This article looks at the cost of standing up for one’s conviction. It examines how acts of courage to speak the truth were met with harsh punishment, and its trail of effects, both in the sense of justice, and for the wider student community.

 

When Kunle Adebajo wrote and emailed an article about the deplorable state of facilities in the halls of residence to the Guardian newspaper, published on April 20th 2016, he may or not have thought of the drama that would accompany the piece. Despite a colleague’s warning that the university might react negatively to the publication, Kunle didn’t give it much thought. His colleague had cautioned him, “you know how the university can be. Are you sure you’re ready for the potential backlash?”. Little did he know that the university could be very regardless and reactionary. Two days after the publication, Adekunle Adebajo was served a letter through his Hall Warden and subsequently more letters.

Universities are ideally institutions of freedom — places where young minds are encouraged to constructively challenge ideas towards the realization of a better human society. But this ideal can unfortunately be the exception. Speaking out against institutional shortcomings can lead to hardly discussed consequences for dissenting students. The cases of Kunle Adebajo, Ojo Aderemi, Free Mote, and the UI3 are easy reminders of how nonconformity looks on the wall. Their stories highlight not only the challenges of student activism – even as a campus journalist – but also the deep psychological toll of victimization on students by an institution that should safeguard rights, or show the example of how to deal with such to defaulting public institutions.

The Telltale Of Victimised Students – Recent Past To Present

The University of Ibadan, Nigeria’s first university, is renowned for its academic excellence and long history. But within its four halls, there exists a darker side — a culture of silencing criticism and punishing students who challenge the status quo.

One of the most notable cases in recent history is that of Kunle Adebajo, a former student journalist. In 2016, Adebajo penned an article titled “UI: The Irony of Fashionable Rooftops and Awful Interiors,” where he criticized the university’s deplorable facilities, juxtaposing the school’s glossy public image with its internal failings. His critique was not intended to defame but to prompt reform.

However, the administration did not choose to see it that way. Instead, it accused Adebajo of defamation, insubordination, and violating his matriculation oath. What followed was his suspension. Despite series of responses from Adebajo defending his intent and tone, the university’s response grew more punitive. In May 2018, Adebajo was rusticated for two semesters, a punishment that has been ‘considered excessive and unjust’.

Adebajo’s case was not isolated. Michael Olatunji Ekpeti, popularly known as Mote of the #Freemote protest, had in November 2015 joined a protest to express discontent over the non-availability of some amenities including electricity on campus. In response, the university instead added an extra semester for Mote, for participating in a demonstration. The school said Michael was found guilty of leading a protest on November 19, 2015 when he was supposed to be doing his Industrial Training programme in Port Harcourt.

Ojo Aderemi was also subjected to similar victimization for speaking out against issues such as the lack of identity cards. Ojo Aderemi, who was then president of the student union, led a protest demanding amongst other things, that students be given their ID card, as well as allowed to use hot plates in the university hostels. The issues they raised were not new; they were complaints shared by the students at one point or another. Their decision had severe consequences. The University was shut, and Ojo Aderemi later was served four semesters suspension.

The issue of victimisation did not end with these individuals from years back, as another group of students, the UI3 — comprising Aduwo Ayodele, Nice Linus, Mide Gbadegesin — have become the target of the university’s tendency during a protest against a tuition fee hike in 2024.

What began as a peaceful protest quickly escalated when the university’s security team, Abefele, clamped down on the demonstrators, leading to their arrest and detention. The brutal suppression of the protest not only silenced those who dared to speak but also exacerbated the frustrations of the entire student body. The student community during this period had queue of unattended to concerns. On May 13th 2024, when the current executives of the Students’ Union were sworn in at Trenchard hall, the UI3 raised placards, in a peaceful manner demanding that fees must fall. This was in response to various claims that the university intended to increase school fees. Rather than pay any heed, the university security instead detained them, beat some of them and handed them over to the military personnel.

