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OPINION:TRUMP, NOSTALGIA AND NIGERIA’S CAPACITY FOR NATION BUILDING
Times and words are powerful weights. Just a few lines from him—“If we attack, it will be fast, vicious, and sweet”—and suddenly Nigeria’s sluggish attention to matters of public concern, especially security of life and property, began to stir. What was Nigeria’s crime? Genocide—against its own people. Nigeria’s descent from promise to something of a disgrace took barely five and a half decades. Precisely from 1970 to 2025, if one discounts the first decade after independence as a natural teething period most countries endure after the departure of colonial masters.
By the turn of the 21st century, national decay had reached its peak. Most indices of development collapse: infrastructure, industry, research capacity, citizens’ well-being, and security. The good old days simply vanished—to the astonishment of the pre-independence generation, who, though not without fault, could clearly tell the difference. That generation—both individuals and institutions—experienced a simpler Nigeria. Life was slow and uncomplicated. Few were educated, yet many were reliable. Nigerians were religious, but without the chronic bigotry of today. Churches and mosques were fewer, but people were morally upright.
The issue should not be twisted. The honest living of that era was not unrelated to the presence of a colonial system that sought to clone Nigerians—and indeed all colonial subjects—into a European lifestyle shaped by the early industrial revolution. Law, order, and accountability were the tools through which the colonialists colonised, governed, and controlled. European legal, economic, and administrative systems became the guiding principles. Early local colonial officers and, later, politicians were schooled and programmed accordingly. They were “white” internally, superintending over their fellow black communities. And it worked—at least administratively.
Things changed after independence. The further society drifted from the colonial experience, the weaker the assimilated values of orderliness, honouring time, public good, and accountability became. Because these behaviours were imposed rather than organically developed, they were difficult to sustain. Worse still, little effort was made to evolve local alternatives grounded in indigenous values. Education was not adapted to local realities. It’s neither labour-market linked, nor did it speak to entrepreneurial motivation. Institutions were not built, either. Thus, giving rise to massive structural unemployment where jobs to done/opportunities to be exploited, exist side-by-side with pools of unemployable labour. And so, as the colonial scaffolding faded, chaos and confusion rushed in to fill the vacuum. The more Nigeria moved away from 1960, the more entrenched the dysfunction became.
No one longs for colonialism—it was exploitative. But the experience, nonetheless, offered some nations a foundation on which to build. In some places, it produced “strong men.” In others, “strong institutions.” In a few, both. These two ingredients accelerated post-colonial development in many societies. Most of sub-Saharan Africa—especially Nigeria—missed out. Society became vacuous, with nothing to guide or shape it. And as Malcolm X (or Alexander Hamilton) put it, “If you stand for nothing, you fall for anything.” Nigeria’s failure to cultivate a shared national philosophy left it vulnerable to every divisive wind.
With no shared vision and weak institutions, Nigerians turned on one another in difficult times. Everyone looked for culprits. Sectarianism exploited social cracks and mental emptiness to mislead vulnerable believers. Some did so through distorted spirituality; others through toxic rhetoric. Ethnic and tribal chauvinists joined in. Before long, communities that once respected each other became sworn enemies. Relationships fractured. The idea of nationhood crumbled. As Achebe, quoting Yeats, captured: “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold… The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”
Today, honest conversation has become perilous. Speaking freely with friends, colleagues, or old acquaintances in Nigeria feels like navigating a minefield. Gone are the days when people debated religion, culture, marriage, or political ideology openly. Every word now carries ethnic or religious connotations. People judge each other more by what they didn’t say than by what they said. Every sentence has triple meaning—what was said, what wasn’t said, and why. Paradoxically, what is unsaid is what people hear the loudest.
Under collective hypocrisy and silence, impunity rose and took the driver’s seat. Governance weakened, and society scattered like sheep without a shepherd. Insurgents, terrorists, bandits, and secessionists filled the vacuum. They grew and matured within the same communities that eventually became their victims. Yet Nigerians could not engage in open, honest discussions when these threats were still nascent. The result is a nation soaked in blood, tears, and avoidable misery.
When Boko Haram ravaged Borno, Yobe, and Adamawa, many dismissed it as “their problem”—a distant Muslim-on-Muslim or Muslim-on-Christian conflict. Then armed herders began rustling livestock in the Northwest—Zamfara, Kebbi, Sokoto, Katsina—and Nigerians again looked away. The phenomenon escalated into mass killings and industrial-scale kidnappings. Criminals reasoned that instead of stealing cattle and struggling to sell them, it was easier to kidnap the owner and make the family sell the cattle and bring the money. “Smart economics”—but drenched in the blood of tens of thousands of innocents.
