Under new guidelines caning will only be used in schools for male students aged nine and above
Male school students who bully others, including through cyberbullying, will face caning as a “last resort” under new guidelines introduced in Singapore.
Male students can face up to three strokes of the cane under the new rules, which were discussed in parliament on Tuesday.
International groups such as Unicef, the UN’s agency for children, oppose the use of corporal punishment for children, saying it harms their physical and mental health, and increases behavioural problems over time.
The education minister, Desmond Lee, told lawmakers that caning would only be applied “if all the other measures are inadequate, given the gravity of the misconduct”.
“They follow strict protocols to ensure safety for the student. For instance, caning must be approved by the principal and administered only by authorised teachers,” he said.
“Schools will consider factors such as the maturity of the student and if caning will help the student learn from his mistake and understand the gravity of what he has done.”
The measures follow a year-long review that focused on bullying, and come after several high-profile school bullying incidents drew public attention last year.
Caning will only be used as a punishment for male students in upper primary levels (age 9-12 years) and above, said Lee, who pointed to the country’s criminal procedure code, which prohibits the caning of women.
After the caning is imposed, the school would “monitor the student’s wellbeing and progress”, including providing counselling, Lee said.
Female students, he said, would receive punishments “such as detention and/or suspension, adjustment of their conduct grade and other school-based consequences”.
Judicial caning, first introduced by British colonialists in the 19th century, continues to be used in Singapore for male offenders under 50. This includes crimes such as robbery, scamming or overstaying a visa by 90 days.
A report released by the World Health Organization last year said that corporal punishment remained “alarmingly widespread” globally, adding that it caused significant harm to children’s health and development.
Globally, an estimated 1.2 billion children aged 0-18 years are subjected to corporal punishment at home each year, according to WHO.
The actress and the media mogul, who died on May 6 at 87, were wed from 1991 to 2001. “Life is too short to be fighting,” Fonda once said of their relationship.
Jane Fonda and CNN founder Ted Turner shared a bond that endured long after their divorce.
The billionaire entrepreneur and noted environmentalist died on Wednesday, May 6, after a 2018 diagnosis of Lewy body dementia. He was 87. Fonda, 88, and Turner were married from 1991 to 2001.
Ted Turner, the media maverick and philanthropist who founded CNN, a pioneering 24-hour network that revolutionized television news, died peacefully Wednesday, surrounded by his family, according to a news release from Turner Enterprises. He was 87.
The Ohio-born Atlanta businessman, nicknamed “The Mouth of the South” for his outspoken nature, built a media empire that encompassed cable’s first superstation and popular channels for movies and cartoons, plus professional sports teams like the Atlanta Braves.
Turner was also an internationally known yachtsman; a philanthropist who founded the United Nations Foundation; an activist who sought the worldwide elimination of nuclear weapons; and a conservationist who became one of the foremost landowners in the United States. He played a crucial role in reintroducing bison to the American west. He even created the Captain Planet cartoon to educate kids about the environment.
But it was his audacious vision to deliver news from around the world in real time, at all hours, that really made him famous – once his idea finally took off.
In 1991, Turner was named Time magazine’s Man of the Year for “influencing the dynamic of events and turning viewers in 150 countries into instant witnesses of history.”
Turner eventually sold his networks to Time Warner and later exited the business, but continued to express pride in CNN, calling it the “greatest achievement” of his life.
“Ted was an intensely involved and committed leader, intrepid, fearless and always willing to back a hunch and trust his own judgement,” Mark Thompson, Chairman and CEO of CNN Worldwide, said in a statement. “He was and always will be the presiding spirit of CNN. Ted is the giant on whose shoulders we stand, and we will all take a moment today to recognize him and his impact on our lives and the world.”
Just over a month before his 80th birthday in 2018, Turner revealed that he had Lewy body dementia, a progressive brain disorder. In early 2025, Turner was hospitalized with a mild case of pneumonia before recovering at a rehabilitation facility.
Turner is survived by his five children, 14 grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.
Launching a TV news revolution
Turner began his media career at the age of 24 when he took over his father’s billboard company, Turner Outdoor Advertising, in the wake of the elder Turner’s suicide. He buried his shock and grief in work – but Turner wasn’t content to push other people’s products forever.
He bought up radio stations, then branched into television in 1970 by acquiring a struggling station in Atlanta known as Channel 17. He tried to boost the ratings by airing old sitcoms and classic films, at one point even hosting “Academy Award Theatre” himself.
After turning the family business around and renaming it the Turner Communications Group, Turner purchased two independent UHF television stations — in Atlanta and Charlotte, North Carolina — in 1970. He named them WTCG and WRET, after his company and himself. WTCG eventually became WTBS, television’s first “superstation.” It used satellite technology to carry its signal nationwide. TBS
Turner wasn’t interested in news yet. He decided to invest in sports instead, acquiring the rights to Atlanta Braves baseball games. Viewers and advertisers flocked to the channel, and as Turner turned a profit, he started to think bigger about TV.
In 1976 he beamed Channel 17’s signal up to a satellite and it became cable TV’s first superstation, reaching cable subscribers across the country.
Turner bought the Braves, and then the Atlanta Hawks basketball team, partly to keep the long-term rights to the TV programming, and partly because it was just plain fun.
As he built the Superstation WTBS, he set his sights even higher – a 24-hour news channel.
Turner was harshly critical of broadcast TV and establishment news judgments. “Part of the reason America had so many problems, he believed, was because his fellow Americans were so ill-informed,” former CNN journalist Lisa Napoli wrote in “Up All Night,” a book about the creation of CNN. Turner recognized “there was no better place to promote a variety of opinions than on allmighty television. With a news channel, he could quite possibly help save the world.”
A lot of people thought Turner’s idea was crazy. But he saw a huge opening in the marketplace.
“I worked until 7 o’clock, and when I got home the news was over,” he once said, referencing the 6:30 evening newscasts on the big networks. “So I missed television news completely. And I figured there were lots of people like me.”
