The forces of evil do not ask for our political affiliation before they kill
As violence ripples across Nigeria — from abducted teachers and students in Oyo State to renewed bandit assaults in the north — two prominent leaders have stepped forward not merely to condemn the bloodshed, but to name a deeper danger: the temptation to let fear and grief harden into division. Lagos Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu and former Zamfara Governor Abdulaziz Yari, speaking separately yet in striking harmony, reminded their countrymen that criminals who prey on all Nigerians regardless of faith, ethnicity, or politics can only be answered by a nation that refuses to fracture along those same lines. Their call is an old one in human history — that shared suffering, if met with shared resolve rather than mutual blame, can become the unlikely foundation of collective strength.
- A cascade of kidnappings and terrorist attacks — most visibly the abduction of teachers and students in Oyo State — has generated genuine public anxiety across Nigeria, exposing the limits of security deployments alone.
- Both leaders warn that the criminals' deepest weapon is not the gun but the wedge: the violence is designed to make Nigerians distrust one another and retreat into ethnic, religious, and political camps.
- Sanwo-Olu explicitly cautioned against politicizing insecurity, insisting that every victim — wherever they fall — represents a national tragedy that belongs to all Nigerians equally.
- Yari called on traditional rulers, religious leaders, youth groups, and women's organizations to treat peacebuilding as a community obligation, not a task to be outsourced to government.
- Citizens are urged to become active partners in their own security — sharing intelligence, refusing to shelter criminals, and sustaining public confidence in the armed forces risking their lives daily.
- The leaders expressed conditional faith in President Tinubu's administration: Nigeria's institutions can prevail, they argued, but only if the nation stands behind them as one.
On a Saturday of mounting national anxiety, Lagos Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu and former Zamfara Governor Abdulaziz Yari issued separate but strikingly aligned statements on Nigeria's deepening security crisis. Their catalyst was a string of recent attacks — most pointedly the abduction of teachers and students from Oriire Local Government Area in Oyo State — alongside fresh waves of banditry and terrorism across the north. Their shared argument was blunt: the criminals do not discriminate by religion, ethnicity, or political affiliation, and neither should the national response.
Sanwo-Olu framed the moment as a test of national character, warning that fear itself was the enemy's most effective weapon. He urged Nigerians not to allow the violence to become fodder for partisan disputes, insisting that every death was a collective tragedy. But he went further than condemnation — he called on ordinary citizens to become active participants in their own security through vigilance, intelligence sharing, and refusing to provide criminals with shelter or sanctuary. He also offered tribute to security personnel whose daily sacrifices, he argued, deserved sustained public confidence.
Yari, now serving as senator for Zamfara West, expanded on the same themes. He described the violence as a deliberate strategy to erode Nigerians' trust in one another — to fragment the country from within rather than merely terrorize it from without. He called on traditional rulers, religious figures, youth organizations, and women's groups to champion dialogue and peacebuilding at the community level, treating security as a shared civic duty rather than a government monopoly.
Both men expressed faith in President Tinubu's leadership, but their confidence was conditional on national unity holding. What gave their statements weight was not their novelty — unity appeals are common in Nigerian political life — but their timing. Issued during a genuine security emergency, the insistence that Nigerians must not let violence become a tool for division carried an urgency that transcended the usual rhetoric. The message, stripped to its core, was this: the hour for blame had passed; the hour for collective action had arrived.
Two prominent Nigerian leaders stepped forward this past Saturday with an urgent message: the country's mounting security crisis demands something more fundamental than military operations or police deployments. It demands that Nigerians stop seeing the violence through the lens of politics, ethnicity, or regional loyalty, and start seeing it as a shared national wound.
Lagos Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu and Abdulaziz Yari, the former governor of Zamfara State, issued separate statements in response to a cascade of recent attacks—most visibly the abduction of teachers and students from Oriire Local Government Area in Oyo State, alongside a fresh wave of terrorist and bandit assaults across the northern regions. Their message was remarkably aligned: the criminals exploiting Nigeria's security vulnerabilities do not care about a person's religion, ethnic group, or which political party they support. Neither should the national response.
