Opinion

By Zayyad I. Muhammad 

Bandits, Lakurawa, Ansaru (Jama’atu Ansarul Muslimina Fi Biladis Sudan) and other terrorist groups have been terrorising Nigerians through killings, kidnappings, and rape. They have displaced thousands of people, carved out territories for themselves, collected taxes, and effectively governed parts of the North-West and North-Central regions.

For 13 years, the violent separatist group IPOB/ESN, designated a terrorist organisation by the Federal Government, has been operating in southeast Nigeria, terrorising the region through armed attacks on security forces, the enforcement of sit-at-home orders, and the killing and coercion of citizens to obey its directives.

For over 15 years, Boko Haram and ISWAP have established their authority on soft targets in some parts of the North-East, as well as attacking military formations, killing and kidnapping civilians, and carrying out suicide bombings against innocent people.

From the North-East to the North-West and North-Central regions, both local and foreign terrorist groups have carved out territories within Nigeria, killing and kidnapping innocent citizens, collecting taxes, imposing their own laws, displacing hundreds of people and brazenly displaying their weapons in public and on social media platforms.

On December 25, 2025, the United States, with the coordination and approval of the Nigerian government, launched 16 GPS-guided missiles at terrorist targets in parts of Sokoto State. As a result, some debris fell in Jabo and Offa. In Jabo, the debris fell on open fields, while in Offa, two hotels were hit.

Nigeria’s failure to eliminate these terrorists has brought the country to this point. No nation welcomes foreign military intervention on its soil. 

However, which constitutes a greater infringement on Nigeria’s sovereignty: the existence of local and foreign terrorist groups operating freely, killing, kidnapping, conducting suicide bombings, collecting taxes, and displacing innocent citizens from their lands, homes and places of business for nearly two decades, or a few hours of a U.S. missile strike authorised by the Nigerian government?

 Zayyad I. Muhammad writes from Abuja via zaymohd@yahoo.com.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

Nigeria has fallen into a bitter cycle of violence, with communities caught in a war they neither invited nor comprehend. In four days, at least 145 Nigerians were abducted in Kebbi, Zamfara, and Niger. This included 25 schoolgirls kidnapped in Kebbi, three villagers killed, 64 seized in Zamfara, 16 vigilantes murdered, and 42 abducted in Niger. The headlines are shocking, but the stories are more troubling: rural areas are dissolving under fear, abandonment, and rising criminal violence.

For many Nigerians, these incidents are not isolated tragedies; they are part of a vicious pattern stretching back years. In 2023, during the tense pre-election months, at least 792 Nigerians were abducted in only the first quarter, according to verified data. Today, as political parties warm up again for the 2027 contest, the shadows are lengthening once more. Insecurity rises, rhetoric rises, promises rise, but communities continue to fall.

The Kebbi school attack is particularly symbolic. Once again, the targets were schoolgirls. Once again, a perimeter fence proved more ceremonial than protective. Once again, armed men walked into a public school as though strolling through an unguarded market. According to the police, the bandits arrived at about 4:00 a.m., firing into the air and overpowering the school’s security before escaping with 25 children. A staff member, Hassan Makuku, was killed. A guard was shot. And the students vanished into the vast, unregulated forests that now function as safe havens for armed groups.

The Federal Government has condemned the attack as governments always do, calling it “reprehensible,” promising swift rescue, and directing security agencies to “locate, rescue and ensure justice.” The Minister of Defence described the incident as “totally unacceptable.” These statements are necessary, but they do little for the parents who now spend their days staring at empty bunks and silent uniforms.

Zamfara’s case is no less alarming. Entire families were carted away from Tsafe and Maru LGAs, with reports confirming three deaths and at least 64 abducted in one attack alone. Communities such as Zurmi, Shinkafi, Maradun, Maru and Bungudu have lived under this shadow for years. They pay levies. They negotiate to farm. They bury loved ones. They flee at night. Banditry in Zamfara has evolved into a parallel economy, one that thrives because the state’s presence has weakened, and criminal syndicates now operate with cold confidence.

Niger State’s tragedy further complicates the picture. Sixteen vigilantes were killed, and dozens were kidnapped. These vigilantes are ordinary residents who step in where the state has failed with torches, dane guns and courage as their only armour. They are outmatched, outgunned and overstretched. Yet they stand in the gap because the alternative is abandonment.

What links Kebbi, Zamfara and Niger is not geography but the silence that follows after promises fade and attention shifts elsewhere. Rural Nigeria has become the theatre of a slow, grinding war of attrition. Schools, farms, highways and markets have become targets. Parents now enrol children in schools not by distance or quality, but by safety. Communities now make security decisions based on rumours, not signals from the government.

Reactions from political figures capture a growing national frustration. Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar condemned the attacks as “a reminder of worsening insecurity,” pointing also to killings in Plateau, Benue and Kano. The PDP accused the Federal Government of “preferring politicisation to protection.” Security experts have raised deeper worries. Former CP Emmanuel Ojukwu warned that abductions often spike ahead of elections, becoming tools of disruption and intimidation. Another retired CP, Ladodo Rabiu, countered that insecurity has now become permanent, not seasonal, and politicians merely exploit it when convenient.

