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When Emotion Becomes Policy: Why Nigeria Cannot Outrage Its Way Out of Insecurity

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Kayode Adebiyi insecurity emotion policy warning argues Nigeria cannot defeat insecurity through outrage alone, urging systemic reforms instead

Every time another gruesome killing, mass kidnapping, or terrorist attack occurs in Nigeria, a familiar cycle begins.

Also read: Nigerian Army Kills Terrorist, Recovers Arms in Lokoja Operation

The videos emerge.

The tears flow.

Social media erupts.

The outrage becomes volcanic.

The President is insulted, governors are abused, politicians are cursed and blame travels in every imaginable direction. Within hours, everyone becomes a security expert, a political analyst, and a judge.

Then, after days of emotional exhaustion, another tragedy occurs elsewhere and the cycle begins again.

The uncomfortable truth Nigerians often do not like to hear is this: emotional reaction is not security policy.

No nation has ever shouted its way out of insecurity.

This is not to suggest that people should become emotionless in the face of barbarity, nor is it an argument against grief, anger, or public outrage.

Human beings are emotional creatures, and any society that ceases to mourn innocent victims has already begun to lose its humanity.

We must grieve, we must condemn evil, and we must demand accountability from leaders.

However, we must also confront an inconvenient reality: outrage by itself solves nothing.

If insulting presidents were a security strategy, Nigeria should have become one of the safest countries in Africa by now.

Former President Goodluck Jonathan was criticised relentlessly during the height of insurgency.

He was mocked, ridiculed, and labelled weak, clueless, and incapable of protecting the nation.

Then came Muhammadu Buhari, a retired general whom many Nigerians believed possessed the military credentials necessary to crush insecurity decisively.

Yet when kidnappings, terrorism, and banditry continued under his administration, he too became the subject of public anger and relentless criticism. Today, that frustration has shifted toward Bola Ahmed Tinubu.

The names change, the faces change, but the insecurity remains stubbornly persistent.

The pattern never changes. One government leaves office under a cloud of outrage, another comes in under fresh hope, and eventually the same insecurity problems persist, leading citizens to once again search for a political figure to hold singularly responsible.

At what point do we stop and ask ourselves a more difficult question: what if the problem is larger than personalities? What if insecurity in Nigeria is fundamentally systemic?

This is where emotion often clouds national reasoning.

Many Nigerians appear to believe that if enough citizens scream loudly enough at the President online, somehow insecurity will disappear.

It is almost as though we subconsciously imagine that public insults will suddenly make a president omnipresent, invisible, and capable of personally confronting terrorists in forests, kidnappers on highways, or violent criminal networks spread across vast territories.

While frustration with leadership failures is understandable, this way of thinking oversimplifies an extraordinarily complex crisis.

The reality is that Nigeria’s insecurity challenge is structural. It is rooted in weak institutions, poor intelligence gathering, inadequate policing, porous borders, corruption, outdated security frameworks, insufficient technology, judicial inefficiencies, unemployment, poverty, and decades of accumulated governance failures.

These are deeply embedded problems that cannot be solved merely through emotional reactions or public condemnation. You cannot cure a structural disease with emotional medicine.

The United States offers an uncomfortable but useful comparison.

Whenever there is a school shooting in America, particularly one involving children, the country erupts emotionally.

Parents cry before television cameras, citizens protest, communities grieve, politicians are attacked verbally, and presidents are heavily criticised. Social media becomes flooded with outrage and demands for justice.

Yet despite the emotional intensity that follows every tragedy, the shootings continue. Why? Because America’s gun violence crisis extends beyond emotion into the realm of systemic dysfunction.

Many Americans argue that stricter gun laws could significantly reduce mass shootings, yet meaningful reform continues to stall because of constitutional protections, political lobbying, partisan division, and legislative resistance.

In other words, America’s problem is not a shortage of outrage. Americans are outraged after nearly every school massacre. Their problem is systemic paralysis, where institutions struggle or refuse to enact the structural reforms many believe are necessary.

Nigeria suffers from something remarkably similar. We have become experts in emotional reaction but lag behind in institutional reform.

