A protest calling for the release of Nnamdi Kanu, the leader of the proscribed Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), was held in Abuja and a few other cities yesterday.

Nnamdi Kanu is currently standing trial for treason, terrorism, and illegal possession of firearms. It is, therefore, safe to say that the state considers him an enemy of the nation, given the gravity of the charges against him.

But the protesters would have none of it. To them, Nnamdi Kanu is a saint, a victim of political persecution who has no case to answer. Even some of his lawyers, in what appears to be a clear conflict of interest, joined the protest, despite the fact that the matter is still pending before a competent court of law.

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Nnamdi Kanu’s trial did not come out of the blue; the charges against him are not what one would describe as trumped-up. It is a clear case of res ipsa loquitur, the facts speak for themselves. Perhaps the protesters think we have short memories, but even if we do, the internet never forgets. Through his Radio Biafra broadcasts, Nnamdi Kanu aided and abetted the destruction of lives and property in Ala Igbo and beyond.

Again, I am not surprised that some people are calling for his release. After all, we have seen citizens carry placards in defence of corrupt politicians standing trial for looting public funds. In Nigeria, every action of government is often viewed through the narrow lens of tribe and religion. That’s why I told a friend recently that, as a nation, we are still living in denial. Although this protest was spearheaded by a Yoruba man, the majority of those standing in solidarity with him are Kanu’s kinsmen, unbothered by the fact that his actions have crippled what was once a thriving and peaceful South-Eastern Nigeria.

It’s funny how we are always quick to say, “This cannot happen in a sane country like Europe or America,” whenever something goes wrong here. But the same Europe we idolize does not spare those who threaten public order. In 2022, a UK-based Nigerian, Adeyinka Shoyemi, was sentenced to four years in prison for inciting violence and issuing ethnic hate messages against Igbos through social media. That was in a country where freedom of speech is almost sacred, yet the law drew a clear line between liberty and lunacy.

Another example is Simon Ekpa in Finland, who took over from Nnamdi Kanu. He has been arrested and sentenced to six years in prison for terrorism. No one protested in Finland that he should be released or accused the Finnish government of political persecution. Now, that is a country where the law rules, where government actions are not viewed with suspicion.

But here in Nigeria, we pamper lawbreakers and even turn them into heroes. We have created a society where the loudest voice, not the most reasonable argument, often wins public sympathy. When people break the law, they hide under the cloak of ethnicity, religion, or political persecution, and suddenly, the same crowd that should condemn them begins to applaud. This selective morality is why we are where we are today as a nation.

What happened to the sane clime where actions had consequences? Where people took responsibility for their utterances and the havoc they caused? Today, our national conscience has been so eroded that we celebrate defiance and demonize discipline. We no longer call evil by its name; instead, we rationalize it, provided the offender shares our tribal or political sentiment.

One of the defensive arguments advanced by the convener of the #FreeNnamdiKanu protest is the presidential pardon recently granted to some convicted criminals, including capital offenders, a decision that sparked public outrage and which the Attorney-General of the Federation has since said is under review. But the presidential pardon of convicted persons cannot serve as justification for demanding the release of a suspect still standing trial. If anything, such comparisons only expose the moral confusion of our times. These protesters are not doing their hero any favour.

And as for the lawyers who have taken to the streets to demand their client’s release instead of proving his innocence in court, they have not only undermined the profession they swore to uphold but have also made a caricature of themselves. The new joke in town now is that Nnamdi Kanu’s lawyers are from Temu. Maybe they are afraid of losing the case, for fear of incurring the wrath of their client, who, in a recent court session, told one of them to keep quiet while he was speaking.

But they are old and experienced enough to understand that not every battle in life is won. My advice to them is simple: get out of the kitchen if you can’t withstand the heat. The prosecution counsel has accused them of employing delay tactics, as they have refused to open their defence since the prosecution concluded its case. Instead, they entered a no-case submission, which the court overruled, insisting that Kanu has a case to answer. Since then, we have witnessed one courtroom drama after another. The Honourable Justice must be tired of seeing Nnamdi Kanu in his trademark Fendi; the defendant has become more of a courtroom celebrity than an accused person.

Kanu has become, figuratively speaking, like a fly perched on a delicate wound, he must be handled with care. Another argument his sympathisers are canvassing is that if bandits are being invited to the negotiation table, what makes him different? What is good for the goose, they say, is good for the gander. This is the sad state of our country today, a place where morality is transactional and justice is subjective. It has become a case of “my thief is better than your thief,” and vice versa.

The “Free Nnamdi Kanu” protest could not have happened in a sane clime. No country moves forward without the rule of law in full force. Screenwriter and playwright Joy Isi Bewaji, while lamenting the high rate of impunity in Nigeria, once said that, “The problem is not that there are no bad people in Nigeria, but that there are no consequences for bad actions”. Bewaji’s words struck me. And at a time when citizens have taken to the streets to protest for the release of a suspect standing trial, one cannot help but recall the question the late Professor Pius Adesanmi once asked while lamenting the sorry state of our nation: “What manner of a country is this?”

If Nnamdi Kanu should be released because convicted criminals have been pardoned and bandits are being called to the negotiation table, is the government not widening the gap of impunity in the country? Until we return to that sane clime, where the law reigns supreme, where justice is blind to tribe or tongue, our democracy will remain fragile and our peace temporary. The release of Nnamdi Kanu should not be a matter for the streets; it should be decided by the courts. Anything short of that is an invitation to anarchy, and no nation survives long on that path.

One more thing: I don’t want the average Igbo to see the trial of Nnamdi Kanu as political persecution or to feel sad that he is on the verge of facing the full wrath of the law while other non-state actors move freely. Rather, they should see it as the government’s commitment to sanitise the once peaceful region that has suffered greatly since Nnamdi Kanu’s Biafra agitation began. Mr. President can order his Attorney-General to discontinue the case and not a hair will be removed from his body, but those calling for his release might end up bearing the consequences, because crime has no tribe or religion. The majority of Nnamdi Kanu’s victims of incendiary remarks are his tribesmen. From the Army couple who were gruesomely murdered to the husband of the late Professor Dora Akunyili, the list is endless.

Maybe my brothers from the North will one day stage a protest against what they perceive as the government’s marginalisation of the region, for clamping down on Nnamdi Kanu and the criminal gangs in the East, while the Bello Turjis of their own region remain free. Who knows?

Zayd Ibn Isah can be reached at [email protected]