Opinion

Ambazonia, Separatists And Internet Democracy (I)

Published

8 years ago

November 20, 2017

A Biafra-like agitation for independence has been unfolding in neighbouring Republic of Cameroon since November 2016. The people of Northern and Southern Cameroons under the umbrella of the Southern Cameroons Ambazonia Consortium United Front (SCACUF) finally decided to affirm the independence of the English-speaking sections of Cameroon from the Republic.
Like the Indigenous People of Biafra, the Ambazonians as they have called themselves since 1984, are protesting against their alleged marginalization by the dominant Francophone Cameroon and the Paul Biya government in Yaounde.
They insist that whereas oil is found in the English-speaking South Western part of Cameroon, the central government has practically neglected the region, and the people have been turned into “slaves” on their own soil.
Like the Biafran movement in Nigeria, they have their own flag (white and blue) and a national anthem. The Cameroonian Anglophones claim that their struggle is non-violent and peaceful but they will insist on their independence, and the declaration of their own Republic.
They further argue that whereas French and English are the official languages of Cameroon, the central government has imposed French as the language to be spoken in Anglophone Cameroon. They insist on their right to speak English.
After World War 1, the League of Nations shared the geographical territory known as Cameroon between the French and the British. The latter administered its own share from Nigeria.
On October 1, 1960, Nigeria gained independence from Britain. British Cameroon had a choice between joining Nigeria or Cameroon. In a referendum conducted in 1961, the people of British Cameroon chose to join French-speaking Cameroon to form a Federation. But the planned federal system never really worked.
In 1972, Cameroon changed its name to the United Republic of Cameroon. In 1984, the word “United” was removed from the country’s name by the Paul Biya administration, thus, adopting the pre-unification name of French Cameroon and effectively raising fears of alienation among English-speaking Cameroonians.
Colonialism and its legacy may have been the foundation of many of the crises in post-colonial African states, but poor governance, ethnicity, competition over power and national resources, religion and sheer leadership incompetence have done worse damage.
Post-colonial African leaders have failed to act as statesmen but as new colonialists adopting in West Africa, the twin colonial policies of divide and rule and assimilation.
Cameroon has been a long-suffering country, first under former President Ahmadu Ahidjo and especially under 84-year old Paul Biya, who has been President for 35 years.
It is ironic that 56 years after the country became a Republic, English-speaking Cameroonians are fighting against the seeming attempt by their French-speaking compatriots to “assimilate” and “marginalize” them. The two Cameroons are fighting over the language of the colonialists, national resources, and power-relations.
On Sunday, October 1, 2017, Sisiku AyukTabe, Chairman of the Southern Cameroons Governing Council, formally declared the independence of Southern Cameroons or the Federal Republic of Ambazonia.
“We, the people of Southern Cameroons are slaves to no one”, he said, “Not now, not ever again! Today we reaffirm autonomy over our heritage and over our territory…It is time to tell Yaounde that enough is enough!”
The response from Yaounde has been characteristic. Weeks before the protests and the declaration of independence in Southern Cameroons, soldiers were sent to the region to shoot in the air, prevent rallies, and intimidate the people. Several persons have so far been killed.
“This division will never happen”, says Cameroon’s Communications Minister, Issa Tchiooma Bakary, speaking for the central government. Just like IPOB and Nigeria? Yes.
Since the end of the Cold War, there has been a wave of nationalist agitations across the world resulting in self-determination, secession and partitions, and the emergence of new countries. But self-determination or secession is not an automatic process, and it is not in every instance that the protests result in the Nirvana that the separatists seek.
In Cameroon, the Biya administration must get off its high horse and engage the leaders of the separatist movement in dialogue. The international community must prevail on him to put an end to the abuse of human rights and the killings in Southern Cameroon. It is the refusal of the central government to address the grievances of the people of Southern Cameroon that has brought Cameroon to this moment.
To quote AyukTabe, again: “The union was always intended to be a union of two equals. Unfortunately, what our peace-loving people have experienced ever since is oppression, subterfuge, discrimination, violence, intimidation, imprisonment, forced occupation, cultural genocide and misappropriation of our natural resources by the leaders of the Republic of Cameroun.”
It is instructive to note the similarity between the expressed concerns of the Ambazonian movement and similar movements in recent times in other parts of the world, and the attitude of the governments in power.
In Spain (the Catalan secessionist movement), Nigeria (the Biafra movement) and Iraq (the Iraqi Kurdistan) – the Catalans have held a referendum to leave Spain, but the Spanish government says this is “unconstitutional.”
Biafrans want a referendum in Nigeria – the government says this is unconstitutional because Nigeria’s unity is not negotiable. The Kurds also want to get out of Iraq, but the central government is opposed to it on the grounds that the September 25 referendum is unilateral and unconstitutional!
It is not just rhetoric that is involved, the military is deployed, violence is unleashed on separatists or critics of the extant union and the government. While these may seem to be traditional responses, the assault on the human rights of protesters now includes an increasingly important territory: the internet.
The internet is perhaps the most striking phenomenon of the century, in the manner in which it has extended the frontiers of human freedom and expression. It is the most modernist icon of globalisation and the borderlessness of space and time.

