By Shu’aibu Usman Leman
Forty years ago, on 19 October 1986, Nigeria lost one of its most courageous journalists. Dele Giwa, founding Editor-in-Chief of Newswatch magazine, was killed by a letter bomb delivered to his home in Ikeja, Lagos. Four decades later, his murder remains one of the darkest chapters in the history of Nigerian journalism, an enduring symbol of the dangers confronting those who dare to question authority and demand accountability. For me, this anniversary is more than an occasion to remember a fallen colleague. It is a moment for sober reflection on the price of truth, the vulnerability of journalists and the unfinished struggle for press freedom in our country. As a former National Secretary of the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ) and a journalist who has spent much of his professional life reflecting on the challenges of the profession, I cannot contemplate Dele Giwa’s death without asking a fundamental question: Forty years after this tragedy, what has Nigeria learnt about the need to protect journalists and defend the public’s right to know?
Dele Giwa was only 39 when his life was cut short. He was not killed in a crossfire, during a riot or while covering a dangerous assignment. He was killed in the privacy of his home when a parcel delivered to him exploded. The circumstances surrounding his death shocked the nation and sent a chilling message to journalists who believed that the press had a responsibility to hold those in power accountable. His murder was not merely the loss of an individual; it was an assault on the freedom of the press and the right of Nigerians to receive information without intimidation. For those of us who entered journalism with a sense of mission, Dele Giwa represented the conviction that journalism must do more than report events. It must interrogate power, expose wrongdoing, challenge injustice and ensure that public officials understand that the authority they exercise comes with an obligation to account to the people.
When Dele Giwa, alongside Ray Ekpu, Dan Agbese and Yakubu Mohammed, established Newswatch in 1984, they helped redefine the possibilities of Nigerian journalism. The magazine brought a new sense of purpose to investigative reporting, rigorous research, editorial independence and in-depth analysis. It demonstrated that the Nigerian press could challenge official narratives and investigate matters of public interest without abandoning its responsibility to accuracy and fairness. Newswatch was more than a magazine; it was a statement of professional courage and a declaration that Nigerians deserved to know the truth about those who governed them. At a time when military rule restricted democratic freedoms and placed enormous pressure on independent voices, its founders insisted that public office must not become a shield against scrutiny. Their work inspired a generation of journalists who came to understand that the profession was not simply a means of earning a living but a calling that demanded integrity, courage and an unwavering commitment to the public good.
The relationship between the military establishment and Newswatch became increasingly tense as the magazine continued to challenge official narratives. In the days preceding his death, Giwa was questioned by officials of the State Security Service. On 19 October 1986, a parcel arrived at his residence, and the explosion that followed brought his life to a brutal end. The circumstances of his murder have generated questions, controversy and public concern for four decades, yet no conclusive criminal conviction has established responsibility for the killing. That failure should trouble every Nigerian who believes in justice, democracy and the rule of law. We cannot continue to consign this murder to the archives of unresolved national tragedies or allow the passage of time to diminish the importance of the questions it raises. A nation cannot credibly claim to value press freedom while leaving the murder of one of its most prominent journalists without a satisfactory judicial resolution.
Forty years after his death, one question continues to haunt our national conscience. Who killed Dele Giwa? Successive investigations, public discussions and inquiries have failed to bring the matter to a satisfactory judicial conclusion. The Oputa Panel revisited aspects of the case, yet the country has not achieved the kind of definitive accountability that could offer closure to his family and reassure the public that no individual or institution stands above the law. The continued absence of a conclusive resolution is not merely a matter of historical interest; it raises serious questions about the effectiveness of our institutions and their willingness to pursue justice in cases involving attacks on journalists. If relevant records and evidence remain available, a credible review of the case deserves serious consideration. Modern investigative and forensic methods may offer opportunities to examine evidence that could not be adequately analysed four decades ago, while surviving witness accounts, official records and other materials should be assessed by competent and independent authorities.
It is against this background that I call on the Federal Government to use the 40th anniversary of Dele Giwa’s murder as an opportunity to reopen investigations into the circumstances surrounding his death. Such an initiative must be independent, credible and guided by evidence, due process and a genuine commitment to justice. It should not be driven by political expediency or the desire to assign blame without proof, but by the determination to establish the truth wherever the evidence leads. The relevant authorities should examine whether surviving records, witness accounts and modern forensic techniques could help answer questions that have remained unresolved for decades. Forty years is a long time to wait for answers, but the passage of time should not become an excuse for abandoning the search for justice. The murder of a journalist must never be treated as a crime whose significance diminishes simply because the years have passed.