Effect on Mental Health of Victimized Students

The psychological toll on students who have been victimized for speaking out cannot be overstated. Usually, being rusticated or suspended is not just an academic setback — it comes as a blow to the mental health. The emotional weight of being punished for exercising one’s right to free speech or other right can be very immense.

The likelihood possibility would be that the UI3 would have endured significant mental health challenges following their arrest and the treatment they received at the hands of the university security and paramilitary forces, and even for the trends afterwards. The trauma of being detained, humiliated, and treated as criminals for merely exercising a right to protest may not be easily forgotten. For some of the students, the mental scars of the incident remain, affecting their academic performance, personal relationships, and overall well-being.

For Nice, one of the UI3, what affected her the most was seeing her colleagues being brutally beaten up right in front of her eyes. Perhaps it got even worse when she, as narrated, “was almost beaten up by the military but by some chance saved”.

“We were practically dragged out, not escorted, like I said before, we were basically dragged out of the hall our placard turn, and as soon as we got out of the hall, that was when the security guys started beating us and dragging us down to the security unit” she narrated.

“A military man after we were handed over to the military almost raised his hand to beat me. And to be honest, my body shook in fear, but one sensible military man stopped them in time,” she told IndyPress.

She also explained that apart from the immediate effect of the arrest on May 13th, “there was the fear lurking that I would not be allowed to go to law school.” “There was the fear of not going to law school, the fear that basically everybody in my faculty wanted to make me feel. But I remembered that the fear was not for me.”

Meanwhile Mide Gbadegesin, another of the UI3 noted that the experience could be mentally traumatizing. ‘I’m human, it did affect me very well, I’m still being affected. I don’t think I have recovered from the mental trauma of the May 13th arrest and also the victimisation afterwards. It will be dishonest to say that I was unfazed by that event. I’ve had moments of insecurity and paranoia as a result of that,” Mide said.

It was relative to Kunle Adebajo’s case, where he explained that he had been anxious and had agonised because there was no solution whatsoever. ‘‘Analysing emotions is not my strong suit. So I can’t really say. However, I was anxious, I was agonised especially because there was no clear solution to the issue. Being a law student, I had come across case laws pertaining to students facing disciplinary actions by the university and I knew that the court in most of those cases usually tilted towards favouring the university management’’ he told IndyPress.

“What was really confusing for me was that I received a lot of conflicting pieces of advice from people as to what to do. It was quite sad that the right thing to do was not the most practical thing.’’ However, in his words it all turned out well for him.

When asked how they were able to recover and navigate through their trauma, they gave credence to friends and family.

In his article explaining what had happened to him at the university of Ibadan, Kunle Adebajo thanked students, friends, and family who stood by him. ‘‘I wish to sincerely thank everyone who has stood by me since the start of this saga. Everyone, from the members of the Union of Campus Journalists to students at large, from members of the university staff to the general community, from friends in need and indeed to my caring family — mom especially,” it read.

Mide Gbadegesin also explained that he had friends who stood by him in those times. ‘‘But I’m grateful for the circle I have that has helped me deal with the effect of May 13”.

Nice mentioned that her friends, family and fellowships were of great support to her. While at first, they were skeptical about her stance in the whole matter, she managed to explain the importance of her actions and why it needed to be done.

‘At fellowship, after the whole encounter, I did get called, I did get spoken to a good number of times by some well meaning people. They asked me what happened. That was especially after the news went viral after Amnesty International. They at first didn’t want a fellowship member to be a troublemaker. But after explaining, they understood and stood by me. They didn’t want me to engage in the protest, but they still supported me. The same thing was with my parents, especially my mom.’’

Support and Neglect from Student Community

When the news of Adebajo’s suspension broke, the response from the student body was mixed. Some supported him, understanding that his critique of the university was an effort to demand better conditions for all students. However, it would not be farfetched to state that some chose to remain silent, perhaps out of fear of retribution or indifference to the issue at hand. This divide in the student community reflects the broader climate of fear that the administration overtime has instilled in what should be a University. Students, knowing the consequences of challenging the institution, often choose to stay quiet, leaving their peers to express collective concerns.

