Opinion
Remembering The Ides Of March
March 15th is known as the ides of March in ancient Roman calendar. Other months that have similar appellations are May, July and October. In 1948, the Royal Historical Society in London issued a Handbook of Dates for Students of English History which remains current globally. However, the Muslim World has its own calendar, which also recognizes the fact that the earth’s annual journey round the sun takes 365 days and 5 hours approximately.
Julius Caesar, a great ancient Roman soldier and statesman was assassinated in public by conspirators. He was chosen by his people to become their king, in appreciation of his heroic deeds and triumphs for Rome. A group of conspirators, with Cassius and Marcus Brutus as ring-leaders, hatched a plan to murder Caesar, on the Ides of March. A soothsayer warned Caesar: “Beware the ides of March”. Similarly, Calphurnia, Caesar’s wife, also warned him: “You shall not stir out of your house today”. One Artemidorus also tried to warn Caesar.
In spite of all warnings, Caesar went forth to the capitol or city hall, and eventually to his death. Before his death, Caesar teased the humble soothsayer saying: “The ides of March are come”, to which the soothsayer replied: “Ay, Caesar, but not gone”. The great Caesar who claimed to be” constant as the Northern star, of whose true fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament”, died in the hands of conspirators, in spite of warnings.
The conspirators and assassins said that they undertook the mission because Caesar was ambitious, but that mission plunged Rome into a civil war. That historical play by Shakespeare has serious lessons for humanity, one of which is the question of destiny. Was Caesar destined to die in the hands of assassins, on the ides of March? What explains the premonitions of Calphurnia, Caesar’s wife and the soothsayer, warning about a danger ahead? Of particular interest is the issue of destiny: Do violent deaths and marriages go by destiny? The Merchant of Venice suggested so!
Would it be wrong to say that there are definite laws which operate in creation, one of which ensures that everyone wears the chain forged by him? From the literary play titled Julius Caesar, there are many lessons available to mankind. Examples: “the eye sees not itself”; “It’s meet that noble minds ever keep with their likees”; “The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power” etc. Is it not true that “lowliness is young ambition’s ladder”? Those who Kowtow now, grow wings tomorrow!
With regards to destiny, we hear Caesar saying: “Cowards died many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come”. For him, his “necessary end” came on the ides of March through conspirators and assassins, despite warnings of possible dangers. He even asked: “What say the angurers?”
There is a local Nigerian idiom that when a dog is destined to die, it loses its ability to perceive ordour. Yeats, in The Second Coming, would say: “The falcon cannot hear the falconer …” Is it wrong to say that “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends; rough-hew them how we will”? Julius Caesar himself asked: “What can be avoided whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?” Whenever an inevitable end would come, men’s wisdom is consumed in confidence, or pride and conceit.
Whichever way that the issue of destiny may be interpreted, we see that Caesar went forth, even then the “angurers would not have you stir forth.” Then comes pride or conceit, whereby Caesar would say: “danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he … Caesar shall go forth”. He made a personal decision, in spite of several warnings. The ancient ones say that those that the gods would destroy, they first make mad.
From Shakespeare’s instructive historical play we can see how conspiracy and obstinacy plunged a nation into chaos and civil war. Those who set out on misadventures usually give reasons for their ventures. In this case, Caesar was accused of being ambitious, and when the result of the venture turned sour, the conspirators would say: “The sun of Rome is set, our day is going. O Julius Caesar! Thou art mighty yet! Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords in our own proper entrails”. Do people think of long-time consequences of their decisions and actions?
Another vital lesson which Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar teaches, is that great people or celebrities also cry and have burdens of anxieties or problems. Like Lady Macbeth, Calphurnia, Caesars’ wife, was barren, so that General Macbeth and Emperor Caesar died without any heir. Besides, Caesar had the “falling sickness” (epilepsy) despite his great conquests and triumphs. Above all, it is in the nature of men to dislike rulers, and so, when Casca said: “Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow mean to establish Caesar as a King”, Romans became jittery. That was ambition!
Rulers who seek to perpetuate themselves in office run the risk of making many enemies and getting the masses jittery. Like a “serpents’ egg”, the offsprings of ambitious rulers stand the risk of being killed in the shell so that they do not grow mischievous, like their fathers. Knowing that they are not liked by the masses, rulers often surround themselves with a cabal and ruthless security operatives. Yet, bad ones rarely end well, but often die a dusty death.
Brutus, one of the key conspirators, gave us a recipe for life: “There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries …” Most importantly: “some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
Nigerians should grow a reading culture.
Dr. Amirize is a retired lecturer from the Rivers State University, Port Harcourt.
Bright Amirize
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