Both views reveal a brutal truth: Nigeria’s insecurity is no longer episodic; it is structural. It feeds on weak governance, fragile policing, porous borders, fragmented jurisdictions, and an overstretched military deployed incessantly for internal duties it was never designed to handle.

But beyond statistics and politics lies the real crisis, a moral one. Rural Nigerians are bearing the brunt of the state’s slow decay. They pay for security with money they don’t have. They live in fear; they didn’t create. They bury victims they cannot protect. Nigeria is failing them not because officials do not speak loudly, but because institutions do not act deeply.

So where does the problem lie, and what must be done?

First, the country’s security response remains reactive. Troops are deployed after attacks, not before them. Intelligence is gathered after kidnappings, not to prevent them. This cycle guarantees repetition. Nigeria must invest in village-level intelligence networks, not just forest-level firepower.

Second, the state is fragmented. Federal, state and local security efforts exist in parallel but rarely intersect meaningfully. Community policing remains a slogan instead of a functional architecture. Insecurity requires a coordinated chain; currently, Nigeria operates with scattered links.

Third, governance in the North-West has become inconsistent. Some states negotiate with bandits; others fight them; others allow communities to fend for themselves. Criminals easily read these patterns and exploit them.

Fourth, poverty and governance failure feed bandit armies. Unemployed youths become foot soldiers. Unprotected forests become camps. Unregulated mining corridors become revenue lines. No amount of military operations can defeat a criminal economy unless the incentives are dismantled.

Finally, transparency is missing. Nigerians rarely know what works or fails. Operations are announced, but outcomes are not documented. Without accountability, improvement is impossible.

The solutions are not mysterious. Deploy intelligence-driven operations; rebuild local policing; integrate vigilantes into formal security structures with training; secure forests with drone surveillance; regulate mining corridors; strengthen border patrols; ensure swift prosecution of captured bandits; and most importantly, ensure that victims are rescued quickly and consistently.

But no solution will matter unless Nigeria is honest with itself: the country has abandoned its rural citizens, leaving millions to bargain daily with terror. Kebbi, Zamfara and Niger are not just news items; they are warning lights for a nation whose peripheries are collapsing inward.

The question now is not whether the government will condemn the attacks it already has. The question is whether Nigerians will see meaningful change, or whether new tragedies will replace these before this week ends.

Until the state reclaims every inch of its territory physically, administratively and morally, rural Nigerians will continue to live on borrowed certainty, waiting for the next sound of gunshots in the night.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu is a journalist and syndicated commentator based in Abuja.

By Isah Kamisu Madachi

For over a week now, flipping through the pages of Nigerian newspapers, social media, and other media platforms, the dominant issue trending nationwide has been the discovery of significant discrepancies between the gazetted version of the Tax Laws made available to the public and what was actually passed by the Nigerian legislature. Since this shocking discovery by a member of the House of Representatives, opinions from tax experts, public affairs analysts, activists, civil society organisations, opposition politicians, and professional bodies have been pouring in.

Many interesting events that could disrupt the pace of the debate have recently surfaced in the media. Yet the Tax Law discussion persists because public interest is deeply entrenched in the contested laws. However, while many view the issue from angles such as a breach of public trust, a violation of legislative privilege by the executive council, the passage of an ill-prepared law and so on, I see it from a different, narrower, and governance-centred perspective.

What brought this issue to public attention was an alarm raised by Hon. Abdulsammad Dasuki, a Member of the House of Representatives from Sokoto State, during a House plenary on 17 December 2025. He called the attention of the House to what he identified as discrepancies between the gazetted version of the Tax Laws he obtained from the Federal Ministry of Information and what was actually debated, agreed upon, and passed on the floor of both the House and the Senate. He requested that the Speaker ensure all relevant documents, including the harmonised versions, the Votes and Proceedings of both chambers, and the gazetted copies, are brought before the Committee of the Whole for scrutiny. The lawmaker expressed concern over what he described as a serious breach of his legislative privilege.

Beyond that, however, my concern is about how safe and protected Nigerians’ interests are in the hands of our lawmakers at the National Assembly. This ongoing discussion raises a critical question about representation in Nigeria. Does this mean that if Dasuki had also been indifferent and had not bothered to utilise the Freedom of Information Act 2011 to obtain the gazetted version of the laws from the Federal Ministry of Information, take time to study it, and make comparisons, there would have been no cause for alarm from any of Nigeria’s 360 House of Representatives members and 109 senators? Do lawmakers discard the confidence we reposed in them immediately after the election results are declared?

