When Governor Babagana Zulum of Borno State cried out on national television that Boko Haram insurgents have informants among Nigeria’s politicians, soldiers, and even the communities they supposedly protect, he didn’t just drop a bombshell — he peeled back a festering wound that Nigeria has stubbornly bandaged for far too long. His revelations are more than just a bitter pill to swallow; they are a cold, hard slap of reality. It is not just that the house is on fire — it is that those meant to douse the flames are secretly fanning them.
For over a decade, Nigerians have endured the horrors of terrorism. From the Chibok and Dapchi schoolgirls’ abductions to the countless massacres in Baga, Gwoza, Konduga, and beyond, the nation has watched its north-east region bleed. Yet, after all these years and trillions of naira in defense spending, the terror persists — morphing, adapting, and metastasizing. If the enemy outside could not break us, the one inside surely will. Zulum’s bold admission confirms what many feared: the war is not just against rag-tag militants in the bush, but against betrayal embedded deep within the system.
Zulum’s disclosure that there are Boko Haram informants within the Nigerian military and political class is not a passing remark. It is an indictment. It underscores how deeply compromised our security architecture is. How do you win a war when the battle plans are handed over to the enemy by those sworn to defend the nation? It’s like playing chess with an opponent who sees your every move because your teammate whispers your strategy to them.
This chilling confession should send shockwaves through every echelon of power in Nigeria. But will it? Or will it, like so many other grave alarms, simply become tomorrow’s forgotten headline?
The fact that over 500,000 insurgents have “repented” and surrendered, as Zulum noted, is no small feat. But it begs critical questions: how were they recruited in the first place? Who enabled them? What systems were in place to prevent such radicalization? And most importantly, who among us — politicians, soldiers, civil servants — stood by or participated in this descent into chaos?
While Zulum maintains that “over 99%” of the surrendered insurgents are now law-abiding, he does not shy away from acknowledging that a fraction may relapse. In a country where even rehabilitated armed robbers are celebrated at parties, we must ask: what guarantees do we have that these “repentant” terrorists will not pick up arms again?
The governor also threw light on a painful irony — that insurgents seem better armed and technologically equipped than our military. In his words, “the army doesn’t have the necessary equipment on ground to fight the insurgency.” This, after Nigeria has allocated over ₦12 trillion to defense budgets in the last 10 years. How do we explain this gaping hole? Where are the weapons, surveillance drones, armored carriers, and night-vision capabilities these funds were meant to procure?
The bitter truth is that corruption has eaten deep into our defense and security sectors. We are waging a war on terror with rusty tools, outdated intelligence, and a few brave soldiers being sacrificed for a nation that has failed to arm them adequately. Meanwhile, the real saboteurs — those who profit from the continued insecurity — sleep comfortably in Abuja and hold press briefings about “progress.”
Zulum’s insistence that Nigeria needs both kinetic (military) and non-kinetic (social, political, and economic) strategies to defeat insurgency is a sound call to action. Guns alone cannot quench the flames of terrorism. We must also address the root causes: poverty, ignorance, unemployment, and systemic injustice. But even this multi-pronged approach is doomed to fail if insiders keep sabotaging the process.
The governor’s plea to President Bola Tinubu is a reminder that leadership must rise beyond politics. “The President needs to listen to people who can differentiate their left from their right,” Zulum warns. In other words, the era of sycophants and praise-singers must end. Tinubu cannot afford to be surrounded by ‘yes-men’ when the nation teeters on the edge of internal collapse. Intelligence should not be politicized. Merit, not loyalty, must guide national security appointments and decisions.
The mention of contractocracy — a culture where contracts take precedence over results — is another stone in this crumbling edifice. The war economy has become an industry of its own. There are powerful interests who benefit from the status quo — supply contracts for weapons that never arrive, feeding programs for IDPs that never happen, bogus rehabilitation projects for insurgents. In this cesspool of greed, the blood of innocent Nigerians flows freely.
The human cost of this betrayal cannot be overstated. Behind every statistic is a shattered home. A child orphaned. A woman widowed. A community displaced. These are not just numbers — they are the broken pieces of a nation crying for justice. Every insider who leaks intelligence to Boko Haram is not just a traitor — they are complicit in mass murder.
But all hope is not lost. Zulum’s courage to speak truth to power is a flicker of light in this overwhelming darkness. It takes a rare breed of leadership to admit the failures within and call for radical reform. His resolve to “deal with saboteurs ruthlessly” must be backed by federal willpower, judicial independence, and citizen vigilance.
Nigeria stands at a crossroads. We can continue to sweep these revelations under the rug, or we can confront them head-on. The path of denial is well-worn and drenched in blood. The path of accountability, though steep and narrow, may yet lead us to peace.
The time for half-measures and political lip service is over. The foxes are already in the henhouse — it’s time we stopped feeding them. Let Zulum’s voice not be the lone cry in the wilderness. Let it spark a movement for a new kind of Nigeria — one where patriotism triumphs over profit, and loyalty to country supersedes loyalty to insurgency.
Until then, the ghosts of the betrayed will continue to haunt us, not just in Borno, but across a nation caught between silence and survival.
Stanley Ugagbe is a Social Commentator. He can be reached via stanleyakomeno@gmail.com
