Opinion
Understanding The Boko Haram Menace
This is, no doubt, a trying period for Nigeria, not just for president Goodluck Jonathan’s government alone. Since 2010 when the Islamic sect known as Boko Haram invented its own world of perpetual fear, human life has become a worthless penny in the hands of blood-thirsty desperadoes who claim to be fighting western education and championing the cause of Islam.
Since the defeat of Biafran insurgency in the early 1970s, I doubt if any of our national challenges bears as much red flames of wickedness and threats to national unity as the on-going insurrection against government and humanity in the northern parts of the country.
As the clock ticks, Nigeria’s unity appears headed towards dangerous terra firma. The pessimistic prediction that Nigeria may cease to exist by the year 2015 stares us in the face. While it is easy to dismiss the prediction as too unprincely and perditious, it will be suicidal to ignore the signs of an impending holocaust.
It all appears that the events that led us into three years of bloody civil war between 1967 and 1970 are still lurking around the corner. The incurable optimists among us may argue that the pogrom of the 1960s is dead and buried with its mastermind and architect. I hope so. But the unfolding absurd theatricalities in the northern parts of the country are clear indications that the wounds of the past are not yet healed.
I say so because the albatross plays itself out anytime, and at the slightest provocation. Or are these mangled flesh of human bones, smashed skulls, caked blood, wanton destruction of properties including sacred places of worship and the zig-zag footprints of escapees fleeing the fury of blood-thirsty Boko Haramists in the North mere chimerical imagining? What about the calls for reprisal attacks by some angry ethno-religious leaders?
It has severally been argued that Nigeria’s political amalgamation in 1914 by Frederick Lord Lugard is our Archiles’ heel. Maybe. But if truly the fusion of the country’s numerous ethnic tribes is a salad of contraries, what about the Guals, the Prussians of East Germany, the Dutch and the English forcibly yoked together under the rubric of a nation?
The truth is that we are shying away from examining the basis of our togetherness, as a people. Each time we are confronted with national problems, we always reach for a hackneyed rationalisation of our collective foibles and incompetence. We quibble from the exigencies to matters miscellaneous. We pop up sentiments and pander to the sickening ethnic and religious pantomime.
While reacting to the senseless killing of people, mostly southerners and Christians, in the north, some southern and Christian leaders called for a reprisal (or is it defensive?) attack by Christians. The president of Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), Ayo Oritshejafor was at the head of the call, fuming and sabre-rattling with inciting statement shortly after the Madalla massacre. Thanks to some Christian leaders who quickly dismissed his call for defensive attacks as a mere expression of his personal anger.
There is no doubt that the Boko Haram’s insurgency in the last one year is enough temptation to provoke anger and make one clothe the uprising in the north with secretarian garb. Understandably too that there would always be a rancorous decibel and public backlash against any move that threatens national security and integration or attempts to scupper our hard-earned democracy (sorry civil rule), it however, becomes dangerous and self-serving when public flak and ferocious reactions against such criminal activities as Boko Haram’s tend to be defensive of ethnic or religious interest.
We do not need to scratch our heads too far to realise that the uprising in the north is not a religious or ethnic war, nor does it require extra-terrestrial intelligence to know that the loose-limped reasons offered by Boko Haram gang for its criminal acts are just as brittle as bits of straw.
By all indications, Boko Haram is a mere criminal gang that exploits the country’s ethnic divide and religious suspicion to perpetrate its civil activities.
I would rather pander to the arguments of many people, especially that of former American President, Bill Clinton, that the Boko Haram menace was a product of poor leadership in the country, especially in the north which has created a tribe of Almajiris who, for lack of means of livelihood, have become pawns in the hands of political marauders.
Ordinarily, the line of argument would seem persuasive to those who believe that the reasons behind those heinous acts could be traced to religious bigotry. But a few instances, which though are still under investigation across the country, have debunked this impression and belief.
The bombing of the headquarters of the Church of Christ in Nations (COCIN) in Jos two weeks ago has been reportedly traced to an in-fighting within the church. Similar occurrences took place last year. A Christian woman, who pretended to be a Muslim, allegedly went to her own parish church in Bauchi and tried to set it ablaze, just the same way a Christian who claimed to be a Muslim was arrested while trying to bomb a church in Plateau State. There was a similar report in Zamfara State where 19 Muslims were killed by some people suspected to be Christians. But after investigation, it was discovered that those merchants of death were actually non-Christians, but Muslims.
These few examples go to buttress the point that the Boko Haram menace has crossed religious borders. So, in our quest towards national unity, we should avoid quibbling from the exigencies to matters miscellaneous We need to understand the Hollywood style the Boko Haram sect has adopted to give its criminal acts a veil of religious bigotry.
It is interesting to know that a handful of Boko Haram kingpin in police net are giving useful hints and information. Government must, however, ensure that the reports of the investigation are not swept under the carpet. Nigerians deserve to know the sponsors and the real motives behind those heinous attacks on humanity. It is only this way the government can earn the trust of the people.
Again, our political and ethno-religious leaders must avoid playing politics with the issues of our collective survival. Rather than resorting to knee-jerk reactions and divisive, wild utterances, they should face the challenges of the time by offering a leadership that focuses on common good. The earlier we collectively fight the enemies within our folds who are determined to destroy our country, the better.
Boye Salau
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
