UI’3: Happy Resumption, Uites! Stay Peaceful

              image credit: indy press

For every Peter Pan that refuses to grow up, the story is the same, the wish to remain oblivious to the disdain that lies in the peach-colored dishonesty in the sky, the wish to misinterpret it as the first sign of rainbow, the chance to avoid being petered out by unfairness, corruption, and pretense coated in the illusion of inclusivity. Maybe we are all shadows of Peter Pan at heart, with the refusal to see that silence is not a virtue but a policy, and that is the story of UI and it's 3.

But with the refusal to grow comes a time when one is hit with the reality that while one might choose stagnancy, the world evolves. With the evolution of the world around us comes the certainty that silence, in this demography, has been made a shield and ultimately a policy. Last semester, with the tension of exams and the daily struggle of survival, a decision that quietly ruptured the hearts of students was made. A decision so shocking that every Dick, Tom and Harry whispered but, na who dem catch be ole.

On May 13, 2024, during the inauguration of the Students’ Union Committee and the Students’ Representative Council, three University of Ibadan students, Aduwo Ayodele, a 400-level student of History, Mide Gbadegesin, a 700-level student at the Institute of African Studies, and Nice Linus, a 400-level Law student, raised placards high with one voice and goal: “Say No to Fee Hike.” They were swiftly hurled out of the hall by the school’s security operatives. That singular moment, captured by press reporters and shared widely online, marked the beginning of a year-long standoff between the institution and its own students.

The fee hike in question had deepened anxieties already simmering among the student body. It was barely a year when we gave Baba Daada a chance at governance, inflation outside campus was at record highs, parents struggled to meet basic needs, and cost of living wan end the living, yet the university doubled down with increases in tuition-related charges. These decisions were not made without reasons, in fact, UI’s electricity bill had toppled like a ruthless coup d'etat and we were all going through a lot but we let sleeping dogs lie under thick duvets. Today, we are kept up at night with not a new but a renewed misfit. The placard protest was a symbol, not of rebellion for its own sake, but of genuine frustration shared by thousands. And in a twist all too familiar in Nigeria’s educational regime, the response was not dialogue but discipline. 

What followed was a series of events that exposed the underbelly of student governance in UI. After the protest, Nice Linus was denied her elected position as Majority Leader in the Students’ Representative Council. Despite a court ruling ordering her reinstatement until the matter was fully resolved, the SRC Speaker claimed it was “beyond his power” to obey the ruling. In that moment, the illusion of student representation shattered.

By July 2025, the matter had dragged on for over a year, weighing heavily on the trio. On July 11, 2025, a memo summoned them to appear before the Student Disciplinary Committee (SDC) on charges of “gross misconduct.” They immediately described the process as infringement, intimidation and a violation of the rights of every student. Three days later, on July 14, 2025, the final SDC hearing began. In protest, students gathered across campus, chanting against the victimization of the three. On July 17, 2025, larger demonstrations broke out, calling for an end to the continued prosecution of the activists.

The university denied the allegations of victimization. The Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Academics), Professor Olapegba, assured protesters that UI was not targeting anyone. But the actions spoke louder: on July 20, 2025, the verdict came. Aduwo Ayodele and Mide Gbadegesin were slammed with four-semester suspensions, while Nice Linus faced ongoing restrictions tied to her case in the SRC.

The verdict did not just punish three individuals, it sent a message to all: resistance comes at a steep price. Four semesters is not mere discipline; it is an academic detention, one that will tarry way more than the disciples of Jesus. It delays graduation, ruins plans, and burdens families with financial and emotional strain. In UI’s disciplinary history, such lengthy suspensions are not handed out lightly. It is wielded to make an example of an ‘ori o yomi’, meaning: I didn't escape. Say it with me in prayer dear reader, “we will escape”. I bet you're capping off with a thunderous amen; again, may we never not escape.

The effect was immediate as silence spread like wildfire across campus. Many students expressed sympathy in private but stayed away from protests. The Administrator General of Independence Hall admitted that students were unwilling to risk another confrontation, even though the Hall Chair of Nnamdi Azikiwe Hall, Sotomi Daniel, publicly backed the activists. 