Following every kidnapping or massacre, Nigerians understandably ask: Where was the President? Where was the Governor? These are fair questions because leadership matters, and governments deserve scrutiny.

Security failures should never become normalised, and those entrusted with power must be held accountable for protecting lives and property. Yet accountability is different from emotional scapegoating.

No governor can physically police every village in a state. No president can personally secure every forest, highway, or remote community across a country as large and complex as Nigeria.

Security succeeds when institutions function effectively. Unfortunately, Nigeria’s institutional framework remains deeply inadequate for the scale and sophistication of the threats confronting the nation.

One of the biggest elephants in the room remains the question of state policing.

Nigeria continues to operate one of the most centralised policing systems in the world despite enormous geographical, ethnic, linguistic, and cultural complexities.

A police command operating from Abuja cannot reasonably understand every local criminal network in remote communities better than people who actually live there.

Bandits understand the terrain. Kidnappers know the escape routes.

Terrorists exploit intelligence gaps and local vulnerabilities.

Yet local authorities often lack sufficient operational autonomy to respond swiftly and effectively.

This does not mean state policing should be introduced recklessly or without safeguards.

Legitimate concerns exist regarding potential abuse by governors, political intimidation, and weaponisation against opposition voices.

These concerns deserve serious constitutional safeguards. However, refusing to seriously reconsider Nigeria’s security architecture while expecting different results amounts to national self-deception.

We cannot continue doing the same thing in the same way and expect a fundamentally different outcome. That is not governance. That is wishful thinking.

The recent gruesome murder of a teacher in Ogbomoso, accompanied by disturbing footage deliberately circulated by terrorists, painfully illustrates another dangerous dimension of modern insecurity: psychology.

Terror groups understand something many ordinary citizens do not fully appreciate, namely that violence alone is not their only weapon. Emotion is.

The deliberate release of graphic videos is often strategic, intended not merely to document violence but to spread fear, provoke anger, deepen public distrust in government, and emotionally destabilise society.

Terrorism thrives not only on bloodshed but also on psychological victory.

This is why the issue is not whether Nigerians should show emotions.

Of course we should.

The murder of innocent people should hurt us.

Communities should mourn.

Parents should cry.

Citizens should demand accountability from leaders.

Anyone unmoved by such brutality risks becoming dangerously detached from human suffering.

However, what must change is our tendency to stop at emotional reaction without advancing the deeper conversation about systemic solutions.

The real question should no longer simply be: Who do we blame? A more important question is: What systems must change? How do we improve intelligence gathering?

How do we modernise surveillance and strengthen local intelligence networks? How do we reform policing to become more community based and locally responsive?

How do we secure vulnerable rural communities?

How do we reform constitutional frameworks to address modern security threats more effectively?

Unless these questions become central to national discourse, Nigeria risks remaining trapped in a painful and repetitive cycle: attack, outrage, blame, temporary outrage fatigue, and repetition.

A nation cannot emotionally react itself into security.

At some point, outrage must mature into institutional reform.

Also read: Lagos Continues to Drive Nigeria’s Economy — Obasa

Only then can insecurity begin to retreat, and only then can Nigerians begin to see meaningful progress beyond the endless cycle of grief, anger, and helplessness.

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Re: Hamzat and the Future of Lagos: A Response to Bolaji Sanusi’s Tirade Against Sanwo-Olu, Justice Forum and Faleke

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By Animashaun Rilwan

The article titled “Hamzat and the Future of Lagos” by former Managing Director of the Lagos State Signage and Advertisement Agency (LASAA), Barrister Bolaji Sanusi, reveals the mindset of a man seemingly desperate for attention and convinced that such attention can only be achieved by attacking individuals and institutions he believes are responsible for his unrealised political ambitions.

Sanusi’s direct assault on structures and personalities from which he has benefited in the past—and from which he still appears eager to benefit if given the opportunity—offers a revealing insight into the mentality of entitlement. His article reeks of vengeance and vindictiveness against perceived political adversaries whom he blames for his personal political setbacks.

