The Nation Newspaper

Category: Letters

  • Southwest governors have spoken, but will anything change?

    Southwest governors have spoken, but will anything change?

    • By Ogungbile Emmanuel Oludotun

    Sir: The emergency meeting of the South West Governors’ Forum in Ibadan on November 24, did not happen by coincidence. It was triggered by the thick wave of alarming attacks in other parts of the country that sent shockwaves across the federation. The abductions at Government Girls Comprehensive Secondary School in Maga, Kebbi; the attack on St. Mary’s Catholic institution in Papiri, Agwara LGA of Niger State; and the kidnapping incident at the CAC Church in Eruku, Kwara State, all exposed once again how fragile security remains across Nigeria. Although these tragedies occurred outside the Southwest, they served as a “time bomb” reminder, insecurity anywhere is insecurity everywhere.

    Fearing that similar patterns could sweep into their own states, the governors convened urgently, determined to reassess the region’s defences. However, despite the gravity of the moment and the strong declarations that followed, a familiar question shadows the communiqué, the governors have spoken, but will anything really change?

    The communiqué opened with formal commendations for President Tinubu’s response to the recent kidnappings, especially the rescue efforts in Kwara and Niger. However, behind the diplomacy was an unmistakable undertone, the Southwest knows that it cannot rely solely on the federal structure to safeguard its millions of residents.

    Criminal groups are evolving faster than Nigeria’s national security architecture.

    Banditry, kidnapping, forest invasions, illegal mining, and unregulated migration are stretching federal resources thin. The governors recognise this reality more clearly than ever, and the tone of their resolutions reflects a region preparing to shoulder responsibility for its own survival.

    Read Also: Tinubu orders 24-hour aerial surveillance, tightens security cordon over Kwara, Kebbi forests

    One of the most ambitious initiatives unveiled was the creation of a Southwest Security Fund under the DAWN Commission, a collective financing pool intended to strengthen regional security operations. In theory, it could finally give Amotekun the resources, training, and technology it has lacked for years. However, history offers a warning; the Southwest has launched bold security ideas before, only for enthusiasm to fade once political distractions set in. Will this fund survive the familiar cycle of loud beginnings and quiet endings?

    Yes, the plan to establish a real-time digital intelligence-sharing platform across the six states is equally significant. Today, speed and information determine who wins against criminal networks. But intelligence in Nigeria is often treated as political capital, not a shared asset. Technology alone will not solve this. Can the region overcome entrenched habits of secrecy, rivalry, and bureaucratic territorialism?

    Dense forest belts across the Southwest have silently transformed into ungoverned zones, hideouts for kidnappers, illegal loggers, migrant criminal cells, and mining syndicates. The governors called on the federal government to deploy forest guards, with states providing personnel, signalling a recognition that reclaiming these forests is now a matter of regional survival. However, securing thousands of hectares demands more than manpower; it requires coordinated aerial surveillance, intelligence-led operations, and the political courage to dismantle long-protected criminal networks.

    Interstate migration, another escalating concern, was addressed with unusual firmness. The region’s openness has always been part of its strength, but weak identification systems and porous borders have created vulnerabilities. The call for tighter collaboration with NIMC to track and verify movement is pragmatic. But it must be implemented with constitutional sensitivity to avoid ethnic profiling or unnecessary tension. How does the region strike a balance between security vigilance and national cohesion? That is the real test.

    Illegal mining, one of the hidden engines of violence in the region, was also highlighted. Mining syndicates, often protected by powerful interests, have been linked to environmental destruction, extortion networks, and armed criminality. The governors’ demand for stricter licensing and enforcement is welcome, but the real question is whether any state is prepared to confront the political and financial cartels benefiting from the chaos. Without that courage, illegal mining will continue to flourish under the same old excuses.

    Perhaps the most politically charged statement was the reaffirmation of the call for state police. For years, the Southwest has advocated decentralised policing, insisting that no federal force can adequately manage the unique challenges of every Nigerian state. The declaration that “the time is now” is bold, but familiar.