Turner wanted to dramatically widen the aperture of television news, envisioning shows about business, health, sports and other subject matter. He admitted he knew “diddley-squat” about the news business, but he recruited the right people who did, like Reese Schonfeld, CNN’s founding president.
Turner, right, talks on the set of an early CNN broadcast. TBS
On June 1, 1980, CNN – the first 24-hour news channel – went live and has been on the air ever since.
Turner quickly expanded, adding a second 24-hour news network CNN2 (later renamed Headline News, then HLN) in 1982 and CNN International, which broadcast around the world, in 1985. He later added non-news cable channels including Turner Network Television (TNT), Turner Classic Movies (TCM) and the Cartoon Network.
In the mid-1980s, he acquired MGM’s library of more than 4,000 old films and stirred up controversy in the film community for colorizing many black-and-white movies, including “Casablanca.”
Out of all his networks, CNN was always his “baby,” but the network’s early years were marked by technical snafus during its long stretches of live broadcasting. Some critics dubbed it “Chicken Noodle News.”
Yet, Turner and his deputies knew they were creating something revolutionary.
“I lived for 20 years in my office,” Turner said. His office was inside CNN’s broadcast building in Atlanta. “I lived on a couch in my office the first 10 years.”
Longtime employees recall Turner sauntering into the newsroom wearing a bathrobe.
Turner speaks on stage outside of the Techwood Campus promoting the launch of CNN on June 1, 1980 R. Cotton Alston, Jr/CNN
“He was one of us,” former CNN president Tom Johnson recalled. “He would be in his housecoat down having breakfast in the Hard News Café (the company’s cafeteria).”
When the Persian Gulf War broke out in 1990, the importance of a 24-hour news channel became clear. It was the first time a war was broadcast live – and it was only on CNN.
“What Ted made happen was just as important as the Internet revolution,” said former Turner Broadcasting CEO Terry McGuirk.
Turner was hailed as a visionary and earned TIME Magazine’s “Man of the Year” in 1991.
In 1996, Turner sold his networks to Time Warner for nearly $7.5 billion. He stayed on as a vice-chairman of Time Warner, heading up the company’s cable TV networks.
Shaped by family tragedies
Robert Edward Turner III was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, on November 19, 1938. At the age of 4, shortly after his sister’s birth, his parents sent young Ted to a boarding school, which he didn’t like.
“I wanted to be home,” he said.
Robert Edward “Ted” Turner III was born in Cincinnati on November 19, 1938. Turner Family Collection
Turner had a difficult relationship with his father, who had a weakness for alcohol and disciplined his son with a leather strap or a wire coat hanger.
“It wasn’t dangerous or anything like that,” Turner once recalled. “It just hurt like the devil.”
The family later moved to Savannah, Georgia, and his sister Mary Jean contracted a rare form of lupus when she was 12. The illness left her with brain damage and in severe pain for years until her death.
“She was sick for five years before she passed away. And it just seemed so unfair, because she hadn’t done anything wrong,” Turner said. “What had she done wrong? And I couldn’t get any answers. Christianity couldn’t give me any answers to that. So my faith got shaken somewhat.”
Turner was sent to several strict Southern military schools and his father had hopes of him getting accepted to Harvard. He attended another Ivy League school – Brown University – but his father cut off his tuition because he disapproved of his major, as he made clear in a letter he wrote to his son.
“My dear son, I am appalled, even horrified, that you have adopted Classics as a major,” the elder Turner wrote. “I am a practical man, and for the life of me I cannot possibly understand why you should wish to speak Greek. With whom will you communicate in Greek?
“I think you are rapidly becoming a jackass, and the sooner you get out of that filthy atmosphere, the better it will suit me.”
After his father’s suicide, Turner took over the family business, Turner Advertising Co. Turner Family Collection
Before long, the money ran out and he dropped out, returning to Georgia to work for his father’s billboard company in Macon.
Turner was just 24 when his father shot himself and died in the upstairs bathroom at the family’s home near Savannah. It was March 5, 1963, and the elder Turner was under the influence of alcohol and pills, battling depression and worried he had overextended himself with a $4 million purchase that expanded his company, Turner Outdoor Advertising, into the South’s largest billboard company.
“He went against everything he taught me: ‘Be courageous and hang in there,’” Turner said.
Ted meets Jane
At the peak of his career, Ted Turner – twice divorced with five grown children – began dating actress Jane Fonda in 1989. The two would marry in 1991 and become one of the nation’s most storied couples.
“At first they didn’t get along at all,” recalled friend and former President Jimmy Carter. “In fact, they didn’t like each other. I heard this from both of them. It was months later before they decided to try again. And they evolved into one of the nicest romances that I’ve ever known about.”
Turner and Jane Fonda arrive at the 62nd Annual Academy Awards on March 26, 1990. Hal Garb/AFP/Getty Images
Ted and Jane stayed together for 10 years and, when they split, his anger at her conversion to Christianity was blamed, but the truth was more nuanced. She simply could no longer take a back seat to his larger-than-life personality or sustain his need for her constant companionship as they shuttled between his 28 properties. She was pushing 60 and no longer interested in living out of a suitcase.
“I would never love anyone like I love him,” she said. “But I just couldn’t keep moving in his world, along the surface for the rest of my life. I knew that I would get to the end of my life and regret not doing the things that I also needed to do for me.”
He was devastated when she left him and, as his marriage ended, Turner’s media empire began slipping away.
Time Warner had agreed to be purchased by Internet provider AOL in 2000 with the hopes that the merger would help the legacy media company survive and prosper during the dot-com boom.
In 1996, Turner sold his company to Time Warner for $7.34 billion. He became vice chairman after the merger. TBS
But the Internet bubble burst in 2001 and the following year the new AOL-Time Warner sustained a record $99 billion loss, resulting in countless job cuts. It soon became known as the biggest mergers and acquisitions failure in corporate history.
Turner resigned as AOL Time Warner’s vice-chairman in 2003, and three years later announced he would not seek reelection to its board of directors.
He lost control of Turner Broadcasting, CNN, the Atlanta Braves, the Hawks – and his fortune, consisting mostly of company stock, was hemorrhaging – more than $7 billion in three years.