To better understand the motivation behind the article, it is important to examine who Bolaji Sanusi is. A journalist by training, he became known through his columns in the now-defunct National Life newspaper and later The Nation. Through his media engagements, he became closely associated with the political media machinery of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu and subsequently enjoyed the benefits of that political relationship.

That relationship culminated in his appointment as Managing Director of LASAA in 2016 by the Lagos State Government—the same government and political establishment he now seeks to disparage.

One is therefore compelled to ask: why is Sanusi attacking Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu?

It is on record that the Sanwo-Olu administration has delivered significant infrastructural and developmental projects across various sectors of Lagos State since assuming office. Is Sanusi unaware of the Blue and Red Rail Lines that have transformed public transportation in Lagos? Is he oblivious to the extensive road infrastructure projects executed across the state? Has he forgotten the completion of the Bola Ahmed Tinubu Administrative Centre in Alausa? Or the Tolu School Complex, reputed to be the largest school complex in West Africa?

Certainly, Barrister Sanusi is aware of these achievements. However, he has chosen to ignore them in pursuit of a personal vendetta, apparently fuelled by his inability to secure a place in Governor Sanwo-Olu’s cabinet after the 2023 elections.

Equally puzzling is his attack on Rt. Hon. James Abiodun Faleke.

As a lawyer and former editor, Barrister Sanusi should appreciate that certain allegations and insinuations should not be casually made against individuals without evidence. Public commentary should be guided by facts, not emotions.

It is no secret that Sanusi has not forgiven Faleke, whom he reportedly blames for his inability to secure the APC chairmanship ticket in Ojokoro LCDA. That grievance appears to have found expression in his latest article.

Sanusi accuses Faleke of imposing candidates and promoting only his loyalists. Imposed who and where? Faleke only gets involved in settling disputes and working with the party leadership to get to a compromise solution, if and when possible. It is sad that Sanusi conveniently ignores the fact that Faleke has never operated outside the established structures of the party. Decisions attributed to him are made within the framework of consultations with the leadership of the APC in Lagos State.

Indeed, Faleke’s political resourcefulness, commitment to party discipline, and ability to build consensus were among the reasons for his recent elevation into the highly respected Governance Advisory Council (GAC). Perhaps Barrister Sanusi overlooked that fact.

It is also absurd and intellectually shallow to blame Faleke for President Tinubu’s loss in Ikeja during the 2023 presidential election. The voting pattern witnessed in that election was neither peculiar to Ikeja nor attributable to any one individual. The party leadership has a clear understanding of what transpired during that election cycle and has since taken note of the relevant lessons.

The question is simple: did that voting pattern occur only in Ikeja? The answer is no. We understand the narrative being pushed and where it is coming from. At the appropriate time, those issues will be adequately addressed.

Reports from Ojokoro LCDA indicate that until the local government election period, Sanusi was largely absent from grassroots politics in Ifako-Ijaiye and Ojokoro. Many local stakeholders reportedly did not know him as an active participant in the political affairs of the area. Rather, he was reputed for boasting about his connections at the highest levels of the political hierarchy and his ability to secure outcomes from the top.

When the time came for the local government elections, party leaders in the council collectively settled on their preferred candidate. Why Sanusi would now blame Faleke for a decision jointly taken by party leaders in his own local government remains difficult to comprehend.

His hostility towards the Justice Forum is equally understandable. He served as a prominent media figure for a faction of the Mandate Movement and, has chosen to become the mouthpiece of a very small, militant arm of the mandate group. The truth is that both groups are working together in most Local governments across the state in the larger interest of the party.

It is important to state that the leadership of the APC in Lagos State is currently focused on rebuilding trust, strengthening internal cohesion, and restoring confidence among party members. These efforts involve consultations with respected leaders and elders both within and outside the Governance Advisory Council. Encouragingly, those efforts are already yielding positive results.

Rather than attempting to undermine these initiatives, Barrister Sanusi should join hands with party leaders in strengthening the unity and progress of the APC.

His allegations against the Justice Forum also collapse under the weight of facts.

