By Divramredje Lawrence Efeturi
Jungle justice is the public execution of suspicion, the trial of rumours in the streets, and the punishment of alleged offenders without the courts. It has a history in Nigeria that runs from colonial distrust of state policing to post-independence failures of justice. What was once framed as instant community self-help has evolved into a culture of collective violence amplified by religion, politics, sensational media, and now, social platforms that reward outrage with views.
The roots lie in two linked realities. First, fragile trust in law enforcement. Many communities believe police will not come on time, or will release suspects for a bribe. Second, a justice system that feels distant and slow. When cases crawl for years, people conclude that the only swift justice is the one they deliver themselves. Over decades, this mindset hardened into a reflex: a shout of thief becomes a death sentence, an accusation of blasphemy becomes a licence to burn, an insult becomes a public beating performed for cameras.
Religious flashpoints have been particularly deadly. Accusations of slander against the Prophet Muhammad or desecration of religious symbols have triggered immediate mob violence in several northern cities. The 2016 killing of Bridget Agbahime in Kano after an alleged blasphemy dispute scarred the national conscience. So did the 2022 murder of Deborah Samuel in Sokoto following accusations spread rapidly through student networks. These were not isolated incidents. They represented a volatile mix of piety, populism, and instant misinformation. Once a rumour wears the robe of religion, crowds can be summoned faster than facts.
Non-religious flashpoints show the same pattern. In 2012, four undergraduates were lynched in Aluu near Port Harcourt after being accused of theft. The images shocked the country. Across Lagos, Benin, Onitsha, and other cities, petty theft allegations have ended in tyres and fire. Market squares and motor parks are frequent theatres. A phone goes missing, a crowd gathers, a chant rises, someone shouts confirmation, and violence becomes a spectacle. More recently, the logic of jungle justice has found a new fuel in Gen-Z social drama and online clout. Videos circulate of girlfriends filming the beating of a rival for allegedly dating a fraudster boyfriend. Neighbours organise punishment for a perceived insult to a family elder. The line between justice and public humiliation dissolves, and the crowd performs for the camera.
If the incidents differ, the script is the same. An accusation becomes a verdict. Spectators become judges. The phone becomes the gavel. The upload becomes the sentence. This is the sociology of the mob. People who would never pull a trigger alone will kick and strike in a crowd. Diffusion of responsibility makes cruelty feel normal. The presence of cameras makes cruelty feel meaningful.
Activists and institutions have pushed back. Human rights lawyers like Femi Falana have repeatedly warned that mob justice is a crime under Nigerian law, not a cultural defence. Civic voices such as Aisha Yesufu and groups like Enough is Enough Nigeria call for accountability when religious or political mobs strike. Amnesty International Nigeria, SERAP, CLEEN Foundation, and other NGOs document cases and push for prosecution, police reform, and community education. Faith leaders and interfaith councils have condemned blasphemy killings and urged restraint, reminding followers that no religion licences murder. There are also courageous market and community leaders who now insist on handing suspects to police, not to crowds.
Government response has been mixed. Statutes criminalise assault, murder, incitement, and malicious damage. Police routinely announce arrests after viral incidents. Some states have strengthened their criminal justice systems, introduced call lines, and encouraged community policing forums. Yet the core problems persist. Response times remain poor in many areas. Investigations stall. Prosecution rates are low. Victims’ families rarely see closure. When perpetrators believe they will not be caught or punished, deterrence evaporates. Where police extort, communities will not cooperate. Where courts delay, communities will not wait.
Why does the trend feel more visible today despite well-meaning efforts. Four reasons stand out.
First, impunity. Many killings pass without consequence. Even where arrests occur, few cases reach conviction. The signal to society is that mob action is survivable, sometimes even admirable.
Second, speed and virality. Social media accelerates rumours and compresses time. A false accusation can reach hundreds within minutes. By the time a correction appears, the crowd has already acted. The sharing of violent videos as entertainment normalises cruelty and invites copycats.
Third, moral entrepreneurs. Political actors and extremists sometimes exploit grievances for clout. A theft or a quarrel is spun as a defence of honour or faith, inviting crowds to prove their loyalty through violence.
Fourth, institutional fatigue. Underfunded policing and congested courts create a daily reality where lawful justice feels unavailable. In such a vacuum, people rationalise illegality as community protection.
To reverse this spiral, Nigeria needs a strategy that is legal, social, religious, and digital at once.
Legally, make mob action a priority offence. Fast-track courts should handle lynching, arson, and incitement cases within clear timelines. Prosecute not only the hands that strike but the mouths that incite and the phones that coordinate. Where videos exist, use them as evidence, not as entertainment. Create a victim support and compensation scheme so families are not abandoned after the cameras move on.
Policing must change in three ways. Response: invest in rapid-response units tied to community hotlines, with GPS benchmarks that are tracked publicly. Trust: adopt community policing that names and empowers liaison officers known to market heads, youth leaders, and faith leaders. Proof: fit officers with body-worn cameras in high-risk areas, and publish quarterly data on mob incidents, arrests, and outcomes.
Religious and community leadership must treat prevention as doctrine. Sermons and public statements should say clearly that blasphemy is not a legal category for crowds to adjudicate, that only the courts can try offences, and that protecting the accused from harm is itself a moral duty. Interfaith councils can issue rapid joint statements when rumours arise, defusing tension before streets ignite.
Digitally, adopt a misinformation playbook. State and civil society should maintain verified channels that rapidly debunk incendiary rumours. Platforms and telcos can partner to downrank or blur graphic lynching videos, while preserving them for lawful evidence. Schools and youth groups should teach critical consumption of online claims, with drills that practice the habit of pause, verify, report.
Socially, create alternatives to spectacle. Community mediation councils can handle minor disputes quickly and publicly, so people witness lawful resolution rather than violent theatre. Markets and motor parks can designate safe rooms and protocols for holding suspects for police collection, supervised by neutral elders and recorded for transparency.
Finally, politics must stop winking at crowds. No official should legitimise street punishment through silence or coded praise. When leaders condemn promptly and ensure prosecution, norms shift. When leaders equivocate, norms rot.
There is a warning here for every nation that faces religious tension, youth unemployment, and weak institutions. Jungle justice is not a Nigerian problem alone, it is a human problem that grows wherever formal justice is distrusted and informal power is adored. The lesson is plain. If a state wants citizens to believe in the law, the law must show up, move quickly, tell the truth, and deliver fair outcomes. If a society wants peace, it must reject the applause that greets cruelty and honour the restraint that keeps neighbours safe.
Nigeria can break the cycle. It will take speed, courage, and consistency. It will require police who arrive before the crowd, courts that conclude before memories fade, clerics who preach calm when tempers rise, and citizens who refuse to share the next video. A nation is measured not only by how it punishes the guilty, but by how it protects the accused. The day jungle justice is no longer content, no longer a spectacle, and no longer a community reflex, that day the rule of law will begin to breathe again.
Divramredje Lawrence Efeturi, KSJI, Assoc.ACIEPUK