“I lost Jane. I lost my job here. I lost my fortune, most of it. Got a billion or two left. You can get by on that if you economize,” he told CNN’s Piers Morgan in May 2012. He said he was “brokenhearted.” He tried to win her back, but it was obvious the relationship was beyond repair. “We were so far apart philosophically, we couldn’t do it.”
Despite the breakup, Fonda and Turner always maintained a close friendship, speaking on the phone regularly and showing up at each other’s charity events.
“Just because people get divorced doesn’t mean they stop loving each other,” she said. “It may be hard for two people to live together, but I can’t ever forget the reasons that made me fall in love with him.”
Turner explained that he had “loved many people” but only been “in love” twice – once with Fonda and once with someone he wouldn’t name. Being “in love” implies permanence, he said – something he hadn’t experienced in all of his relationships.
A media mogul turned philanthropist
Turner gave the US government $31 million to pay off a debt to the United Nations in 2001. Years earlier, Turner had donated $1 billion to the United Nations. United Nations Foundation
Turner always had a philanthropic streak, but it began to move to the forefront in 1997, the year after he sold Turner Broadcasting to Time Warner. That’s when he pledged $1 billion to the United Nations. Making good on that pledge took a while longer than he had anticipated – he made his final payment to the UN in 2015 – thanks to the beating his fortune took after the 2001 merger with AOL.
When it was over, he was still a billionaire, but just barely.
Turner didn’t do anything in a small way, including reinventing himself. He was the second biggest landowner in North America, with 2 million acres spread over 28 properties, including 19 ranches in Nebraska, Colorado, Kansas, Montana, New Mexico and South Dakota, as well as in Argentina. The first of his Ted’s Montana Grill restaurants opened in 2002, and now there are more than 40 in 16 states. He managed to bring bison back from the brink of extinction; he had the world’s largest private bison herd, with approximately 51,000 head.
His five children – Rhett Turner, Laura Turner Seydel, Jennie Turner Garlington, Teddy Turner and Beau Turner – serve on the board of the Turner Foundation. His other foundations include his United Nations Foundation, Nuclear Threat Initiative, Captain Planet Foundation and the Turner Endangered Species Fund.
Half a century ago, his father’s suicide thrust a $1 million billboard company into his hands. He often said that his father, who was 54 at the time he died, ran out of things to work toward. As a result, Turner was driven – relentlessly moving forward, never looking back.
Yet no matter how successful he became, Turner was often still trying to prove himself.
Fonda recalled how she cried when Turner told her about his childhood on their second date. They were driving around his 60,000-acre ranch in Montana, and he was passing the time, talking as he drove. Tears ran down her face.
Turner at his Flying D ranch in Montana in 2011. Elena Cizmaric
“He literally couldn’t understand why I was crying when he told me stories about what his father did to him,” she said. “Children can’t blame their parents. ‘It’s always my fault; it’s being done for my own good. I must not be good enough.’”
“Given his childhood,” Fonda said, “he should’ve become a dictator. He should’ve become a not nice person. The miracle is that he became what he is. A man who will go to heaven, and there’ll be a lot of animals up there welcoming him, animals that have been brought back from the edge of extinction because of Ted. He’s turned out to be a good guy. And he says he’s not religious. But he, the whole time I was with him, every speech – and he likes to give speeches – he always ends his speech with ‘God bless.’ And he’ll get into heaven. He’s a miracle.”
This story has been updated with additional information.
CNN’s Elise Zeiger, Kimberly Arp Babbit and Dan Q. Tham contributed to this story
Advocacy requires disciplined civility. A brief should address the court with deference, treat opposing parties and counsel with respect, and (in appellate contexts) avoid any pejorative description or innuendo aimed at the trial judge. The advocate’s voice should be cool, tolerant, temperate, and measured.
Brief-writing aims not to slay an enemy but to persuade a legally trained reader. Harsh attacks on the lower court are especially risky because appellate judges may instinctively identify with the judge whose decision is under review. Unfair criticism can therefore provoke judicial impatience or solidarity rather than agreement.
The same restraint applies to opponents, opposing briefs, parties, and witnesses. Nasty, derisive, or mocking comments seldom help. If the opposing side’s conduct or argument is genuinely defective, judges can usually see that without counsel’s theatrical assistance. Denunciation may even arouse sympathy for the target. Ridicule is particularly dangerous because an argument that seems absurd to counsel may appeal to the judge or may only seem absurd because counsel has not fully understood it.
Humor is equally hazardous: its success depends on the recipient, and judges may receive jokes unpredictably or resent them altogether. A brief is not a forum for comic experimentation, sarcasm, or literary display.
Candor is equally important. Justice Ginsburg’s advice to be scrupulously honest is especially forceful when describing what the lower court decided. Appellate judges often read the decision below before reading the briefs. If counsel then mischaracterizes that decision, the court is likely to distrust counsel and become impatient with the argument. Accuracy, fairness, and professional self-command strengthen credibility and preserve judicial attention.
The advocate should avoid diatribes, immature polemics, ad hominem attacks, condescension, sarcasm, insult, and pettiness. Such tactics distract from the merits, suggest weakness, and may even invite sanctions. Gerry Spence’s advice captures the point: avoid scorn and ridicule, use humor cautiously, withhold insult, and respect the opponent.
Litigation is adversarial, but advocacy need not be belligerent. Counsel may contend without being contentious and disagree without being disagreeable. Words such as “obviously,” “clearly,” and “preposterous” often sound like table-pounding substitutes for reasoning. True persuasive strength lies in substance, restraint, accuracy, and respect.
Summarized from Chinua Asuzu, Brief-Writing Master Plan (Partridge, 2022), 366–369.
Hon. Justice Daniel Osiagor of the Federal High Court in Lagos has stopped the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) from “using its recently issued ‘Formal Notice’ to threaten, sanction or punish broadcast stations and presenters for expressing personal opinions as facts, bullying or intimidating guests, or failing to maintain neutrality.”
The judge granted an order of interim injunction following arguments on an ex parte motion filed by the Socio-Economic Rights and Accountability Project (SERAP) and the Nigerian Guild of Editors (NGE).