Has Sanusi forgotten that the APC House of Representatives ticket in Ojo Federal Constituency was won by a member of the Mandate Movement? Ojo happens to be the home local government of Pastor Cornelius Ojelabi, whom many identify with the Justice Forum. If the Justice Forum truly manipulates outcomes as alleged, why was a Mandate Movement member allowed to emerge at the expense of the aspirant from the group?

Similarly, in Alimosho, the candidate perceived to enjoy the support of the Justice Forum and who was also the incumbent was denied the ticket in favour of another aspirant from a different political tendency. How then does one reconcile that with allegations of systemic injustice by the Justice Forum?

In Agege, the candidate that won APC House of Representatives ticket was the sole aspirant. It was Hon Faleke and others who worked hard to achieve this consensus. The candidate is of Mandate caucus. This is the story across the state.

The facts simply do not support his claims.

At a time when the party is working hard to consolidate unity and prepare for future electoral contests, divisive commentaries such as this do little to advance the collective interest of progressive politics in Lagos State.

We therefore call on Barrister Bolaji Sanusi to channel his considerable energy, intellect and communication skills towards promoting unity, cohesion and constructive engagement within the party rather than deepening divisions through personal grievances disguised as political analysis.

Attention is not earned through bitterness. Leadership is not demonstrated through division. If the goal is a stronger APC and a better Lagos, then all stakeholders must rise above personal disappointments and work together in the interest of the party and the state.

Animashaun Rilwan, a public affairs analyst, writes in from Lagos

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How Governor Dauda Lawal Rescued Zamfara State from the Abyss

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By: Oladapo Sofowora

Three years ago, Zamfara State was not merely a place on the Nigerian map; it was a global byword for the darkest extremes of human and governance failure. To call the name “Zamfara” in any public gathering, anywhere across the world was to invite a sharp intake of deep breath followed by an unassuming shake of the head. It was formerly a state where school gates had become rusted relics, where hospitals were hollowed-out shells dilapidated and where the only booming economy was the dark, bloody trade of banditry and insurgency.
But when Dr Dauda Lawal placed his hand on the Holy Qur’an on May 29, 2023, he did not inherit a government; he inherited a graveyard of unfulfilled promises. The civil service was a ghost of itself; unstructured and underperforming, groaning under the weight of unpaid salaries and gratuities stretching back over a decade. The state’s treasury had been bled dry, with an astonishing backlog of debt, including a suffocating ₦2.7 billion owed to the West African Examinations Council (WAEC) and the National Examinations Council (NECO); a debt that had cruelly barred thousands of innocent Zamfara State pupils from sitting for their final exams and progressing to tertiary education.

Insecurity was apocalyptic; rural communities had been abandoned, entire local government areas were under the effective control of non-state actors and the proud agrarian identity of the state ‘Farming is Our Pride’ had been replaced by the grovel of internally displaced persons begging for a handful of grains. This was the hellscape that Lawal walked into for the first few months, even his most optimistic supporters wondered if the former banker had made a catastrophic error in judgment. Instead of complaining and playing the blame game as many of his peers do, he folded his sleeves and went straight into the rescue mission. Rebuilding brick by brick, reforming strategically and effecting holistic change across board, three years later, as the sun rises over the newly constructed terminal of the Gusau International Airport and the sound of children reciting lessons echoes from over five hundred renovated schools, the verdict is undeniable: Dauda Lawal did not come to manage Zamfara; he came to rescue it and he has delivered a performance so startling that it has forced even his fiercest political rivals to stand and applaud him for a job well done. What seemed like an Herculean task was a piece of cake for him because he came with a will and can-do spirit, and his love for his people helped him navigate the tides.

