Today, May 29, 2025, is exactly two years since Bola Tinubu took the oath of office as President and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, Federal Republic of Nigeria. And it is more than enough time to assess his stewardship.

Even those who said, as Professor Wole Soyinka did in 2023, that the traditional 100 days was too short a time to make such an assessment will hardly have any excuse now. For those who may have forgotten, on December 24, 2023, Soyinka paid a visit to Tinubu in his Lagos home. Asked to assess Tinubu’s performance, the Nobel Laureate claimed that three months was too short a time to assess any government. Most presidents “don’t start from ground zero. They often start lower than ground zero and they need time to make up,” he said. Ironically, while Soyinka was waiting for the one year anniversary to make his assessment, Tinubu and his ministers were already doing so and high-fiving themselves on their “achievements.”

It is instructive that the Nobel Laureate, who is not known for suffering fools gladly, is still tongue-tied. Speaking on Channels Television on Monday, March 24, Soyinka now says he will only speak on Tinubu’s government when he has something to say. “People should stop trying to work on my timetable for me, I had not swallowed an alarm clock. I don’t see why I should put my alarm on and say one year has passed, now, I must make an assessment.”

Maybe, Soyinka is right. In espousing his political philosophy – Emilokanism – President Tinubu can be brutally frank. He is one politician who understands the psyche of the average Nigerian. Most Nigerians have scant disregards for decent people in politics who play by the rules. They would rather exalt strong men. And Tinubu is a strong man.

So, when he, as the presidential candidate of the All Progressives Congress, APC, told some of his political associates in London in December 2022 how he hoped to win the 2023 presidential election, he didn’t mince words. “Political power is not going to be served in a restaurant. They don’t serve it a la carte. At all cost, fight for it, grab it and run with it,” he admonished top party operatives after his outing at the Royal Institute of International Affairs – Chatham House – a British think tank.

And that was exactly what he did. He fought for power with all the arsenal at his disposal, grabbed and ran away with it while asking his flustered opponents to “go to court.” They did and the rest is history. Now going into the 2027 battle as a president seeking re-election, he is doing an encore, but this time using the power that he already has in such a Machiavellian way to render the opposition impotent. That, he calls “the game.” And just as he did in December 2022, he is letting Nigerians take a peep beforehand at his plan.

Speaking at the APC National Summit at the Banquet Hall of the State House, Abuja on May 23, Tinubu said of the defections to the APC: “You don’t blame a people bailing out of a sinking ship. I am glad about what we have and I am expecting more to come. That is the game… Sweep them clean.”

That game is definitely at the expense of Nigeria’s democracy. Contrary to Tinubu’s claim that the defections demonstrate the democratic preferences of the defectors, they are emblematic of the carefully calibrated. Moreover, the fact that team Tinubu’s bloom has fallen off the rose in the last two years cannot be understated just as the Jagaban luster has faded. So, on what basis will any altruistic politician defect to APC or join hands with a government as Tinubu’s whose promise of leading the country to the promise land can only be believed by those living in cuckoo land.

For those who are still in doubt, on August 4, 2024, Tinubu outlined the achievements of his administration with emphasis on fiscal reforms, economic resurgence, and social welfare improvements, all aimed at stimulating growth, reducing debt burdens, and improving the living standards of Nigerians. None of these has been achieved. But his lieutenants, including the presiding officers of the National Assembly, are already on overdrive, doubling down on his claim.

On Wednesday, Speaker of the House of Representatives, Tajudeen Abbas, enthused that Tinubu has demonstrated courage and good leadership by lifting the economy, fixing the foreign exchange market, generating jobs and confronting insecurity. He touted the president’s removal of petrol subsidy, describing it as “a policy that once drained over $10 billion each year,” but which saved Nigeria over N1 trillion within two months.

Tinubu’s predecessor, Muhammadu Buhari, also weighed in same day. Assessing Tinubu at midterm, Buhari urged Nigerians to be patient with him. “Our expectations from our governments should not get heavy,” he cautioned.

