Anambra’s Truth, Justice and Peace Commission Report: Quo Vadis?

By Polycarp Onwubiko

What becomes of a truth commission after the truth has been painstakingly documented but its recommendations appear to remain unimplemented?

That is the question increasingly confronting Anambra State following the apparent silence surrounding the report of the Anambra State Truth, Justice and Peace Commission (TJPC), chaired by renowned human rights lawyer and scholar, Prof. Chidi Anselm Odinkalu.

The commission spent more than two years conducting public hearings, gathering testimonies and examining the roots of insecurity, violence, political agitation and alleged human rights abuses in Anambra and the wider South-East.

Yet, despite the extensive work and the submission of its two-volume report to Governor Chukwuma Soludo, questions remain about what has happened to its recommendations.

Hence the Latin expression in the title: “Quo vadis?” — Where are you going?

The question is not merely about a document. It is about accountability, institutional credibility and whether governments are prepared to confront uncomfortable truths when those truths have political consequences.

At the heart of the controversy are two related episodes involving Prof. Odinkalu: the TJPC report and his eventual resignation as Pro-Chancellor of Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu University, Igbariam, following disagreements over the university’s leadership process.

Both issues have generated public debate about the relationship between independent recommendations and political authority.

In a recent article published by The Guardian, titled “In Anambra State, the fox now guards the chicken coop,” Odinkalu expressed strong criticism of developments surrounding the implementation of the TJPC recommendations, particularly the appointment of Chief Ken Emeakayi to a security-related position.

His concerns deserve public scrutiny, not because every allegation contained in the article should automatically be accepted as fact, but because the issues raised touch directly on governance, institutional integrity and the credibility of the state’s response to past violence.

The TJPC was established by Governor Soludo to investigate the immediate and remote causes of insecurity, restiveness and agitations in Anambra and the wider South-East.

Its mandate included truth-telling, documenting victims and incidents of violence, examining the historical roots of the crisis and recommending measures for restorative justice, reconciliation and sustainable peace.

Among its areas of concern were the history of armed struggles and agitations in the region from 1999, cases of alleged brutality and arbitrary detention, deaths and other forms of violence.

The commission also made recommendations concerning restorative measures, reconciliation, administrative remedies and recognition for affected persons.

Governor Soludo received the report and, according to accounts of the occasion, described Odinkalu in glowing terms for the work undertaken by the commission.

The governor was also reported to have indicated that an office would be created for the TJPC and that commissioners and staff would be appointed to transform it into a permanent institution.

The obvious question, therefore, is: What happened after the report was submitted?

If the government considered the commission’s work important enough to establish, fund and publicly receive, why has the implementation process not become more visible?

That question becomes even more significant because a truth commission is fundamentally different from an ordinary advisory committee. Its value lies not only in producing a report but also in providing a credible pathway from truth-telling to accountability, reconciliation and institutional reform.

As William Shakespeare famously wrote, “The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.”

For me, that principle captures the larger dilemma facing public office holders. Political power should not become an instrument for determining which uncomfortable recommendations survive and which disappear.

Dr. Paul Nwosu, a former Commissioner for Information in Anambra State, recently argued that Governor Soludo’s governance philosophy requires citizens with the appropriate civic culture and attitude to sustain it.

That observation is important because governance is not simply about roads, buildings, employment or infrastructure. It is also about institutions, justice, transparency and the public’s confidence that government will confront difficult issues consistently.

The controversy surrounding the TJPC report therefore deserves a transparent explanation from the state government.

There is also the issue of Prof. Odinkalu’s resignation as Pro-Chancellor of Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu University.

According to the account surrounding his departure, a committee was constituted to oversee the selection process for a new Vice-Chancellor. Odinkalu subsequently disagreed with the eventual outcome, reportedly because the committee’s recommendation was not adopted.

His resignation raised questions about the extent to which expert committees appointed by governments are genuinely independent when their recommendations conflict with political preferences.