Let us start with the most brutal wound; security. When Lawal campaigned on the promise of a “Rescue Mission,” the cornerstone was his vow to dismantle the ‘banditry economy’ that had turned farming into a death sentence. The previous approach had been a confusing mess of negotiations with criminals, which only emboldened the outlaws. Lawal, bringing the precision of a forensic auditor to the battlefield, did something unprecedented; he treated security like a strategic investment portfolio; he gave teeth to the security apparatus. The Governor dramatically raised the stakes by operationalising and heavily funding the Zamfara Community Protection Guards, known locally as Askarawan Zamfara. These were not vigilantes; they were a disciplined, state-backed auxiliary force recruited from local communities who knew the terrain very well, the caves and the escape routes of the bandits. To support them and the regular military, Lawal’s administration donated over 140 brand-new, high-capacity operational vehicles equipped with modern communication gadgets, ensuring that for the first time, security agents could match the mobility of the criminals. He invested in sophisticated intelligence-gathering technology, creating a situation room in Gusau that monitors real-time movements across the fourteen local government areas. The results have been staggering. Within eighteen months, the bandits lost their strategic freedom of action. Farmers who had not seen their ancestral lands in four years were suddenly escorted back by combined teams of soldiers and guards, clutching subsidized seedlings and bags of fertilizer provided by the government for wet-season and dry-season farming.

The famous rice and maize fields of Maradun and Anka which were once deserted are now green with harvest. The Governor understood a basic truth you cannot eat security, but you cannot farm without it. By breaking the siege on rural Zamfara, Lawal did not just save lives; he resurrected the state’s economy from the root upwards. The wailing of mothers who had lost sons to banditry has not stopped entirely, but it has been largely replaced by the hum of grinding machines and the laughter of children playing in villages that were once classified as “no-go areas.”

But what is a secure community without an educated mindset? The statistics Lawal met upon arrival were enough to make any compassionate leader weep. Thousands of students had been locked out of their futures because the previous administration simply refused to pay examination fees. Young girls, in particular, had been pushed into early marriage because their parents saw no point in sending them to dilapidated, teacher-less schools. Lawal declared a State of Emergency in Education on his second day in office and unlike the hollow declarations of the past, he backed it up with actions and the state’s treasury. The first thunderbolt was the payment of the ₦2.7 billion WAEC and NECO debt, a move that instantly liberated the results of over 45,000 students. That single act of fiscal responsibility changed the trajectory of an entire generation as students’ results were released. But Lawal did not stop at paying debts. He launched a massive, unprecedented infrastructural blitz. In three years, over 500 schools from primary to secondary have been either completely reconstructed, renovated or equipped with modern furniture and learning aids, replacing the broken chairs and mouldy chalkboards with over 9,542 new two-seater desks. He went further, recruiting over 2,000 qualified teachers, ending the absurdity of one teacher managing a class of 120 students. He also tackled the rot in tertiary institutions; the Zamfara State University and the College of Health Sciences and Technology received not just facelifts but functional laboratories, libraries and hostels.
The 2025 budget, a towering ₦79.6 billion allocation to education, is not an expense; it is a declaration that Zamfara will never again be a state of illiterates; rather it will be a state where intellectual giants and sound minds will be moulded.

Parallel to the educational revolution, Lawal launched a surgical strike on the healthcare sector, which had become a death trap for the poor. When he toured the General Hospitals in Gusau and Anka shortly after inauguration, what he saw reportedly upset his stomach. Maternity wards without mattresses, operating theatres without power supply and pharmacies without a single tablet of medication. The Governor’s response was a systematic, ward-by-ward renovation of the state’s health infrastructure. The Yariman Bakura Specialist Hospital in Gusau has been transformed into a gleaming referral centre, equipped with digital X-ray machines, a functional dialysis unit, an MRI Machine deployment and a steady supply of essential medications. General hospitals in Kaura Namoda, Maru and Maradun have been similarly upgraded, ensuring that a sick person no longer has to travel 200 kilometres to Sokoto, Kano, Kaduna and Abuja for a simple surgery. But perhaps the most humane intervention has been the health insurance rollout for the poorest citizens. Lawal’s administration has enrolled over 150,000 vulnerable women and children into the state’s health insurance scheme, meaning that for the first time, a poor mother in a remote village can take her child to a primary health centre and receive treatment without being asked for a dime. This singular act has slashed the maternal mortality rate in the local governments by a significant margin.