Not done. The terrorists moved into the Middle Belt—Niger, Plateau, Benue, Nasarawa, and Kwara. Here, criminality is fused with ethnic and religious undertones. Jihadist groups exploited these cracks. Natives and farmers fought back with whatever means they could. After decades, the outcome remains the same: death, displacement, and sorrow. In the Southeast, the ghost of the Civil War still lingers. IPOB’s armed struggle to revive the Biafra dream has been chequered but destructive, grounding the regional economy and inflaming tensions.
Discussing these crises openly has become taboo. Everything is dressed in religion, region, tribe, or culture. Nigerians discuss these matters internally within groups, but not across groups. People who can not share collective grief can not agree on causes. Even existential threats are reframed into ethnic talking points. Nigerians have become prisoners of their own narratives, transmitting doom from generation to generation.
As a consequence, Nigeria, with over 220 million people, becomes the only nation on earth with such a size to be economically impotent. It can’t genuinely invent, innovate, or improve. It’s a nation with a highly defficient capacity to manufacture or mechanise processes, except for low-tech activities such as bottling, packaging, and assembling, while mid-tech projects, are usually executed on turnkey bases. A nation that manages to put infrastructure like highways, power transmission, and public buildings but hardly maintains and/or routinely service them. A nation that at best could be said to be on the path of growth but certainly not development. For, no economy gets developed or transformed without the existence of given levels of applied engineering technology, innovation, and commercialisation capacity, and infrastructure. The Nigerian economy is defficient in all these, and as such vulnerable to imminent collapse – maybe within a twelve calendar months – in the event of an internationally coordinated economic sanctions.
Then Trump entered the scene. His allegation of genocide may be exaggerated, but it achieved what Nigerians had refused to do for decades—it forced the nation to talk. To accuse openly and to respond openly. Trump reminded Nigerians that nature equipped them with mouths. Problems can not be solved through silent groaning in enclaves. They must be confronted squarely. Whether or not Trump’s motives are clear, there is a silver lining: Nigerians are finally speaking. No more pretence. No more sweeping issues under the carpet—at least not if Nigeria plans to remain one country.
The way forward is for governments at all levels to treat the U.S. allegation not as an attack but as an opportunity for honest, open, and constructive national engagement. Civil society organisations like the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), Supreme Council of Islam Affairs (SCIA), and Jamma’at Nasirul Islam (JNI) must rally their followers toward common ground rather than divisive accusations. The same applies to major cultural and regional organisations—ACF, Ohanaeze, Afenifere. Through action or inaction, these groups, along with successive governments, have been part of the failure to stem Nigeria’s steady decline.
It is instructive and incumbent on all to know that the history of US interventions around the world rarely delivered the envisaged peace and stability. Instead, such nations were recessed decades back in terms of peace, harmony, and stability, from Somalia, Iraq, Libya, Philippines, Israel, Syria, and Afghanistan to cite a few. Nigeria is too fragile to gamble with US interventions even if it chooses mutual dissolution. Suffering and deprivation are “colourblind” when to it comes to tribe, religion, culture, or creed – the very achilles heels of Nigeria. Social upheaval, too, affects both the oppressed and oppressor, to varying degrees. In the final analysis, people largely may not only end up in the same boat but also face the same storm.
Now that Trump has lifted the lid over the bottled up frustrations, mutual prejudice, and attendant emotions, among Nigerians, the engagement should extend to why the nation and indeed Sub-saharan Africa are finding it difficult to evolve good governance. Why should a nation be in a constant state of lamentations and trading blame for over half a century? Granted that historical experiences (colonialism, neocolonialsm, neoliberalism, imperialism, globalism, etc) may have a part to play in a nation’s predicaments, why should some like Nigeria remain perpetually trapped. Nations make conscious and deliberate efforts to overcome them by cultivating the right attitude.
What is inside Nigerians that allow them to know the right thing but never prepared to do the right thing, just to go on extolling the virtues of those doing the right thing? Why doesn’t the consciousness stick? Nations work and walk out of “-isms” through hard work and justice systems and not lamentation and impunity. It is delusional to think that Nigeria could sidetrack good governance and still become a great nation. After getting over the allegations of genocide, the next logical dialogue should be to interrogate why Nigerians are the way they are. Could it be nature, nurture, or both? Let the interrogations begin.
