What does this report reveal?

We have found some shocking levels of violence and abuse. People are dying at the hands of police officers. Torture routinely takes the place of proper investigation, and rape seems to be commonplace when the police arrest vulnerable women. Overall, the police in Nigeria are more likely to commit crimes that to prevent them.

That seems pretty extreme. How do you know that these findings aren’t just about a few bad apples?

This report is based on field monitoring conducted by NOPRIN—the Network on Police Reform in Nigeria—at over 400 police stations in fourteen states and territories across the country. It was a major effort. Research investigations were undertaken from February 2007 to January 2009, so the report is also based on observations over quite a long time, and we see consistent patterns. Beyond the fieldwork, the report draws on relevant legislation, case law, and official reports of high-level government commissions and investigations into policing in Nigeria. It also references newspaper articles and NGO reports. And what we see is widespread, systemic failure.

Why have things gotten so bad?

Well, for one thing, police in many cases lack the training and resources to do their job properly. There is no forensic capacity—not even one lab in Nigeria has working equipment to analyze fingerprints—so it is very difficult to do a proper investigation. This is not an excuse for torture—there is no excuse for that—but some of the police do seem to feel the pressure and will torture to extract a confession so that they can close a case. What we see is that sometimes, a person will go to the station to report a crime, and instead the police will suddenly turn them into a suspect.

What can be done?

President Jonathan and the rest of the government need to take reform seriously if they are going to improve safety and restore confidence in the police. We’ve set out several more detailed recommendations in the report, but among the most critical changes is the need to ensure that the Nigeria Police Force is free from presidential and political interference. Only an independent police force can foster professionalism. It is also essential to ensure that the police do not monopolize or interfere with investigations of crime and misconduct by their officers. Currently, many cases of police misconduct are overlooked because of political interference, or the expectation of it.

These measures need to be complemented by more robust external oversight. The Police Service Commission, the Human Rights Commission, the federal attorney general’s office, the courts, and other state and federal officials have to take shared responsibility for making the police more accountable and more effective. For example, we call for establishment of a federal prosecutorial unit to take on cases of police corruption and violence. We need to ensure that complaints are followed up and abuse is punished in order to change this culture of impunity.

Donor countries can also step up by responding to some of the material and infrastructure needs of the police, so they have the basic capacity to conduct proper investigations. But this will not have any effect if assistance is liable to be plundered or misappropriated. The police need a new culture of more transparent and accountable institutional management. So that aid is not wasted and we see real improvement, donor countries ought to insist on, and help develop, management and accountability mechanisms like the ones suggested in Criminal Force.

Rosalind sent us the following account:

“I arrived at Barajas airport, Madrid, at 4.23 pm on Sunday, March 28 from San Francisco via Amsterdam. After picking up my luggage, two suitcases (one large green one and a small grey one), I loaded them onto a cart and went toward the exit.

Customs clearance into EU countries is carried out at the first point of entry coming in from a non-EU state. So in my case, I had already presented my identification at passport control and cleared customs at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam earlier that morning, before I switched flights to Madrid. So I should have been all set.

However, as I walked toward the exit, a man came up and signaled for me to stop. He was dressed in a white shirt and dark pants, with a badge enclosed in a plastic folder and secured around his neck with a ribbon. He opened a flat case which contained a metal badge--which I presumed was a police badge.

He asked me (in Spanish) where I was coming from. I answered, from San Francisco. He then asked me for my passport. I presented him my Spanish passport. He proceeded to look at the page with my data and picture and then asked if I had come from Amsterdam. I said yes. He then began to turn the pages in the passport rather rapidly. Then he began to turn each page again, this time slowly. He asked if they had stamped my passport. I said no. He gave me back the passport and said thank you.

I was the only person stopped. Other passengers passed ahead of me beforehand, and exited while I was being questioned. After I was told I could leave, I looked behind me for a few minutes. No one else was being stopped.

I, of course, presumed I was being subjected once again to racial profiling.

Once outside the baggage claim area and in the public waiting area, I thought that I should probably have asked the officer why I was being stopped and also his badge number—with this information it would have been possible to have filed a complaint at the airport police station.

However, I had been traveling for 16 hours—departure from San Francisco was at 4.30 pm (PDT) on Saturday afternoon, March 27, and I arrived at Barajas (Madrid) at 4.23 pm (Madrid time) on Sunday, March 28. I had woken at 7.00 am in San Francisco to prepare for the trip and by the time the policeman stopped me in Madrid, I had been 25 hours without sleep.

I frankly didn’t have the stamina to go through the process of asking the policeman for his ID and placing a complaint at the airport’s police station based on suspected racial profiling. Not to mention, since I was traveling alone, the fear of possibly being subjected to unpleasant treatment by the officers on duty.”

On a brisk winter day in 1992, Rosalind Williams—an African-American woman and naturalized Spanish citizen—stepped off the train at a railway station in Spain and was immediately asked to produce her ID. When asked why she was the only person being stopped, the police officer explained that he was following orders: it was because of the color of her skin.

Williams brought her case of ethnic profiling to court, culminating in a landmark decision by the UN Human Rights Committee after 15 years of litigation. I interviewed her last week, while she was in the US to speak at the Open Society Institute in New York and testify before the Helsinki Commission in Washington.

Research shows that police often single people out by race or ethnicity not only in Spain, but across Europe. Yet racial or ethnic profiling fails to identify lawbreakers effectively, and often alienates the very same communities whose cooperation the police desperately need. In response, the Open Society Justice Initiative is partnering with local police forces to help introduce monitoring and other reforms, as well as documenting profiling and challenging abuses in court.

While Williams has received private apologies from Spanish government officials, she has still not received a public apology or reparations in keeping with the UN Human Rights Committee’s decision.

What is the Open Society Institute trying to achieve in Afghanistan?

We are trying to promote democracy and build an open society. We’re committed to strengthening civil society to achieve these goals, so we work closely with a range of local groups that focus on human rights, good governance, and rule of law.

Can you describe some projects that the foundation is supporting right now?

To reinforce the rule of law, we’re supporting the Afghanistan Independent Bar Association, which is training the country’s first independent defense lawyers. The bar association also manages legal clinics for law students, raising the standard of legal education and awareness of human rights law.

Transitional justice is a major priority for the foundation, so we have funded efforts to document war crimes, amplify victims’ voices, and encourage media attention. We let communities and civil society groups take the lead, as this is a very politically sensitive topic, and we don’t take a specific position. OSI facilitates conversation. And we’ve helped coordinate exchange trips to Nepal and Cambodia, so that Afghans can learn from what has been tried elsewhere.

We also support a legislative watch group that includes religious leaders, community elders, lawyers, and women’s advocates who join together and engage with Parliament to protect women’s rights and interests.

What challenges do you face?

Insecurity has been the biggest challenge. We want to reach most provinces, but it’s difficult to travel and have access to the population.

What is it like to live in Kabul?

As an Afghan, it’s a tough situation now.  The insecurity has caused fear and frustration among all of us. It is tough to travel even within Kabul—it is a challenge just to get to the office. There are weekly suicide attacks in public places and business centers. Freedom of movement is limited, and there is a daily risk of being threatened or attacked.

What’s on people’s minds these days?

People are concerned about the US exit strategy and the idea of reconciliation or power sharing with the Taliban. The future is uncertain. What happens in case of international withdrawal? For those of us working on promoting democracy, how will these political changes affect our work on rule of law, freedom of expression, and women’s rights? As I work on transitional justice, I’ve received threats before, so I’m afraid that this will continue or maybe worsen in the future with the resurgence of warlords or the Taliban.