Every year on 17 May, the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia (IDAHOBIT) draws attention to violence, exclusion and discrimination affecting sexual minorities and other vulnerable communities across the world. The 2026 theme, “At the Heart of Democracy,” raises a more uncomfortable question for democratic societies: what happens when certain groups experience public institutions primarily through fear rather than protection?
Authored by Green Oge-Ali Esq.
Every year on 17 May, the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia (IDAHOBIT) draws attention to violence, exclusion and discrimination affecting sexual minorities and other vulnerable communities across the world. The 2026 theme, “At the Heart of Democracy,” raises a more uncomfortable question for democratic societies: what happens when certain groups experience public institutions primarily through fear rather than protection?
In many countries, democracy is discussed almost entirely in terms of elections, political participation and majority rule. But elections alone do not make a society democratic. Democracy is also measured by whether vulnerable people can safely seek healthcare, report violence, approach the police or enter a courtroom believing they will still be treated as human beings. The real character of a democracy becomes visible at the point where vulnerable people attempt to access public institutions. A person who is too afraid to seek medical care, report abuse or engage law enforcement is formally recognised as a citizen, but practically excluded from protection.
Across several African states, including Nigeria, vulnerable communities continue to navigate legal and social realities shaped by criminalisation, stigma, institutional distrust and public hostility. These realities affect far more than identity or social belonging. They shape access to healthcare, HIV response systems, mental health support, legal protection and public participation itself.
The difficult question therefore is not simply whether democratic institutions exist. The question is whether democracy remains meaningful when access to protection depends on popularity, social approval or moral acceptance.
Modern constitutional democracies are founded not only upon elections, but also upon the rule of law, equal protection, institutional accountability and the protection of fundamental rights. They are to ensure accountability and provide equal access to public institutions, including for people who are unpopular or socially excluded. If rights become enforceable only where popular opinion permits, constitutionalism loses much of its protective function. This creates tension which becomes significant in contexts where socially unpopular groups seek institutional protection.
In Nigeria, this tension becomes especially visible in conversations around sexuality, morality and public protection. Public debates are often framed as moral or cultural questions, but the practical consequences are institutional.
When key populations begin avoiding hospitals, police stations or courts because they fear humiliation, exposure, extortion or arrest, the issue is no longer simply morality. It becomes an access to justice issue. A democracy cannot meaningfully claim equality under the law where some citizens experience public institutions primarily through fear.
The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria 1999 (as amended) guarantees rights to dignity of the human person, personal liberty, privacy, fair hearing, expression and association under Chapter IV. These protections are framed broadly rather than selectively. Constitutional rights are not drafted solely for popular communities or politically convenient citizens. Their greatest relevance emerges precisely where social disagreement, political hostility or moral discomfort exists. A constitutional democracy therefore requires institutions capable of protecting persons even where doing so may be socially unpopular.
In Nigeria, legal and political tensions surrounding sexuality continue to shape public discourse and institutional behaviour. The enactment of the Same Sex Marriage (Prohibition) Act 2013 generated substantial debate within constitutional law, human rights and public health spaces because of concerns regarding its practical implications for freedom of association, healthcare access, privacy and civic participation. Importantly, the consequences of criminalisation often extend beyond formal prosecution.
The most enduring effect is frequently the gradual production of institutional fear. Individuals may avoid police stations after experiencing violence or extortion because engagement with law enforcement is perceived as unsafe. Others may hesitate to seek healthcare due to fear of ridicule, exposure or discrimination. Civil society organisations may reduce visibility, outreach work or advocacy activities because of uncertainty surrounding enforcement practices or public hostility.
The result is a form of democratic exclusion in which vulnerable populations remain formally recognised as citizens yet become practically excluded from safe institutional participation. In this sense, criminalisation does not merely regulate conduct. It restructures the relationship between vulnerable persons and the state itself. This condition produces what some scholars describe as differentiated citizenship, where access to public institutions becomes unevenly experienced across populations.
Certain citizens interact with the state through protection and participation, while others engage state institutions primarily through fear, surveillance, vulnerability or avoidance. Such conditions weaken democratic legitimacy because constitutional governance depends not only upon institutional existence, but also upon institutional accessibility. One of the most serious consequences of institutional fear concerns access to healthcare. Public health systems depend fundamentally upon trust, confidentiality and institutional accessibility. Where vulnerable populations perceive healthcare systems as unsafe or discriminatory, health outcomes deteriorate not only for affected communities but also for broader public health systems.
Nigeria remains party to multiple international and regional human rights instruments recognising the right to health, including the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. Article 16 of the African Charter guarantees the right to enjoy the best attainable state of physical and mental health and imposes obligations on states to protect the health of their people. The Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights has clarified that healthcare must remain available, accessible, acceptable and of good quality. Accessibility necessarily includes non-discriminatory access to healthcare services, particularly for vulnerable populations.