Abati, a Public Affairs Analyst, was Special Adviser on Media to former President Goodluck Jonathan.
The internet does not know fear. It is an irreverent tool of political mobilization, commerce and social networking. It is the public mind in motion, and the anonymity that it offers in certain forms makes it a strong instrument of revolt.
Elections can be won or lost, governments can be pulled down or popularized, through the mind of the internet. Given its power, reach, and impact, dictators are uncomfortable with the democracy of the internet which has proven to be much stronger than dictatorships, tyrants and intolerant governments. The relationship between the internet and authority has therefore been one of unease and distrust.
The result has been the attempt by intolerant governments and political figures to control the internet, shut it down or violate the rights of its users. China has an internet police that filters internet traffic.
In 2011, Egypt tried to stop the people’s revolution by shutting down the internet. Tunisia, Italy, North Korea, Syria, Iran, Libya, India, Bangladesh, Burma, Nepal, Maldives, Iraq are other countries where the internet has been censored in one form or the other or completely shut down.
The degree of civil society repression varies from one country to the other, but the excuse for abridging internet democracy could be as ridiculous as saying that the internet had to be shut down in order to prevent cheating in students’ examinations as has been the case in Iraq and Ethiopia.
Generally, shutting down the internet has become the new mode of repression and a standard response to dissent. African states and governments have joined the trend. In the last year alone, 11 African governments have shut down the internet in one form or the other.
These include the Democratic Republic of Congo (ostensibly to reduce the capacity to transmit “abusive messages,” but actually to stop the people from opposing President Joseph Kabila’s attempt to prolong his tenure); Gambia (a few days to the 2016 elections), Togo (to check protests against President Faure Gnassingbe, and the people’s request for multi-party elections and Presidential term-limits), Ethiopia, Gabon, Gambia, Egypt, Uganda, Zambia, Zimbabwe and Morocco.
In Nigeria, there has also been so much official discomfort with what is termed “hate speech” on social media platforms particularly whatsapp, instagram, blogs, and twitter. One lawmaker even proposed a Social Media Bill which criminalises internet democracy.
The worst anti-internet culprit so far in Africa would be in my view, not Egypt (where the revolution succeeded in spite of the repression) but Paul Biya’s Cameroon where intolerance and unpleasantness have been elevated to the level of state policy.
In January, the government of Cameroon shut down the internet in English-speaking parts of the country. This lasted for more than three months. This has again been repeated. It is unacceptable.
The cost of internet shutdowns is enormous and disruptive, and the gain for governments is so small. The free flow of information is breached, the targeting of specific regions as in Cameroun is discriminatory; the right to free speech is violated, along with other rights: association, choice, and freedom of thought.
The UN Human Rights Council in 2012, 2014 and again in July 2016, resolved that “the same rights that people have offline must also be protected online”, and all states must refrain from taking such measures that can violate internet freedom. The African Union Declaration on Internet Governance (Algiers, February 13, 2017) is on all fours with this UN Resolution. The UN should go further and impose sanctions on countries that violate internet freedom.
Worse, businesses suffer in the event of an internet shutdown. Internet services are accessed through broadbands provided by mobile telecom companies. When such companies are asked to shut down their services, they easily comply out of fear of being blackmailed by the government. They can be accused of supporting terrorism, for example! By co-operating, they incur losses, part of which they may eventually pass to their subscribers.
Similarly, with growing internet penetration in Africa, so many other businesses are dependent on the internet. Indeed, the internet is increasingly a shopping mall – for bloggers, advertisers, consultants and the average consumer of services. An internet shutdown in the light of this, undermines economic growth and development. Human dignity and relationships are also affected. The internet is a networking tool, so much so that many families depend on it for contact and interaction, and many individuals on it for survival.
Shutting down the internet rolls back the gains of the democratization process in Africa. African countries seeking growth and investment in the telecommunication sector, and within the economy generally shoot themselves in the foot when they seek to destroy such a significant tool.
Internet registries worldwide should sanction errant governments which deny their citizens access to the internet. Men of conscience and thought leaders should speak out against the growing trend of internet shutdown or violation by African governments.
In Nigeria, we must continue to discourage the government from ever contemplating any such misadventure. I am not in any way recommending, by this article a “sovereignty of the internet” in the sense in which John Perry Barlow, an internet activist spoke, when he issued “A Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace” (1996). Rather, I urge the protection of the democracy of the internet and this democracy is about rights, obligations and the rule of law.
To return to the politics of imperialism and dissidence in Cameroon, Nigeria (for strategic reasons – the proposed Ambazonia being a buffer zone between Nigeria and Cameroon), ECOWAS and the African Union should intervene early to prevent an outbreak of social and humanitarian crisis, if not chaos in North West and South West Cameroon. The feuding parties should be encouraged to go to the negotiating table. What is going on in that country is as much a Cameroonian problem as it is a Nigerian problem.
Abati, a public affairs analyst, was Special Adviser on Media to former President Goodluck Jonathan