The ruling followed a lawsuit filed by SERAP and NGE challenging what they described as “an arbitrary and unlawful attempt by the NBC to sanction broadcasters for allegedly expressing personal opinions as facts” , “bullying or intimidating guests,” or failing to maintain “neutrality.”
In April, the NBC in a statement released said it had observed a rise in violations of the sixth edition of the Nigeria Broadcasting Code across news, current affairs and political programmes. It warned that presenters who express personal opinions as facts or bully guests on air will face sanctions.
SERAP and NGE had, in the lawsuit, asked the court “to determine whether the various provisions of the Nigeria Broadcasting Code relied upon by the NBC to threaten broadcasters are inconsistent with the Nigerian 1999 Constitution (as amended) and the country’s international human rights obligations.”
In his ruling, Justice Osiagor ordered that the NBC, its officers, agents, or any affiliated persons be restrained from imposing sanctions, fines, or other penalties on broadcasting stations based on several contested provisions of the 6th Edition of the Nigeria Broadcasting Code, pending the hearing and determination of the substantive suit.
The case has been adjourned to June 1, 2026 for the hearing of the motion on Notice.
The company she started in 1969 with her husband, Don, grew from a single store selling jeans and records to a $16 billion brand that remade the apparel industry.
Doris Fisher, who co-founded their clothing brand — Gap — with her husband, Donald has died at 94.
They were said to have make finding well-fitting jeans easier when they started in 1969. Doris served as the brand’s merchandiser, shaping Gap’s style identity until she stepped down in 2003
A spokesperson for Gap confirmed to PEOPLE that Doris, “passed away this weekend, surrounded by her family” on Saturday, May 2. In a statement shared with Gap Inc. employees, CEO Richard Dickson said Doris died “peacefully,” and highlighted her “brilliance, quiet determination, and heart,” all of which positively impacted the business and the broader fashion scene.
“Doris built Gap with vision, conviction, and an equal voice in the brand from the very beginning — at a time when that was highly unusual for women,” Gap wrote in a tribute on Instagram. “She was, simply, a true original.”
“Her values shaped our company. And her eye shaped our style,” the post continued. “Her legacy is woven into who we are. What we wear. And how we show up. Today, and always.”
The businesswoman and her husband created the clothing brand together in 1969, built on the goal to “make it easier to find a pair of jeans that fit with a commitment to do more,” per the brand’s site. Donald himself experienced that all-too-familiar problem, BBC reported, and the frustrating experience fueled his and Doris’ new business.
Doris and Donald Fisher.BILLY FARRELL/Patrick McMullan via Getty
Doris came up with the brand’s name, which referred to the generation gap in an effort to draw in younger shoppers, BBC reported, and the brand’s effort to “bridge gaps to create a better world,” Dickson wrote in his message to Gap employees.
The couple, who wed in 1953, opened the doors to their first store in 1969 in San Francisco, where only men’s Levi’s jeans and record tapes were sold, followed by another location in San Jose, Calif., the following year, at which time the brand began making jeans for women, too, per the brand’s site. Three years in, Gap had established 25 stores, and by 1987, it had expanded internationally by opening a number of stores in London, then more in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, two years later.
Doris worked as Gap’s merchandiser, thus influencing the brand’s style identity, until 2003. Donald stepped down as Gap Inc.’s chairman the year after, though he remained on the board. Five years later, Gap’s co-founder and Doris’ husband of 56 years died at age 81.
Doris Fisher.REUTERS/Hector Amezcua/Pool
Since its founding, Gap has grown to include Old Navy, Banana Republic and Athleta, with the four brands operating about 3,570 stores across the world, BBC reported.
A 28-year-old man named Mene Ogidi sat on the ground in Effurun, Delta State on April 26, 2026. His hands were tied behind his back with a rope. He was not running. He was not fighting. He was begging.
“Officers, abeg, I go tell you everything. Na my friend deceived me. E dey Sapele. I will carry you to the place.”
Someone filmed what happened next.
ASP Nuhu Usman cocked his rifle and shot Mene Ogidi at point-blank range. In broad daylight. With the man’s hands still tied behind his back. The officers then lifted the body into a police Toyota Sienna and drove off.
This is not a war story from Sambisa Forest. This happened on an ordinary street in Delta State. And if not for the camera phone of an ordinary Nigerian, it would have been filed under “suspected criminal neutralised” and we would have moved on.
That is the part that should disturb every one of us deeply. Mind you, I am not saying Mene Ogidi was a saint. The police claimed he was caught trying to ship a Beretta pistol with four rounds of ammunition. Maybe he was. Maybe he was not. Maybe, as he was screaming in that video, a friend truly set him up. We will never know now, because ASP Usman decided to become judge, jury, and executioner in one trigger pull.
This is the very foundation of what a justice system is supposed to prevent. You arrest a suspect, you produce him in court, you present your evidence, and a judge decides his fate. That is not bureaucracy for its own sake. It is the difference between a functioning state and a killing field.
Now, in fairness, the Inspector-General of Police, Rilwan Disu, moved relatively quickly. ASP Usman and three other officers have been recommended for dismissal and criminal prosecution. The Force Disciplinary Committee has sat. The case is before the Police Service Commission for ratification. I give the IGP some credit for not circling the wagons this time. But credit only goes so far.
Because here is my real question. Why does this keep happening?
The #EndSARS protests of October 2020 shook this country to its foundations. Young Nigerians, armed with nothing but phones and anger, took to the streets and told the government Enough is enough. The Special Anti-Robbery Squad was dissolved, at least on paper. Panels were set up in every state. Reports were written. Recommendations were submitted. Governors received findings. And then what? Nearly six years later, a restrained man is shot dead on camera in Delta State by a serving police officer and we are back to the same outrage cycle, the same official condemnations, the same promises.
What did we actually reform? I want someone to answer that question with specifics, not press releases.