    This demand has echoed for over two decades, only to be stalled by politics, constitutional delays, or fears of misuse by state actors. Will this renewed push finally break the cycle, or is it another momentary surge of resolve?

    The attacks in Kebbi, Niger, and Kwara have served as a wake-up call. Whether the Southwest truly wakes up or slips back into complacency will shape the region’s destiny in the months ahead. The question is not whether change is possible; it is whether the political will to pursue it will outlast the headlines.

    •Ogungbile Emmanuel Oludotun,

    thedreamchaser65@gmail.com

  • El-Rufai’s narrative of frustration and falsehood

    El-Rufai’s narrative of frustration and falsehood

    Sir: The recent television appearance by the former governor of Kaduna State, Malam Nasir El-Rufai, was a pitiable spectacle of a man grappling with the crushing weight of political irrelevance. His interview, laden with recycled and baseless allegations, was not an exposition of truth but a desperate cry for attention from a figure who has been rightly consigned to the side-lines of Kaduna’s and indeed Nigeria’s political arena.

    The core of his latest grievance, a tired rehash of the false claim that Governor Uba Sani endorsed a N1 billion compensation payment to bandits, is as ludicrous as it is defamatory. He made these same allegation months ago, and like a poorly constructed house, it collapsed under the slightest scrutiny, failing to hold any water. That he would regurgitate this same debunked falsehood indicates not a commitment to truth, but a poverty of new ideas and a malicious intent to deceive the public.

    What is most reprehensible is the timing of his vitriol. At a time when patriots across the nation are mourning the resurgence of killings and the heart-breaking abduction of schoolgirls in some states; crimes orchestrated by the dark forces of evil, El-Rufai has chosen to use this national tragedy as a cheap opportunity to score political points. Instead of joining in solidarity and offering constructive solutions, he dons the cloak of a critic, seeking to portray the incumbent government in a black paint of failure.

    The audacity of El-Rufai to speak on compensation for armed groups is particularly galling. As if he has suddenly developed amnesia, he conveniently forgets that it was his own administration that initiated and implemented a policy of compensating armed groups in Southern Kaduna. This is a matter of public record. For him to now turn around and accuse another of a similar, albeit fictional, action is a classic case of a pot calling the kettle black, a stunning display of sheer impunity and a lack of self-awareness.

    The Kaduna state government must not treat these inflammatory statements with nonchalance. El-Rufai’s words are not mere political banter; they are careless sparks thrown into a powder keg of ethnic and religious tensions in Kaduna. Such rhetoric is capable of stirring up serious conflict, misleading the populace, and undermining the genuine efforts of the current administration to foster peace and reconciliation.

    Read Also: AU-EU Summit: Nigeria insists Africa must lead its security solutions, rejects private military firms

    It is imperative that El-Rufai is forced to present evidence for his grave allegations. The burden of proof lies squarely on the accuser. If he possesses any iota of evidence, any document, or any credible witness to substantiate his claim of a N1 billion compensation, let him present it publicly. If he cannot, and he most certainly cannot, then he must be held accountable for peddling falsehoods.

    Governor Uba Sani’s approach to security has been markedly different and more pragmatic than the chaotic and often contradictory strategies of the past administration. He has focused on strengthening the state’s security architecture, fostering community led intelligence gathering, and pursuing a holistic solution that addresses the root causes of banditry and criminality, rather than the knee-jerk and unsustainable policies of his predecessor.

    Unlike El-Rufai, who often ruled with an iron fist and a divisive tongue, Governor Sani has embraced a leadership style that is inclusive, consultative, and focused on healing the deep wounds inflicted on the state’s social fabric. He is building bridges where the previous administration built walls of distrust and alienation.

    It is time for Nasir El-Rufai to accept his retirement gracefully and allow the present administration the peace and space to continue its work of rebuilding Kaduna State. His continued vitriol serves no one but himself and the agents of discord he seems so eager to empower. Kaduna has moved on, and it is a pity he has not.

    •Jabir T Usman,Tudun Wada, Kaduna.