A.G.Abubakar
agbarewa@gmail.com
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Oborevwori Hails Traditional Rulers as Pillars of Peace, Development
By our correspondent
Governor of Delta State, Sheriff Oborevwori, has described traditional rulers as pillars of peace and development in society.
The governor, represented by his deputy, Sir Monday Onyeme, made the remark on Thursday during the 88th birthday celebration of HRM Obi Dr. Emmanuel Efeizomor II, the Obi of Owa Kingdom.
The event was held at the Obi of Owa Palace in Owa Oyibu, Ika North-East Local Government Area of Delta State.
Oborevwori described the revered monarch as a symbol of wisdom and a stabilising force whose leadership has significantly contributed to the progress of the Ika North-East area and Delta State at large.
He noted that traditional rulers remain closest to the grassroots and serve as vital bridges between government and the people.
According to the governor, the wisdom, guidance and stabilising influence of traditional rulers continue to support efforts aimed at sustaining peace, strengthening communities and advancing development across the state.
Oborevwori reaffirmed his administration’s commitment to working closely with traditional rulers to promote peace, infrastructure development and inclusive growth across Delta State.
He also commended the monarch’s nearly 66 years on the throne, describing him as a modern-minded traditional ruler who has successfully blended cherished customs with a forward-looking vision.
The governor noted that the Obi’s leadership has made Owa Kingdom a model of cultural pride, harmony and development in Delta State.
The occasion also featured the conferment of royal honours on deserving sons and daughters of the kingdom. Among the award recipients were Prince Victor Efeizomor, Barr. Raymond Isitor, Prof. (Mrs) Chiedu Owabor-Moye, Chief Godwin Irabor, Prof. Eric Eboh, Chief Okwuokenye Inneh and Prof. Victor Ehiedu.
The event was attended by several dignitaries, including the immediate past Governor of Delta State, Senator Dr. Ifeanyi Okowa, traditional rulers and other prominent personalities.
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Opinion: BOKO HARAM’S RENEWED BLOODY CAMPAIGN IN BORNO, AND THE DELIMA OF THE MILITARY
By: A G Abubakar
Within a span of barely 48 hours, six military formations and forward operating bases in Nigeria’s North-East were reportedly overrun by insurgents. The chain of attacks began at Ngoshe in Gwoza Local Government Area before cascading across several other locations—Kukawa, Bama, Goniri, Konduga, Dalwa, and Mainok. The last two settlements lie within a 40-kilometre radius of Maiduguri, the Borno State capital, underscoring how dangerously close the violence has crept toward the heart of the region. Prior to the latest attacks, Boko Haram/ISWAP had also unleashed deadly violence on the Mandragirau and Gharang settlements of Biu and Hawul LGAs, respectively.
Spikes in violence by insurgent groups are a common feature of guerrilla warfare. It becomes a source of serious concern, however, when such attacks occur on a sustained basis, as has been the case with Boko Haram/ISWAP in the North-East over the past year.
The audacious assaults by the terrorist groups Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) left death and destruction in their wake. Three Nigerian Army commanders reportedly paid the supreme price in the line of duty, along with scores of civilians. In Ngoshe alone, more than 300 helpless villagers were abducted and later paraded in propaganda videos by the insurgents. In Dalwa and Ngoshe, houses built by the Borno State Government to resettle returning refugees were razed to the ground, further deepening the humanitarian tragedy in communities already battered by decades of violence. Dalwa lies only a few kilometres from Maiduguri, the state capital, raising fears that the city—or parts of it—may now be within the insurgents’ sights.
Naturally, these developments have created a troubling sense of déjà vu in Borno State—and, by extension, within the Federal Government. For many Nigerians who have watched the insurgency drag on for more than a decade and a half, the disturbing question has once again surfaced: what exactly is going wrong? Is it a question of commitment within the military establishment?
Is it a failure of intelligence gathering and coordination?
Or have the insurgents evolved into a far more sophisticated fighting force than previously imagined?
These questions are uncomfortable but unavoidable. One issue that has long generated concern—even among casual observers—is the largely defensive posture adopted by the military in the theatre of war. In asymmetric warfare, a defensive approach can easily turn troops into sitting targets. Insurgents who dictate the timing, location, and tempo of attacks often gain a tactical advantage over conventional forces confined to defensive positions.