Let me be precise about the pattern here, because treating Mene Ogidi’s death as an isolated incident is dishonest. There is a recurring category of security force killing where the victim is not a combatant, not an armed suspect in flight, not posing any imminent threat at the moment lethal force was applied. In the cases of Kehinde Alade, Ibrahim Usman, and the unnamed pregnant woman in Abraka, the two passers-by cut down in Alag do in each of those incidents, the victims were either bystanders or already under some form of state control when they were killed. Mene Ogidi fits squarely into the worst sub-category of this pattern: physically restrained, hands literally tied behind his back, pleading cooperatively, and still shot. That is not a split-second field decision gone wrong. That is the deliberate execution of a man in custody.
And before anyone tries to make this a regional story, the geography of documented cases from the past two years stretches from Delta to Lagos, from Abuja to Akwa Ibom, from the north-east to the south-east. This is not a southern problem or a northern problem. The common thread is not geography. The common thread is impunity, the settled belief among some officers that a poor, unconnected Nigerian’s life carries no real cost.
There is also something in this Delta case that I am surprised official commentary has not pressed harder on. Mene Ogidi, in that video, was actively cooperating. He was offering the officers a lead, a friend in Sapele, a specific location, a potentially bigger arrest. That is exactly the intelligence any competent officer would want to follow. So what was ASP Usman so eager to bury that he shot this man mid-sentence, mid-cooperation?
I am not accusing anyone of a specific crime beyond what the video already shows. But the question must be asked. When a suspect is willing to talk and an officer silences him permanently, the logical inference is that the officer had a reason to prevent that information from surfacing. The IGP’s disciplinary process must go beyond the mechanics of the shooting and probe what Mene Ogidi might have known that made him dangerous to someone in or connected to that patrol. Cover-ups in Nigerian law enforcement are not conspiracy theories. They are a documented, recurring feature of how certain bad actors within the system operate.
The wider problem resolves to three things: training, culture, and accountability infrastructure.
On training, a Nigerian police constable typically receives between three and six months of instruction before being handed a firearm. In jurisdictions that take professional policing seriously, that period runs between eighteen months and two years. You cannot build proportional force judgment, human rights instincts, and de-escalation reflexes in six months. What you produce is someone who knows how to operate a weapon but has received no serious grounding in why restraint is the harder and more disciplined calling.
When that person faces a tense situation, muscle memory beats judgment every time. On culture, the rot is generational. For decades, sections of the Nigerian police have operated on an unspoken premise that poor, unconnected citizens are not quite rights-bearing individuals but problems to be suppressed. That culture does not die with a memo from the IGP. It requires new supervisory norms at the divisional level, consistent mentorship from senior officers who model different behaviour, and most critically a track record of consequences severe enough to alter the calculus for the next officer tempted to cross the line.
On accountability infrastructure, the Mene Ogidi case does show something: when leadership chooses to act, the system can respond with some speed. The IGP moved. Good. But accountability cannot be a function of how viral a video went. It cannot be selective. The families of Kehinde Alade, Ibrahim Usman, and the unnamed pregnant woman from Abraka have the same rights as Mene Ogidi’s family. If the state cannot show them equivalent resolve, then what we have is not accountability it is brand management triggered by embarrassing footage.
And that is the uncomfortable truth underneath all of this. The reason that the camera phone mattered is that without it, nothing would have moved. How many Mene Ogidis were never filmed? How many families received a phone call, a body, and a story about how their son was a dangerous criminal who gave officers no choice? The documentation gap in Nigerian law enforcement accountability is not an administrative oversight. It is the gap through which most of the impunity escapes, unchallenged and uncounted.
So what must happen now? First, the IGP must drive this case to its full legal conclusion, criminal prosecution, trial, and conviction, not a quiet administrative dismissal that allows ASP Usman to eventually resurface somewhere in the system. The family of Mene Ogidi deserves justice completed, not justice begun.
Second, the National Human Rights Commission, working with police oversight bodies, should establish and publish a running public register of extrajudicial killing cases dates, locations, officers named, charges filed, and verdicts reached. We cannot manage what we refuse to measure, and right now the true scale of unlawful killings by Nigerian security forces is masked by the absence of systematic public record-keeping.
Third, state governors cannot continue hiding behind the federal structure of the Nigeria Police Force. The police operating in Delta State operate in a political environment shaped in part by the Delta State Government. Governors have the platform, the relationships, and the public authority to demand higher standards from the commands in their states. The silence of most governors after incidents like this is its own form of complicity.
Mene Ogidi was 28 years old. Whether guilty of the charge against him or entirely innocent, we may never know which he deserved to live to see a courtroom. He did not. And if we exhaust our outrage on social media and then move on to the next scandal, we have no right to be surprised when the next restrained man is shot on camera and the cycle begins again.
The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.
Amid renewed concerns over restricted bank accounts and growing complaints from customers across Nigeria, the issue of Bank Verification Number linkage has returned to the spotlight.
Reports of transactions being limited and accounts placed on hold have pushed many account holders to revisit their compliance status, particularly as financial institutions tighten enforcement of regulatory directives. At the centre of the development is a simple but critical requirement: every bank account must be tied to a valid BVN. For customers operating more than one account, understanding how to link BVN to multiple bank accounts easily has become urgent.
The Bank Verification Number system was introduced by the Central Bank of Nigeria to strengthen identity verification within the banking sector.
It ensures that each customer has a unique identity that cuts across all financial institutions, reducing cases of fraud and impersonation.
However, failure to properly link accounts continues to create avoidable disruptions for many Nigerians.
Why BVN linkage is under renewed scrutiny
Recent enforcement actions by banks have been driven by compliance with Know Your Customer regulations issued by the Central Bank of Nigeria. Financial institutions are under obligation to ensure that every account on their platform is properly identified and traceable.
For individuals with multiple accounts, the requirement is not to register multiple BVNs but to ensure that a single BVN is linked across all accounts. This is where the need to link BVN to multiple bank accounts easily becomes important.
Retrieving your BVN before linking
Before proceeding with any linkage, customers must first confirm their BVN. This can be done by dialing 5650# using the phone number used during registration. The number will be displayed instantly, although network charges may apply.
Having the correct BVN is essential, as incorrect entries can delay or completely prevent successful linkage.