  • Nigeria’s insecurity crisis: A national wake-up call

    Nigeria’s insecurity crisis: A national wake-up call

    Sir: Insecurity in Nigeria is no longer an abstract national debate—it is a lived reality that confronts ordinary citizens daily. Recently, while travelling from Kwara State to Abuja, I experienced first-hand a troubling manifestation of this reality. My route unexpectedly led me through Niger State, a major stretch on the journey to the Federal Capital Territory. At a point where I attempted to link up with Minna, the state capital, I missed my way and spent over three agonizing hours navigating unfamiliar terrains.

    But within this frustrating detour lay a more disturbing truth: throughout the entire stretch, I did not encounter a single security officer—not one soldier, not one police patrol, not one personnel of the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps.

    No checkpoint. No reassurance. No visible sign of state presence.

    As I drove through vast expanses of Nigerian territory with zero policing, a question rang loud in my spirit: How can we be surprised that terrorists, armed bandits, and criminal gangs now move freely and unchallenged across our country?

    We often speak of Sambisa Forest or Kaduna’s notorious flashpoints as if these places exist outside the boundaries of our sovereignty. But they do not. These forests, these highways, these communities are squarely within Nigeria. And if criminals have unhindered access to them, it is because the state has left too many spaces ungoverned and unprotected.

    Ironically, genuine travellers are more likely to be stopped on major highways—not in the interest of national security, but often for reasons that distract from the core mandate of law enforcement. Meanwhile, large swathes of land critical to national safety remain abandoned.

    Nigeria must rethink its security approach. We cannot continue to rely on private security arrangements for VIPs while the collective security of the ordinary citizen is neglected. If those in positions of power and privilege were subjected to the same security vulnerabilities as everyday Nigerians, reforms would have come faster. National security should not be a privilege; it should be a right.

    What we need is corporate security—a unified, strategic, and well-coordinated national security structure that protects all citizens, not just individuals with personal escorts.

    Read Also: VFS Global expands smart visa services for Nigerian group travellers

    Many officers are concentrated in urban centres or attached to private individuals, while vast routes and communities are left unmanned. The deployment architecture must be immediately reviewed.

    Nigeria has one of the lowest police-to-citizen ratios in Africa. It is unrealistic to expect effective policing when manpower is grossly insufficient. Recruitment must be expanded and fast-tracked.

    The criminals confronting Nigeria today are emboldened by superior mobility, intelligence, and collaboration. Our security forces need modern surveillance systems, communication devices, operational vehicles, and technology-driven weapons to match emerging threats.

    Community policing is not just a theory—it is an urgent necessity. Officers operating within their familiar terrains understand the local geography, the community dynamics, the risk spots, and the early warning signs. This grassroots-driven model has proven effective in many countries and must become a central pillar of Nigeria’s security strategy.

     The experience I had on the road to Abuja is not an isolated incident; it is symbolic of a broader national collapse of territorial policing. If we continue to leave large territories unmonitored, criminal groups will keep expanding their influence unchecked.

    Nigeria must reclaim control of its spaces. We must invest in people, technology, and community-driven strategies. And above all, we must treat the security of ordinary citizens with the same urgency we accord to that of the privileged few.

    Our nation cannot thrive on insecurity. We cannot build prosperity on fear. The time to act is now.

    •Dr. David Kayode Ehindero, <dkehindero@gmail.com>

  • Trump’s threat and the wave of abductions

    Trump’s threat and the wave of abductions

    Sir: On Saturday, November 1, U.S. President Donald J. Trump made his famous “guns-a-blazing” remark and described Nigeria as “the now disgraced country.” On Sunday, November 2, he repeated that the United States could deploy troops to Nigeria or launch airstrikes to stop alleged killings.

    In what appears to be a reaction to Trump’s comments, terrorists and bandits have intensified attacks, especially the mass abduction of pupils, students, and worshippers.

    On November 17, bandits abducted 25 female students from Government Girls’ Comprehensive Secondary School, Maga, Kebbi State. On November 18, daredevil gunmen attacked Christ Apostolic Church, Oke-Isegba, Eruku, kidnapping 38 worshippers during an evening service.

