Mental Health is a Human Right

 

By Blessing Iriaka | Mental Health Advocacy & Public-Interest Journalism

“Why will you even listen to them? Don't mind them. Abeg, don't listen to what anyone is saying.” We hear this advice all the time. But how realistic is it?

Sometimes their words get to you. Sometimes you try hard not to listen, but you still find yourself replaying what someone said. Sometimes a comment online, an insult at school or work, bullying or constant criticism begins to affect the way you see yourself.

That was the starting point for a conversation I took to the airwaves while hosting See Something, Say Something (SeeSay RadioReporting Program) to commemorate World Mental Health Day.

In Nigeria, mental-health awareness deserves far more attention. Every day, Nigerians navigate unemployment, insecurity, violence, economic hardship, discrimination, bullying and other pressures that can take a toll on emotional and psychological well-being.

But while we often talk about mental health as a medical issue, how often do we talk about it as a matter of rights? That was the question I brought to the program.

During the broadcast, I introduced listeners to Nigeria's National Mental Health Act 2021, a landmark law that replaced the colonial-era Lunacy Act and established a rights-based framework for mental-health care.

The Act establishes a Department of Mental Health Services within the Federal Ministry of Health and provides for the protection of people with mental-health conditions from discrimination, abuse and degrading treatment. It also provides access to mental health services, community-based care, a Mental Health Fund, and a Mental Health Assessment Committee.

It was striking to me that a law of such significance could be unfamiliar to many of the people listening. And the callers proved my point.

Five callers joined the conversation, and several were surprised to discover that Nigeria had specific legislation addressing mental health.

One caller, Mr. Chidiebere, asked a question that stayed with me: if someone's actions seriously affect another person's mental health, could the person use the Mental Health Act to sue? 

His question exposed something important: having a law is not the same as knowing how to use it.

Another caller, Mrs. Ngozi, wanted to know where a Nigerian experiencing mental-health challenges could go for help if there was an Act specifically designed to protect them.

That question pushed the conversation beyond awareness.

It made me ask: If citizens have rights under a law, how accessible are the institutions and services through which those rights can actually be exercised?

Nigeria's system does provide mental-health structures through the Federal Ministry of Health, state-level mental-health units and public healthcare facilities. But the existence of these structures does not automatically mean that every citizen knows where to go, whom to contact or how to seek redress.

That gap between policy, awareness and access is itself an advocacy issue.

The need for this conversation is enormous.

UNICEF's 2024 Situation Analysis of Children and Adolescents in Nigeria cited a 2023 analysis in which 35% of adolescents surveyed in Nigeria's South-East experienced general anxiety and depression.

Globally, suicide remains a major public-health concern, particularly among young people. WHO estimates that more than 720,000 people die by suicide every year worldwide.

These numbers remind us that mental health cannot remain a conversation we have only after tragedy occurs.

We have to talk about it before the crisis.