Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, a woman whose name now echoes across continents, hurled an accusation that cut through the political theatre like a sharpened blade. Her target? None other than Senate President Godswill Akpabio, a master of political survival, a man whose influence is woven into the very fabric of Nigerian governance.
What transpired behind the closed doors of Akpabio’s Uyo residence remains shrouded in allegations and counter-narratives, but Natasha’s claim of sexual harassment was more than a personal grievance; it was a challenge to a system fortified by patriarchal entitlement and procedural gate-keeping. This was not merely an accusation—it was a rebellion, a declaration that power, no matter how entrenched, would no longer be immune to reckoning.
Yet, the machinery of resistance spun swiftly into action. The Senate, rather than grappling with the weight of the accusation, found refuge in technicalities. Her petition was declared null, not for its substance, but for the signature that bore her name. The verdict was swift: six months of silence, a suspension wielded as both punishment and warning. But the architects of her silencing miscalculated—they had underestimated the force of a woman with nothing left to lose.This controversy echoes the larger battle over free speech in Nigeria. A similar struggle can be seen in BETWEEN THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA and THE PRICE OF FREE SPEECH IN THE TINUBU GOVERNMENT.
What was meant to be her downfall became her ascent. International media latched onto the unfolding saga, turning Natasha into a reluctant but undeniable symbol of defiance. The global stage at the UN Women in Parliament session amplified her cries, and her 100-billion-naira lawsuit against Akpabio redefined the battle—not as one of mere allegations, but of systemic defiance against deeply rooted oppression.
Akpabio, a man who had danced through the fires of political controversies before, now found himself ensnared in a storm unlike any other. His once-loyal allies whispered of damaged control, while the people he claimed to represent debated whether power had finally met its match. The Senate’s attempt at erasure had not only failed but had birthed a movement larger than Natasha herself—a movement that questioned the very nature of power, gender, and accountability in Nigeria.
Will the thorn embedded in Akpabio’s flesh fester into an incurable wound? Or will the machinery of Nigerian politics find a way to cauterize the damage and silence this rare, defiant voice? The tides of history often favour the bold, and in this battle between authority and audacity, the final chapter is yet to be written. One thing, however, is certain: Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan has proven that even a single thorn can bring the mightiest to their knees.
Okom, Emmanuel Njor (PhD)
Comments
Post a Comment