That is a broader problem in Nigerian public administration.

Governments frequently establish panels populated by respected professionals, eminent academics and experienced public servants. But if their recommendations can simply be discarded without explanation, what incentive remains for such experts to lend their credibility to public institutions?

The TJPC controversy makes this question even more urgent.

Odinkalu’s recent intervention focused particularly on Chief Ken Emeakayi and the history surrounding his name.

In his article, Odinkalu recalled the 2002 killing of lawyer Barnabas Igwe and his pregnant wife, Amaka, in Onitsha. He noted that criminal proceedings were instituted against several suspects and that Emeakayi was among those named in the case.

These are serious historical allegations, and they should be treated as allegations rather than established facts unless determined by a competent court.

Odinkalu further argued that the TJPC revisited the case and recommended that the state government review the unfinished prosecution, alongside an official apology and symbolic compensation for the couple’s children.

According to Odinkalu, the commission’s recommendations were followed not by renewed accountability but by the subsequent appointment of Emeakayi to a security-related position in the Soludo administration.

It was this development that prompted his striking metaphor that “the fox now guards the chicken coop.”

That claim, and the government’s response to it, require careful examination.

The fundamental issue is not whether a former suspect should forever be excluded from public life. Nor should an allegation automatically amount to conviction.

The issue is whether the state has adequately explained the status of the historical case, the findings of the TJPC and the basis upon which an individual whose name featured in the commission’s recommendations was subsequently entrusted with a security responsibility.

Transparency would help resolve the controversy.

If there are legal or evidentiary reasons why the recommendations cannot be implemented, the government should explain them.

If investigations are required, they should be pursued.

If some recommendations are considered impracticable, the government should say so and provide reasons.

Silence, however, creates room for speculation.

This is where the phrase “Quo vadis?” becomes particularly relevant.

Where is Anambra going with the truth it commissioned, documented and received?

A government that establishes a truth commission should be prepared to live with the consequences of the truth it uncovers. Otherwise, the exercise risks becoming another expensive bureaucratic production whose report ends up gathering dust.

Governor Soludo has received considerable praise for several aspects of his administration, including reforms in education, health, infrastructure and public-sector recruitment. That record makes the question of the TJPC report even more pertinent, rather than less.

A government committed to institutional reform should also demonstrate that commitment when the subject matter is politically inconvenient.

The TJPC was not established merely to produce two volumes of history. It was intended to contribute to healing, accountability and lasting peace.

Its recommendations may not all be perfect. No commission’s report is beyond criticism. But they deserve a public response.

That response should answer three basic questions: Which recommendations has the government accepted? Which has it rejected, and why? And what timetable, if any, exists for implementing those it accepts?

The people of Anambra deserve those answers.

Public office, as history repeatedly demonstrates, is both an opportunity and a test of character. Political power is temporary; institutional decisions can affect generations.

The late Dr. Chukwuemeka Ezeife’s political career is often remembered for his willingness to walk away from appointments when he believed his principles were being compromised. Whether one agrees with every decision attributed to him or not, the principle remains relevant: public office should not require the surrender of one’s conscience.

Prof. Odinkalu’s resignation and subsequent public criticism have similarly reopened a debate about the limits of political appointments and the responsibility of professionals who serve in government institutions.

Ultimately, the TJPC report should not become a casualty of political disagreement.

Truth commissions exist because societies cannot permanently bury painful histories. They exist to bring facts into the open, give victims recognition, recommend remedies and help prevent the recurrence of violence.

Anambra has already invested considerable public resources and intellectual effort in that process.

The next step should therefore be neither silence nor political confrontation, but transparency.

Let the government publish its position on the recommendations. Let the relevant institutions examine the unresolved cases. Let victims and their families know what the state intends to do. And let the people judge the government’s actions against its stated commitment to good governance.

That is the essence of truth, justice and peace.

And so the question remains:

Quo vadis, Anambra? Where do we go from here?

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