Opinion
Boko Haram As Nemesis
June 15, 2011 will forever be remembered as a day Nigeria joined the league of nations haunted by terrorists (suicide bombers). The inauguration took place at the Nigeria Police Force Headquarters in Abuja, the nations capital.
In the first suicide bombing attack, the Inspector-General of Police, Hafiz Ringim, narrowly escaped death, but not many people who lost their lives. And as usual investigations into the incident were ordered by the federal authorities.
But just as Nigerians were rueing the bombing of the Force Headquarters, another blast occurred on August 26, 2011. This time the United Nations building in Abuja was the target. 23 lives were lost. Again as it is characteristic of us, investigations have commenced.
But the mind-bugging question on the lips of many Nigerians is what has come out of the investigations into similar incidents in the past? Investigations into crimes of this nature and magnitude ought to terminate with results. But in the case of our country, why are the results not heard? The answer is simple. Politics.
This nation plays politics with everything under the sun. In other climes, impunity attracts severe sanctions. National security is a no go area. But not here. Never. In the end we pretend that all is well. We live under an illusion, a lie. We have decided to play the ostrich game. No. We cannot solve problems in this way. Rather they will fester and exacerbate.
Boko Haram has claimed responsibility for most of the major bombings in the country including the two recent suicide bombings. If this is anything to go by, the authorities need not beat about the bush.
Boko Haram is not new. The radical Islamic sect has been with us right from the ill-fated regime of late President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, when it made its debut. How was it treated? Yes, it was treated but with kid gloves. Like a snake whose tail has been cut off leaving it with its body.
Like a rogue snake, the radical Boko Haram sect that challenged late Yar’Adua has become more dangerous and deadly which is the one President Goodluck Jonathan is confronted with. And I dare say that this infirmity will be worse if it is handled in the common ‘Nigerian way.’
Yes, many have suggested amnesty or outright appeasement to solve the problem. These are no solutions. If anything the Nigerian state must brace up to this challenge and defend its citizens and sovereignty.
The Boko Haram threat shows that we have been living in shadows and under falsehood. We botched several attempts by the West at branding us a terrorist state, particularly following the aborted endeavour by Abdul Muttalab to blow up an American bound plane. Prior to Abdul Muttalab’s attempt, several terrorist acts had taken place in the country yet, we ended up actualizing them and rendering diverse euphemistic renditions of the acts instead of taking stern measures.
Whoever thinks Boko Haram is not a threat to the corporate existence of the country must be living in a fool’s paradise. The sect recently declared that it had trained 100 suicide bombers who just arrived the country from Somalia and that more persons were undergoing training in different acts of terrorism. These indeed are no mean threats. What it means is that we should expect more bombings. Can we cope with the impending Armageddon? I don’t think so. Not with the present way we do things.
But one may ask how we got to this excessively depraved state? Again, the answer is simple. Corruption. Corruption defines the nature of the average Nigerian. In Nigeria, one can bribe one’s way through anything and everything. Take for instance, our security agents i.e the Police. They often line up the road, but we know they are not there to secure anyone, but to enrich themselves. No wonder these bombers pay their way through police checkpoints on long distant trips and arrive their targets.
Since corruption has become so endemic in Nigeria, who then is free from it? All our institutions are weak and corrupt. The church, the mosque, the public service and indeed the private sector are corrupt. Truly, we live, move and have our being in corruption.
See what goes on in other climes. Since the end of the Second World in 1945, the major actors in the war are still being sought for. And a US Special Force killed Osama Bin Laden recently, ten years after his terror attack on the US. But these would have been forgotten cases if it were Nigeria.
The Boko Haram scourge is the price for inept leadership. And if this threat is what we need to reckon with probity and decency, so be it.
Arnold Alalibo
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