Really? The tragedy of the APC-led governments is the wide gulf between the claims made by government officials and the lived realities of the people. When a government prioritises propaganda and outright lies over hard work, common good suffers. It is even more so with the Tinubu government.  While it is true that the removal of petrol subsidy means more money in the coffers of government, the Naira weakening 0.6 per cent to N1,681 per dollar on Wednesday, according to the Financial Market Dealer Quotation, FMDQ, means the currency has lost 72 per cent of its value since Tinubu’s reforms ensued, making it worthless, literally.

But assuming, without conceding that the government now earns money in real terms, to what use is the money put and why the continuing insane borrowing? Is it not curious that Tinubu is requesting legislative approval for a new external borrowing plan amounting to over $21.5 billion, alongside a domestic bond issuance of N757.9 billion to settle outstanding pension liabilities in the 2025–2026 borrowing plan?

When this is approved, as, indeed, it will be approved by a rubber stamp National Assembly, it will have dire consequences on an already fragile economy because the country’s public debt will exceed N180 trillion. Meanwhile, as was aptly captured in a Vanguard newspaper report titled, “Nigeria’s debt heads for N180trn as Tinubu seeks N34trn new loans,” the Federal Government’s debt service-to-revenue ratio, a critical measure of ability to repay loans, deteriorated to 131 per cent in the first two months of 2025 from 118 per cent in the corresponding period of 2024. This impending loan can only make a bad situation worse.

The Tinubu administration has failed in delivering on the primary duty of government as enshrined in the 1999 Constitution, which is ensuring the security and welfare of the people. Last month, the International Monetary Fund, IMF, expressed concern over the high poverty rate and food insecurity in Nigeria. His economic policies have pushed many Nigerians into the poverty loop in the last two years.

Despite rebasing the Consumer Price Index, CPI, in January which on paper resulted in a sharp decrease in the headline inflation rate, the reality is different. The purchasing power of the Naira in the hands of ordinary Nigerian has been grievously eroded. The idea of the middle class has become a misnomer. Insecurity has not been tamed and Nigerians are being slaughtered everyday like sacrificial lambs. Unemployment is worse today than it was two years ago, just as foreign direct investments, FDIs, have dried up, all pretensions to the contrary notwithstanding. Corruption has not abated in the last two years and despite the huge revenues pouring into government coffers, the embarrassing infrastructure deficit remains dire.

Hardly can any Nigerian, except those who are lining their pockets in the corridors and back alleys of power, say that he is better off today socio-economically than he was two years ago. These two years have been hell on earth, literally, for most Nigerians. That is Tinubu’s mid-term scorecard devoid of any sycophantic embellishments.

And the reason for the poor outing is simple. Tinubu has used the first half of his four-year tenure to play politics rather than govern. In any democracy where votes count, the reverse is the case. Leaders use the first half or more of their tenure to work for the people, not impoverish them, while they and their cronies are luxuriating in stupendous wealth. He decided to travel that route having convinced himself that the people will not have a say in how 2027 pans out. That, in a nutshell, is the real meaning of “the game.” But that should be a challenge to Nigerians!

It was a warm evening in Lagos, the kind where the city’s vibrant energy hums through the air, mingling with laughter and clinking glasses at a friend’s 70th birthday celebration. Amid the chatter and music, I found myself in a moment that would stir deep emotions and reflections on Nigeria’s complex history. A man introduced himself: Philip Effiong Jr. The name hit me like a bolt, sending an eerie chill through my veins. This was no ordinary introduction. He was the son of General Philip Effiong, the Biafran second-in-command who, in one of Nigeria’s most defining moments, bore the weight of a nation’s surrender at the end of the Nigerian Civil War in January 1970. The memory of that encounter has lingered, compelling me to reflect on the legacy of General Effiong—a man whose courage, honor, and sacrifice deserve a permanent place in Nigeria’s national consciousness.
My mind raced back to another moment, years earlier, in the lobby of the NICON Hilton Hotel (as it was
then known) in Abuja during the early days of President Olusegun Obasanjo’s administration. There, I had briefly met General Philip Effiong himself. He was a quiet, dignified figure, navigating the bureaucratic maze to secure his military entitlements—a stark reminder of how often nations overlook those who shape their history. That fleeting encounter left an impression of a man who carried his burdens with grace, a soldier whose loyalty to his people and principles defined his life. Meeting his son decades later rekindled those memories and underscored a truth: Nigeria, and indeed the entire Eastern region that once formed Biafra, owes General Philip Effiong a debt of gratitude. His story is one of valor, sacrifice, and an unyielding commitment to his people—a story that must be immortalized for future generations.