With the issue burning beneath their clothes, once again, the Students’ Union, under the leadership of Covenant Odedele, proved to the student body that it has become little more than a bystander throwing in every little shot at call. A union without an independent mind, its only show of relevance came in the form of a memo laced with ambiguous language, released only after external organizations had already taken a stance of  solidarity with the suspended students and after repeated public pressure from the student populace. “Who murdered aluta?” many asked. But the answer was clear: aluta was killed the moment power was allowed to seize the chessboard and dictate every move.

Meanwhile, external organizations began to take notice. Amnesty International, SERAP (Socio-Economic Rights and Accountability Project), Activista Nigeria, Global Human Rights bodies, and the Education Rights Campaign all condemned the university’s handling of the matter. SERAP even described the suspension as a violation of the students’ constitutional rights to freedom of expression and assembly. Yet, inside the university walls, the activism that once birthed giants of Nigeria’s student movement was reduced to muted conversations and private frustration.

On the 24th of August, 2025, after the event still proved fruitless with no way forward beyond the verdict, which now seems permanent, the Union of Campus Journalists, University of Ibadan, interviewed the Student Union President, Odedele Covenant, on his and the union’s stance in all of this.

In his words, the matter was merely a procedural breach and “certainly not dissent.” Yet, he refused to answer the majority of questions, offering vague responses that barely addressed the issue. As he put it, “I just think that in all of this, there are still guidelines that define how these rights should be expressed.” Which raises a larger question: if rights must be cautiously rationed, are they truly rights or merely rules disguised as such?

He claimed the union’s delayed release was due to “an ongoing process”, a process he declined to explain, hidden behind the umbrella of false accountability. By his own admission, the union was unable to communicate with the affected students, leaving little to be done except clinging to a process unknown to the student body.

Ironically, he also stated that “One of the things that characterise government is open governance and accountability.” Yet, for a union that withholds more than it shares, where exactly is this open governance? Who, apart from themselves, are they truly accountable to?

And so, after a lengthy interview, came little by way of answers. The crowd still asks: when will there be real answers? As the president insisted, in exercising rights, especially in the case of protests, “care should be taken and procedures should be followed.” But until he deems it fit to reveal these mysterious procedures, one is left to wonder if silence, indeed, is the only answer.

This is not the first time UI has chosen silence as policy. In 2017, the Students’ Union was suspended after protests over electricity tariffs and welfare issues. For two years, students were left without an official voice. When the union was reinstated, it returned subdued, stripped of its radical bite. Leaders knew too well the consequences of dissent. The case of the UI’3 simply confirmed a trend that has been building for nearly a decade: activism is tolerated only if it is symbolic, never if it is disruptive or intrusive. 

But the long-term cost of this silence is dangerous. If students cannot defend themselves against fee hikes today, what happens tomorrow when tuition is raised again? If elected representatives can be denied their mandate without consequence, what is left of democracy on campus? If four-semester suspensions become the price of protest, how long before no one dares speak at all? Surely, not long enough, shorter than Tinubu’s 8 years tenure. 

UI students pride themselves on belonging to the “first and best” university. But what is “first” about repressing dissent? What is “best” about criminalizing free expression? A true university thrives on debate, disagreement, and activism. To strip these away is to wriggle out the very essence of education.

The story of the UI’3 is not just about Aduwo, Gbadegesin, and Nice. It is about every student who will one day face injustice and find no one left to speak. It is about the illusion of inclusivity that masks a culture of silence. It is about a generation at risk of forgetting that silence is never neutral, it is always a choice, and in this case, a dangerous one.

For every Peter Pan, the story is the same. But for every Peter Pan who finally grows, that gets to see beyond the illusion of peace and a prosperous society, maybe there might be change. Then, the whole world may one day heal from the consoling words and actions of the good people Napoleon spoke about. This puzzle of a school serves as the definitive proof that true justice is inextricably linked to freedom, and that peace, however desirable, is no substitute for liberty. 

Today, a new semester unfolds, new dreams, second chances with a thousand and one choices. The choice of Tinubu's era to be this thorny, the choice of UI to lord over dissent and our choices to remain peaceful. Peace is simply the standard of the premier grounds, not liberty. Happy resumption, dearest uites, stay peaceful!