This debate serves a latent function of waking us up to the reality of the glaring disconnect between public interest and the interests of our representatives. The legislature in a democratic setting is a critical institution that goes beyond routine plenaries that are often uninteresting and sparsely attended by the lawmakers. It is meant to be a space for scrutiny, deliberation, and the protection of public interest, especially when complex laws with wide social consequences are involved. 

We saw Sen. Ali Ndume in a short video clip that recently swept the media, furiously saying during a verbal altercation with Sen. Adams Oshiomhole over ambassadorial screening that “the Senate is not a joke.” The Senate is, of course, not a joke, and neither should the entire National Assembly be. Ideally, it should not be a joke to the legislators themselves or to us. Therefore, we should not shy away from discussing how disinterested those entrusted with the task of representing us, and primarily protecting our interests, appear to be in our collective affairs.

It is not a coincidence that, even before the current debate over the tax reform law, it has continued to generate controversy since its inception. It also does not take quantum mechanics to understand that something is fundamentally wrong when almost nobody truly understands the law. Thanks to social media, I have come across numerous skits, write-ups, and commentaries attempting to explain it, but often followed by opposing responses saying that the authors either did not understand the law themselves or did not take sufficient time to study it.

The controversy around the gazetted Tax Reform Laws should not end with public outrage or media debates alone. It should prompt deeper reflection on how laws are made, scrutinised, and defended in Nigeria’s democracy. A system that relies on the alertness of a single lawmaker to prevent serious legislative discrepancies is neither resilient nor reliable. Representation cannot be occasional, and vigilance cannot be optional. 

Nigerians deserve a legislature that safeguards their interests, not one that notices breaches only when a few individuals choose to be different and look closely. If this ongoing debate does not lead to formidable internal checks and a renewed sense of responsibility among lawmakers, then the problem is far bigger than a flawed gazette. When legislative processes fail, it is ordinary Nigerians who bear the cost through policies they did not scrutinise and consequences they did not consent to.

Isah Kamisu Madachi is a public policy enthusiast and development practitioner. He writes from Abuja and can be reached via: isahkamisumadachi@gmail.com.

By Anas Abbas

The launch of Kano State Security and Neighbourhood Watch Guard on December 23 by Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf is a timely and reassuring response to growing concerns about insecurity across the state.

At a moment when residents were increasingly raising alarm over safety in their communities, the governor chose action over silence.

In recent months, reports of petty crimes and organised disturbances have unsettled many neighbourhoods, threatening Kano’s long-held reputation as one of the more peaceful states in the North.

These concerns were not distant headlines but daily experiences discussed in markets and almost everywhere in Kano state. Acknowledging this reality, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf’s administration moved swiftly to confront the challenge.

Central to the initiative is the deployment of 2,000 security personnel, carefully drawn from all local government areas of the state. This structure ensures broad representation, local knowledge, and community trust key elements in effective crime prevention. By embedding security personnel within familiar environments, the government strengthens early detection and rapid response.

The neighbourhood watch guard complements existing security agencies rather than replacing them. It is designed to close the gaps where formal policing alone may struggle, particularly at the grassroots. This layered approach reflects a practical understanding that modern security requires cooperation, intelligence sharing, and community participation.

Beyond physical protection, the initiative delivers psychological reassurance. Visible security presence restores confidence, discourages criminal behaviour, and reassures residents that the government is attentive to their fears. Insecurity thrives where people feel abandoned; decisive leadership reverses that narrative.

Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf deserves commendation for the timing of this intervention. Launched during a period of heightened social and economic activity, it demonstrates foresight and sensitivity to public safety risks. It also reinforces the principle that governance must be proactive, not reactive.

However,as implementation unfolds, sustained training, accountability, and respect for human rights will be essential to long-term success. If properly managed, the neighbourhood watch guard can become a durable pillar of community safety.

In taking immediate steps to safeguard lives and property, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf has sent a clear message: the security of Kano’s people is paramount. This initiative stands as a strong example of responsive leadership in challenging times.

In 2025, the Hausa film industry, popularly known as Kannywood, witnessed a clear shift, with series films completely overshadowing feature-length productions. Apart from Mansura Isa’s Faliha and Falisha, no major Kannywood movie was released in cinemas throughout the year. This is, of course, troubling, as series films alone do not define the strength and global reach of any serious film industry.

However, series films attract more audience commitment, offering extended runtimes, deeper character development, and closer engagement with social realities. They also give filmmakers and actors the room to explore complexity in ways feature-length films often cannot.

After following several Kannywood series throughout the year, six clearly stood out for viewership, audience engagement, and the level of conversation they generated. They are as follows:

1. Labarina (Season 14), 
2. Wata Shida, 
3. Garwashi, 
4. Jamilun Jidda, 
5. Zabi Biyu, and 
6. Taskar Kannywood (Da Na Sani)

The above series were considered for the year’s best performances. Nominees were first identified within each series, after which an overall winner was selected for each category based on consistency, depth of performance, narrative impact, and contribution to the series as a whole.