Linking BVN through mobile banking apps
Most commercial banks in Nigeria provide BVN update options within their mobile applications. After logging into the app, customers can navigate to the profile or account settings section where BVN linkage is usually listed.
Once the BVN is entered and submitted, the system verifies the details against the existing database. If the information matches, the account is updated almost immediately. This method remains one of the fastest ways to link BVN to multiple bank accounts easily, especially for customers who already use digital banking services.
Using USSD codes for quick linkage
For customers without access to smartphones or internet services, USSD remains a dependable option. By dialing the bank’s shortcode, users can follow prompts to update their BVN details.
Common USSD codes include, UBA: *919#, Zenith Bank: *966#, GTBank: *737#. After selecting the appropriate option, customers input their BVN and confirm the request. The process is typically completed within minutes.
Visiting the bank branch for assistance
In situations where digital methods fail, visiting a bank branch provides a direct solution. Bank officials can assist with manual linkage after verifying identity through valid means such as a national ID card or voter’s card. This option is particularly useful for customers facing persistent errors or discrepancies in their records.
Ensuring your details match
A major challenge in BVN linkage is inconsistency in personal information. The name on the bank account must align exactly with the name registered under the BVN.
Differences in spelling, arrangement, or omission of middle names can lead to rejection. Where such issues exist, customers are advised to update their details at the bank or through BVN enrolment centres before attempting to link again. Without this step, efforts to link BVN to multiple bank accounts easily may not succeed.
What happens after linking your BVN
Once the BVN is successfully linked, the account becomes fully compliant with regulatory requirements. Customers regain unrestricted access to banking services and can carry out transactions without interruption. The linkage also strengthens security. Since all accounts are tied to a single identity, suspicious activities can be tracked more efficiently across different banks.
The effort to link BVN to multiple bank accounts easily reflects a broader attempt to build trust and accountability within Nigeria’s financial system.
With the right information, accurate personal details, and access to the available channels, customers can complete the process without stress. What remains essential is compliance, because in today’s banking environment, an unlinked account is no longer a viable option.
Frequently Asked Questions
Can I have two different BVNs in Nigeria?
No. The policy allows only one BVN per individual. Multiple BVNs must be resolved through the appropriate banking channels.
How long does it take to link a BVN to a new account?
In most cases, the process is instant when done through mobile apps or USSD. However, delays may occur if verification issues arise.
Will my account be blocked if my BVN is not linked?
Yes. Banks may restrict transactions or freeze accounts that are not linked in line with regulatory requirements.
What kind of people gather to water another man’s private Strait of Hormuz?
Koko:
Sick people.
Kaka:
What kind of men leave their so-called businesses to watch women’s breasts and buttocks?
Koko:
Sex-starved, sex-deprived men who are not really busy.
Kaka:
You mean those who do those things are really not well, and uncivilised?
Koko:
Trust me, they need all kinds of therapy and mind resets.
I know, Kaka, I saw that video. A Nigerian woman, stripped of dignity, assaulted in broad daylight. Not in a war zone. Not in a red light district. The kind of violence we see these days belittles our morals and demeans us all.
But those shameless lazy bones are okada riding blacks stripping women naked, forcing their legs open, in search of God-knows-what, and filming it.
Koko:
Other people’s wives o.
Kaka: Those women have children, parents, siblings.
Koko:
And the sick men parked their ‘okada’ to watch the show of shame.
Kaka:
Real shame of shameless people. But let’s not allow perverts to distract us from calling out evil doers who forgot their roots and helpers. Who would have thought a day would come when South Africans would turn to bite Nigeria with teeth we spent sweat and money to shape and sharpen?
Koko:
It’s sad and Nigerians are asking: why? What have we done? Why are our children being cut down in their prime? Why are our promising sons being returned home in the cargo cabins of planes that flew them in premium cabins to Johannesburg? Why are our hard-earned businesses being destroyed by those we once called brothers? Are we the cause of everything that is wrong with South Africa?
Kaka:
Ah! The eternal Nigerian question—what did we do wrong? As if a man must commit a crime before he is lynched.
Koko:
In other words, we are being lynched just because we are not South Africans? They just hate our faces?
Kaka:
Your faces are enough problem, really, along with your colourful lifestyle. However, seriously, this thing called xenophobia is a disease that has South Africa by the jugular.
Since the end of apartheid in 1994, xenophobic violence in South Africa has killed at least 669 people, displaced over 127,000, and led to the looting of thousands of businesses, according to Georgetown Journal
In just the first half of 2025, there were 26 recorded incidents and 14 deaths.
Koko:
As we speak in 2026, reports confirm renewed attacks, including the killing of two Nigerians and widespread violence in cities like Pretoria and Durban. Killing Nigerians seems to have become a sporting event.
Kaka:
Morbid sport by sick people.
Koko: And they have refused to seek help for the unfortunate recurring disease. 2008, 2015, 2019—each wave was worse than the last. Like malaria that refuses to die because the swamp is still there.
Koko:
But why Nigerians? Why always us?
Kaka:
Sit well. There are reasons. Not excuses—reasons. Let us start with economic frustration. South Africa is battling unemployment. Angry young men look around and see foreigners hustling, trading, surviving and conclude:
“They are taking our jobs.”
That narrative repeated like a broken record leaves them angry but at the wrong people.
Koko:
South Africa needs a scapegoat, someone to blame for their malfunctioning polity.
When a country struggles, it needs a villain. Foreigners become the convenient enemy and are being blamed for economic woes.
Kaka:
There is also the issue of stereotypes about Nigerians. Let’s not lie to ourselves.
Nigerians carry a reputation—some earned, many exaggerated.
Drug trafficking. Fraud. Flashy lifestyles.
Even when only a few are guilty, the whole community is branded.
Koko:
I believe jealousy is another demon in the matter.
A Nigerian opens a shop, works 18 hours, including Sundays and public holidays and succeeds.
Next thing, the sons of the soil who slept till noon and went clubbing twice a week suddenly go green with envy.
“Burn his shop.”
“ He is corrupt.”
“ He stole my customers.”
“ All of them should go back to their country.”