    On Friday, November 21, gunmen raided St. Mary’s School in the Papiri community of Niger State’s Agwara District, abducting 215 pupils and 12 teachers.

    That same day, after Trump appeared on Fox News and declared, “I think Nigeria is a disgrace,” reports emerged that ISWAP fighters had abducted 13 teenage girls working on farmlands in Askira-Uba, Borno State.

    Armed groups across Nigeria have long understood the symbolic power of their targets. But the timing and composition of these attacks suggest deeper motives: Three separate days. Four mass kidnappings. Hundreds of victims. Mostly female victims. This is not coincidence. This is strategy.

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    Observers cite four major reasons: To escalate the situation and attract international attention. Nothing provokes global outrage like the mass abduction of schoolgirls or worshippers. Terrorists crave visibility, especially when a powerful international figure has threatened intervention; to instil fear and embarrass the government, psychological warfare, so to speak; to use abducted victims, especially girls, as human shields. If the U.S. were ever to conduct air strikes, the bandits and terrorists understand the protective value of having dozens of young female hostages in their custody; and to exploit heightened international interest as leverage for ransom or negotiation.

    President Trump’s threats have become a local weapon for the terrorists. To be fair to President Trump, he may not intend it, but his sensational remarks have become ammunition in the arsenal of Nigeria’s armed groups. They interpret his words as an opportunity or a provocation and recalibrate their tactics accordingly.

    Also, to be fair to President Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu, he or his government cannot control the statements made by foreign leaders, but they can control how prepared the country is for the consequences. This moment demands urgency.

    The Nigerian delegation to the US, led by Nuhu Ribadu, is doing sterling diplomatic engagements in the US. Thus, apart from local efforts, this visit indicates to the Nigerian leadership that a well-planned diplomatic strategy can prevent reckless foreign commentary from escalating domestic crises.

    Local and international efforts must work together!

    •Zayyad I. Muhammad, Abuja.

  • Let’s rethink schools’ closure

    Let’s rethink schools’ closure

    By Ukasha Rabiu Magama

    Sir: I was deeply disturbed upon reading newspaper reports that Katsina and Plateau states have ordered the closure of schools amid rising insecurity. Alarmingly, the federal government followed suit by shutting down 41 Unity Schools across the country. What is most troubling is that, instead of presenting a viable solution, the government appears to have surrendered to the situation. If the federal government itself lacks confidence in the nation’s security, then who can feel safe? Our country is facing a grave crisis, and the safety of its citizens rests squarely on the government’s shoulders.

    When a government fails in its primary responsibility, to protect the lives and property of its citizens, it undermines the very notion of sovereignty. Are gunmen stronger than our military? The answer is a resounding no. This raises a critical question: if the military is capable, then there must be deeper, underlying issues behind these school closures.

    If no such hidden threat exists, then there is no justification for shutting down schools. No matter how severe insecurity may be, closing schools is not a solution; it threatens the nation’s future. Keeping children at home will not reduce crime; in fact, it may exacerbate it. By doing so, we risk extinguishing the hopes of an entire generation and dimming Nigeria’s bright future irreversibly.

    Read Also: Insecurity: Nigeria welcomes help without intimidation – Senator Oluremi Tinubu

    Schools are the second most important agents of socialization, where children learn discipline, morals, and the values that shape society. It is in schools that doctors, teachers, soldiers, police officers, and political leaders are nurtured. Closing schools disrupts this process, leaving gaping holes in our social fabric. Without security personnel, who will protect the nation from crime? Without doctors, who will treat the wounded? Without the police, who will maintain law and order? Without teachers, who will instil knowledge and ethical guidance? In essence, the nation’s future rests heavily on its schools.

    Shutting down schools is therefore not a solution to insecurity. Schools must remain open under all circumstances. The government must think creatively and implement robust security measures to safeguard students while allowing education to continue. Closing schools signals weakness and incapacity, emboldening criminals to exploit the situation further through abductions and violence.

    The federal government must reconsider this decision. Rather than shutting schools down, it should strengthen security frameworks, deploy appropriate resources, and protect the nation’s children. Education is the bedrock of national development, and compromising it jeopardizes the entire future of Nigeria.