The international experience offers useful lessons for Nigeria. We are not the only country to have confronted the murder of a journalist under circumstances that raised serious questions about accountability. In Malta, the assassination of investigative journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia in October 2017 led to extensive investigations and multiple convictions. Three men were convicted of carrying out the killing, while two others were convicted of supplying the bomb. However, businessman Yorgen Fenech, who was accused of commissioning the murder, was acquitted , and the prosecution subsequently appealed against the verdict. The case demonstrates that, even where convictions have been secured, establishing the full extent of responsibility for a journalist’s assassination can be a complex and protracted process.
In Türkiye, the murder of Armenian-Turkish journalist Hrant Dink in Istanbul in January 2007 likewise resulted in years of investigations, retrials and convictions. In February 2025, a court imposed life sentences on eight defendants in a retrial connected to the murder conspiracy. Yet questions about the full extent of responsibility have persisted. These cases demonstrate both the possibility of securing accountability through sustained investigations and the importance of pursuing unresolved questions through credible evidence and due process.
These experiences offer an important lesson for Nigeria. The passage of time should not, in itself, extinguish the pursuit of justice for a murdered journalist. Where credible evidence survives, it should be preserved, reviewed and tested through independent and lawful procedures. Investigations must follow the evidence wherever it leads, without shielding individuals from scrutiny because of their political influence, institutional position or former office. Equally, accountability must be established through due process rather than public speculation or political accusation. The objective is not to secure convictions at any cost, but to establish the truth and ensure that those proved responsible answer for their actions.
Dele Giwa’s murder deserves the same seriousness of purpose. Four decades without a conclusive judicial resolution should strengthen, rather than weaken, our determination to establish what happened. Nigeria should examine whether surviving evidence, official records, witness accounts and modern investigative techniques could help advance the case. The experience of other countries demonstrates that prolonged delays need not justify abandoning the search for answers. For Dele Giwa’s family, the Nigerian public and generations of journalists who have inherited the risks associated with investigative reporting, justice remains an obligation that cannot be discharged through remembrance alone.
Dele Giwa’s tragic death was not only a turning point in Nigeria’s journalistic history; it also became the inspiration for my book, Bleeding Ink, published in 2025 by the National Secretariat of the Nigeria Union of Journalists to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Union’s founding. The book grew out of my reflections on the challenges, dangers and professional difficulties journalists encounter in the discharge of their responsibilities to society. In documenting these experiences, I was concerned with the realities behind the headlines, the pressures journalists face when reporting uncomfortable truths, the insecurity that threatens their work, the economic hardships that undermine their independence and the institutional obstacles that often prevent them from performing their duties effectively. What the book reveals about the experiences of journalists is deeply troubling. It presents a profession in which practitioners are frequently expected to defend the public interest while contending with intimidation, poor working conditions, inadequate remuneration and threats to their professional independence. These realities raise fundamental questions about the value we place on journalism and the extent to which our society is prepared to protect those who risk their livelihoods, safety and, sometimes, their lives to keep citizens informed.
For me, Bleeding Ink is more than a record of professional challenges; it is a reflection on the human cost of journalism and a reminder that the struggle for press freedom in Nigeria remains unfinished. Dele Giwa’s murder represents the most tragic expression of the dangers that can accompany the pursuit of truth, but the difficulties confronting journalists today are not limited to the threat of physical violence. Many practitioners work in conditions that make professional independence increasingly difficult to sustain. Some are threatened for investigating corruption or questioning public officials, while others face dismissal, harassment or legal intimidation because their reports challenge powerful interests. Many struggle with irregular salaries, inadequate insurance and the absence of meaningful institutional support when they are attacked or threatened. These problems may not always produce the dramatic headlines associated with Dele Giwa’s murder, but their cumulative effect can be equally damaging to the quality and independence of journalism. A profession cannot fulfil its democratic responsibilities when those who practise it are routinely exposed to avoidable hardship and insecurity.