Opinion

Wike VS Soldier’s Altercation: Matters Arising

Published

21 hours ago

December 8, 2025

The Tide

The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.

Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.

The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.

It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.

Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.

On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.

It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.

*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.

In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.

Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.

One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.

Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.

The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.

The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.

Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.

The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.

The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.

Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.

If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?

As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.

Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.

Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.

Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.

We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.

The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.

It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.

No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.

By; King Onunwor

Opinion

Ndifon’s Verdict and University Power Reform

Published

2 weeks ago

November 24, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”But beyond the courtroom victory lies a pressing question: What next? How do we ensure that Nigerian universities no longer serve as hunting grounds for predatory academics? How do we guarantee that students—especially young women—can pursue education without fear of victimization?”

The conviction of Professor Cyril Ndifon, suspended Dean of Law at the University of Calabar, to five years in prison by the Federal High Court Abuja, provided a rare moment of relief amid the week’s troubling national events. Beyond punishing one individual, the judgment signaled that accountability—especially regarding sexual harassment and abuse of power in Nigerian higher institutions—may finally be gaining traction. For years, many students, especially young women, have quietly endured intimidation, coercion, and the misuse of academic privilege. Reports and surveys have consistently shown the depth of this problem. A 2018 World Bank survey estimated that 70% of female graduates had faced some form of sexual harassment in school, while a Nigerian study recorded sexual violence as the most common form of gender-based violence on campuses.

Ndifon’s case has therefore become symbolic—challenging the belief that powerful academics can act with impunity. Justice James Omotosho’s ruling went beyond the conviction; it exposed the systemic rot that enables abuse. His description of Ndifon as a predator highlighted how institutions fail when they lack strong, independent structures for accountability. Although the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) proved its case beyond reasonable doubt, many similar cases never reach court because victims remain afraid, discouraged, or convinced that the system will not protect them. A major difference in this case was that a government agency fulfilled its responsibility rather than letting the matter fade, as often happens with campus scandals. Too often, allegations arise but internal committees stall, victims lose hope, and the accused quietly escape consequences.