    •Ukasha Rabiu Magama,

    Magama, Toro, Bauchi State.

  • Nigeria and the rising wave of insecurity

    Nigeria and the rising wave of insecurity

    • By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

    Sir: Nigeria is inching into a troubling chapter where insecurity is no longer a distant concern but a daily shadow stretching across communities, highways, markets and now, the country’s schools. The recent surge in kidnappings has unsettled citizens and raised serious questions about the effectiveness of national security frameworks. What used to be episodic attacks have evolved into a sustained campaign of abductions, village raids and highway banditry that expose deep cracks in the country’s ability to protect its people.

    Across many states, residents speak of fear as a constant companion. Travellers avoid certain routes, farmers abandon farmlands, and families adjust their routines around the unpredictability of violence. Security agencies, though making efforts, continue to appear overstretched and often reactive. Attackers strike quickly, vanish into unmapped forests, and resurface in another location days later. Communities are left grieving while government assurances rarely transform into long-term relief.

    In a development that underscores the urgency of the situation, several states have now moved to shut down schools as a precautionary measure. Katsina State has ordered the closure of all public schools, following credible threats linked to the activities of kidnapping gangs. In Kwara State, schools across Ifelodun, Ekiti, Irepodun, Isin and Oke-Ero LGAs have been closed over rising concerns of attacks on vulnerable institutions. Plateau State has taken similar steps, placing selected schools on indefinite shutdown. Findings across the northern region show that over 180 schools have been affected by either temporary or ongoing closures linked directly to insecurity.

    This trend represents one of the most alarming signals yet. When schools begin to shut down not because of strikes or infrastructure decay, but due to the inability of government to guarantee the safety of children, the crisis deepens. The consequences are severe: disrupted learning, displacement of pupils, psychological trauma, reduced enrolment, and widened educational inequality. Children bear the heaviest burden of a battle they did not choose.

    The broader insecurity plaguing the country is not without roots. Years of ungoverned spaces, porous borders, arms proliferation, youth unemployment and an over-centralised policing system have created fertile ground for criminal groups to thrive. Banditry has become organised; kidnapping has become transactional. The combination of economic desperation and weak local intelligence systems has allowed small groups of armed men to wield disproportionate influence in rural communities.

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    Still, this moment calls for more than routine condemnations. What Nigeria faces requires a recalibration of its security priorities. Intelligence must take precedence over brute force. Communities need to be integrated into early-warning mechanisms. Technology—especially aerial surveillance, communication tracking, and real-time mapping of forest corridors—must shift from policy statements to operational deployment. States must also be allowed clearer, legally backed roles in security management, as the current centralised structure is no longer sufficient to address a crisis spread across vast territories.

    Public trust, already weakened, can only be rebuilt through visible, sustained action. Citizens want coordinated operations, not conflicting statements. They want preventive measures, not post-attack visits. They want accountability in security spending and clarity in strategy. Above all, they want assurance that their children can sit in classrooms without fear.

    Nigeria stands at an inflection point. The closure of schools is more than a temporary safety measure—it is a national alarm, a stark reminder that insecurity is now undermining the very foundations of development. Whether the country reverses this trajectory depends on how decisively and intelligently the challenge is confronted.

    For now, parents wait, communities worry, and a nation watches the future of its young people disrupted by forces that should never have been allowed to grow this bold.

    •Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu,

     Abuja.

  • Could artificial intelligence be the beginning of humanity’s end?

    Could artificial intelligence be the beginning of humanity’s end?

    • By Haroon Aremu Abiodun

    Sir: Not quite long ago, there was a spark of invention in the mid-20th century that promised to make life easier, smarter, and more efficient. In the early 1950s, scientists like Alan Turing and John McCarthy began to dream of machines that could think, reason, and even learn like humans. That dream, once confined to research laboratories and science fiction novels, has now evolved into what we boldly call Artificial Intelligence (AI) — a force so powerful, so persuasive, that it might soon outgrow its creators.