1. Best Actor of the Year 

Top Nominees:

1. Adam Garba (Abba Galadima in Labarina [season 14], and Sameer/Dahiru in Wata Shida)
2. Abubakar Waziri [Bado] (Malam Sani in Garwashi)
3. Ali Nuhu (Professor Nuri in Jamilun Jidda)
4. Yakubu Muhammad (Mudan in Garwashi)

Winner: Adam Garba (Abba Galadima in Labarina [S14], and Sameer/Dahiru in Wata Shida)

Adam Garba’s contributions to two of the top series clearly set him apart from other nominees. In Labarina (season 14), he delivers a calm, grounded performance as Prince Abba Galadima. However, his portrayal of Sameer/Dahiru in Wata Shida demands duality and emotional balance, all of which he handles with impressive control.

• Best Actress of the Year 

Top Nominees:

1. Fatima Abdulahi Washa (Sumayya in Labarina [Season 14])
2. Fatima Hussaini (Zahrah in Wata Shida, and Ruth/Fatima in Jamilun Jidda)
3. Fiddausi Yahaya (Ma’u in Garwashi, and Jidda in Jamilun Jidda)

Winner: Fatima Hussaini (Zahrah in Wata Shida, and Ruth/Fatima in Jamilun Jidda)

Although Fiddausi Yahaya left a strong impression as Ma’u in Garwashi and the title character in Jamilun Jidda, Fatima Hussaini maintains a stronger performance quality across different projects. The confidence she showed as Zahrah in Wata Shida, and her dual role in Jamilun Jidda prove her versatility, as she navigates contrasting identities effectively.

• Best Supporting Actor 

Top Nominees:

1. Rabi’u Rikadawa (Baba Dan Audu in Labarina [Season 14])
2. Kabiru Sani (Gaddafi in Garwashi)
3. Isah Feroz Khan (Kasim in Garwashi)

Winner: Kabiru Sani (Gaddafi in Garwashi)

Each of these actors delivered memorable supporting performances, but Kabiru Sani, alias International, stands out for the complexity and freshness he brought to the role of Gaddafi in Garwashi. The character is a blend of thuggery and humour. This combination could easily have messed up in less capable hands. However, Kabiru International plays it naturally. His performance felt confident and fully formed.

• Best Supporting Actress

Top Nominees:

1. Faiza Abdullahi (Lawisa in Garwashi)
2. Bikisu Safana (Shatty in Wata Shida)
3. Aisha Humaira (Samira in Garwashi)

Winner: Faiza Abdullahi (Lawisa in Garwashi)

The reason why Fa’iza Abdullahi wins is the way she adjusted her physicality, voice, and mannerisms to fit in the thuggish character of Lawisa in Garwashi. Her performance reminds you of Alia Bhatt’s finest performance in Gangubai Kathiawadi, which earned her the prestigious Indian National Film Award.

• Best Villain of the Year

Top Nominees:

1. Hauwa Farar Lema (Kilishi, Labarina [Season 14]) 
2. Balaraba Abdullahi (Baba Lami, Garwashi)
3. Magaji Mijinyawa (Kawu Nakowa, Wata Shida)

Winner: Hauwa Farar Lema (Kilishi, Labarina [S14])

Hauwa Farar Lema’s portrayal of Kilishi in Labarina (Season 14) stands out for her deep understanding of the character’s motivations and emotions. Her performance feels realistic. She looks fearsome and conveys the essence of her malicious character through threatening glances and expressions.

• Star of the Year

Winner: Fiddausi Yahaya (Ma’u in Garwashi and Jidda in Jamilun Jidda)

While some critics question her acting prowess, Fiddausi Yahaya is undoubtedly the star of the year. As a relatively new actress, she suddenly became a household name, gained a massive fan following, trended widely on social media, and began appearing in multiple big-budget projects such as Garwashi and Jamilun Jidda, among others. She is a subtle performer and has shown steady improvement in acting quality with every new role.

• Best Breakthrough Performance of the year

Winner: Amina Shehu [Lulu] (Samira in Da Na Sani)

A breakthrough performance is a role that elevates an actor’s visibility and reputation. This happens to Amina Shehu after delivering an intense and emotionally layered role of Samira, nicknamed Kwaila, in “Da Na Sani”, the seventh film from Taskar Kannywood collection. Da Na Sani became the most-reviewed film, and her performance in it was probably the most widely acclaimed of the year. 

• Most Promising Actor of the Year

Winner: Murtala Yahaya Musa Sarauta (Bello in Zabi Biyu)

Judging by how convincingly he handled the role of Bello in Zabi Biyu, only a few roles would truly challenge him. He may appear too mature and lack the conventional swagger of Kannywood heroes, but his acting skills are too solid to be overlooked. With the right story that suits his personality, Murtala is really an actor to watch.

