Nigeria's war against terrorism and banditry is being waged on two fronts: one against insurgents in the forests, and a more insidious one within the corridors of power, where personal loyalty and political patronage too often supersede competence, accountability, and the national interest.
The recent, very public defense of the Minister of State for Defence, Bello Matawalle, by former Aviation Minister Femi Fani-Kayode, is not an isolated incident of political rhetoric. It is a symptom of a chronic national ailment—the prioritization of elite self-preservation over collective survival.
In a country where villages are sacked weekly, kidnappings are a thriving industry, and citizens live in perpetual anxiety, the spectacle of a powerful figure defending a controversial appointee on the sole grounds of a 15-year friendship is more than an insult; it is a diagnosis of a profound governance failure.
The Architecture of Distrust
At the heart of this crisis is a catastrophic erosion of public trust, a critical element in any counter-insurgency strategy. Security is not merely a function of troop numbers and weaponry; it is fundamentally a contract between the state and its citizens.
This contract is broken when allegations against officials—such as those made by a prominent Islamic cleric linking Matawalle to bandit networks—are met not with transparent judicial rebuttals, but with silence and political shielding.
This silence is interpreted, logically, as guilt by the populace. When 90% of a nation distrusts a key figure in its security architecture, that architecture is already compromised. Perception becomes operational reality, breeding cynicism, stifling civilian intelligence cooperation, and demoralizing the troops on the front lines.
The Fatal Calculus of Friendship Politics
Fani-Kayode’s intervention exemplifies a calculus that has long plagued Nigerian governance: the elevation of personal networks above national imperatives. The argument is not, "Here is the evidence of his efficacy," but rather, "He is my friend, therefore he is above reproach."
This "friendship politics" creates an impenetrable shield for mediocrity and worse. It explains the perplexing resignations and retentions within the same failed ministry, where logic demands collective accountability but the system protects its own.
This culture is the fertile ground in which sabotage—whether through deliberate leakage, bureaucratic delay, or the misdirection of resources—can thrive. A compromised link in the chain of command does not need to fire a weapon to inflict damage. He merely needs to slow a decision, dilute an order, or protect a vested interest, and entire operations fail.
The Broader Context: A Nation Held Hostage by Self-Interest
This pattern extends beyond a single minister. It is visible in the legislative gridlock over critical security funding, in the state governors accused of negotiating with bandits for political expediency, and in the elite class that treats national crisis as a backdrop for political point-scoring. The "fight against insecurity" becomes a theatre where personal and regional interests are negotiated, while the actual war is lost in the fields and highways.
The recent nomination of a respected combat veteran, General Christopher Musa, as Defence Minister is a rare and welcomed step toward professionalization.
However, his potential is already being jeopardized by the very culture he is meant to reform. To tie a general of his stature to a figure shrouded in public suspicion is to burden him with a political anchor. His success depends not just on strategy, but on an ecosystem of trust and integrity that currently does not exist at the highest levels.
The Path Forward: National Interest as the Sole Creed
For President Tinubu, this moment presents a stark choice: to govern for the Nigerian people or to manage a club of political associates. The resignation of the substantive Defence Minister, Mohammed Badaru, creates an opportunity for a clean slate.
The logical, security-driven action would be to reassign Matawalle to a non-security portfolio. This is not persecution; it is the basic hygiene of governance—removing a source of toxicity from a wound that needs to heal.
Furthermore, a lasting solution demands institutional, not just personal, change. This includes:
1. A Judicial Commission of Inquiry: Not a political panel, but a transparent, evidence-based judicial inquiry into the grave allegations of official collusion with banditry. Silence must no longer be an option.
2. Security Sector Reform: Legislated frameworks that insulate appointments in critical security ministries from political patronage, mandating transparency and competence.
3. Citizen-Centric Accountability: A formal, protected channel for civilian reporting of security sector misconduct, with guaranteed follow-up.
Nigeria's gravest enemy is not solely in the ungoverned spaces of the Sambisa Forest. It is in the boardrooms and dining rooms where the fate of millions is traded for the currency of loyalty and legacy.
The bitter lesson from theaters of conflict worldwide is that nations lose wars from within long before they are defeated from without. The masses are not crying for vengeance; they are crying for a state that works. They want a military empowered by unified political will, not one hamstrung by the shadowy allegiances of its overseers.
Until the elite redefine their loyalty—shifting it from their friends to their fellow citizens—the bloodshed will continue. The question for Nigeria’s leadership is no longer about winning a war, but about choosing which side they are truly on. The nation is watching, and history will not judge them by their friendships, but by their fidelity to the people they swore to protect.
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