By Fẹ́mi Akínṣọlá
The Alue‑Do Festival videos out of Ozoro did more than shock: they exposed a civic failure. Young men filmed themselves chasing, stripping and groping women while crowds looked on — many recording, some cheering, few intervening. What began as a celebration became a collective assault, and the impulse to capture the moment on phones turned witnesses into enablers. This is not a local curiosity but a symptom of how public festivities can be weaponised when social responsibility fails.
The scenes are unmistakable: public sexual assault staged as spectacle. The perpetrators performed their violence for an audience; bystanders who filmed or shared the clips reinforced and monetised the abuse. While digital evidence can and should aid prosecution, much of the circulation feels like applause rather than accountability. When people privilege virality over intervention, public spaces become less safe and more dangerous for women and girls. This is not tradition; it is the erosion of civic duty.
Invoking culture to justify such conduct is unacceptable. Customs that demean or endanger people do not deserve preservation; they demand reform. Our laws—particularly the Violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act—already forbid such assaults. Where organisers, local leaders or security personnel abet or tolerate abuse, the state must pursue not only the assailants but those who created the conditions for harm or profited from its recording.
Urgent, transparent institutional action is required. Arrests should be immediate, but investigations must also be independent and comprehensive: examine possible collusion, failures of crowd control, and any efforts to suppress evidence. Preserve footage and witness testimony, activate forensic protocols, and ensure witnesses have protection. Prosecutors, investigators and judges must be equipped with training and resources to handle sexual‑violence cases sensitively and effectively, avoiding re‑victimisation and delay.
Prevention means rethinking how public events are authorised and policed. Licensing should require demonstrable safety plans: trained stewards, crowd‑management strategies, rapid‑response protection teams and clear in‑event reporting channels. Organisers who fail in these duties should face civil and criminal liability; sponsors and public bodies should withdraw support from events that tolerate or encourage abuse. Technology can be harnessed for good — emergency hotlines, anonymised crowd analytics and fast takedown mechanisms — but platforms must also be held to account for content that perpetuates harm.
Survivor care must be prompt, comprehensive and dignified. Public sexual assaults compound physical harm with intense social stigma and trauma; state provisions should include free medical treatment, forensic services, counselling, legal aid and reparations where appropriate. Civil society needs funding to provide shelters and long‑term rehabilitation. Collecting anonymised data on festival‑linked offences will help identify patterns and target interventions where they are most needed.
Cultural change is essential and achievable. Schools, faith institutions and community groups should teach consent and bodily autonomy as civic fundamentals. Men and boys must be engaged as proactive protectors and allies, not mere audiences. Traditional leaders can reform rites to ensure safety; where leaders defend abusive practices, they must be held publicly accountable. Arts, media and grassroots campaigns can model and popularise respectful conduct, gradually reshaping norms.
We must also confront systemic drivers of mass assaults. Youth idleness, substance abuse, and organised hooliganism create a permissive backdrop for collective violence; these problems call for social and economic policies alongside law enforcement reforms. Police systems need independent oversight, mandatory body cameras at large gatherings, and disciplinary pathways that ensure prompt, impartial action.
The Ozoro videos are a civic indictment: we failed to protect bodies, dignity and public space. Allowing such abuses to stand with minimal consequence sends the message that spectacle trumps safety and silence equals consent. A forceful response—immediate prosecutions, independent inquiries into institutional failure, robust survivor services, stricter event licensing, platform accountability and a long‑term cultural campaign—can reverse that message. If we act decisively, festivals will again be sites of joy and community, not theatres of humiliation. If we do not, we will have chosen spectacle over safety, and that choice will define us.
Copyright © 2026 Fẹ́mi Akínṣọlá. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
