Opinion
Herdsmen Or Gunmen?
In the last four decades,
it was a common thing to see some fair-looking acquiline-structured males traverse communities in the southern and eastern part of Nigeria. Anxieties about the identities of these people revealed that they were herdsmen from Fulani. One common characteristic of this folk then, was their harmless posture as they stopped by some willing homes to ask for just a little to fill their bowels and continued their business of searching for graze land that probably knew no defined destination. Oh yes! With their bows and arrows stucked to their sides, they gently tended their flocks to the amazement of on lookers. Those were the Fulani herdsmen of my childhood era.
But what exactly transpired with the passage of time keeps me wondering if the Fulani herdsmen of the present generation have any bearing with the Fulani herdsmen of my childhood era. Sometimes, I am persuaded to conclude that these are mere impostors of Fulani herdsmen otherwise, why the sudden deviation from their hitherto humane, humble attributes which they were known for?
Of late, news about the nefarious activities of Fulani herdsmen across communities in different parts of Nigeria have become recurrent in the media from the north to the south and down to the east, it is the same story. Recently, one of the local tabloids reported about how women from Ubima, a community in Rivers State, were assaulted by this group of men. The recent killings in Oghara, Delta State, are only a statistic as many of such crime had been perpetrated in many communities in Delta State by the gregarious herdsmen who have also gained notoriety for trespassing, armed robbery, indiscriminate bush burning and rape.
Like the proverbial road dancer whose drummer hides in the bush, these so-called Fulani herdsmen now operate with impunity as though there is an obvious “backbone” at the sideline. Their excesses became a concern when some of them recently invaded some communities in Benue State, killing many and displacing thousands. Statistically, 64 communities including that of the Governor of Benue State, Gabriel Suswam were sacked by the rampaging herdsmen. As if that was not enough, the herdsmen also attacked and engaged the convoy of the Governor Suswam in a gun battle that reportedly lasted for an hour.
Increasing with each passing day, the magnitude of such attacks, is often associated with terrorist aggression and have been experienced in states like Benue, Nassarawa, Plateau, Taraba, Kaduna, Adamawa, Zamfara, Oyo, Imo, Cross River, Enugu, Rivers, Delta among others.
At a time when the country is battling to contain the menace of the insurgents, the scourge of these nomadic Fulani herdsmen will only heighten insecurity and tension instead of resolving whatever grievances that may have stimulated such actions. The consequences include loss of lives and property of innocent citizens and increase in apprehension on the questions of security in Nigeria. They also pose a serious threat to government’s commitments to peace building, sustainable democracy and political stability in the country.
It is not in doubt that irrespective of their motivations, these dastardly acts only constitute setback to the pursuit of unity, peace and development, as a government that is always rebuilding, can never ever develop in the same pace with others who only build and don’t experience destruction of structures.
I am beginning to see the scourge of Fulani herdsmen as one that bears the imprints of terrorist incursion. For me, the only difference between the Boko Haram insurgents and these Fulani herdsmen is in the sophistication of the weapons used by the former, otherwise, they are simply “two of a kind”.
However, while the Boko Haram insurgents remained faceless, the Fulani herdsmen can be identified. Therefore, given the dimension which their activities have assumed, it has become imperative for the government to reconsider the usual approach with which it had addressed matters of this group.
Much as we know that the right of one stops at the point where the right of another begins, these herdsmen must be told that the offence of trespass is punishable under the law of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, so, in the process of grazing they must avoid people’s cultivated portions.
I think that is not asking for too much. In the first place, no cultivated land remains lively after playing host to a herd of animals especially cows. Therefore, since there is no provision for compensation for damaged farmlands, the herdsmen must be humane enough to also consider the interest of crop farmers who may not have any other source of livelihood to fall back on in the event of the destruction of their already cultivated farms.
Secondly, in as much as the animals must eat, it has become necessary for the government to designate certain areas as “graze land” as well as ensure that no other place is diverted for such purpose.
The activities of the Fulani herdsmen is gradually taking a crisis dimension, if not checked, it could metamorphose into full blown terrorism. It may not be out of place to suspect terrorists posing as herdsmen to gain easy access to perpetrate their evil stock-in-trade. We must decide to distinguish the gunmen from the herdsmen now, or live to be victims of terrorists invasion.
Sylvia ThankGod-Amadi
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