The Weight of History
To understand General Philip Effiong’s significance, we must revisit the Nigerian Civil War (1967–1970), a conflict that tore the nation apart and left scars that linger to this day. The war, sparked by ethnic, political, and economic tensions, saw the Eastern Region declare itself the Republic of Biafra under the leadership of General Chukwuemeka Odumegwu-Ojukwu. As the Biafra leader’s deputy, Effiong was a key figure, not only as a military strategist but as a steadfast leader who remained when the tides turned against Biafra.
By early 1970, Biafra was crumbling under the weight of Nigeria’s military might, starvation policies, and international isolation. Ojukwu, recognizing the inevitability of defeat, left for exile in Côte d’Ivoire, entrusting Effiong with the unenviable task of surrendering to the Nigerian forces. On January 15, 1970, in Amichi, Effiong formally declared the end of Biafra’s resistance, a moment captured in history as he stood before Nigerian commanders to announce, “The Republic of Biafra ceases to exist.” It was a moment of profound humility and courage, a decision that likely saved countless lives by preventing further bloodshed.
Effiong’s act of surrender was not a capitulation of spirit but a pragmatic choice rooted in his commitment to the survival of his people. While Ojukwu’s departure was a strategic retreat, it was Effiong who faced the consequences, standing firm in the face of defeat to negotiate peace. His decision embodied the essence of leadership: placing the welfare of others above personal pride. For this, he earned the respect of both Biafrans and Nigerians, though his contributions have often been overshadowed by the broader narrative of the war.

A Life of Service and Sacrifice
Born in 1925 in Ibiono Ibom, Akwa Ibom State, Philip Effiong was a career soldier who joined the Nigerian Army in 1945. His early career saw him rise through the ranks, serving with distinction in the West African Frontier Force and later training at military institutions in Ghana and the United Kingdom. By the time the civil war broke out, Effiong was a seasoned officer, respected for his discipline and integrity. His role as Biafra’s Chief of General Staff and later Deputy Head of State placed him at the heart of the secessionist struggle.
Effiong’s leadership was not just military but deeply human. During the war, he worked tirelessly to maintain morale among Biafran troops and civilians, even as resources dwindled and famine ravaged the region. His ability to navigate the chaos of war while maintaining a sense of duty earned him the admiration of those who served under him. Yet, it was his final act—surrendering to preserve lives—that cemented his legacy as a leader who valued humanity over ego.
After the war, Effiong faced the challenges of reintegration into a Nigeria striving for reconciliation under the “No Victor, No Vanquished” policy of General Yakubu Gowon. Unlike many former Biafran officers, he was not immediately reinstated into the Nigerian Army, and his post-war years were marked by struggles to secure his rightful entitlements—a reality I glimpsed during our brief encounter at the NICON Hilton. Effiong’s later life was one of quiet dignity, as he continued to advocate for unity and development in Nigeria until his death in 2003.

A Debt Unpaid
The encounter with Philip Effiong Jr. at that Lagos party was a stark reminder of how little Nigeria has done to honor this remarkable man. General Effiong’s story is not just a footnote in the history of the civil war; it is a testament to the qualities of courage, sacrifice, and honor that should inspire every Nigerian. Yet, his name is rarely mentioned in classrooms, public discourse, or national commemorations. This oversight is not just a disservice to Effiong but a missed opportunity to teach young Nigerians about the values that define true leadership.
Across the world, nations immortalize their heroes through statues, memorials, and educational curricula. In Nigeria, we have streets and institutions named after leaders, but Effiong’s name is conspicuously absent. Why has a man who played such a pivotal role in one of the nation’s darkest chapters not been given his due? The Eastern Region, which bore the brunt of the war’s devastation, owes him particular recognition for his unwavering commitment to its people. Nigeria as a whole must acknowledge his role in fostering peace and preventing further loss of life.