In #FreeMote’s case, after the first November 2015 protest which led to the university adding an extra year to Michael Tunji Ekpeti. Subsequently after that protest, another protest was staged as an attempt to get justice for Michael and this eventually lead to a 7-week break.

In the case of the UI3, the students initially expected a wave of solidarity from the rest of the student body. But what followed was a painful realization that many student leaders were unwilling to join the fight. As one of the arrested students, Nice Linus, noted in an interview, the lack of support from the student leadership was deeply disappointing. These leaders, who should have been at the forefront of such protests, chose to remain passive, allowing the university’s repressive actions to continue unchecked.

‘Standing there in front of Trenchard hall, as a student leader, I didn’t feel like I was doing something wrong. However I felt disappointed seeing student leaders, both SRC members and Executive members sitting down, saying nothing while three of its students protested.’

Perhaps it felt worse for her knowing that while she and her counterparts were bundled into the security truck and beaten up, some of the student leaders after the swearing-in ceremony came out, and began taking pictures as though nothing had happened. This silence was not short lived as it went on till even after they were made to face the student disciplinary council, with students both average and leaders alike only speaking up two months after, during the July 16th protest – even masked faces.

Aftermath of Victimization

The aftermath of victimization at UI has far-reaching consequences, both for the individuals directly involved and for the wider student body. However for the sake of this piece, it would be divided into deterrence and degradation.

The university’s act of victimization has led to students refusing to speak up boldly in the face of injustice. The names – Ojo Aderemi, Kunle Adebajo, and the UI3 – are now household names used to warn students to stay away from any act of protest against the university. Students are warned to avoid saying anything at all because the University would claim its paint tainted in a bad light, even if it is objectively true.

The university’s indirect stance on protest and free speech is an issue for Mide Gbadegesin who says that it is human to protest. He explains that all living things protest when they are in harm’s way. Giving the example of a chicken with a knife to its neck, he said; “if you put a knife to a chicken’s neck, it will protest by screaming. Science has even shown that when plants are being cut down, they also make a sound of protest although it is not audible to humans. So it is the nature of every living thing to protest’’. To him, it is wrong to try to stop students from protesting. Such energy, he observed, were better used to address concerns.

In Kunle Adebajo’s response to the letter the hall warden of Mellanby had sent to him asking him to explain why he should not face disciplinary actions, he ‘also quoted from Chapter V of the Student Information Handbook, where it is stated that “the legitimate expression of differing opinions and concerns is an essential part of the academic community.”

The aftermath of every act of victimization that goes unchecked makes degradation sticky. When students are deterred from speaking up and making complaints by acts of victimization, they end up keeping quiet even when their stay in the university becomes unbearable. When electricity issues, water issues become intolerable, when toilets are bad and lecture rooms are almost inhabitable, students will still choose to keep shut.

It is important to note that we are coming from an age when students protested because of what we call the slightest discomfort, like the protest in 1971 against the bad food served in zik, and we are now in a time where lecture theaters are dilapidated, toilets and bathrooms are always clogged and waterlogged with a terrible stench, electricity is also now a luxurious commodity amongst many others. These discomforts were things students once spoke against but we’re shut up by the university.

The case of the UI3 further exposed the university’s tendencies and the fragility of student’s freedom of speech in the university. The arrest, pointless, served as an act to suppress dissent. But even with their attempt to suppress any dissent, many of these students who have been victimised if given the chance will speak up again.

The cases of Kunle Adebajo, Ojo Aderemi, #FreeMote and UI3 show how high the price is for students of the University of Ibadan who criticise the institution’s shortcomings. Their experience shows the psychological and societal toll victimization takes on the individual and a community. It also sheds light on the need for a university that values and allows free speech.