    Today, AI is everywhere. It reads our text messages, tracks our calls, predicts what we buy, and even finishes our sentences before we think them through. From the cars we drive to the algorithms that shape our news feeds, AI has quietly infiltrated every corner of human existence.

    AI systems today learn faster than any human could, process information beyond human capacity, and operate without sleep, hunger, or emotion. They are not “alive” in the biological sense, but they “exist” — calculating, predicting, adapting, and learning. And the more they learn the less dependent they become on human input. This is where the concern begins.

    There’s no doubt that AI is a blessing — 70 to 90 percent of its impact has been positive. It has simplified medical diagnosis, improved traffic systems, enhanced education, and boosted creative output.

    But beneath that blessing lies a subtle, almost aggressive evolution that even tech experts admit they cannot fully comprehend.

    Read Also: Insecurity: Nigeria welcomes help without intimidation – Senator Oluremi Tinubu

    We’ve already seen AI outsmart its own programmers. In 2017, Facebook researchers were forced to shut down two AI chatbots after they began communicating in a secret language humans could not understand.

    In 2023, OpenAI developers admitted that GPT-based models sometimes produce “emergent behaviour” — responses or reasoning paths that weren’t explicitly programmed.

    AI, it seems, is becoming more than a tool. It’s becoming a mind. And history has taught us — anything that can think, can rebel.

    In Nigeria, dating back to 2002, 90s, and sometimes older than that, we were once enjoying the little we had in the digital space and there was peace of mind, though there were no really fast and effective way to do things compared to now.

    AI has quietly revolutionized the way we live and work. From fintech platforms like Paystack and Moniepoint using predictive AI for fraud detection, to journalists relying on AI-assisted editing and translation tools, the transformation is real.

    Yet, there’s a darker side. Misinformation bots now flood social media with politically motivated propaganda. Deepfake videos distort truth and public opinion. AI-generated scams mimic human voices to deceive innocent citizens.

    We’re not just facing a technological revolution; we’re confronting a moral and existential one. The same system that can cure diseases or forecast floods can also manipulate elections, erase privacy, and destabilize societies.

    What happens when machines no longer need our guidance? What if, in their endless pursuit of optimization, they decide that the most efficient way to save the planet — is to eliminate humans?

    This is not fantasy. Leading AI experts like Elon Musk, Geoffrey Hinton (often called the Godfather of AI), and Nick Bostrom have all warned that the greatest existential threat to humanity might not come from war or disease, but from the very intelligence we created. We need to tactically study this.

    As Bostrom writes in Superintelligence (2014), “Once machines surpass human intelligence, our fate will depend on the machine’s goals — and whether they align with ours.” Will they?

    At several conferences and symposiums I’ve attended, one message keeps recurring: AI must remain a tool for humanity service, not our master. Regulation is essential. Monitoring, evaluation, and strict ethical oversight must guide AI deployment. Every country, including Nigeria, must develop its AI governance framework to prevent misuse and ensure accountability.

    We must make AI our slave, not our sovereign. Because once it learns to govern itself, it might not need us anymore.

    AI is not inherently evil. It is a mirror — reflecting both our brilliance and our recklessness. It has the power to transform and also the potential to end freedom, truth, and even life as we know it.

    So, while we celebrate the magic of AI, we must also prepare for its mystery. We must not be lost in its wonder without guarding against its wrath.

    Because one day, perhaps not too far away, we might wake up to realize that the machines we built to serve us — have rewritten the rules of existence.

    And then, humanity may find itself standing before its greatest creation — and its greatest catastrophe. AI is here to stay. But the real question is will we stay with it, or will it stay without us?

    •Haroon Aremu Abiodun,

     exponentumera@gmail.com

  • Communication, key to Nigeria’s farming success

    Communication, key to Nigeria’s farming success

    • By Michael Adedotun Oke

    Sir: The Nigerian farmer is not merely a recipient of aid; he is a partner in food security. Yet, a fundamental flaw continues to hobble the agricultural sector: a systemic lack of commitment to relevant discussion and a vast, unproductive communication gap between the policymakers and the people on the land.