A Call for Immortalization
It is time for Nigeria to honor General Philip Effiong in a manner befitting his contributions. This is not about reopening old wounds or glorifying one side of the civil war but about recognizing a universal story of valor and humanity. Here are tangible steps the government, civil society, and educational institutions can take to ensure Effiong’s legacy endures:

1. National Recognition: The Federal Government should consider naming a significant public institution or infrastructure after Effiong. A military academy, a major highway in the nation’s capital city, Abuja, the South-South or South-East, or a national peace monument would be fitting tributes. Such a gesture would symbolize Nigeria’s commitment to unity and reconciliation.

2. Educational Integration: Effiong’s story should be a mandatory part of the history curriculum in Nigerian schools. Teaching young Nigerians about his role in the civil war would highlight the importance of courage, sacrifice, and ethical leadership. His actions offer a counterpoint to the often divisive narratives of the war, emphasizing unity and humanity.

3. Memorialization: A statue or memorial in Effiong’s home state of Akwa Ibom or in a prominent location in the South-East would serve as a physical reminder of his contributions. Such a monument could be a place of reflection, drawing visitors to learn about his life and the broader context of the war.

4. Scholarships and Awards: Establishing scholarships or awards in Effiong’s name for students or military personnel who exemplify leadership and service would keep his legacy alive. These could be targeted at young Nigerians studying history, peace studies, or military science.
5. Public Discourse: Media outlets, historians, and filmmakers should be encouraged to tell Effiong’s story. Documentaries, books, and feature films could bring his contributions to a wider audience, ensuring that his name resonates beyond academic circles.

A Personal Reflection
Meeting Philip Effiong Jr. was more than a chance encounter; it was a call to action. The eerie feeling that ran through me was not just about the weight of his father’s name but the realization that Nigeria has yet to fully embrace the lessons of its past. General Effiong’s life reminds us that true heroism lies not in victory but in the courage to do what is right, even when it is painful. His decision to surrender was not a defeat but a triumph of humanity, a choice to prioritize lives over pride.
As I left the party, I couldn’t shake the thought that Effiong’s story is a mirror for Nigeria today. In a nation grappling with division, insecurity, and economic challenges, his example of leadership and sacrifice is more relevant than ever. We must ask ourselves: How do we honor those who have shaped our history? How do we teach future generations the values that will build a stronger, more united Nigeria?

General Philip Effiong stood by his people until the end, bearing the weight of a nation’s surrender with dignity and grace. It is time for Nigeria to stand by him, ensuring that his name and legacy are etched into the fabric of our national identity. Let us immortalize this courageous officer and gentleman, not just for the Eastern Region or Biafra, but for all Nigerians who believe in the power of valor, honor, and unity.

NB: Sonny Iroche is a Nigerian Alumnus of the University of Oxford and also a Senior Academic Fellow, African studies Centre. University of Oxford 2022-2023

On 30th May 2018, then Imo State Governor, Rochas Okorocha added a new word to the vocabulary of politics in Nigeria. Explaining the nature of the democracy being practiced in our country on a Channels Television programme, Okorocha told his interviewer, Ladi Akeredolu-Ale, “If you come to my state and I have collected N500 billion, yet I can only show you boreholes and renovation of schools, but I can perfect the papers, that is Iberiberism.” Obviously baffled by the word he was hearing for the first time, Akeredolu-Ale asked Okorocha to explain what he meant. He got a crisp response: “Go and search for it in the dictionary.”

Of course, there was no such word in the English dictionary at the time. But it has since been established that Okorocha coined it from the Igbo word, Iberibe, which means deceit. And with linguists taking up his challenge, Urbandictionary.com has defined ‘Iberiberism’ as a “political ideology based on lack of substance, mediocrity, platitude and corporate greed.” In a milieu where political parties have been reduced to ‘coalitions’ of strange bedfellows devoid of any ideal beyond grabbing or retaining power, who can fault Okorocha’s summation?