Another dimension of the challenge lies in Nigeria’s approach to military hardware and technology. Buying sophisticated weapons abroad is one thing; mastering and adapting them locally is quite another. Wars are rarely won simply by acquiring expensive equipment. The true advantage lies in a nation’s ability to domesticate, maintain, modify, and improve weapon systems in response to changing battlefield realities. Unfortunately, Nigeria’s approach has largely centred on purchasing and deploying hardware without developing the deeper technological ecosystem required to sustain and adapt such systems effectively.
Meanwhile, Boko Haram and ISWAP have steadily evolved. What began as ragtag militant bands have gradually transformed into increasingly organised and sophisticated fighting units. They have established enclaves and safe havens—particularly in difficult terrains such as the Sambisa Forest—where they regroup, train, and refine their tactics.
Equally troubling is the gradual loss of control over certain strategic transportation corridors. Major highways such as the Biu–Damboa–Maiduguri road and sections of the Damaturu–Biu corridor have faced prolonged security threats. The Maiduguri–Damboa–Biu highway, for instance, has remained largely closed for close to a decade. Even with military escorts, the Maiduguri–Gamboru transnational corridor remains a risky route.
In military strategy, surrendering control of major transportation arteries—whether highways, waterways, or ports—to hostile forces is profoundly counterproductive. It allows insurgents freedom of movement while restricting economic and civilian activity, thereby amplifying the psychological and economic cost of the conflict. Enclaves are sometimes conceded temporarily for tactical reasons—to herd and isolate enemy forces as part of a broader final offensive. But when such spaces become enduring sanctuaries, the balance of advantage shifts dangerously.
Then there is the sensitive issue of morale within the ranks of the armed forces. Reports of poor welfare conditions, allegations of corruption among some senior officers, and concerns about recruitment quality have occasionally surfaced in public discourse. When soldiers feel inadequately supported, poorly equipped, or uncertain about leadership decisions, battlefield effectiveness can suffer. War demands not only weapons but also morale, discipline, trust, cohesion, and accountability. The last of these has often appeared in short supply. The $2.2 billion weapons procurement fund allegedly misappropriated by Sambo Dasuki, a former National Security Adviser (NSA), and the $2 million and N1.65 billion stolen by the convicted Gen. Umar Muhammed are among the more prominent examples. Many others have been implicated across the various services.
Modern warfare itself has changed dramatically. Conflicts are no longer fought exclusively with boots on the ground. Increasingly, battles are fought from the air and through advanced technologies—using drones, precision missiles, surveillance systems, and electronic warfare tools. In this regard, it is troubling that insurgent groups sometimes appear to be adapting faster in certain tactical areas than a country with more than 230,000 personnel across its various security services.
Nigeria must therefore rethink its security architecture. Strengthening local military production capability, investing in research and development, and integrating modern technologies into military doctrine are no longer optional—they are strategic necessities. Training must evolve alongside technology, and operational strategies must adapt to the realities of contemporary asymmetric warfare.
Beyond the battlefield, there is also a growing psychological dimension to the crisis: public fatigue and resignation. After more than fifteen years of violence, many communities in the North-East are gradually losing faith in the ability of the state to guarantee their safety. This erosion of confidence is dangerous for any nation.
Ironically, the early years of the insurgency revealed remarkable community resilience. In 2009, when Boko Haram briefly gained control of large parts of Maiduguri, young residents mobilised themselves to resist the insurgents. At one point, the militants had restricted movement and commercial activity, subjecting residents to severe hardship. Local youths organised themselves to push back. One, Baba Lawan Jafar, is believed to have initiated the historic move in June 2013. Others, like Shehu Ganiyu, also played key roles.
A similar story unfolded in Biu, where youths reportedly went from house to house identifying insurgents and confronting them—often armed with nothing more than clubs and improvised weapons.
These spontaneous community efforts eventually gave birth to what became known as the Civilian Joint Task Force (Civilian JTF)—popularly referred to in Hausa as “Kato da Gora.” Their bravery played a critical role in helping the military reclaim control of key urban areas and restoring a measure of stability.
However, after years of grinding conflict and perceived shortcomings in the national security response, the initial enthusiasm that powered such grassroots resistance has gradually waned. These developments demand serious reflection as Nigeria continues its long war against Boko Haram and ISWAP.
