By Nduka Uzuakpundu
It’s, perhaps, safe to submit that the Tinubu administration is fast making progress in the multi-pronged combat against insurgency and kidnapping: two ugly and seemingly unyielding developments that have tended to blight Nigeria’s political space in the past twelve years and, in turn, deeply offended what should have been a rapid in-flow of much-desired foreign direct investments (F. D. I.).
But in what promises to help matters and sharpen the country’s campaign against insurgency, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, as the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, in July, approved four new divisions of the Nigerian army, bringing the total to twelve. The new ones would be stationed in Benin City, Edo State; Ilorin, Kwara State; Jalingo, Taraba State; and Makurdi, Benue State. Those brilliant strategic moves would be augmented with the recruitment of additional 28,000 soldiers.
The defence initiatives by Tinubu have been tagged as unique; the most ambitious and constructive in Nigeria’s military history in recent years.
Dr. Irene Osemeka of the department of history and strategic studies, University of Lagos, Akoka, said that the new divisions were “. . . a well-intended initiative, as the Nigerian military is long overdue for a spatial decentralization. This is likely to boost national security.”
Security experts have also applauded the Tinubu security moves. They’re upbeat that the new security architecture would steel the cause of peace and spur unhindered, comprehensive national economic growth. A retired professor of political science, at the University of Ibadan, said it was for the appealing, visionary strategic plan – alongside other colourful achievements, that an influential throng in the military and political arenas would vote for Tinubu in his bid for a second four-year term in office in the 2027 elections.
Dr. Dele Alake – a veteran journalist, minister of solid minerals, and Tinubu’s most reliable associate – was optimistic that Tinubu’s impressive defence initiatives had sent a clear message to Boko Haram terrorists that their days were numbered; that, shortly, they would be dumped, with a deafening report, in the ash heap of history.
He described Tinubu’s military gambit as about the most assuring, in more than a decade of the country’s campaign against Boko Haram.
The Tinubu administration won’t have inherited the Boko Haram security challenge had, in Alake’s estimation, the nineteen states in the north, in a furious herd push, mobilized human and financial capitals and, so, defanged Boko Haram, so that it couldn’t bite anymore; cripple it, so that it couldn’t run; and plucked its wings, in a Shakespearean fashion, so that it flew “. . . an ordinary pitch . . . .”
Ike Nwachukwu – a retired major-general, former minister of external affairs and one of the founding senators of the Fourth Republic – thinks that amidst prolonged Boko Haram insurgency in the north, and banditry in other parts of the country, it was time to see the country’s security as a collective responsibility; beyond the standard, conventional reliance on the armed forces. It’s now imperative to conscript the civil society armed, for instance, with the skills and technology for intelligence gathering.
At the South East Regional Security Summit, held in Umuahia, capital of Abia State, Nwachukwu offered what should, as a matter of urgency, be a security template for the country. His submission was for a form of renaissance in a concerted national effort to take back the country from the grip of insecurity, via good leadership, as defined by respect for the rule of law, zero tolerance for corruption, accommodation of loyal opposition, non-violence in a democratic election process, regular security reviews and holding security summits in the six geopolitical zones of the country. All that should be sharpened to strengthen the Fourth Republic, which has lasted twice longer than the combined years of its ill-fated three sires.
Besides, it was Nwachukwu’s opinion that:
Security is not simply the absence of violence. It is the presence of justice, trust, opportunity, and legitimate authority. When these pillars weaken, insecurity begins long before the first gunshot is fired.
Today, the South-East faces significant security challenges. These are often described in terms of kidnappings, violent crimes, attacks on public institutions, and threats to law and order. Yet these manifestations are, in many respects, symptoms rather than the underlying disease. The deeper challenge is the gradual erosion of confidence —confidence in institutions, in leadership, in one another, and, sometimes, even in the future itself.
No security architecture can succeed where trust has collapsed. Military force is indispensable. But military force alone has never permanently solved a political, economic, or social problem. Armies create the space for peace.
Societies must then build the peace.
First, security begins with intelligence — not firepower. The most successful operations are those that prevent violence before it occurs. That requires intelligence that is timely, accurate, and locally generated.
Communities must see security agencies as trusted partners rather than distant institutions to be feared.
The greatest intelligence asset any nation possesses is not technology; it is that citizen who believes that the government will protect rather than punish. Trust remains the most effective force multiplier.
Second, every community must become a stakeholder in security, in that it cannot remain the exclusive responsibility of the armed forces, the police, or other security agencies.