This time, however, the judiciary refused to allow such evasion. The court’s decision to center the victims and dismiss attempts to discredit them set an important precedent at a time when survivors are often blamed or pressured into silence. Yet the bigger question remains: What next? How can Nigerian universities become safe spaces where students, particularly young women, can pursue education without fear? First, reporting systems must be overhauled. Traditional structures—where complaints pass through heads of departments or deans—are inadequate, especially when senior officers are the accused. Independent, gender-sensitive complaint bodies are essential. Some institutions, such as the University of Ibadan and Godfrey Okoye University, have already taken steps by establishing gender-mainstreaming units. Other universities must follow suit, ensuring confidentiality, protection from backlash, and transparent investigations.

Second, proven cases of harassment must attract real consequences—not quiet transfers or administrative warnings. Sexual exploitation is not a mere disciplinary issue; it is a crime and should be promptly escalated to law-enforcement agencies. Treating criminal behaviour as an internal matter only emboldens perpetrators. Third, students must feel safe to speak up. As a senior lecturer at the University of Abuja advised, silence fuels impunity. Students need to believe that justice is attainable and that they will be supported. This requires consistent sensitization efforts by student unions, civil society groups, gender advocacy organizations, and ministries of women affairs. New students, in particular, need early guidance to understand their rights and available support systems. The recent approval of the Sexual Harassment of Students (Prevention and Prohibition) Bill, 2025, prescribing up to 14 years imprisonment for educators convicted of harassment, is a step in the right direction.

Quick presidential assent and domestication by states will strengthen legal protection. As Nelson Mandela said, “A society that fails to protect its women cannot claim to be civilized.” This principle must guide Nigeria’s legislative and institutional reforms. The legal profession has its own soul-searching to do. Law faculties are expected to model ethics and justice. When a senior law academic betrays these values, the damage extends beyond the victims—it undermines confidence in both higher education and the justice system. The judiciary’s firm stance in this case therefore reinforces the idea that the law exists to protect the vulnerable, not shield the powerful. Yet, this moment should not end with celebration alone; it must ignite a broader institutional awakening. Universities must begin to review their staff appraisal systems to include behavioural ethics, not just academic output.

Governing councils should strengthen oversight mechanisms and ensure that disciplinary processes are free from internal politics. Alumni associations and parents’ forums can also play a monitoring role, demanding higher standards of conduct from staff and administrators. Importantly, the government must provide universities with the financial and technical support needed to establish functional gender desks, counselling units, and digital reporting platforms. Only when all stakeholders take ownership of the problem can lasting reform be achieved. Professor Ndifon’s sentencing represents justice for one victim, but it must inspire justice for many more. It should mark the beginning of a nationwide resolve to reclaim Nigerian universities from those who misuse authority. The future of education in this country must be shaped by knowledge, dignity, and integrity—not fear or manipulation. The judgment is a call to action: to build campuses where students are safe, where lecturers are held accountable, and where power is exercised with responsibility. Only then can Nigeria truly claim to be nurturing the leaders of tomorrow.

By: Calista Ezeaku

Opinion

As Nigeria’s Insecurity Rings Alarm

Published

2 weeks ago

November 24, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”President Donald Trump’s designation of Nigeria a Country of Special Concern and further threats to intervene in countries experiencing religious persecution reflect a growing international concern regarding Nigeria’s deteriorating security situation.”

In recent years, Nigeria has witnessed an alarming evolution of insecurity that threatens not only the stability of the nation but also the broader West African region. Bandit attacks on schools, farms, mosques, and Christian worship centers have become distressingly commonplace, painting a grim picture of a country under siege from multiple fronts. The rise of kidnappings for ransom, coupled with the persistent threat of terrorism from groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP, has ignited fears among communities and hampered economic activities. As neighboring Sahel countries grapple with coups and the spread of extremist ideologies, Nigeria finds itself at a precarious crossroads that demands urgent attention and action.

