A Different Kind of War on Drugs By As-Sayyidul Arafat Abdulrazaq
What fights crime without a gun, battles addiction without punishment, and builds peace without borders?
That answer isn’t a person or a policy. It’s an institution—the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC).
In today’s Nigeria, a country struggling with rising drug abuse, trafficking, and organized crime, UNODC has quietly become a trusted partner in reshaping the justice system.
From working with NDLEA and NAPTIP to guiding the EFCC and Nigeria Correctional Service, its influence has been subtle but steady.
UNODC’s story in Nigeria began in 2001, but it found new urgency in 2018, when it partnered with the National Bureau of Statistics to deliver a shocking revelation: 14.3 million Nigerians aged 15–64 had used drugs (excluding alcohol and tobacco) in the preceding year.
That number changed everything. It shifted the country’s focus from punishment to prevention, leading to the creation of the 2021–2025 National Drug Control Master Plan, co-authored by UNODC and NDLEA with support from the European Union.
This plan changed the national conversation. Drug users were no longer seen just as offenders—they were patients, students, neighbours. Prevention became part of the curriculum.
Treatment became policy. And justice was no longer just about arrests, but about rehabilitation and second chances. UNODC’s impact is now visible across the country.
In Kaduna and Abeokuta, federal neuropsychiatric hospitals were transformed into treatment and training hubs, adopting international best practices from the Universal Treatment Curriculum.
It was one of the first times addiction was approached clinically—and with compassion. In Lagos, Kano, Enugu, and Abuja, school programs now focus on building resilience among students.
These aren’t just lectures—they’re life-skills sessions, designed to help young people resist drug use before it begins. Teachers are trained. Students are supported. Dialogue is replacing silence.
And then there’s Lagos State’s drug treatment court—a quiet revolution. Here, low-level drug offenders are diverted from prison to recovery programs.
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It’s a small shift, but a powerful one. Coupled with the new Correctional Service Act that promotes non-custodial sentencing, the burden on prisons is easing, and people are getting help, not punishment.
Meanwhile, NDLEA agents are being retrained—not just to arrest, but to build cases using intelligence, evidence, and proper legal processes.
The change has been visible under the leadership of Brig. Gen. Buba Marwa, who has championed community outreach campaigns like “War Against Drug Abuse” and moved the agency into a more collaborative role.
Beyond drugs, UNODC’s presence is felt in other areas. It has supported NAPTIP in centering victims in their response to human trafficking. It has helped EFCC refine its anti-corruption strategy.
It has trained customs and immigration officers to recognize and disrupt trafficking networks. These aren’t side projects—they are the threads helping to strengthen Nigeria’s justice fabric.
But even as progress takes shape, the work is far from over. Hard drugs like methamphetamine and tramadol are still widespread. Poly-drug use is rising. Rural communities remain underserved.
And stigma—the quietest and most dangerous barrier—continues to stop many from seeking help. UNODC officials have warned that without sustained domestic investment, these gains could be rolled back.
Deputy Country Rep Danilo Campisi recently said it best: “Prevention, treatment, and recovery are not luxuries. They are life-saving investments.” Yet the real success story here is not UNODC itself.
It’s the Nigerians who are making these changes real: the doctor in Kaduna guiding a patient toward recovery, the NDLEA officer who builds trust instead of fear, the teacher who catches the signs early.
These are the people proving that reform can work—when it is built on trust, not terror. UNODC didn’t create Nigeria’s progress. It partnered, supported, and helped lay the groundwork.
But the future belongs to Nigerians. With political will, funding, and compassion, this country can lead not just a war on drugs, but a movement of healing.
It’s time we stopped calling it a war. This is about recovery, dignity, and a better future for all.
As-Sayyidul Arafat Abdulrazaq is a corps member serving with the Centre for Crisis Communication (CCC), Abuja. He can be reached via: [email protected].