The experiences examined in Bleeding Ink reinforce my conviction that the protection of journalists must become a practical national priority rather than an occasional subject of public discussion. It is not enough to praise journalists for their courage while leaving them without the resources and institutional support required to work safely and independently. Nor is it sufficient for public officials to celebrate press freedom on commemorative occasions while journalists continue to face intimidation for asking legitimate questions. The ideals associated with Dele Giwa must be reflected in the everyday realities of the profession, including the protection of journalists from attacks, the enforcement of their labour rights, the improvement of their working conditions and the defence of editorial independence. If the lessons of his death are to have lasting meaning, they must inspire a determined effort to address the circumstances that make journalism unnecessarily dangerous and professionally precarious.
As important as the question of justice for Dele Giwa is, another question that demands our attention is who will protect the next journalist threatened for doing his or her job? This is where my concern as a unionist becomes particularly personal. Across Nigeria, journalists continue to work under conditions that compromise their safety, independence and professional dignity. Some face threats from political actors and public officials, while others are harassed, assaulted or detained for reporting matters of public interest. A reporter investigating the misuse of public funds may be threatened with dismissal, while a correspondent covering an election may be attacked by political thugs. A journalist seeking clarification about a government contract may be warned to abandon the story, and an editor under pressure from a proprietor, advertiser or political interest may decide that an important investigation should not be published. These experiences do not always make headlines, but their cumulative effect can be devastating. The methods of intimidation may have changed since 1986, but the objective remains familiar, to discourage journalists from asking questions that powerful interests would rather leave unanswered.
We must recognise that journalists are not silenced only through physical violence. Economic deprivation, editorial interference, political pressure and professional insecurity can also weaken their ability to work independently. A journalist who fears losing a job for publishing an inconvenient truth is not operating under conditions of genuine editorial independence. A reporter who cannot afford medical treatment after an assault is being left to bear alone a risk that society benefits from his or her willingness to take. Similarly, a correspondent who has gone months without receiving a salary may find it increasingly difficult to resist financial inducements that compromise professional judgement. A hungry journalist is not necessarily a compromised journalist, but persistent economic hardship creates vulnerabilities that no serious media institution should ignore. A journalist does not have to be killed to be silenced; sometimes, all it takes is to make the cost of telling the truth unbearable.
This is why the NUJ must move beyond ceremonial tributes and expressions of solidarity to develop practical mechanisms for protecting its members. The Union should pursue the establishment of a sustainable Journalists’ Protection and Emergency Assistance Fund to provide support for members facing physical attacks, credible threats, arbitrary detention or serious injury in the course of their duties. A reporter who is assaulted while covering an election should not have to depend entirely on personal resources or the goodwill of colleagues to obtain medical treatment. Journalists facing legal action because of their professional work should also have access to appropriate legal assistance. Such a fund would require transparent management, clear eligibility criteria and reliable financing, with the NUJ exploring partnerships with media organisations, development institutions, civil society groups and other stakeholders. A union that cannot adequately support its members when they are most vulnerable risks losing the confidence of those it exists to represent.
The NUJ must also intensify its campaign for improved working conditions, fair remuneration, timely payment of salaries, adequate insurance and safer working environments. Media owners must recognise that professional journalism requires investment in people, not merely the production of content. Government and relevant institutions must respect journalists’ labour rights and ensure that legitimate reporting is not met with intimidation or retaliation. These are not privileges; they are essential conditions for responsible and independent journalism. We cannot demand extraordinary courage from journalists while remaining indifferent to the circumstances that make their work unnecessarily dangerous and precarious. Protecting journalists is not simply about preventing another tragedy like Dele Giwa’s murder; it is also about creating an environment in which journalists can investigate wrongdoing, report the facts and serve the public without being forced to choose between professional integrity and personal survival.
I am particularly concerned about what Dele Giwa’s legacy means for young journalists entering the profession today. They are joining a media landscape vastly different from the one in which Newswatch emerged. Digital platforms have accelerated the circulation of information, social media has transformed the relationship between journalists and their audiences, and economic pressures have reshaped the business of news. Yet the fundamental responsibilities of journalism remain unchanged. The duty to verify information, distinguish fact from opinion, challenge official narratives when the evidence warrants it and protect the public interest is as important today as it was in 1986. Young journalists must understand that courage without professional competence can be reckless, just as competence without independence can become an instrument of manipulation. Dele Giwa’s legacy should therefore inspire more than fearlessness; it should encourage intellectual discipline, investigative rigour, editorial independence and an unwavering commitment to the public good.