The insurgency has devastated the economy of the North-East, destroyed livelihoods, and displaced millions. Worse still, the security crisis has gradually spread beyond the region into other parts of the country that were once considered relatively safe.
19.More than a decade after the tragic abduction of the Chibok schoolgirls in 2014, some of the victims are still believed to be in captivity, including Dapchi Girls’ School’s Leah Sharibu. Sadly, many more citizens have since been kidnapped across different parts of the country.
Meanwhile, over half a million displaced persons from Gwoza and other parts of northern Borno remain stranded in neighbouring Cameroon and the Niger Republic, unable to return home safely. Within Nigeria itself, it is estimated that more than three million people are internally displaced as a result of various forms of insecurity across the country. This is in addition to the not fewer than 50,000 people believed to have lost their lives to the insurgency in the North-East region alone.
Nigeria now ranks as the 6th most terrorised country according to the Global Terrorism Index (GTI) 2025. It is also ranked 148 out of 168 countries on the 2025 Global Peace Index (GPI). These and other indicators have combined to place Nigeria among the least cohesive countries in 2025, with a cohesion score of 46.8% according to the Africa Polling Institute. As a consequence of these challenges, Nigeria and Nigerians have lost considerable trust in the eyes of the international community.
It has also been estimated that the war against insurgency and other terrorist groups has cost the nation over N40 trillion over the last decade. This figure is derived as a fraction of the nation’s average annual defence expenditure of about $4 billion, at the current official exchange rate. These are resources that could otherwise have been invested in critical infrastructure and sustainable human capital development—initiatives capable of transforming the lives of millions of citizens.
These realities underscore a simple but urgent truth: Nigeria cannot afford complacency. The Federal Government must urgently reassess and rejig the nation’s security architecture—strategically, technologically, and institutionally. The war against insurgency requires not only courage on the battlefield but also clarity of strategy, innovation in technology, integrity in leadership, and renewed trust between the state and its citizens.
Above all, the situation demands urgency and a fundamentally new approach. The current strategy appears increasingly incapable of delivering decisive results. There is a popular wisdom that one cannot continue doing the same thing and expect a different outcome. Nigeria’s war against insurgency therefore requires bold rethinking and swift action; a paradigm shift from the usual “doctrine” trap.
Every delay carries a human cost—not only for the men and women on the battlefield but also for the civilians whose lives hang in the balance. History teaches that prolonged wars breed deprivation, disillusionment, and instability. For Nigeria, the stakes could not be higher. The country must either adapt its strategy and regain the initiative—or risk watching the conflict drag on with devastating consequences for national security and development.
A.G.Abubakar agbarewa@gmail.com
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Wike: Infrastructure Rollout Planned for Waru–Pozema District
From Hassan Taiye
The Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Nyesom Wike, has announced plans to provide the necessary infrastructure in the newly opened Waru–Pozema District to enable residents and developers to move in and begin development.
Wike disclosed this on Thursday while speaking with journalists after inspecting several ongoing projects across the Federal Capital Territory.
He explained that the FCT Administration would work with relevant agencies to ensure the provision of basic infrastructure in the district, located in Cadastral Zone D16.
According to the minister, the administration will consult the Federal Capital Development Authority and other relevant departments to determine the next steps, including whether the project is captured in the 2026 budget.
“About the new district of Waru–Pozema in Cadastral Zone D16, we have to find out from the FCDA or the coordinator what they have in mind, whether it is in the 2026 budget,” he said. “Don’t worry, we will do everything we can to provide the needed infrastructure and open up the district so that people can move in.”
The minister also expressed satisfaction with the progress recorded on some judicial infrastructure projects inspected during the tour. He said the contractor handling the Court of Appeal complex assured that the project would be completed by May.
Wike further disclosed that the judges’ quarters, including those for the Federal High Court, have already been furnished.
Giving a breakdown of projects expected to be inaugurated during the third year in office of President Bola Tinubu, the minister said they include 10 duplexes for the Federal High Court, 20 duplexes for the FCT High Court and another 10 duplexes for the Court of Appeal.
The minister also inspected a major road project in Katampe, which he described as functioning like a ring road, and commended the contractor, China Geo-Engineering Corporation, for the pace and quality of work.
Speaking on his motivation for regularly inspecting projects, Wike said his commitment is driven by service and the confidence reposed in him by President Tinubu.
“For the president to have confidence in you and give you an assignment, you have no choice but to remain committed to the job,” he said.
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