Parents, teachers,
traditional rulers,
religious leaders,
youth organisations,
professional associations,
market unions and town unions; every one of them possesses influence, local knowledge, and moral authority that no government institution can replicate. Security succeeds when citizens become participants rather than spectators.
Third, development is one of the strongest forms of security.
Young people, who possess hope are less vulnerable to be recruited by less patriotic Nigerians, who find them easy tools because of their frustration. These young men and women, therefore, are used to perpetrate heinous crimes against society. Roads, schools, healthcare,
digital infrastructure,
agriculture,
industrial investment and employment opportunities are not merely development projects: They are strategic investments in national security. Every legitimate job created removes one more potential recruit from the marketplace of violence.
Fourth, we must distinguish legitimate grievances from criminality. Every democracy must preserve space for peaceful disagreement. Citizens have the right to express their concerns lawfully. But criminal violence must never be confused with political expression. At the same time, governments must ensure that peaceful voices always have legitimate avenues through which they can be heard. When dialogue disappears, extremism often fills the vacuum. Strong governments do not fear conversation. They encourage it.
Fifth, regional collaboration is no longer optional.
Criminal organisations do not recognise state boundaries. Our response cannot stop at state boundaries either. The South-East has an opportunity to demonstrate what coordinated regional security can be achieved through intelligence sharing, harmonized emergency response, integrated technology, joint operational planning, and sustained engagement among governors, security agencies, traditional institutions, and community leaders.
Competition among states must never become competition in security.
Security is strongest when cooperation becomes institutional rather than occasional.
Sixth, our national security architecture must continually evolve to strengthen both operational effectiveness and national cohesion.
The recent expansion of Nigeria’s military formations is a welcome acknowledgement that our evolving security environment demands stronger institutional capacity. It recognizes that yesterday’s force structure may no longer be adequate for today’s realities.
However, every decision regarding the location of major military formations carries both operational and symbolic significance.
The South-East occupies a critical position within our federation. It is strategically located, economically vibrant, commercially indispensable, and, both geographically and demographically, larger than some regions that currently host three divisional headquarters.
Against this background, the absence of a comparable divisional formation within the South-East naturally invites reflection — not as a matter of regional rivalry or grievance, but as a question of strategic planning and national integration.
Military divisions are more than administrative headquarters. They strengthen command and control; improve operational responsiveness; enhance intelligence coordination; deepen civil-military cooperation; and stimulate economic activity. Above all, they reassure citizens that they are fully represented within the nation’s security architecture.
In national security, perception often reinforces capability. When citizens believe that national institutions are fairly structured and equitably distributed, confidence grows.
Confidence strengthens cooperation.
And cooperation remains one of the most valuable force multipliers available to any security organization.
Nevertheless, strategic reviews should remain dynamic, with periodic assessments of whether force structures adequately reflect emerging threats, demographic realities, economic significance, and the overriding imperative of national cohesion.
A secure Nigeria must also be one in which every geopolitical zone sees itself as a full stakeholder in both the responsibilities and the institutions charged with protecting our collective future.
Battles are won by tactics. Wars are won by strategy. But peace is won by legitimacy. Our nation has invested significantly in security personnel, equipment, and operational capabilities.
We must now invest with equal determination in strengthening public confidence, accountable institutions, inclusive governance, and equal opportunity. Citizens willingly defend societies they believe belong to them.
That is, perhaps, the greatest strategic advantage any nation can possess. The South-East has always been known for enterprise, education, innovation, resilience and community organization.
These enduring strengths remain among our greatest security assets. Let us, therefore, reject fear, division and
every attempt to define our future by insecurity. Instead, let us build a region where governments, security agencies, traditional institutions, religious bodies, civil society, the private sector, and ordinary citizens work together in genuine partnership, because lasting peace is never imposed. It is earned and nurtured. It is built. One community.
One institution. One generation at a time.
One final observation concerns the way we conduct our politics. Too often, our politics is unnecessarily divisive and, in many instances, descends into violence.
Democracy was never intended to be an end in itself. It is a means of advancing the common good and improving the lives of the people. When political actors resort to violence to settle disagreements, they undermine the very democratic system they claim to defend.
More importantly, they weaken the moral distinction between political violence and the criminal violence that threatens our society. Leadership carries a higher obligation. Those entrusted with public responsibility must demonstrate that disagreement need not lead to hostility, and that political competition can coexist with respect for the rule of law, democratic institutions, and the sanctity of human life. If we cannot model these values, we should not expect others to embrace them.
*Nduka Uzuakpundu is a Lagos-based journalist.
