Political Panorama Issue No 25
When
U.S. President Donald Trump classified Nigeria as a Country of Particular
Concern (CPC), many dismissed it as another episode in his string of
controversial foreign policy moves. Others, particularly in Christian advocacy
circles, applauded it as long-overdue recognition of the suffering of
persecuted communities in Africa’s most populous nation. Yet, for anyone who
truly understands Nigeria’s complex security dynamics, Trump’s label captures
only one part of a much bigger and messier reality. The violence ravaging
Nigeria cannot be fully understood through the narrow lens of religious
persecution. It is a tangled web of criminality, insurgency, economic
desperation, identity politics, and deep state failure. It is a violenece that
defies simple labels and challenges even the most sophisticated analysts.
The Context: A Country in Perpetual Crisis
There
is no question that Nigeria is bleeding. From the Northeast to the Middle Belt,
and from the forests of the Northwest to the communities of the South, violence
has become the language of the frustrated, the weapon of the aggrieved, and the
enterprise of the desperate.
In
Benue State, the late Terwase Akwaza, known as Gana, ran a militia empire that
terrorised entire local government areas before he was killed in 2020 while
allegedly heading to a peace meeting. His operations were not religiously
motivated but were rooted in territorial control, extortion, and political
opportunism. Across the Southeast, the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB),
initially a secessionist movement, has splintered into violent factions that
enforce sit-at-home orders with deadly consequences, often harming the very
people they claim to represent.
Meanwhile,
in the North, students are being kidnapped from their dormitories and forced
into forests by criminal gangs who now operate with chilling efficiency. In the
Middle Belt, what started as farmer-herder clashes over land and grazing routes
has evolved into a deadly confrontation that cuts across ethnic and religious
lines, often taking on the color of reprisal and vengeance.
In
all of these, the victims who are Christians, Muslims, and traditionalists
alike share a common tragedy. They are unprotected citizens of a failing state.
Where Trump Was Right
Donald
Trump’s CPC designation for Nigeria was, in part, a reaction to undeniable
realities. There have been explicitly religious attacks in Nigeria that shocked
the world and fit the textbook definition of persecution. The 2011 Christmas
Day bombing of St. Theresa’s Catholic Church in Madalla, Niger State,
orchestrated by Kabiru Sokoto, was one such tragedy. So too were the more recent
massacres inside churches - most notably, the 2022 Owo Catholic Church attack
in Ondo State, where gunmen murdered dozens of worshippers during Sunday Mass.
There
have also been repeated assaults on churches and Christian communities in
southern Kaduna, Plateau, and parts of Benue. In these regions, attackers often
deploy religious rhetoric to justify killings and displacements. These are not
random crimes; they are calculated acts that target faith, community, and
identity.
In
this context, Trump’s classification of Nigeria as a CPC had moral weight. It
brought long-overdue international attention to victims of faith-based violence
and sent a message to Abuja that the world was watching its complacency. The
Nigerian state, whether under Goodluck Jonathan or Muhammadu Buhari, has too
often appeared indifferent or helpless in the face of such atrocities. The
failure to protect citizens or prosecute perpetrators gives the impression of
tacit approval or neglect that reflects a failure of governance that must be
condemned.
Where Trump Was Wrong or at Least, Oversimplified
Yet,
to reduce Nigeria’s insecurity to religious persecution alone is to
misunderstand both the causes and the consequences of the crisis. Nigeria’s
violence is multidimensional. It is a patchwork of political, economic, and
social failures that intersect in unpredictable ways.
The
banditry crisis in the Northwest is driven primarily by criminal opportunism.
Gangs kidnap villagers, travelers, and schoolchildren for ransom. Their victims
come from all faiths and ethnicities. The motivation is profit, not ideology.
Similarly, the farmer-herder conflict is largely a struggle over land use and
climate-driven migration intensified by population pressure and the collapse of
traditional conflict-resolution mechanisms. Though the actors may invoke
religion, the underlying issues are resource scarcity and state neglect.
In
the Northeast, the Boko Haram and ISWAP insurgencies began with religious
rhetoric but have long since morphed into hybrid criminal-terrorist enterprises
sustained by smuggling, kidnapping, and ransom economies. Their victims include
thousands of Muslims, who make up the majority of those killed or displaced in
Borno, Yobe, and Adamawa states.
Even
in the Middle Belt, violence is rarely one-sided. Retaliatory attacks, cycles
of revenge, and political manipulation have turned communities into enemies.
The complexity of this mosaic of violence does not fit neatly into Trump’s
narrative of Christian persecution by Muslims.
At
the heart of Nigeria’s security collapse is state failure. A gradual erosion of
the state’s ability to protect, mediate, and govern. This decline did not begin
with the current administration, but it has worsened since the All Progressives
Congress (APC) took power. Security institutions are underfunded, poorly
coordinated, and deeply compromised. Intelligence failures are frequent.
Impunity reigns.
Ironically,
many of the most affected states - those ravaged by killings and kidnappings are
also where politicians have decamped en masse to the ruling party. Their
defections seem driven less by principle than by political survival, as the
ruling party controls access to federal resources. This paradox underscores a
fundamental truth that Nigeria’s insecurity persists because its political
elite are insulated from its consequences. They have learned to profit from
crisis rather than solve it.