These obligations become especially important within HIV response systems. Public health interventions rely heavily on confidentiality, voluntary engagement and institutional trust. Where affected populations fear arrest, humiliation, blackmail or exposure, healthcare engagement becomes significantly weakened. In practical terms, the consequences are measurable. Vulnerable individuals may avoid testing, discontinue treatment, refuse counselling services or disengage entirely from healthcare systems. Community outreach initiatives may become restricted, while healthcare workers themselves may become cautious in providing services to affected populations. The consequence is not merely individual harm. It is institutional weakening. Public health systems cannot function effectively where fear becomes a barrier to care.
Nigeria has domesticated the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights through the African Charter (Ratification and Enforcement) Act, thereby incorporating its provisions into Nigerian law. Nigerian courts have repeatedly recognised the Charter as possessing significant legal force within the domestic legal system. The African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights has increasingly emphasised state obligations to protect vulnerable populations from violence, degrading treatment and discriminatory abuse. Resolution 275 specifically condemns violence and human rights violations committed against persons based on their real or imputed sexual orientation or gender identity. Importantly, these obligations do not require the abandonment of cultural or religious values. Rather, they require states to maintain minimum standards of dignity, institutional accountability and protection consistent with constitutional governance and regional human rights commitments.
The tension between domestic political realities and international human rights obligations remains one of the most difficult legal questions confronting African democracies today. However, constitutional democracies are expected to manage such tensions through lawful institutional processes rather than through fear, exclusion or denial of institutional protection.
Traditional legal practice often begins after harm has already occurred. A person is arrested, assaulted , denied treatment or subjected to discrimination, and only then does the legal system begin to respond. Movement lawyering adopts a broader understanding of how law operates within unequal societies. It recognises that vulnerable populations often encounter overlapping barriers including stigma, economic insecurity, institutional distrust, police abuse and psychological vulnerability.
It emerges from the recognition that litigation alone is often insufficient to address structural injustice. Court judgments, while important, do not automatically produce institutional trust, cultural change or safe access to public systems. Movement lawyering therefore extends beyond courtroom advocacy. It includes legal education, community engagement, documentation, coalition building, emergency response systems, psychosocial awareness, institutional accountability work and strategic policy engagement.
Importantly, movement lawyering also recognises that law may function simultaneously as both a protective and oppressive instrument. Vulnerable communities may seek protection from the same institutions they fear. This reality requires lawyers to engage not only with legal doctrine, but also with institutional behaviour, community safety and long-term structural reform. In environments where vulnerable populations distrust formal institutions, access to justice cannot exist meaningfully where people remain too afraid to seek help in the first place.
While strategic litigation remains important, courts alone cannot sustain constitutional democracy. Democratic accountability requires broader institutional culture across healthcare systems, law enforcement agencies, regulatory institutions, legal professions and public administration structures. Constitutional governance becomes meaningful only where institutions internalise principles of dignity, legality and accountability. This requires healthcare providers to respect confidentiality, police institutions to avoid extortion and degrading treatment, courts to maintain independence and lawyers to provide ethical representation without discrimination.
Democratic decline rarely begins with the complete collapse of institutions. More often, it develops gradually through selective exclusion, normalisation of abuse, shrinking civic participation and increasing institutional fear. When vulnerable communities withdraw from healthcare systems, legal protection or public participation because they no longer trust institutions to protect them, democratic legitimacy itself becomes weakened. The protection of vulnerable populations is therefore not separate from democratic governance, it is central to it.
In conclusion, “At the Heart of Democracy,” provides an important reminder that constitutional democracy must be evaluated not only through elections or institutional formality, but also through accessibility, dignity, fairness and institutional trust. Across Nigeria and several African states, many vulnerable communities continue to experience significant barriers to healthcare access, legal protection and safe engagement with public institutions. These realities raise serious constitutional, public health and human rights concerns that democratic societies cannot ignore.
Movement lawyering offers one important framework for addressing these challenges through a combination of litigation, institutional accountability, public education and community-centred advocacy. Its significance lies not merely in securing legal victories, but in strengthening institutional accessibility and democratic participation itself.
A democracy that conditions institutional protection upon social acceptance risks transforming constitutional rights into privileges of popularity. Ultimately, the strength of constitutional governance is tested not by how institutions treat the powerful or socially accepted, but by whether dignity, justice and protection remain available to those who are most vulnerable, excluded or afraid.
Barrister Green Chizoba Oge-Ali is a Nigerian lawyer and human rights advocate. Her work focuses on access to justice, due process, and rights-based legal support for marginalied communities, particularly women and other underserved groups. Green is currently the Project Coordinator at Justice Bridge Foundation. Through her practice, she promotes the use of law as a practical tool for accountability, dignity, and fair access to justice.
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