Nigeria is a complicated entity—so complicated that it has repeatedly defied the wisdom of both leaders and the led. No one can claim ignorance of the origins of this complexity. It predates independence, to the days when leaders of one region insisted the country was not ready for self-rule, despite the clear readiness expressed by the two other protectorates. Our national fault lines have therefore been long-standing, buried deep in mutual suspicion.
If you are old enough, you may recall that a self-confessed “evil genius” in Minna—former military ruler Gen. Ibrahim Babangida—once lamented in the early 1990s that despite the vicious assaults inflicted on it, Nigeria stubbornly refused to collapse. On this, the gap-toothed dribbler was right. IBB had just finished supervising the merciless looting of the $12bn Nigeria earned from excess crude oil sales during the 1990 Gulf War. His regime also engineered the senseless devaluation of the naira, aided by some Harvard-trained, cocky portfolio economists and highfalutin philosophers, all in pursuit of IMF and World Bank loans Nigeria didn’t even need. Tragically, that ill-advised devaluation has continued since July 1986. E choke, abi?
Babangida’s name is, of course, most notoriously tied to the annulment of the June 12, 1993 presidential election, overwhelmingly won by Bashorun MKO Abiola. What many forget, however, is that Algeria had a similarly contentious parliamentary election in 1991/92. When the Islamic Salvation Front was poised to win, the election was cancelled, triggering a decade-long civil war that claimed between 100,000 and 200,000 lives. Nigeria had a cancelled presidential election—but we survived. Ironically, the manipulator who never intended to vacate Aso Rock eventually dribbled himself out of power.
One could go on about the uncountable barrels of crude traded under the guise of continuing major projects like the Third Mainland Bridge and the International Conference Centre in Abuja—fraud-laden crude-for-contract deals that enriched a select few. Despite IBB’s extensive damage, he left office in one piece—something possible only in Nigeria. It is therefore understandable that he wondered why Nigeria had not collapsed under the weight of the corruption he helped institutionalise.
Forgive this necessary detour. Sometimes, we must remind ourselves of the real enemies whose actions have continually stunted this country’s progress.
Which brings me to the present: I am tempted to believe that the Tinubu administration has been harbouring another virus for nearly two years—one that complicates an already fragile nation. While the resignation of Defence Minister Mohammed Badaru Abubakar may be strategic, what is troubling is the retention of a figure whose presence undermines any sincere effort against insecurity.
I speak of Bello Matawalle, Minister of State for Defence. For all of Tinubu’s political sagacity, I remain unable to understand why Matawalle has been kept in such a sensitive role. Initial appointment errors can occur, but persisting in them is inexcusable.
Perhaps the President—the celebrated architect of Lagos’ 25-year development plan—simply never had to study terrorism or banditry during his governorship years, because they weren’t major threats then. Even so, it is baffling that a former Zamfara governor widely perceived as sympathetic to the very criminals ravaging the country is now positioned as a key figure in the fight against insurgency, mass abduction, herdsmen violence, and senseless killings.
Matawalle’s romance with bandits did not begin today. During his single term in office, he initiated so-called peace deals that resulted in state-funded SUVs and motorcycles being handed to bandits. In May 2019—just days into office—he announced an amnesty for bandits and vigilantes to surrender their weapons.
When that failed, the military announced another window in June, during which 150 AK-47 rifles were surrendered. By March 2021, amid COVID-19 lockdowns, he offered yet another amnesty for “unrepentant” bandits, alongside other military and police interventions.
Let us not forget the unresolved allegations that “unknown” smugglers used unidentified helicopters to ferry gold out of Zamfara’s mining sites in 2019, despite a federal ban on mining due to banditry and its links to illegal mining. Strangely, the miners were never attacked. That gold-for-arms riddle remained unresolved until Matawalle left office in 2023.
Were the amnesty programmes themselves bad? Not necessarily. If carried out with sincerity, proper planning, and inclusiveness—not political expediency or romance with religious and tribal fanaticism—they might have curbed banditry. If they had worked, Zamfara and neighbouring states would not still be drowning in violence.
The retention of Matawalle would have been slightly defensible if his successor, Governor Dauda Lawal, hadn’t recently declared that the masterminds of Zamfara’s unending banditry “are known.” In a TV interview, Lawal stated: “They were born and raised among us; we know their people; they are known.” He then admitted he lacked control over security agencies. This is after two years in office. Matawalle governed for four years, pumping SUVs, motorbikes and cash into the pockets of killers. The result? More bloodshed and mass abductions.
Worse still, the former governor recently revealed his long-held mindset in a viral statement where he argued that not all bandits are criminals. Like a man defending his cherished companions, he claimed some bandits were wronged by cattle thieves, while some residents were aggressors. He even suggested that reprisal killings could be justified.
I beg your pardon?
Is this the same minister whose duty is to help secure the country and assure investors of safety? With such a worldview, how is Matawalle not a national security risk? How does a smart Lagos Boy cohabit with a virus threatening the entire country’s health?
The appointment of former Chief of Defence Staff, Gen. Chris Musa, as Defence Minister has raised hopes for a renewed fight against insurgency, kidnapping, and widespread criminality. But such optimism will be misplaced if a figure more toxic than the problem he is meant to help solve remains in government.
Mr President, kindly do the needful.