Sanwo-Olu framed the moment as a test of national character. He acknowledged the legitimate fear spreading through communities but argued that fear itself was the enemy's weapon. "Recent security incidents in parts of our country have understandably generated concerns among citizens," he said, before pivoting to what he saw as the real danger: allowing those incidents to fracture the country's unity. He warned explicitly against politicizing insecurity, against using the violence as ammunition in partisan disputes. Every death, he insisted, was a national tragedy regardless of where it occurred or whom it affected. The abducted teachers and students in Oyo State deserved the same solidarity and prayer as any other victims of violence.
What distinguished Sanwo-Olu's appeal was his insistence that government cannot solve this alone. He called on ordinary citizens to become active participants in their own security—through vigilance, through sharing intelligence with authorities, through refusing to harbor criminals or provide them shelter. He also paid tribute to the armed forces and security personnel risking their lives daily, framing their work as a collective national endeavor that deserved sustained public support and confidence.
Yari, speaking from his position as senator representing Zamfara West, echoed and expanded on these themes. He described the violence as deliberate attempts to sow division and erode Nigerians' faith in their own nation. The perpetrators, he argued, were not merely seeking to kill or kidnap—they were seeking to make Nigerians distrust one another, to fragment the country from within. He called on traditional rulers, religious leaders, youth organizations, and women's groups to actively promote dialogue and peacebuilding in their communities, treating security as a shared responsibility rather than something to be delegated to government.
Both leaders expressed confidence in President Bola Tinubu's leadership and the capacity of Nigeria's security institutions to ultimately prevail. But their confidence was conditional: it depended on the nation standing behind those institutions, on communities refusing to be divided, on Nigerians choosing unity over the easier path of blame and recrimination. Yari closed with a statement of faith: "With unity of purpose, faith in God and commitment to one another, we shall overcome these challenges. Nigeria will prevail."
What made these statements significant was not their novelty—calls for unity are standard fare in Nigerian political discourse—but their timing and their specificity. They came as the country faced a genuine security emergency, with kidnappings and attacks occurring with enough frequency to generate real public anxiety. In that context, the insistence that Nigerians must not allow the violence to become a tool for political division took on added weight. The message was clear: the moment for partisan point-scoring had passed. The moment for collective action had arrived.
Citas Notables
Recent security incidents have generated concerns, but we must remind ourselves of our national character. We are Nigerians. Our will is strong and our spirit is unbreakable.— Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu
Terrorists, bandits, and kidnappers do not distinguish between tribe, faith or political affiliation. Their victims are Nigerians. Therefore, our response must also be Nigerian, united, collective and unwavering.— Former Governor Abdulaziz Yari
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When two leaders from different regions make nearly identical calls for unity, are they responding to something specific happening right now, or is this more general?
It's specific. There were just kidnappings in Oyo State—teachers and students taken. And the north is seeing renewed attacks. That's the trigger. But the real concern in their statements isn't just the attacks themselves. It's that people are starting to interpret the violence through ethnic or political lines, and that's dangerous.
Why is that dangerous? Isn't it natural to notice patterns?
There's a difference between noticing patterns and using violence as a weapon in a political argument. If people start saying "this attack happened in the north because of X political group" or "this kidnapping happened because of Y ethnic tension," then the violence becomes a story about division rather than a story about criminals who need to be stopped. And that division is exactly what the criminals want.
So they're saying the criminals are winning if Nigerians turn on each other?
Exactly. Sanwo-Olu put it plainly: the criminals' goal is to weaken resolve and diminish confidence in the nation. If Nigerians are busy blaming each other instead of supporting security agencies and sharing intelligence, the criminals have already won half the battle.
But doesn't government have to actually solve the security problem? Can unity alone stop kidnappings?
No. Both leaders were clear that government and security agencies have to do their job. But they're saying that job becomes impossible if communities aren't cooperating, if people are withholding information out of political spite, if traditional leaders and religious figures aren't actively promoting peace. Security is framed as something that requires both institutional action and community participation.
What's the risk if this message doesn't land?
The violence continues, but now it's wrapped in ethnic and political grievance. Communities stop trusting each other. Intelligence sharing dries up. And the criminals operate in an environment where they're not just fighting security forces—they're exploiting divisions that Nigerians created themselves. That's when a security crisis becomes an existential one.