Four years ago, I started a book I thought would be released last year to mark the quarter of a century of unbroken democratic rule in Nigeria. With the rider, ‘25 Defining Issues in 25 Years of Civil Rule in Nigeria (1999—2024)’, I felt there could be no better working title than ‘Democracy by Iberiberism’. Although the book was 80 percent completed, I eventually suspended work on it in April last year when I became distracted by other commitments and could not keep most interview appointments. Quite naturally, one of the people I interviewed was Okorocha who admitted coining ‘Iberiberism’ from the Igbo word Iberibe and justified it with what he described as a lack of vision that defines both the public and private engagements in our country. “In Nigeria today, nobody is interested in how to get the job done, the emphasis is always on perfecting the paperwork,” Okorocha insisted. “That’s why what you find in every facet of our national life is Iberiberism.”

I spent almost an hour with Okorocha, probing this strange but interesting concept and he had a lot to say, including illustrating his points with practical examples. There were also pushbacks, especially when I challenged his own ‘Iberiberistic’ dispositions as Imo State Governor. I reminded him of his failed attempt to anoint son-in-law, Uche Nwosu, as his successor. A smooth talker with an incredible sense of humour, Okorocha is difficult to pin down, but he made some compelling arguments on the situation in Nigeria. While other societies seek leaders with vision and imagination at all levels and spheres of life, according to Okorocha, “Nigerians are still trapped with making their choices based on certain primordial considerations. And because these leaders cannot give what they do not have, the system is now reeking with Iberiberism.”

Let me state from the outset that in the last 26 years, Nigeria has made considerable strides in many areas—even if we are not where we would want to be. First, the telephone that we were gleefully told “is not for the poor” by the military leaders of a certain era is now in the hands of almost every Nigerian, thanks to a transparent auction process that inevitably revolutionised the sector and the economy. The two banking reforms of 2004 and 2008 by Chukwuma Soludo and Muhammadu Sanusi II have helped to put Nigerian banks on a sound footing. You only need to travel across the West African subregion to appreciate how robust our banking sector has become. Meanwhile, contrary to the apprehensions expressed at epochal moments, Nigeria earned the applause of the world with the manner we handled the Ebola Virus crisis in 2014 and the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020. From the debt deal to the Niger Delta amnesty, to the recent removal of subsidies in the downstream sector of the petroleum industry, there have been fundamental developments in our country under the current democratic dispensation.

However, the more Okorocha expanded on the concept of ‘Iberiberism’, the more it also became clear to me that his description of the situation in our country today is apt. Especially against the background of how we have mismanaged the issues of identity and social fabrics, the struggle for power and control, human rights and the rule of law, as well as the challenge of transparency and accountability and the growing number of our citizens who live below the poverty line. Even though Nigeria retains the apparatus of a functioning state, it is obvious that the system has been rigged against the majority of our people. When you add how sundry cartels of criminal gangs have conspired to take our country by the jugular, the lack of electricity despite spending billions of dollars on the sector, the number of our young citizens who now ‘Japa’ either through the normal channels or the life-or-death route across the Sahara Desert and Mediterranean Sea, you get the picture of a country trapped in ‘Iberiberism’. These are some of the defining issues in the last 26 years captured in the uncompleted book. Hopefully, I will return to it in the coming years.

But I am not going to read from the book of lamentations today. As we mark 26 years of unbroken civil rule, it is worth noting that the current democratic dispensation didn’t come as a gift. It was wrestled from the iron grip of military dictators through blood, tears, and sacrifice. Even reporters like me have tales to tell. But there were many who paid the ultimate price: Kudirat Abiola, Bagauda Kaltho, Alfred Rewane, Shehu Musa Yar’Adua and far too many others whose names may never make the headlines. Perhaps as a reminder of how far we’ve come, a senior professional colleague and former House of Representatives member, Abdul Oroh has chosen to publicly present his memoir, ‘Demonstration of Craze: Struggles and Transition to Democracy in Nigeria’, today in Abuja. The book offers a compelling narrative of the tortuous path to civil rule in Nigeria and the role of many actors. Rich in anecdotes and flowing prose, reading through the 614 pages reminded me of the courage and tenacity of ordinary Nigerians and civil society activists who stood up to military brutality at great personal risk.

