In 2020, shortly after the COVID-19 lockdown, I was driving in a Peugeot 406 around Area 1, Abuja, with a man whose calmness carried the weight of deep experience. He had once served as a security officer to a former Nigerian Head of State, and his résumé could make a Hollywood agent pause, sniper, bodyguard, combat-trained protector, with advanced drills in Israel and Eastern Europe. As we cruised past a convoy, he chuckled and said something that stuck with me: “These ones don’t understand body protection; they only know body display.” That day, I learned that real VIP protection is not about spectacle. It’s about anticipation, discretion, and strategic positioning. Protection is silent; its absence is loud.
Watching the recent public altercation involving FCT Minister, Nyesom Wike, I couldn’t help recalling that ride in the 406 around Area 1. My conclusion was clear: his security aides failed him completely. They forgot the golden rule in the face of provocation, shield your principal, don’t escalate the situation. Rather than tactically move their boss away, they froze, helplessly watching tension rise. Ironically, at the peak of the confrontation, it was Wike, the supposed VIP, who ended up shielding his own security aides! A role reversal that exposes not just incompetence, but a systemic decay in VIP security culture. Is this the type of security that can protect 250 million people? Security personnel that falter in protecting just one individual cannot be trusted to safeguard a nation.
Amid the chaos, one figure stood out: Young Naval Lt. Yerima. His composure, discipline, and professionalism were educative, commendable, and inspiring, showing that our Military Training School is producing personnel who can represent the nation with excellence anywhere, irrespective of circumstance. His presence demonstrates that courage is not about aggression, but about control, foresight, and dignity under pressure. A lesson every security professional and policymaker should study.
Sadly, many of today’s security aides have turned protection into performance theater. Opening doors, carrying bags, clearing traffic arrogantly, or harassing civilians is not security its pageantry. The “yes-sir” culture has replaced critical thinking. A guard’s loyalty should not blind him to risk assessment. Their duty is prevention, not optics. When VIPs walk into public confrontations unchecked, it exposes a structural failure in our approach to national security and leadership management.
It’s urgent to reintroduce tactical intelligence, emotional acuity, and anticipatory training into VIP protection. Security is not brute strength or armed posturing it is strategy, foresight, and controlled execution. Until this culture changes, we will keep witnessing bodyguards who can shoot straight but cannot think straight. In protection, a true guard is heard only when it matters never seen when it’s not.
How can a country claim progress if its guardians cannot protect even one of its leaders effectively? Is our focus on optics over substance creating vulnerabilities that extend far beyond VIPs?