That
is why, even amid mass killings, the same governors and legislators in
violence-ridden states are endorsing a government that has failed to protect
them. It is an indictment of Nigeria’s political culture - a culture where
loyalty to power trumps loyalty to people.
The Danger of Simplistic Narratives
The
CPC label, while useful in drawing attention, risks turning Nigeria’s
multidimensional tragedy into a single-issue story. It frames the crisis as a
religious war, which can inflame sectarian sentiments and distract from the
structural failures driving the violence.
Policy
responses based on such framing, whether foreign sanctions or diplomatic
pressure will fail if they do not address the real roots, which are poverty,
weak institutions, corruption, unemployment, resource competition, and
political irresponsibility.
To
combat Nigeria’s insecurity, we must treat it as a problem of governance, not
just ideology. We need differentiated responses. Military strategy for
insurgency, law enforcement for criminal banditry, mediation and economic
support for communal conflicts, and political reforms to restore
accountability.
The Way Forward
Moving
Nigeria beyond its current crises requires a deliberate and multi-dimensional
approach that addresses both the structural weaknesses of the state and the
socio-political narratives that sustain division. The path forward must combine
institutional reform, social renewal, and responsible international
partnership, grounded in the principles of justice, inclusion, and
accountability.
First,
the Nigerian state must urgently rebuild its capacity to govern and protect.
Decades of politicization, corruption, and underinvestment have weakened the
country’s security architecture, resulting in a system that is often reactive
rather than preventive. Re-professionalizing the security forces is therefore
paramount. This involves not only better training and equipment but also
restoring ethical discipline, adherence to human rights, and command accountability.
Equally important is the revitalization of local intelligence networks and
community policing mechanisms, which can help pre-empt violence before it
escalates. The judiciary, too, must be strengthened to ensure that impunity
does not become the norm. Judicial accountability and the swift prosecution of
offenders, regardless of political or ethnic affiliation, will signal a renewed
commitment to the rule of law.
Second,
the root causes of insecurity particularly those linked to economic deprivation
and environmental stress must be squarely confronted. The farmer-herder
conflicts that have destabilized many regions are not simply religious or
ethnic in nature; they are the manifestation of deep socio-economic pressures
exacerbated by land scarcity, youth unemployment, and climate-induced
migration. Comprehensive land reforms that clarify ownership, regulate access,
and promote fairness in resource allocation are indispensable. Likewise,
investments in job creation and climate adaptation programs especially in rural
areas can help diffuse tensions and give communities a stake in peace.
Addressing these underlying causes is far more sustainable than the repetitive
cycle of military deployment and amnesty initiatives.
Third,
the country must deliberately dismantle the polarizing narrative of “Muslim
versus Christian” Nigeria. This binary framing, often exploited by political
actors and amplified by external observers, distorts the complexity of
Nigeria’s plural society and undermines national cohesion. Promoting interfaith
and intercultural dialogue, particularly among youth and community leaders, can
help cultivate a renewed sense of shared citizenship. National institutions,
religious bodies, and the media all have critical roles to play in reshaping
public discourse away from sectarianism toward collective problem-solving. In
doing so, Nigeria can reclaim its identity not as a battleground of faiths but
as a federation of diverse communities bound by a common destiny.
Fourth,
political accountability must be reasserted as the cornerstone of democratic
governance. The normalization of violence and corruption in the political arena
has eroded public trust and weakened the social contract between leaders and
citizens. Nigerians must therefore refuse to reward failure with re-election or
political defections. A new civic ethic is needed. One that demands
transparency, values performance, and insists on justice for every life lost to
state neglect or complicity. Civil society, the media, and electoral
institutions must strengthen their watchdog roles to ensure that accountability
is not treated as a favour but as a non-negotiable obligation of leadership.
Finally,
international engagement with Nigeria must be guided by nuance and mutual
respect. While global partners, particularly the United States and the European
Union, have legitimate concerns about human rights and religious freedom, their
policies must reflect the complex realities on the ground. Simplistic
classifications or blanket labels risk reinforcing stereotypes and
inadvertently deepening domestic divisions. Constructive engagement should
instead focus on capacity building, regional cooperation, and support for
inclusive governance. By recognizing Nigeria’s internal diversity and
sovereignty, international partners can contribute more effectively to
stability and democratic consolidation.
In
sum, the way forward for Nigeria lies not in external validation or partisan
rhetoric, but in a renewed commitment to nation-building through justice,
inclusion, and collective responsibility. A strong state, anchored by
accountable leadership and supported by an engaged citizenry, remains the most
effective antidote to insecurity and disunity. Only through such deliberate and
sustained efforts can Nigeria begin to transcend its current crises and chart a
path toward peace, stability, and true national renewal.
Conclusion
Donald
Trump’s classification of Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern was both a
warning and a wake-up call. But the truth is more complicated than his rhetoric
suggested. Nigeria’s insecurity is not a monolithic story of faith-based
persecution; it is a multilayered tragedy of leadership failure, state
fragility, and social decay.
Yes,
there are victims of religiously motivated violence, and they deserve justice.
But there are also victims of greed, neglect, and impunity and they too deserve
recognition.
Until
Nigeria rebuilds the moral and institutional foundations of governance, every
label whether from Trump or anyone else will remain both true and inadequate.
Until next week, this is Political Panorama with Ola Olateju - Voice of the Coalition. Voice of the People.
- watching the horizon, one controversy at a time
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