• Most Promising Actress of the year

Winner: Hassana Ibrahim (Safiyya, Zabi Biyu)

The debutante Hassana Ibrahim demonstrates exceptional potential in her powerful lead performance in Zabi Biyu. She portrays emotional depth and control, particularly in scenes that require vulnerability and internal struggle. She has a commanding screen presence, delivers her dialogue effectively, and complements it with appropriate gestures

1.  Best Comic Performance

Winner: Isiyaka Jalingo (Zabi Biyu,and Garwashi)

Isiyaka Jalingo is not merely funny; he generates humour through behaviour and mannerisms while still serving the story. His roles are not designed solely for comic relief; instead, the humour emerges organically from the way he speaks and acts in every scene he features. His roles in Garwashi and Zabi Biyu, though small, leave a huge impact.

Written By

Habibu Maaruf Abdu

habibumaaruf11@gmail.com

By Ibrahim Badamasi Abdulrahman

Amid the widespread circulation of fictitious conspiracy theories alleging a so-called Christian genocide in Nigeria by Muslims, narratives often promoted by a few self-interested actors for personal gain and the advancement of narrow agendas, to the detriment of national cohesion and Nigeria’s sovereignty, one would expect a media house of Channels Television’s standing to exercise heightened objectivity and sensitivity.

Such care is essential, particularly given how these narratives were weaponised to invite foreign hostility under the guise of protecting Christians.

In reporting the same incident, Al Jazeera English headlined: “Explosion rocks crowded mosque in Nigeria, killing at least five.”

The BBC World Service reported: “Bomb blast in packed Nigerian mosque kills five.”

Sadly, Channels Television chose the headline: “BREAKING: Many Feared Dead As Bomb Blast Rocks Maiduguri On Christmas Eve.”

This choice is troubling, particularly given the well-known reality that casual or “lazy” readers far outnumber those who read beyond headlines. To such readers, and to warmongers or actors with selfish interests, the dominant keywords become “dead,” “bomb blast,” and “Christmas.”

These are easily stripped of context and repackaged to advance dangerous and divisive narratives.

Even international outlets such as The Times of Israel reported the incident as a mosque bombing, yet a Nigerian media organisation that prides itself on being Nigeria’s most awarded television station for over fifteen years failed to appreciate that, in this environment, headlines often matter more than the content beneath them.

This may not have been deliberate. However, it was reckless, and it was insensitive, especially in a country already grappling with deep religious fault lines and the harmful consequences of misinformation.

A media house of Channels Television’s stature ought to lead in restraint, precision, and contextual responsibility, particularly at moments when careless framing can inflame tensions and deepen existing harm.

It is within this context that the media is regarded as the Fourth Estate. This designation is not in a vacuum. Rather, it reflects the media’s role in filling the gap of accountability, transparency, and public awareness left by the three arms of government in a democracy.

As a watchdog, the media observes, questions, exposes, and informs the public. While it does not exercise the powers of governance, legislation, or adjudication, it carries the grave responsibility of ensuring that the successes and failures of the three arms of government are accurately, responsibly, and sensitively presented to the people, especially in a society where careless framing can inflame tensions and deepen existing harm.

Ibrahim Badamasi Abdulrahman wrote in from Borno State, Nigeria.

By Ahmed Usman

As the year 2025 draws to a close, moments of reflection naturally set in, especially for an economy that has endured sharp shocks, painful adjustments, and cautious reforms. In an era of global economic turbulence marked by uneven commodity prices, persistently tight financial conditions, rising geopolitical tensions, regional insecurity, and an international retreat from development aid, many emerging economies have suffered currency instability, capital flight, and fiscal distress. 

For Nigeria, however, the year presents an unusual picture. Amid global uncertainty and domestic strain, key economic indicators are beginning to stabilise, prompting a deeper question about whether the country is merely ending the year on a fortunate note or finally turning a policy-driven corner.

The International Monetary Fund (IMF) projects that Nigeria’s economy will grow by about 3.9 per cent in 2025, with growth expected to strengthen modestly to around 4.1 per cent in 2026, driven by macroeconomic stabilisation and reform efforts across key sectors. While these numbers may not yet place Nigeria among the world’s fastest-growing economies, they mark a notable improvement from the passive growth of recent years and signal a gradual return of confidence.

One of the most significant recent developments is Nigeria’s GDP rebasing, which revealed that the economy is about 30 per cent larger than previously estimated. This adjustment is not merely a statistical exercise. It reflects the growing importance of services, digital trade, creative industries, and telecommunications, sectors that employ millions of Nigerians, particularly young people.

For households, a larger and more diversified economy is essential because it reduces overdependence on oil and expands opportunities for income outside traditional sectors. For policymakers, it improves Nigeria’s standing in global markets and provides a clearer picture of where growth is coming from, enabling more targeted policies.

The rebasing has also reshaped Nigeria’s debt profile. The debt-to-GDP ratio now stands at about 40 per cent, well below the levels seen in many peer emerging economies. More importantly, debt service as a share of government revenue has fallen to below 50 per cent, from much higher levels in previous years. This easing of fiscal pressure means the government now has slightly more flexibility to allocate resources to infrastructure, education, healthcare, and social protection. However, the challenge remains that Nigeria’s revenue base remains among the weakest globally, making sustained revenue mobilisation critical.