Suddenly, hard work becomes a vice and envious laziness becomes a virtue. South African would choose violence every day and twice on Sunday instead of learning how Nigerians’ resilience and hardworking ways.
A nation elects leaders they do not like and the voters hold foreigners responsible for their bad choices. Then, the inhuman opportunistic politicians also blame the foreigners for their ineptitude.
They stir pots of trouble.
Anti-immigrant rhetoric is used as campaign slogans even as they increased tension because nothing wins votes like blaming outsiders.
Koko:
That is like an impotent man blaming his noisy neighbor for his inability to walk with his third leg.
Kaka:
Or a man with a small staff of office envying the strength and length of his more endowed brother. That is why they concoct misinformation and rumours to demarket and demonise everything Nigerian.
One minute, it is “Nigerians installed a king”, and boom, riots. How does a leader chosen by Nigerians to direct Nigerians’ affairs become other people’s headaches? We have not forced South Africans to worship at our shrines or prostrate before our kings. Why is our boil giving them pains?
Koko:
But Nigerians sef! Must an endowed man fling and flaunt his endowment in the presence of a man struggling to satisfy his wife?
Kaka:
Yeah, I heard that because of this famed endowment, some South African women have left their small-sized men for Nigerian men.
Koko:
Women, do they not know that such choices can start a war?
Kaka:
Well, now that they have started the war, everyone is suffering.
Koko:
But I’m sure, there is more to this sickness than a Strait of Hormuz and who has the best ocean-going vessels.
Kaka:
Nigerians don’t hide success. We spray it like perfume. When we ‘arrive ‘, nobody is left in doubt. We arrive with drums roll, aso ebi that announces established steeze.
In a struggling society, that attracts anger.
Koko:
It’s not our fault that they don’t understand us. And we do not force our aso ebi on them. We are just different. Is being different a sin?
Kaka:
There’s also the issue of poor integration. Some Nigerians form tight communities, speak their languages as if it is the host country’s lingua franca, speaking at the top of their voices and running their networks like cults.
To locals, that feels like:
“They came, but they didn’t join us. Instead, they are building another nation within our nation.”
Koko:
For people who still have PTSD from Apartheid, that definitely will rile them up.
Kaka:
Then there are the bad eggs who took their criminal minds along to other people’s domains. The big consequences are now haunting us all.
A few criminals can destroy the image of millions and Nigerians—let’s be honest—have produced some very smelly bad eggs abroad.
Kaka:
There is also the way our can-do attitude is perceived as arrogance. Our
confidence is our strength but to others, it can look like arrogance.
Koko:
So, are you saying Nigerians are the cause of their own misfortunes?
Kaka:
No. Don’t twist it.
There is no justification for violence, rape, or killing. Understanding cause is not excusing crime. The real problem is the festering disease called xenophobia.
It is even bigger than Nigerians.
Xenophobia in South Africa is described as “deep-rooted” across society—even institutions.
It is not just about strikes or mob actions. It is about a nation’s economic failure. It is about frustrated a people taking their anger out on others. It is about the identity crisis of a people who are not sure if they are fully Africans or half-white men.
Koko:
Maybe the solution question is, should Nigerians not just leave that toxic space, pack their bags and come home?
Kaka:
No, it is not that simple. Those people are not there on vacation.
Many Nigerians in South Africa run businesses. Their children are in schools. They have dependants
and families back home.
Leaving would mean starting life from zero. Though staying may mean continued risking their lives.
Koko:
What about self-defence?
Kaka:
Careful. The moment Nigerians retaliate violently, it becomes foreigners vs citizens war.
Guess who the big loser will be?
Not the mob. Not the politicians.
The foreigner.
The most realistic way out is stronger Nigerian diplomacy, legal protection, better community bond. Nigerians living in South Africa must document the abuses because silence can invite more violence.
Koko:
Let’s come back to our own house.
Where is Abuja in all this?
Kaka:
Abuja is summoning envoys, issuing statements and writing strongly-worded letters as usual but the time is ripe for reactions that are faster, louder, and stronger. We can no longer speak diplomatese at violence.
Koko:
Otherwise, Nigerians abroad will feel abandoned?
Kaka:
Exactly. A citizen without protection is like a goat tied in a lion’s den.
Koko:
Whatever happened to “Africa for Africans”?
Kaka:
That slogan started dying years ago. Today, it is fully dead. Each baby now must carry his mother’s breasts himself. Every man for himself, God for us all.
What we have now are borders in the mind, unhealthy competition in the stomach, fear in the heart even when asleep.
Pan-Africanism sounds sweet in speeches but on the streets, it is about survival of the angriest.
Koko:
Let us hope this new pattern of s3xual assault, public stripping will not be added into the xenophobic mix before Nigeria does something to protect its own abroad.
Kaka:
When a mob strips a woman, they are not just attacking her. They are saying:
“You are not human.”
It is the final stage of hatred.
Koko:
So what do we do?
Kaka:
There are four things we must do urgently.
Nigeria must protect its citizens globally and I mean going beyond nice-sounding speeches. South Africa must enforce law, not mouth excuses that sound like they are condoning this nauseating nonsense because impunity breeds repetition.
Nigerians abroad must be strategic by building alliances and avoid unnecessary exposure that is often mistaken for arrogance.
All Africans must confront this hypocrisy. We cannot shout “down with colonialism” and still practise tribal hatred.
Koko:
But seriously, Kaka, are Nigerians in South Africa doing something wrong?
Kaka:
Some things, yes.
But nothing—nothing—justifies being hunted like animals.
Koko:
Should they leave?
Kaka:
Some will. Some can’t.
Koko:
Should they fight?
Kaka:
They must survive first.
Kaka (quietly):
The real tragedy is not that foreigners are attacked.
The tragedy is that Africans have learned to hate Africans with the efficiency of former oppressors. And that, Koko,
is the most dangerous import we never paid for.
The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.
Just days before thousands of activists, technologists, policymakers, and civil society actors were due to converge in Lusaka, the Zambian government abruptly cancelled RightsCon 2026, the world’s leading summit on the intersection of human rights and technology. The official explanation was bureaucratic: the need to ensure “alignment with national values” and unresolved administrative clearances.