A journalist who later became Executive Director of the Civil Liberties Organization (CLO) before transitioning to politics, Oroh documents the intense struggles against the military juntas of Muhammadu Buhari, Ibrahim Babangida and the late Sani Abacha. What stands out in his account is the relentless assault on democratic values during that era. The annulment of the June 12 (1993) presidential election—now belatedly confirmed to have been won by the late MKO Abiola—remains a defining moment in our political history. The subsequent crackdown on dissent, which Oroh captures, illustrates the steep price paid for the democracy we enjoy today. Oroh also explores the complex relationship between domestic agitation and external pressure, particularly under Abacha when Nigeria became a pariah state.

Twenty-six years later, how well have we fared? Oroh’s narrative suggests a gradual disconnect between the people and the political class that emerged post-1999. The struggle that began as a people’s movement became hijacked by opportunists, many of whom were in bed with the military and had no genuine commitment to democratic ideals. Oroh’s transition from activist to legislator and later commissioner in Edo State offers interesting insights into the challenges of governance in Nigeria. He reveals some of the entrenched interests that continue to undermine our democratic experiment.

In his book, the reporter in Oroh shines through. He takes the reader behind-the-scenes to reveal how godfathers operate while also explaining the intrigues involved in the role of a ‘placeholder’—a recent Nigerian invention in political surrogacy. With his background as a reporter, it is no surprise that Oroh’s recollections are very insightful. But he started by recounting the role played by Olisa Agbakoba, SAN, in the birth of what became a vibrant human rights activism in Nigeria as well as that by Clement Nwankwo, Ayo Obe, Femi Falana, Emma Ezeazu, Mike Ozhekhome and many others. “The story that Oroh tells is a unique personal and collective tale, reminiscent of Fela Anikulapo’s rhapsodic critiques of Nigeria’s democracy,” renowned academic, Professor Olu Obafemi wrote in his blurb. “The book is a work borne out of concrete lived experience and vivid imagination.”

The struggles chronicled in Oroh’s memoir remind us that democracy is not a destination but a journey that requires continued engagement. Yet, as things stand, the ‘demonstration of craze’ that characterized the pro-democracy movement in the eighties and nineties may need to be rekindled if we are to rescue our country from those who see politics merely as a path to power and privilege. As we therefore celebrate this milestone of 26 years of unbroken civil rule, we must recommit to the ideals that inspired the struggle against military dictatorship in Nigeria. We must insist on free and fair elections, respect for human rights, transparency in governance, and accountability from our leaders. We must also remember that democracy is not merely about periodic elections but about creating a society where every citizen has a voice and where government truly derives its legitimacy from the consent of the people.

May the sacrifices of those who fought for our democracy never be in vain. And may we find the courage to complete the unfinished business of building an egalitarian society that is devoid of ‘Iberiberism’.

The Ghost of June 12

Between 1991 and 1998, I authored three self-published books (Fortress on Quicksand, Poli-tricks and Abiola’s Travails) on the various contradictions in the transition to civil rule programmes of Generals Babangida and Abacha. I added a fourth, ‘The Last 100 Days of Abacha’ six years after the military left power. Although written at different moments, these four books capture distinct yet interwoven aspects of the bizarre political process that shattered the peace of our country. Combined, they piece together the threads of those turbulent years. Titled, ‘The Ghost of June 12’, the book will be released on June 16 this year. Compiling these books into one is significant given the demographics of Nigeria. With over 70 percent of our population under the age of 30, it means that most of our citizens were born after the ‘June 12’ fiasco of 1993. But the book is more than a recounting of events. It is a reminder of where we have been and how easily history can repeat itself if we are not vigilant.

“Two men in a burning house must not stop to argue”- African proverb

The choice between a rock and a hard place describes a situation of being between two equally difficult, even impossible options. It is what comes to mind as a number of developments in the country are contemplated by people in a widely differing situations in the country as we speak.

 Let us start with a viral text allegedly posted by communities who have lived with, or, more appropriately, under bandits like Ado Aleiro, Bello Turji, Kachalla Habibu Sububu, Shingi, Black, Nashama, Gwaska and dozens of their satellites and rivals in much of the North West and North Central regions. The text appears to be a reaction to the reported arrest of the wife and mother of a leading bandit in Saudi Arabia while preparing to perform the Hajj. The post begs those who fight these bandits to stop these types of arrests, because it is their routine victims who pay the price whenever the state attempts to clamp on their activities and free communities from their strangleholds.

