By Francis Onabis
The recent remarks by the President of the United States on Truth Social, directed at the Nigerian government, have once again laid bare the fragility of Nigeria’s leadership. They exposed how vulnerable and reactive our government has become in the face of both internal and external pressures. Yet, rather than taking offence at foreign criticism, Nigerians must confront an uncomfortable truth: help will not come from outside. Our redemption lies within — and it begins with accountability.
The roots of Nigeria’s insecurity run deep into the soil of political irresponsibility. The political class bears the greatest share of blame for the country’s current state. For decades, politicians have weaponized poverty, ethnicity, and religion for personal gain. They have turned the frustrations of young people into instruments of violence, and they have introduced corruption into every sector — including the military, once regarded as the pride of the nation.
Even the most decisive appointments or reshuffling of service chiefs will change little if the political foundation remains corrupt. Leadership is not strengthened by titles or uniforms but by integrity, competence, and the will to serve.
It is important to acknowledge that the killings and kidnappings across Nigeria are not rooted in religion. Both Christians and Muslims are victims. The bloodshed we witness daily is a symptom of governance failure, not a clash of faiths. Framing it as a religious conflict distracts us from the real issue — a system that has failed to provide security, justice, and opportunity for its people.
As someone who grew up in southern Nigeria in the 1980s, I struggle to reconcile today’s reality with the Nigeria of that era. It is difficult to believe that a person from the North would once have seen a fellow Nigerian as an enemy simply because of religion. There was a time when communal bonds were stronger than sectarian divides. What changed is not our humanity, but the forces that manipulated it.
Before the arrival of foreign religions and colonial structures, Nigerians had their own belief systems and moral order. Communities lived by values that emphasized respect, unity, and accountability. Conflicts were resolved through dialogue and communal justice, not bloodshed. Over time, we abandoned those values and embraced external systems that deepened division instead of fostering harmony.
If Nigeria must truly overcome its insecurity challenges, it must rediscover its cultural essence — a shared sense of belonging that transcends religion and ethnicity. We must rebuild from the bottom up, restoring faith in our local communities and institutions.
The first step is to accept that insecurity is not a regional or religious problem; it is a national one. It affects the farmer in Zamfara as much as the trader in Enugu. Until we stop viewing one another through the lenses of faith and ethnicity, and instead unite around a shared vision for peace and justice, our collective suffering will persist.
Nigeria’s rebirth will not be engineered by foreign allies or by political slogans. It will come only when leadership accepts responsibility and the people demand a return to integrity, discipline, and cultural pride. The path forward begins not with blame, but with introspection — and the courage to rebuild what has long been broken.