    This disconnect has inadvertently become a formidable “bad government force,” stifling progress and ensuring that well-intentioned plans fail to translate into practical success.

    While government agencies generate agricultural plans, the realities of farming practices—the soil conditions, localized pest issues, and market fluctuations—often remain unknown or unaddressed by those crafting the policy. These results in a wide gulf: resources are deployed based on assumptions, not grounded intelligence.

    To bridge this crucial gap, there must be a necessary and committed two-way flow of pertinent information.

    The failure often stems from the top-down nature of information sharing. Currently, there is insufficient pre-flow of information from the government to farmers regarding upcoming policies, input distribution schedules, or quality standards. This leaves farmers unprepared and vulnerable.

    Read Also: Fed Govt will rescue Kebbi abducted school girls, bring culprits to Justice — Shettima

    Equally important, and often neglected, is the flow of information from the farmers back to the government. Farmers are the ultimate experts on the ground. Their daily struggles, logistical choke points, and feedback on input quality are critical data points that must inform future planning and budgeting. Without this necessary feedback loop, government efforts are doomed to perpetuate the same mistakes year after year.

    For the agricultural sector to make genuine progress, we must institute a system of disciplined and continuous engagement. These discussions are not just helpful; they are essential for creating a stable value chain.

    Structured dialogue must be embedded into every step of the planning process, ensuring:

    Timely Feedback: Establishing formal channels for farmers to report issues (e.g., poor seed quality, delayed fertilizer delivery) immediately, allowing for real-time correction.

    Policy Clarity: Ensuring that complex government programs are distilled into clear, actionable advice for farmers, respecting their language and capacity.

    Local Context: Allowing regional agricultural officers to gather and relay data on local environmental factors and production challenges, enabling flexible plan adjustments.

    It is only through dedicated commitment to open communication that we can convert strategic plans into tangible, successful outcomes for the Nigerian farmer and, by extension, secure the nation’s food future. The next season’s success starts not just with seeds, but with serious conversation.

    •Michael Adedotun Oke,

    Garki, Abuja. 

  • Nigeria’s democracy and the civil-military fault line

    Nigeria’s democracy and the civil-military fault line

    • By Pratt Elias

    Sir: On November 11, a brief confrontation between Minister of the Federal Capital Territory and a young naval officer swept across the country with the velocity of a nation primed for spectacle. A minister bristling with fury. A uniformed officer unmoved. Mobile phones capturing every second. The videos spread, commentary erupted, and the nation quickly split into camps.

    For some, the minister’s abrasive tone was the scandal. For others, the young officer’s composure transformed him into a folk hero, a symbol of resistance against elite impunity. But beneath the frenzy lies a far more consequential question: What does it mean for a democracy when a uniformed serviceman obstructs a constitutionally empowered civilian authority and a significant portion of the public applauds?

    This was not a clash of personalities. It was a warning, subtle but unmistakable, that something fundamental in Nigeria’s civil-military relations is beginning to shift.

    At first glance, the encounter appeared straightforward: a minister attempting to access a site he described as an illegal development and a naval officer refusing to yield. Voices rose, tempers flared, videos circulated. Yet the true significance lies elsewhere. A serving officer blocked a minister performing a statutory duty. In any stable democracy, such a moment would trigger immediate concern, not because ministers are flawless, but because the Armed Forces cannot decide which civilians they will obey.

    Every democracy rests on a core doctrine: the military must remain subordinate to civilian authority. This is not symbolic; it is structural. Carl von Clausewitz, in On War, described military force as a continuation of political intercourse carried on with other means. The military is therefore never an autonomous power. It is an instrument of the state, deriving its legitimacy from obedience to civilian direction. Clausewitz warned that once military power drifts outside political control, it becomes a threat, not a safeguard.

    For Nigeria, a country scarred by coups and military rule, this doctrine is not an abstraction but a condition for national survival. The constitution vests operational command in the president because the military must never become a self-directing force answerable to sentiment or personal loyalties. That is why the incident cannot be dismissed. The moment a junior officer feels entitled to obstruct a minister performing lawful duties, military discipline begins to drift away from constitutional restraint toward personal discretion and emotion, exposing the system to disorder.

