The brutal massacre in the Yelwata community of Benue State, where over 200 people reportedly lost their lives in yet another wave of violent conflict, has brought Nigeria face-to-face once again with the deadly consequences of failed leadership. In a nation fatigued by ceaseless bloodshed, the reaction of President Bola Tinubu’s administration has only deepened public disillusionment and confirmed what many already fear—that Nigeria’s leadership lacks the empathy, urgency, and competence to steer the country away from collapse.
What is most damning is not just the violence itself, but the casual, almost indifferent response from the highest levels of power. The Presidency’s public statement, signed by media aide Bayo Onanuga, seemed to emerge from a place of political calculation rather than moral outrage. It was cold, evasive, and perfunctory—far removed from the gravity of a crisis that saw an entire community wiped out in a matter of hours.
Language That Betrays Leadership
By characterising the Benue killings as “reprisal attacks,” the government not only diminished the horror of the event but inadvertently legitimised it. The term “reprisal” implies a reaction—a form of justification, even if unintended. For a Presidency to use such language without concrete evidence or verified intelligence raises serious ethical and administrative concerns. It betrays a troubling detachment from the lived realities of the Nigerian people and reflects a government more interested in preserving political alliances than confronting violent actors.
The use of that term also signals a dangerous trend—of shifting blame and moral equivalence rather than naming perpetrators and delivering justice. If the government truly possesses information suggesting the attack was retaliatory, then why withhold details of the original offense? Where is the transparency in governance? Such ambiguity fosters impunity, allowing bloodthirsty actors to continue their campaigns of violence, confident that the state will either look away or issue another ambiguous statement.
Reconciliation Without Justice
Even more galling is the government’s rush to urge reconciliation between “warring communities.” The bodies of the murdered are not yet buried, families are still reeling in grief, and yet the state’s highest office is already advocating forgiveness—without accountability. Calls for reconciliation ring hollow in the absence of justice. It’s a bitter irony that the poor, often left unprotected and unrepresented, are told to “move on,” while even the pettiest grievances of the elite spark full-blown political retaliation.
Would the government have responded so passively if an attack of this magnitude occurred in a more affluent community? Or if it involved political allies and influential figures? The moral double standard is jarring. It reinforces a narrative where rural lives are expendable, and the demands of governance are secondary to political survival.
Governance as an Afterthought
President Tinubu’s belated comment that he would “adjust his schedule” to visit Benue reveals just how far removed his administration is from the people’s suffering. The remark is more than just tone-deaf; it is emblematic of an administration that views national crises as distractions from its political ambitions. What, exactly, is the President too busy doing that a massacre of over 200 people requires an adjustment to his calendar?
This perception—that governing is secondary to politicking—has been a recurring theme throughout Tinubu’s presidency. From his inaugural address in 2023 to the present, there has been a visible emphasis on optics over substance. Grand speeches, recycled directives, and vague promises have taken the place of concrete action. The President and his allies seem more preoccupied with consolidating power ahead of the 2027 election than with tackling the insecurity, poverty, and dysfunction that plague the country.
A Hollow Security Strategy
The Tinubu administration’s security approach mirrors the empty tactics of past governments: issuing “directives” to security chiefs, declaring vague intentions to act, and celebrating superficial victories. When Tinubu claims to have instructed his officials to “implement his earlier directive,” it raises questions about how governance is being conducted at the highest level. Is there a chain of command that actually follows through, or is the President merely recycling announcements to pacify public outrage?
History has shown that such pronouncements do little to resolve Nigeria’s complex security challenges. Former President Muhammadu Buhari once boasted about setting up a military command centre in Maiduguri and “technically defeating” Boko Haram. Years later, terrorism, banditry, and communal violence remain pervasive. Now, Tinubu’s administration appears to be walking the same tired path—talking tough, acting slow, and achieving little.
Meanwhile, national security has deteriorated further. From the North-East to the Middle Belt, from Zamfara to Benue, violent non-state actors operate with shocking ease. Communities are burned, lives are lost, and the government’s only response is more press statements and empty promises.
A Leadership Vacuum
In truth, the Tinubu presidency has been more adept at political chess than national leadership. His skills in forging alliances and winning elections are undeniable. But governance requires more than strategy—it requires vision, compassion, and courage. So far, these qualities have been in short supply.
There is a growing sense that Nigeria is being governed by people more invested in self-congratulation than national transformation. Most of the activities associated with this administration—photo ops, project inaugurations, high-level meetings with partisan motives—suggest a regime preparing for its next election, not a government determined to solve pressing problems.
This leadership vacuum has real consequences. Policies are being rolled out without adequate planning or consultation, hurting the most vulnerable. The removal of fuel subsidies, while perhaps economically necessary, was implemented without effective social cushioning mechanisms, pushing millions into deeper poverty. Meanwhile, inflation continues to soar, unemployment remains high, and insecurity is now a permanent feature of everyday life.
The Way Forward: Less Politics, More Governance
It is time for President Tinubu to realise that Nigeria cannot be ruled like a political party. The country needs leadership that prioritises people over politics, justice over reconciliation, and governance over gimmickry. We are past the point of flowery statements and cosmetic reforms. What is required is a full-fledged security overhaul, rooted in community engagement, intelligence-driven operations, and serious accountability.
Furthermore, the culture of impunity must end. Government officials should be held accountable for negligence and failure to protect lives. Security chiefs who cannot deliver must be replaced, and victims of violence must be compensated. The government must invest in rebuilding trust with affected communities, not through empty promises but through visible action and sustained support.
The root causes of violence—poverty, exclusion, ethnic tension, and political manipulation—must also be addressed. This means reforming the justice system, increasing economic opportunities, and depoliticising security decisions.
Conclusion: Nigeria Deserves Better
The Yelwata massacre is not just a Benue tragedy; it is a Nigerian tragedy. It speaks to a broader systemic failure—one that cannot be fixed with photo ops, directives, or cosmetic reforms. Nigerians are not asking for miracles. They are asking for leadership—leadership that listens, acts, and takes responsibility.
President Tinubu must rise above the politics that got him into office and embrace the governance that will define his legacy. History will not remember who won the 2027 election if the country continues to bleed. It will remember who stood up when Nigeria needed healing and who chose convenience over compassion.
The clock is ticking. Nigeria cannot afford any more wasted time—or wasted lives.