Human Rights Lawyer Inibehe Effiong Declares Abuja The Heart Of Corruption And Moral Decay In Nigeria’s Governance

 

A prominent human-rights lawyer, Inibehe Effiong, has delivered a stinging verdict on the federal capital, Abuja, declaring it the “capital of iniquity and corruption” in Nigeria. During a live interview on the television programme The Morning Brief on Channels Television on Friday, Effiong argued that the city—once envisioned as the seat of national unity and administrative integrity—has instead become a place where even well-intentioned individuals are compromised. 

Evaluating his remarks, Effiong said that the arrest of activist Omoyele Sowore by the Nigeria Police Force in Abuja was symptomatic of a wider moral decay. He recalled the police spokesperson Benjamin Hundeyin’s account of Sowore’s detention—allegedly for leading protesters into a restricted area—and expressed no surprise at such official commentary. Effiong pointed out that the police justification relied on the logic of fairness: “having arrested 13 others … it would be unfair to arrest them and not arrest Sowore". 

What struck Effiong most was his familiarity with Hundeyin during his earlier Lagos posting, where he had been regarded as “a fine police officer”. Yet he said things change in Abuja: “This is Abuja, the capital of iniquity and corruption in our country, where even people with good intentions are easily compromised.” 

That comment, according to him, raises deeper questions. “What is the allegation against Sowore?” he asked, suggesting that the substantive case against the activist remains unclear. The implication: the weight of the state’s apparatus, when centered in the capital, potentially tilts toward suppression of dissent rather than transparent accountability.  

Effiong’s indictment of Abuja centres on a few key themes. First, the notion that “good people” arrive with integrity—public servants, activists, technocrats—but are soon drawn into the prevailing culture of compromise. Second, the concentration of power in the capital makes the stakes of integrity especially high: once inside the corridors of power, the pressures to bend appear immense. Third, the broader message that the capital’s culture reflects and amplifies a national crisis of governance: if corruption and iniquity thrive in Abuja, the rest of the country is likely already feeling the ripple effects.

Observers of Nigerian governance will recognise the pattern: Abuja has long been the seat of federal institutions, policy-making, and national visibility. Yet Effiong’s argument is that the seat of power has simultaneously become a seat of moral weakness. His remarks echo earlier criticisms by him of Nigeria’s political class and activism methods—he earlier argued that change will not come through “Ted Talks, prayers or appeals” to political elites who are themselves deeply compromised.  

Reactions to his statement are already circulating online: many Nigerians have shared his view that the capital is emblematic of the nation’s dysfunction, while others have taken issue with what they consider an over-generalisation of a complex environment. Regardless of side, Effiong’s comments bring renewed focus to the interplay between location (the capital city), power, morality, and accountability in Nigeria.

For the activist community, the arrest of Sowore serves as a practical touchpoint. He had led protests earlier this week calling for the release of Nnamdi Kanu, the leader of Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), and was detained in Abuja following those demonstrations. The police claimed a court order had been contravened by protesters entering a restricted area. The case has sparked debate about protest rights, restricted zones, and the equitable enforcement of law. 

For his part, Effiong uses the arrest and commentary by the police as evidence of systemic problems: when the logic of “fairness” is cited by state actors to justify an arrest, the underlying transparency and justification of that arrest may be compromised. More broadly, when the seat of such decisions is in Abuja, where power and patronage converge, the risk of compromise or collusion appears higher.

As Nigeria grapples with long-standing issues of corruption, weak governance and institutional impunity, efforts to reform public service, strengthen oversight and ensure independent justice mechanisms remain vital. Effiong’s stark pronouncement invites all stakeholders—government, civil society, activists, and citizens—to reflect on whether the capital’s reputation matches its constitutional role as a seat of integrity, or if it has instead become emblematic of the very failures it was meant to counter.

In conclusion, Effiong’s assessment of Abuja is not simply a provocative sound-bite. It serves as a challenge: if the centre of governance has lost its moral compass, then the country’s prospects for reform may hinge on reclaiming the capital’s role and purging it of the culture of compromise. Without that, the systemic rot he describes may only deepen—and Nigeria’s promise may remain thwarted.