Media organisations must invest in training, legal awareness, digital security and physical safety, while newsroom leaders must protect journalists who act professionally and in the public interest. The NUJ must also ensure that young reporters understand both their rights and their responsibilities, including the need to verify allegations, respect professional ethics and give those criticised a fair opportunity to respond. We must prepare them not merely to survive in the profession but to serve society with distinction. If the next generation is to carry forward the ideals represented by Dele Giwa, it must inherit not only the courage to question authority but also the skills, institutional support and professional values required to do so responsibly. The best tribute we can pay to the pioneers of Nigerian journalism is to ensure that their sacrifices produce a more professional, independent and secure media environment for those who follow them.
Citizens deserve accurate answers about the implementation of public budgets, the rehabilitation of schools, the administration of social intervention programmes and the distribution of development projects across communities. They deserve to know whether public resources are being used for their intended purposes, whether elected representatives are fulfilling their promises and whether government policies are improving the lives of ordinary people. These are not acts of hostility towards government; they are legitimate questions in a democracy, where public officials are accountable to the people whose resources they administer. Responsible scrutiny should not be interpreted as disloyalty, and asking for evidence should not be treated as an act of provocation.
The journalist’s responsibility is not to embarrass public officials, nor is it to protect them from embarrassment; it is to establish the facts and report them fairly. Where public institutions perform well, journalism should acknowledge their achievements. Where there are shortcomings, it should investigate them, and where allegations are made, it must verify them before publication and give those concerned a fair opportunity to respond. This is how journalism earns public trust and contributes to accountable governance. It is also how we honour the principles for which Dele Giwa became an enduring symbol. The strength of our profession must be measured not by how loudly we condemn injustice on anniversaries but by how consistently we uphold the public’s right to know throughout the year. Every journalist who responsibly investigates the use of public funds, questions the implementation of government policies or reports the experiences of neglected communities is helping to sustain the democratic purpose that made Dele Giwa’s work so significant.
I remember the impression Dele Giwa made on those who regarded journalism as a calling rather than merely a means of earning a living. His confidence, intellectual energy, distinctive writing and belief in the power of the press helped shape the aspirations of a generation. His death deprived Nigeria of a journalist who still had much to contribute to public discourse, but it could not erase the questions his life and murder left behind. Four decades later, his name remains central to the country’s continuing conversation about press freedom, state power and accountability. There is something profoundly significant about that endurance, the circumstances of his death may have deprived him of the opportunity to continue his work, but they could not extinguish the ideas and professional ideals that made him influential. Nevertheless, memory alone is not enough. We must resist the temptation to celebrate Dele Giwa once a year while neglecting the journalists who face threats, intimidation and hardship in our own time. We must not invoke his name at public events and then remain silent when a reporter is assaulted, a correspondent is unlawfully detained or a media worker is denied months of earned wages. If we do so, our tributes become hollow, and our remembrance becomes an exercise in sentiment rather than a commitment to change.
As we mark the 40th anniversary of Dele Giwa’s death, I therefore urge the Federal Government to reopen the investigation into his murder and call on the NUJ and other stakeholders to renew their commitment to the safety, welfare and professional independence of Nigerian journalists. The authorities should explore every credible avenue for reviewing the surviving evidence, while media organisations must strengthen the conditions that enable journalists to work responsibly and without fear. The passage of four decades must not be allowed to extinguish the demand for justice or weaken our resolve to defend press freedom. We cannot bring Dele Giwa back, but we can refuse to allow his murder to become a lesson that Nigeria remembers only in words and ignores in practice. Whenever a journalist is intimidated into silence, whenever the powerful are shielded from legitimate scrutiny and whenever the truth is sacrificed to fear, the unfinished struggle that defined Dele Giwa’s life continues. Conversely, whenever we ask difficult questions, verify uncomfortable facts and defend the public’s right to know, we keep his legacy alive.
The most meaningful tribute Nigeria can pay to Dele Giwa is not merely to remember how he died, but to reopen the investigation into his murder, pursue justice wherever the evidence leads and confront the conditions that continue to make journalism dangerous. Forty years after that parcel exploded, the challenge before us remains clear, to protect the journalist, defend the truth and strengthen the institutions that hold power accountable. The parcel may have silenced Dele Giwa, but it must never be allowed to silence Nigerian journalism.
Leman is a former National Secretary of the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ).
