By Okechukwu Nwanguma
The reported assault on Ghanaian artist and diplomat Ibrahim Mahama by police officers in Tamale is not just shocking – it is emblematic of a deeper, systemic crisis that continues to plague policing across Africa.
That a globally celebrated figure – once ranked among the most influential personalities in the art world – could be brutalised in his own hometown, by those sworn to protect him, should alarm not only Ghana but the entire continent. If someone of his stature can be treated with such impunity, what hope exists for the ordinary citizen?
The circumstances of the incident, as described by Olu Oguibe on his Facebook page, are disturbingly familiar. A routine encounter. A disagreement. An attempt to document police conduct. Then escalation. Violence. Humiliation. Impunity.
This is a script we have seen too many times. From the fatal shootings of unarmed protesters in Kenya to the entrenched abuses that ignited the End SARS movement in Nigeria, to persistent patterns of excessive force in the United States, the crisis of policing is global. But in many African countries, it is particularly severe – sustained by weak oversight, entrenched impunity, and a policing culture still rooted in colonial control rather than democratic service.
What makes the Tamale incident even more significant is the trigger: Ibrahim Mahama reportedly attempted to record his interaction with police officers.
This detail is not incidental – it goes to the heart of modern struggles for police accountability.
Across Africa, citizens increasingly rely on their phones as tools of protection – because formal accountability systems have failed them. Documentation has become the last line of dedefencegainst abuse and denial. Yet, for many officers, being recorded is treated as a threat rather than a safeguard. The response is often swift: intimidation, confiscation of devices, arrest, or outright violence.
But the law – at least in Nigeria – is now unmistakably clear.
In a landmark decision delivered by Justice Hyeladzira Nganjiwa of the Federal High Court in Warri, in suit number FHC/WR/CS/87/2025 filed by Maxwell Nosakhare Uwaifo, the court affirmed that Nigerians have a constitutional right to record police officers performing their duties in public spaces.
The court grounded this right in Section 39 of the 1999 Constitution, which guarantees freedom of expression.
More importantly, the judgment went further to impose clear obligations on law enforcement. It held that police officers must:
– Wear visible name tags
– Display their force numbers
– Refrain from harassing, intimidating, arresting, or seizing devices from citizens who record them
The court also declared it unlawful for officers to conduct stop-and-search operations without proper identification and awarded damages against the authorities for violating these rights.
This ruling is a watershed moment. It provides judicial clarity where there has long been abuse and ambiguity. It affirms what civil society has consistently argued: citizens do not lose their rights in the presence of the police.
Yet, the gap between law and practice remains dangerously wide.
The experience that led Maxwell Nosakhare Uwaifo to court – being threatened for attempting to record unidentified officers operating from an unmarked vehicle – is not exceptional. It is routine. Across Nigeria, stop-and-search operations have become synonymous with harassment, extortion, and intimidation. Citizens who attempt to document these encounters are often treated as offenders rather than rights-holders.
This is precisely why the judgment must not remain a mere legal victory on paper. It must be translated into operational reality.
The parallels with the assault on Ibrahim Mahama are striking. In both cases, the instinct of the police was not to act lawfully under scrutiny, but to suppress scrutiny altogether. That instinct is the clearest indicator of a broken accountability system.
Let us be clear: this is not about a few rogue officers. It is about institutions that have failed to internalise the principles of democratic policing.
Across the continent, too many officers operate with the confidence that they will not be held accountable. Internal disciplinary systems are weak. Oversight bodies lack independence or capacity. Victims are intimidated into silence. And political authorities often respond only when public outrage becomes overwhelming.
The result is predictable: abuse becomes normalised.
Ghana now stands at a critical juncture. Its reputation as a stable democracy demands a response that goes beyond routine assurances. There must be a transparent investigation, accountability for the officers involved, and institutional reforms that prevent recurrence.
Nigeria, too, must take heed. The judgment of Justice Hyeladzira Nganjiwa offers a clear roadmap. The Nigeria Police Force, the Police Service Commission, and relevant authorities must:
– Issue binding directives operationalising the right to record police conduct
– Enforce mandatory identification for all officers on public duty
– Sanction any officer who violates these standards
– Integrate these principles into training and supervision
Anything less would render the judgment meaningless.
Ultimately, the issue is simple but profound: policing in a democracy must be accountable to the people.
The right to record is not an inconvenience to law enforcement – it is a safeguard against abuse. It protects both citizens and honest officers. It builds trust where there is suspicion. And it ensures that power is exercised within the bounds of the law.
The assault on Ibrahim Mahama is a stark reminder of what happens when that principle is ignored.
We have seen this pattern before. We know where it leads.
The only question that remains is whether African governments have the will to break the cycle – or whether they will continue to allow those entrusted with power to abuse it without consequence.
Mr Okechukwu Nwanguma is a human rights activist and Executive Director of RULAAC