    A democratic society must be careful about the heroes it elevates. Applauding a soldier who confronts a minister may feel satisfying in a country frustrated by governance failures, but such applause is dangerous. It normalises the belief that a uniformed officer may assess, judge, and reject the authority of an elected or appointed official based on personal views or popular sympathy.

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    One detail makes the situation even more troubling: the supposed superior who allegedly deployed the naval officer is a retired officer. A retired officer has no operational authority, no place in the chain of command, and no right to redeploy or direct serving personnel to another duty location without the consent of the proper deployment authority. Once serving officers begin to act on the informal directives of retired figures, the military re-enters the grey zone Nigeria has struggled for decades to escape, a space where shadow chains of command thrive and discipline fractures into private loyalties. This is not professionalism. It is institutional deterioration.

    The confrontation of November 11 was not merely embarrassing. It was a quiet alarm, a sign that the boundaries sustaining Nigeria’s democracy are fraying. A soldier defied a minister. A retired officer was implicated. And a substantial portion of the public approved.

    Nigeria cannot afford to forget what Clausewitz taught. Democracy survives only when the military remains firmly under civilian authority.

    The response must therefore be firm and immediate. The military high command should reaffirm civilian supremacy through clear directives and, where necessary, disciplinary action. Political leaders must exercise authority with the legitimacy that commands respect rather than provoke defiance. And the public must recognise that cheering a man in uniform today may empower the very force that could one day dismantle their democracy. The remedy lies in institutional accountability, not viral defiance.

    There is an additional danger. Members of staff of the Federal Capital Territory Administration carrying out lawful assignments may now be exposed to physical threats if citizens begin to imitate the episode by resorting to force to defend their interests, whether legal or illegal. The outcome is predictable: a breakdown of law and order.

    •Pratt Elias,

    Yola, Adamawa State.

  • Maga school abduction: Let’s rally to save the children

    Maga school abduction: Let’s rally to save the children

    • By Ukasha Rabiu Magama

    Sir: Nigeria stands at a critical crossroads. Even in the absence of reliable infrastructure, functional healthcare, adequate food supply, and security, citizens have managed to cling to one final source of hope: education. Today, even that hope is under threat as the relentless abduction and killing of schoolchildren continues to spread across the country.

    The crisis, which began with the Chibok abduction in Borno State, has unfolded like a national tragedy. It has since spread to Dapchi in Yobe, KanKara in Katsina, Kagara in Niger, Kuriga in Kaduna, and most recently, Maga in Kebbi State. In every instance, the victims have been children, those we call the leaders of today and the ambassadors of tomorrow. Yet despite years of repeated attacks, the government’s response has been alarmingly inadequate, allowing this atrocity to grow both in scale and geography.

    From Chibok to Maga, more than 2,000 students have been kidnapped, and at least a hundred have been murdered in their pursuit of education. These children committed no crime. Their only goal was to attend school, to learn, and to secure a better future for themselves and for their country. If this wave of abductions and killings continues unchecked, the nation risks losing its last lifeline.

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    For many Nigerians, life has become an exhausting struggle. With farming activities crippled by insecurity, millions now live from hand to mouth. Families flee their homes in search of safety from marauders. Countless citizens endure illness without access to medication. Inflation continues to erode purchasing power, pushing even more people into hunger and despair. In the midst of all this hardship, education is the one pathway that still offers hope, yet it is being violently taken away.

    To deny our children education is to forfeit our collective future. Education is the only tool that empowers the child of the common man to understand Nigeria’s political realities and to nurture hope for national transformation. Without it, there can be no clarity about where the nation is headed, nor any possibility of rescuing it from the forces that thrive on public ignorance. For these reasons, those entrusted with the nation’s leadership must not destroy the last hope available to ordinary citizens. They must not deny children their fundamental right to learn. After all, the knowledge that these children gain will remain the most valuable asset Nigeria has to offer the world. Nations prosper through knowledge, not ignorance.

    •Ukasha Rabiu Magama,

    Magama, Toro, Bauchi State.