According to media tally, about 2,496 students have been abducted in 92 school attacks since the Chibok saga of 2014. And prompted by recent incidents in Kwara, Kebbi and Niger states, where hundreds of pupils were abducted, state governments across northern Nigeria are shutting down, or relocating schools. Even the federal government last week, via the Federal Ministry of Education hastily ordered principals of 41 unity schools across northern Nigeria, to shut-down.The increasing frequency and audacity of bandit attacks highlight a troubling trend in Nigeria’s security landscape. Schools, once seen as sanctuaries for learning, have become targets for kidnappers seeking to exploit vulnerable students. These attacks not only disrupt education but also instill fear in families, leading to mass withdrawals from schools. Should we raise a generation of children deprived of their right to education?

Similarly, farms and places of worship have not been spared. Communities that once thrived on agriculture and faith, now live in constant dread of violent incursions. The targeted killings of Christians and attacks on mosques further exacerbate religious tensions, threatening to disrupt the social fabric that holds Nigeria together.The situation is compounded by the unsettling developments in the Sahel region, where coups and the rise of jihadist groups have created a volatile environment. The spillover effects of this instability are palpable in Nigeria, as extremist ideologies proliferate and armed groups gain confidence. The porous borders of the region facilitate the movement of militants and weapons, making it increasingly difficult for Nigerian authorities to contain the threats. As Nigeria struggles to secure its territory, the consequences of failure become more pronounced, with the potential for a broader regional crisis looming on the horizon.

President Donald Trump’s designation of Nigeria a Country of Special Concern and further threats to intervene in countries experiencing religious persecution reflect a growing international concern regarding Nigeria’s deteriorating security situation.

While such attention can bring much-needed awareness to the plight of affected communities, it also underscores a significant truth: the responsibility for addressing these challenges ultimately lies with the Nigerian government. The inaction and apparent inability to protect citizens from violence and ensure justice for victims send a troubling message about the state’s commitment to safeguarding its populace. The economic ramifications of this evolving insecurity are dire. Foreign investment, a critical driver of economic growth, is deterred by the pervasive violence and instability.

Investors are wary of committing resources to a country where the risk of loss is heightened by kidnappings and attacks on businesses.Additionally, agricultural production suffers as farmers abandon their lands, fearing for their safety. The recent upsurge in insecurity coincides with a crucial harvest season, when farmers need to recoup investment to finance the next round. A decline in harvests this year would reverse recent gains of recovery in food production and exacerbate poverty, further straining the nation’s resources. Socially, the implications of failing to tackle insecurity are profound. Mistrust in government institutions grows as citizens witness a lack of effective response to violence and crime. This erosion of faith can lead to civil unrests, as frustrated populations demand accountability and action.

Moreover, the vulnerability of young people in conflict-affected areas increases the risk of radicalization, as they seek identity and purpose in extremist movements that exploit their disillusionment. The South-East crisis is peculiar in this regard. The evolving insecurity in Nigeria is not merely a national crisis; it poses a significant threat to regional stability and international interests. The convergence of banditry, terrorism, and political instability in the Sahel creates a complex security environment that requires a coordinated response. The Nigerian government, in partnership with regional allies and international partners, must adopt a comprehensive strategy that addresses the root causes of insecurity, strengthens law enforcement, and fosters community resilience.

It’s time Nigerians address all regional grievances with reconciliation and empathy, rather than with coercion. As citizens, civil society, and international stakeholders, it is crucial to advocate for effective policies that prioritize security, justice, development and inclusiveness. A collective effort is needed to ensure a safer, more stable future for Nigeria and the West African region. Ultimately, Nigeria stands at a critical juncture. The path forward demands decisive action to restore security, rebuild trust, and ensure that all citizens can live without fear. The time for complacency has passed; the stakes are too high, and the consequences of inaction are too grave. A collective effort is essential to navigate this challenging landscape and forge a safer, more stable future for Nigeria and the West African region.

By: Joseph Nwankwor