Awards Are Not Enough—What the Ogoni Nine Deserve Is Justice
By Jerry Adesewo
On June 12—Nigeria’s Democracy Day, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu posthumously pardoned Ken Saro-Wiwa and the Ogoni Nine, honuoring them with national awards nearly three decades after their execution under the Abacha regime. The gesture was, by many accounts, a powerful symbolic act. But in the eyes of those who knew the struggle most intimately, it fell short. Perhaps dangerously so.
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So, when I read the swift response by Dr. Goodluck Diigbo, President of the Ogoni Central Indigenous Authority (OCIA), I could not but agree with him. In an open letter, he rejected the gesture outright, calling it “symbolism without truth.” For Diigbo, and indeed for many Nigerians, of which I am one, and international observers, the issue is not about forgiveness—it is about vindication.
“A pardon suggests that the Ogoni Nine were rightly convicted but are now forgiven,” Diigbo wrote. “But they were never guilty… What is required is not forgiveness, but exoneration.”
It is difficult to argue with the moral clarity of that position. The trial that condemned Saro-Wiwa and his colleagues was denounced around the world. It was not justice, it was state-sanctioned vengeance—an effort to silence the growing voice of environmental justice in the Niger Delta. To pardon these men without nullifying their convictions risks cementing the falsehood that they were ever guilty in the first place.
And yet, even as Diigbo rejected the pardon, he extended a hand—inviting dialogue, reconciliation, and a vision for a more just Nigeria. I agree with him wholeheartedly. This is not stubbornness; it is a principled demand for truth. His stance does not undermine national unity—it calls for a unity that is honest, accountable, and rooted in historical justice.
President Tinubu’s decision to honour the Ogoni Nine is not without merit. It signals a desire to confront the wounds of the past and move toward healing. And this must be unequivocally commended. But symbolism, however sincere, cannot replace structural correction. As Nigeria tries to strengthen its democratic institutions, we must ensure that the state not only acknowledges injustice—but actively works to undo it.
Full exoneration of the Ogoni Nine would mean overturning the flawed convictions and declaring—officially, and for the record—that these men were innocent. It would affirm that Nigeria does not merely remember its martyrs with medals but restores their dignity with the force of law.
This is not without precedent. The South African government post-apartheid did more than honour Steve Biko—it exposed the injustice behind his murder. Germany did more than remember victims of the Holocaust—it repealed Nazi-era convictions. If we truly believe in the legacy of Ken Saro-Wiwa and the righteousness of his cause, Nigeria must do the same.
Dr. Diigbo’s letter is a challenge to us all—citizens, leaders, institutions. It reminds us that the real test of a democracy is not in the ceremonies it hosts, but in the histories it corrects. The Niger Delta has waited long enough for justice. The time to act is now, especially as the 30th anniversary of their unjust killing beckons. They were murdered on November 10, 1995 in Port Harcourt.
History will not remember the award ceremony. It will remember whether we told the truth.
Awards Are Not Enough—What the Ogoni Nine Deserve Is Justice