Then there is the quiet revolution happening in the civil service, a sector often ignored by politicians but which Lawal understood as the engine room of government. He met a workforce that had lost all hope. Retired professors and permanent secretaries were dying without collecting their gratuities, leaving their families in penury. The backlog of unpaid pensions and death benefits stood at an astronomical ₦13 billion. In a move that sent shockwaves through the state’s bureaucracy, Lawal cleared that entire backlog within his first 15 months in office. He didn’t stop there; he introduced a 13th-month salary bonus for all active workers, a rare gesture that boosted morale and productivity. He also cleared the previously unpaid cooperative deductions that had been stolen from workers’ salaries, an act that made him a hero in the corridors of the secretariat. By treating civil servants with dignity, Lawal ensured that the machinery of government began to move again, processing files, issuing permits and collecting revenue with an efficiency that saw the state’s Internally Generated Revenue (IGR) skyrocket from a pitiful ₦80 million per month to over ₦5 billion. This financial discipline allowed him to fund his infrastructure ambitions without begging for federal bailouts. The signature project of this ambition is the ongoing construction of the Gusau International Airport, a massive, visionary project that will open Zamfara to global trade, connect local farmers to export markets and drastically reduce the cost of transportation for businesses. Complementing this airborne gateway, Lawal unveiled 50 modern mass transit buses, equipped with free Wi-Fi and digital fare collectors, slashing the cost of commuting for the average worker and student while modernizing the chaotic transport sector.

As the sun sets on the third year of this remarkable tenure yesterday the 29th of May, the political landscape has shifted seismically. The opposition, which spent the first two years mocking Lawal has run out of insults. The evidence is too overwhelming. The students just received their WAEC results after a three-year delay, retired civil servants who finally received their ₦6 million gratuity after waiting for eight years are not going to vote for a return to the old ways. This is why the recent political development the endorsement of Governor Dauda Lawal as the consensus candidate of the All Progressives Congress (APC) for the 2027 election is not a surprise. What is stunning is the unanimity. In a rare, almost unprecedented show of political maturity, four former governors of Zamfara State Ahmed Yarima, Mahmuda Shinkafi, Abdulaziz Yari and Bello Matawalle gathered in Gusau to throw their weight behind Lawal’s second-term bid. These are men who have not agreed on a single issue in the past twenty years, yet they agree on Dauda Lawal’s re-election. This consensus is a powerful signal to the electorate that the era of destructive political rivalry is over and the era of collective development has begun.

But why should the people of Zamfara re-elect Dauda Lawal for another four years? The answer lies in the unfinished symphony of his rescue mission. He has laid the foundation but the house is not yet completed. He has secured the rural areas but the bandits have not been annihilated; a second term would allow him to consolidate the security gains and finally flush out the remaining bandits from their hideouts. He has built the schools, but the first cohort of his revolutionary education reforms is just now entering their final year; a second term would see them graduate and move into the new technical colleges he plans to build. He has started the airport, but it needs to be completed and operationalized to attract the foreign direct investment that will turn Zamfara from a consumer state to a producer state especially in the agricultural value chain. He has cleared the pension backlog but he needs another term to build a sustainable pension fund that ensures no future retiree ever suffers again. To abort the rescue mission now would be like a surgeon stopping a life-saving operation halfway through because the patient is breathing again. The patient, ‘Zamfara’ is breathing but it is not yet running. Dauda Lawal is a goal-getter not a goal-celebrator. He has shown that he has the vision, the discipline, the grit, the capacity and the courage to stare into the abyss and command it to close. The choice for the people of Zamfara in 2027 is the simplest binary in Nigerian politics; return to the dark, bloody, bankrupt stagnation of the pre-2023 era or move forward with the man who proved that a rescue mission is not a slogan; it is a reality. If the last three years are a sample of what Dauda Lawal can do, then another four years will not just complete the good work; they will turn Zamfara into a beacon a testament to the power of determined leadership.

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Insecurity: Debate Intensifies Over South-West Leaders’ Handling of Crisis

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South-West leaders insecurity criticism grows as public debate intensifies over alleged inaction amid worsening security challenges in the region

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