The recent standoff between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Nyesom Wike, and a military officer guarding a plot of land is more than a political skirmish. It’s a stark mirror held up to the Nigerian condition. It reveals the raw power plays that define our society, from the grassroots to the highest offices.
At the core of it all is a simple, ugly truth: in Nigeria, the rule of law is not a principle; it’s a convenience. It’s a tool you pick up when your opponent is weaker and suddenly remember when they are stronger. We lack a shared moral code that simply says, “This is wrong.” Our unwritten code is: “Might is right.”
This is the script we saw with Wike. Confronted with a situation where he was, for a moment, the less powerful person, he instantly invoked the rule of law. It was a performance we all recognized.
Many are asking the wrong question: “Why was a soldier guarding land?” They’re missing the point. The officer stated he was the head of security for a Vice Admiral.
Let that sink in.
A Vice Admiral, a top-ranking military chief, did not trust the system enough to protect his own legitimate asset. He felt compelled to use his own security detail. If a man of such stature has to take such measures, what hope does the ordinary Nigerian have? What judicial protection exists for the common citizen with no soldiers to command?
This isn’t an isolated event. It’s a pattern. The same minister recently oversaw the takeover of a property belonging to the late Colonel Paul Ogbebor in Abuja. When you persistently seize properties and reallocate them to cronies, you’re sending a clear message: no one’s rights are sacred, not even those of our servicemen and women.
And here lies the dangerous irony. The very institution often used by the political class to suppress citizens is now being pushed to the wall. You can’t cultivate a culture of raw power and then be shocked when it’s reflected back at you. The military is now resisting with the only language it has been taught to understand: defiance and force.
But this time, the provocation feels different, and the stakes are dangerously higher.
We must be honest about the context. The Nigerian military is stretched thin, facing immense security challenges across the country—from banditry to insurgency. Their soldiers are dying, and their morale is being tested daily. In the midst of this, they are publicly embarrassed by political figures seizing their properties. It signals a profound disrespect, not just for individuals, but for the institution itself.
This continuous poking is a reckless game. A military that feels humiliated, underappreciated, and disrespected by its own government is a volatile entity. History has taught us, in Nigeria and elsewhere, that when the military feels its institution is under existential threat from chaotic civilian leadership, the idea of a “corrective” coup ceases to be unthinkable. It becomes, in the minds of some, a patriotic duty to save the nation from its politicians.
To make matters more complex, the world is watching. When a figure like Donald Trump threatens to deploy American “booths” (likely meaning boots on the ground) to Nigeria, it’s not just an insult; it’s a glaring signal of how our internal chaos is perceived internationally. It suggests a nation losing its sovereignty, unable to manage its own affairs. This external pressure, combined with internal humiliation, creates a tinderbox.
As the saying goes, “When you think nothing is happening, everything is happening.” Let’s connect the dots:
- You removed an elected governor and installed a caretaker, signaling that democracy is disposable.
- You took plots from a late Army Colonel, showing that a soldier’s sacrifice is forgotten the moment they are gone.
- Now, the military is publicly pushing back. The defiance is out in the open.
There’s an ancient Latin proverb that fits this moment: “Quos deus vult perdere, prius dementat.” It means, “Those whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad.”
The persistent seizure of properties, the alienation of the military during a security crisis, and the international embarrassment—it all points to a self-destructive madness. You cannot keep poking the bear, weakening its institutions, and humiliating its protectors, and expect no reaction. When you push everyone to the wall, the wall will eventually collapse. And in that collapse, everyone loses.