Perhaps the most tangible improvement for households and businesses has come from the foreign exchange market. After years of volatility and sharp depreciation, recent months have seen a reduction in exchange rate volatility, a narrowing of the gap between official and parallel market rates, and a gradual buildup of external reserves, now estimated at over $36 billion. This stabilisation has practical consequences. It helps slow imported inflation, reducing pressure on food, fuel, and medicine prices. Foreign portfolio inflows have also picked up, reflecting renewed investor confidence.

Nigeria’s capital markets are also telling a positive story. The stock market is enjoying its strongest rally in nearly two decades, with the All-Share Index posting record gains. This surge reflects expectations of improved corporate earnings and better macroeconomic coordination. Similarly, Nigeria’s bond market has entered a bullish phase, with falling yields and strong demand from both domestic and foreign investors. Lower bond yields reduce government borrowing costs and can eventually translate into lower interest rates for businesses and households seeking credit.

After reaching painful highs, inflation (food inflation) has begun to ease, FX conditions have improved, and supply pressures have eased. Although prices remain elevated, the slowdown in food prices offers some relief to households whose purchasing power has been severely eroded over the past two years.

Perhaps the most encouraging fiscal development is the sharp rise in government revenue. This improvement reflects tax administration reforms, subsidy removal, and better compliance. Higher revenue is central to Nigeria’s long-term stability. It reduces reliance on borrowing, strengthens public services, and allows targeted social spending to cushion vulnerable households from reform-related shocks.

Despite these gains, Nigeria’s resilience should not be mistaken for strength. The economy remains vulnerable to oil price swings, climate shocks, global financial tightening, and domestic security challenges. Monetary pressures, fiscal constraints, and external risks continue to interact in ways that could quickly reverse progress.

However, resilience built on sound fiscal management, credible monetary policy, and structural reform is fundamentally different from resilience driven by temporary luck. Strengthening domestic revenue, managing debt prudently, investing in human capital, and deepening diversification are not optional; they are essential.

Is the question whether Nigeria’s current resilience is the product of good policies or good luck? The evidence increasingly points toward policy-driven stabilisation, though aided by favourable timing and improved coordination.

The fundamentals are improving, confidence is returning, and the economy is stronger than it has been in years. The challenge now is to convert this fragile resilience into inclusive and durable growth, growth that raises living standards, creates jobs, and restores hope for millions of households.

Ahmed Usman wrote via ahmedusmanbox@gmail.com.

By Suleiman Usman Yusuf 

Right now, I am deeply pained and genuinely confused, perhaps like many other well-meaning Nigerians who still believe this country can rise above its failures. If all I have to offer is my voice and my pen, then I will continue writing about Nigeria’s lingering security crisis until my last strength fades. Silence is no longer an option when the nation is bleeding this profusely.

This country is bruised. Every week, the news reminds us that Nigeria is fighting for its own life, not in theory but in blood and dust. Yet we move on too quickly, as if these tragedies belong to someone else.

The death of Brigadier General M. Uba should stop us in our tracks.

Not just because he was a senior officer. Not because his story is more important than the stories of countless others who fell before him. But because his final hours reveal both the extraordinary courage of the men defending this country and the painful weaknesses of the institutions meant to protect them.

Two days ago, Nigerians were told he was alive and safe. Today, the truth arrived from insurgent propaganda channels rather than from the State he served. That alone should trouble every citizen who still believes this country can be redeemed.

But beyond the misinformation, beyond the chaos of battle and the failures of communication, there was a man. A man who fought through one ambush, shielded his men, and kept talking on the radio even as danger closed in from every direction. A man who understood the terrain, the risks, and the meaning of service in a way many of us never will.

His killers did not find him by magic. They found him because insurgent groups in the North-East have evolved into highly adaptive, intelligence-driven networks. They have spotters, informants, trackers, and a familiarity with the terrain that gives them dangerous advantages. Our troops face that reality every day with limited resources and uneven institutional support. Yet they still go out, still patrol, still hold their ground.

Brigadier General Uba died in uniform, under a harsh Borno sky, in the service of a country that has not yet learned how to protect its defenders fully. His death is not just a battlefield loss. It is a national failure.

But this is where our story must change.

Nigeria cannot survive if we continue pretending that insecurity is a Northern problem, or a Christian problem, or a Muslim problem, or a regional competition in suffering. Nigeria is bleeding in too many places for that false comfort.

This is a Nigerian problem. All of us are inside this fire.

If we want to save this country, we must begin by admitting the truth.

We have an overburdened military fighting a war that politicians treat like background noise. We have intelligence agencies that do not always speak to each other. We have a society more invested in ethnic debates than national survival. We have families quietly burying soldiers while the rest of us argue online. We have institutions that hide failures rather than learn from them.