 Now, to be fair, another post denied that the leading bandit’s family was arrested. What complicates this development is the quality of the text from villagers pleading that the fight should be taken to the bandits/ terrorists where they are located, and not, as was reported, in the manner that exposes villagers to reprisals which compound their pathetic helplessness. It is even tempting to assume the bandits/terrorists themselves penned the plea, a subtle blackmail to stop the State from hitting bandits where it hurts: arresting their families.

 In any case, the point here is to highlight the desperate circumstances in which millions of fellow Nigerians live. Bandits and terrorists and other sundry threats have tightened their grips on lives of rural communities in most parts of the North. Those who survive and live in unsafe towns and villages are condemned to lives of wretched destitution in distant communities without means of dignified survival. Unlike the North East and North Central, the North West has no Internally Displaced Persons, IDPs, camps. Its hundreds of thousands of women and children and old people displaced by entrenched organized violence are begging in streets in northern towns and cities, including Abuja, as northern elites zoom past in tinted glasses. Young northern  men are being stopped, profiled and humiliated as suspects as they ride every moving contraption going South to find menial jobs.

 Hundreds of villages are emptied of strong farming hands. Those who choose to stay have to negotiate access to farms with bandits and terrorists, and this may include working on their farms as well. Even this does not guarantee that farmers can feed from, and sell some produce. Another group of bandits or terrorists, or even the same overlord, could invade to empty the villages’ barns; or burn down its  harvests as punishment for attempting to protect itself; or because its land is needed by expanding populations of bandits or new arrival terrorists, or for pure pleasure.

 The most severe punishment against the population is reserved for attempting to resist or reduce the impact of the bandit/ terrorist, and suspicion of collaboration with agents of the state. Communities watch with apprehension as young men step up to answer the call to protect dignity and possessions, encouraged by state governments who support vigilante groups. The bandit hates the vigilante with a passion, often reducing the job of the volunteer in resisting him to ethnic war, with him as victim. Hostage communities are the bandit/kidnapper’s oxygen. Without them, the State will blast him to pieces. Hostage communities know this, so they enter into a very difficult agreement to live at the mercy of the bandit/terrorist, who has the total freedom to alter the terms of the understanding.

 Governments and security agencies demand information and intelligence. The villagers know better. Same way villagers in many parts of the North East knew a long time ago. Security, as provided by the state, is distant and erratic. The bandit/terrorist  knows this. The State knows the bandit/ terrorist is in control of farmlands, markets, roads, schools and everything else that moves. The bandit/terrorist knows the limitations and constraints of state agents very well. His mere existence is evidence of weakness of the state. The failure of the state to defeat him is enough evidence that he is winning. The citizen is a victim of a weak state, and captive of brutal powers in a war with no rules. He could pay a huge price for resisting, even with his feet. That is his rock. He could also live on the margins of existence, without any influence over how or when his life will change.

 The conditions under which citizens live in most parts of the North can be replicated all over the country, with very few differences in details. The bandit is armed, rich and stuck in criminality without ambition or options, except to be a better bandit. He is the most vulnerable of the sundry threats that hold our communities hostage. He can and must be engaged with new resolve and creative mindset. The terrorist/insurgent seeks to capture and keep populations under his control and impose his worldview over them. He is resurfacing with greater sophistication and audacity. We cannot defeat him using the same methods that have failed in the last 15 years. Many communities are locked in a bloddy tit-for-tat in a country that should teach others the dangers of ignoring ethnic conflicts. They will escalate with spreading awareness that the State cannot, or will not protect citizens and institutionalize justice in inter-community relations. Our economy bleeds from sophisticated and widespread plunder of oil assets. You cannot fix the economy unless you plug this damaging and lucrative crime. Does the State have the will and the muscle to take on the most sophisticated and profitable crimes in the land? Is the leadership willing to take on sundry criminals that have gripped the entire South-East behind the facade of politics? We are all between a rock and a hard place: the State is unable to protect us, and the criminal offers nothing but greater pain. Something has to give.