But beneath this carefully worded justification lies a far more complex and troubling story. Evidence from organisers and multiple reports points to geopolitical pressure, particularly from China, linked to the participation of Taiwanese civil society groups.
What happened in Lusaka is not merely the cancellation of a conference. It is a signal event, one that exposes the entanglement of digital rights, global power politics, and Africa’s contested place in the emerging technological order.
RightsCon is not just another international conference. It is a convening space where some of the most contentious issues in global governance are debated: internet shutdowns, surveillance, AI governance, data protection, online gender-based violence, and the future of digital democracy. That alone makes it politically sensitive.
According to organisers, Chinese diplomats exerted pressure on the Zambian government due to the planned participation of Taiwanese delegates, reflecting Beijing’s longstanding insistence on isolating Taiwan internationally. The stakes were heightened by the expectation that discussions at the summit would include China’s global digital influence, surveillance technologies, and models of digital authoritarianism.
Zambia, like many African countries, maintains deep economic ties with China, including infrastructure financing and development loans. The conference venue itself had links to Chinese support, further complicating the political calculus.
In this context, the decision to cancel RightsCon reflects more than domestic policy considerations. It reveals how external geopolitical pressures can shape internal decisions even in matters as seemingly apolitical as hosting a conference.
Neoliberalism and Digital Neocolonisation
The cancellation of RightsCon must also be understood within the broader framework of neoliberal globalisation and its discontents. African economies, including Zambia’s, have long operated within systems of dependency shaped by external capital — first from Western institutions under structural adjustment programmes, and increasingly from emerging powers like China. This shift has not dismantled dependency; it has diversified it.
What we are witnessing is a form of digital neocolonisation where influence is exercised not only through trade or infrastructure, but through control over narratives, platforms, and spaces of discourse.
When a global human rights conference can be halted because of discomfort from an external power, it raises uncomfortable questions: Who controls the agenda of digital rights in Africa? Whose voices are allowed to be heard? And at what cost does economic partnership come?
The irony is stark. A conference designed to defend openness, participation, and accountability in digital spaces was itself shut down through opaque, unaccountable processes. All this without any recourse to the cost of such a decision. As far as we know, the immediate consequences of the cancellation are both tangible and intangible.
First, there are financial losses. Thousands of participants, over 2,600 by some estimates, had already committed resources to travel, accommodation, and logistics. Airlines, hotels, local vendors, and service providers in Lusaka stand to lose significant revenue. Beyond direct losses, Zambia forfeits the economic boost that accompanies large international gatherings.
Second, institutional damage. For Zambia, the reputational cost may be even greater than the financial one. Hosting RightsCon was a milestone, the first time the summit would be held in Southern Africa. Its cancellation “dents the image” of the country as a reliable host for global events and Africa as a continent.
Third, disruption of global collaboration. RightsCon is a critical space for cross-sector collaboration. Governments, tech companies, activists, and researchers use it to build coalitions, shape policy, and share knowledge. Its abrupt cancellation disrupts ongoing initiatives, delays advocacy efforts, and weakens already fragile networks working on digital rights.
Fourth, loss for marginalised voices. Perhaps the most profound loss is borne by those already on the margins, including women and activists from the Global South who rely on spaces like RightsCon to amplify their voices.
A Dangerous Precedent for Africa and Global Reverberations
The implications of this incident extend far beyond Zambia. If governments can cancel international gatherings at the last minute due to political pressure, it introduces a new level of uncertainty into Africa’s role as a host for global events. Civil society organisations may begin to reconsider hosting conferences on the continent, fearing instability or interference.
This is a profound setback. Africa has been steadily positioning itself as a hub for global dialogue on technology, governance, and innovation. The cancellation of RightsCon risks reversing that progress.
Moreover, it reinforces a troubling trend: the shrinking of civic space. Across the continent, there has been a rise in laws and policies that restrict assembly, expression, and digital freedoms. The RightsCon cancellation fits into this broader pattern, raising concerns about the future of democratic engagement in Africa.
The disruption caused by the cancellation is not confined to Africa. RightsCon is part of a global ecosystem of governance conversations. Its cancellation has ripple effects across international institutions, including events tied to World Press Freedom Day, some of which had to be relocated or restructured.
It also sends a chilling message to global civil society: even established, internationally recognised platforms are not immune to political interference. For organisations already grappling with funding constraints, political hostility, and digital threats, this represents an “existential” challenge.
Between Sovereignty and Influence: The Way Forward
To be clear, states have the sovereign right to determine what events take place within their borders. But sovereignty, in this case, appears entangled with external influence. However, the RightsCon episode forces a deeper reflection on what sovereignty means in a globalised world. Is it the ability to make independent decisions or the ability to resist pressure from more powerful actors?
For many African countries, the answer is complicated. Economic realities often constrain political choices. Yet, the long-term cost of compromised autonomy, particularly in areas as critical as digital governance, may far outweigh short-term gains.
The incident should not be seen as an isolated incident, but as a warning. Africa stands at a crossroads in the digital age. The continent has an opportunity to shape global norms on technology, governance, and human rights. But doing so requires safeguarding the spaces where these conversations happen. Three priorities emerge.
One, protecting civic space: governments must reaffirm commitments to freedom of expression and assembly, particularly in digital contexts. Two, strengthening institutional independence: host countries need mechanisms that insulate international events from undue political interference, whether domestic or external. Three, rebalancing global partnerships: African states must engage global partners, both Western and Eastern, from a position that prioritises long-term autonomy over short-term dependency.
The cancellation of RightsCon 2026 is more than a logistical failure. It is a moment that lays bare the tensions shaping our world: between openness and control, sovereignty and influence, collaboration and coercion.
For Africa, it is a test. Will the continent assert itself as a space for free and open dialogue in the digital age, or will it become a terrain where global powers dictate the terms of engagement?
For the global community, it is a reminder that the fight for digital rights is not only about technology, it is about power. And in Lusaka, that power spoke loudly by ensuring that others could not speak at all.
The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.
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