But we also have something else. We have citizens who still believe in Nigeria. We have communities ready to cooperate when trust is restored. We have young officers and men who refuse to give up on this country, even when this country sometimes gives up on them. We have people like Brigadier General Uba, whose courage reminds us of the Nigeria that is still possible.

If his death is to mean anything, it must push us toward a national rebuilding rooted in truth, accountability, and collective responsibility. It must force us to demand better communication protocols, better extraction procedures, better intelligence coordination, and better welfare for every man and woman who carries a rifle for this country.

Saving Nigeria is not a slogan. It is a long, disciplined, painful process that requires leadership, honesty, citizen cooperation, and institutional courage.

Brigadier General Uba has paid his share in full. The account is now with us.

Suleiman Usman Yusuf, a Governance, Security, and Development Consultant, AI Policy and Governance Advocate, and a Shaper of Africa’s Tech Future, wrote via suleimanusmanbac@gmail.com.

By Abdullahi Muhammad Yalwa

Sometimes, intellectual masturbation makes people say despicable things. That’s how they say foolish things without actually knowing. If not intellectual premature ejaculation, what else would possibly make an educated person compare democracy with military rule? You can’t compare the two at all. In fact, it’s an insult to real thinking to mix them up without a strong reason as to why and how.

Yes, Nigerians are frustrated with democracy because we’ve suffered under it. Presumably, every Gen Zer born from 1999 to date has suffered, or is suffering, from the discontents of democracy. Corruption, poverty, and bad leaders all strangulate our growth. As such, it’s easy for someone who never lived through military rule — or never thoroughly read about it — to think it was better. Nevertheless, it’s inexcusable to make that comparison in the 21st century. With all the history and information one click away. This is lazy thinking.

Nigeria’s story explains the tension between Democracy and Autocracy. Since independence in 1960, Nigerians have swung between dreams of democracy and military high-handedness. The First Republic, which started in 1963, collapsed into coups by 1966. Then came 30 years of mostly military rule, with a short democratic break from 1979 to 1983.

Within this duration, Gowon fought the Biafran war from 1967 to 1970, which resulted in millions of deaths and the fangs of deadly hunger almost flung Nigeria into an abyss. After Gowon, Buhari came in the 80s with his “War Against Indiscipline” rhetoric. Though some changes were recorded only minimally, his government, too, was a failed experiment. Then, Babangida followed his coup and ruled Nigeria through military rule for almost 10 years. His scandalous cancellation of the 1993 election brought General Abacha, who also killed activists in a cold-blooded manner, abducted critics, and censured opposition. Under Abacha, Nigeria became a global pariah, an outcast because of misrule, corruption, and human rights abuses. So, the soldiers promised order but delivered fear, theft, and failure. Beyond the Gun tirade, a lot of them proved to be nothing but unscrupulous, self-centred, and avaricious.

When democracy returned in 1999, it wasn’t perfect — but it was progress. From Obasanjo to Yar’Adua, Jonathan, Buhari, and now Tinubu, we’ve seen peaceful transitions. That alone is a miracle compared to the blood and chaos of coups, which are primarily scathing and scary.

Democracy works and is better than military rule because it gives people a voice. Under democracy, leaders are elected. The constitution limits their powers, and Citizens can question, join them, or change the government. Nigeria’s record is full of incidents in which the people removed the government despite its resistance. Elections since 1999 have been taking place, even though with low turnout and many flaws.

Furthermore, democracy still allows movements and protests like that of #EndSARS in 2020. As such, people can protest against abuse without the nation collapsing. That’s democracy in action.

Equally, in a democracy, the law stands above all. Rights like speech, movement, and association are still protected despite shortcomings. The media and civic groups expose scandals and corruption. Dan Bello is our standard example here. Leaders feel pressure because they can be voted out. They are still afraid of the people’s might. Similarly, growth comes from debate, not decree. Policies get tested and refined before execution. Sometimes they are reversed after execution because of pressure. All these are happening because of the grace of Democracy.

Now, compare that with military rule. Under soldiers, power is seized by guns, not ballots. A few officers give orders. No dialogue, no accountability, only decrees that replace laws. The constitution goes silent. Many of its parts got scraped and unscripted. Rights become suspended, or mere names on papers. Dissent under the military is punished with the barrels of guns. Abacha’s regime proved it — hidden trials, executions, silence. Thus, there is no right to protest, no matter the height of injustice.

Nevertheless, some people may say the military will bring discipline, build roads, and promote infrastructure. But all of that without justice is short-term. Order without fairness is not peace; it’s fear, which eventually erupts into chaos in disguise. 

We have tested the military. And the reflex is there in history for the discerning minds. Under the generals, Nigeria’s economy sank, institutions died, and corruption deepened. Stability built on fear never lasts. Once soldiers take power, they rarely leave it peacefully. Hence, there is no rotation of government. You only get stuck with whatever you’ve got.

Although Democracy has its flaws, issues like bad elections, corruption, and insecurity remain rampant in our country; nevertheless, it is by far a better option. At least, it gives us freedom to protest, options for dialogue, and hope in change. By contrast, military rule gives us nothing but fear, silence, and graves.

The worst democracy is still better than the best dictatorship. Democracy lets us correct our mistakes. Military rule buries them.

So, all these comparisons and happiness over the aborted coup against Tinubu is nothing but nostalgia from frustrated people who refused to learn better. Democracy is not Nigeria’s problem. Nigeria’s main issue is bad leadership. If only we’d vote for responsible leaders, they’d fix the system, without destroying it. They’d strengthen our votes. Protect our rights. Hold leaders accountable. All these would happen only when democracy grows. Thus, democracy grows, Nigeria grows.

No gun can build what the people can build together.

Abdullahi Muhammad Yalwa, a Law graduate based in Azare, Bauchi State, can be reached at abdullahimuhammadyalwa02@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Isyaku Malumfashi

There are people within this government who support negotiations with bandits, and this piece aims to address them. I wrote against former Governor Masari’s governance when he had negotiated with bandits in an article published by The Daily Reality newspaper, titled “How Governor Masari is Wrongly Governing Katsina State.” I’m doing the same to refute any move to negotiate with bandits at the expense of the government’s power.

Meanwhile, apart from the government’s “data boys,” the problem we now have is the “negotiation lawyers” who protect the government from criticism of negotiating with terrorists. As I have been saying, it is a failure of the government to negotiate with terrorists.

Not only I, but many security experts have opined that negotiating with bandits is futile. In fact, the governor himself, Dr Dikko Umaru Radda, admitted during a call-in interview with Channels Television that he wouldn’t negotiate with bandits at their weakest point. We all applauded, as they have no justifiable reason for their actions and hence no grievances to present to the government for it to listen to. They should either surrender and cease fire, or the government should use force to wipe them out.

We’ve seen many such negotiations with bandits in both the previous administration and the present that have not borne fruit. Perhaps the Fulani terrorists breached the truce by breaking the agreement, thereby continuing to commit crimes against innocent citizens. 

The biggest problem is that they will come into town with weapons, as we’ve seen in the Kankara Local Government area, until people become accustomed to seeing them. Then, some will start to befriend them, so they, too, can get the opportunity to handle weapons. Thus, the country might become like Libya – God forbid – where arms became available to citizens as a result of government carelessness in the name of self-defence, and subsequently turns into a lawless state.

Because in Libya today, one with more sophisticated arms is the most feared and powerful being, just like a government. They can do and undo as they want. Nigeria, particularly Arewa, might face a similar fate, but I believe God will embarrass them. The worst thing about this negotiation is that even if there is negotiation, these Fulani bandits won’t take up any job that will earn them money. Instead, they’ll move to another town where there’s no security problem and continue their terrorist activities. If there’s another negotiation, they’ll move forward.

They wanted to pursue an agenda of conquest with great force, as in the 1804 Jihad. I know historians among us will relate better, though I’m not one; I’m a history enthusiast and studied it in secondary school. Thus, we’re not ignorant of the past. If we don’t forget, those Fulani bandits camped at the Kankara forest under the notorious bandit leader Babaru, aka, had to negotiate with the people of Yar Goje town, before they could target some villages.

Then, they got the opportunity to attack the Mantau village in Malumfashi, where they killed many worshippers during dawn prayers in the mosque and thereafter kidnapped many residents and took them to their camps. Although they later released them, the government claimed the release was due to a firefight with troops, but Zuma Times reported the opposite. We believe the latter, as the government didn’t present any evidence of casualties.

The Mantau village has been a headache for the bandits for years. They’re well-prepared and gallant, and on many occasions, they’ve hidden at routes where bandits pass by to attack and kill them. The village was a no-nonsense and fearful place for bandits. Even the day they attacked them, it was a raid, not face-to-face, which shows an act of cowardice. Therefore, the Fulani won’t stop terrorising; they’ll move forward until they’ve conquered the Hausa land entirely, as captured and masterminded by their ancestors for centuries.

Negotiation with bandits, even though it has never happened at the state level but at the local governments’ level, as seen in Jibia, Batsari, Kurfi, Kankara, and others, makes us suspect that even those that happened at the local governments’ level were with the governor’s consent. He doesn’t want to admit his failure or is afraid of reversing his stance on non-negotiation with bandits.

The idea is totally archaic and reckless because not everybody will sit down and watch people who killed their loved ones or bankrupted them through ransom payments be forgiven and allowed to roam freely, while the people they killed are no more. The properties destroyed or collected for ransom are not compensated.

Even the government’s careless move to empower repented bandits is not welcoming because they have enough money collected from ransom payments. Why should the government empower them with our money? I think the best approach is to empower the victims, not the repentant bandits. The government should also reintensify its security approach, especially given the recent surge in banditry attacks in eastern and southern Malumfashi over the past two days. May Allah restore absolute peace and stability in our towns, states, and the country at large.