What Nigeria needs 

‘What the nation needs is partnership built on respect, not paternalistic force. Nigeria must chart its own path to stability, drawing strength from unity and reform, not from interventions that history has proved disastrous’ .

Can America’s military invasion bring good tidings to Nigeria? My answer: Foreign intervention has never been the cure for internal troubles. Lest we forget, every time powerful nations have marched into weaker ones with promises of salvation, the outcome has been heartbreak, not healing.

Somalia learnt this bitter lesson in the early 1990s when American troops landed to restore peace but left behind ruins and resentment. Iraq, too, was promised freedom and democracy. Yet, years, later it is still haunted by instability, terror, and division. Libya is still not out of the woods.

Nigeria’s security crisis is grave, but it is also complex. It is born not only of extremist violence but of inequality, corruption, and a sense of exclusion that fuels despair. Invading Nigeria will only pour gasoline on smoldering fires.

More than a decade ago, I asked the then United States Ambassador to Nigeria, Terence McCulley, what Nigeria needed to defeat Boko Haram. His response, delivered through an email interview in 2012, reads today like a timeless memo to any government genuinely determined to end the cycle of terror, poverty, and despair that has haunted the North. McCulley was not one for dramatic prescriptions. He was analytical, and direct. His words, steeped in diplomacy, cut to the heart of what Nigeria’s leadership has often failed to grasp — that security alone cannot crush an idea born from inequality and sustained by injustice.

McCulley’s view was simple yet profound. Nigeria’s battle against Boko Haram, he said, required a multi-faceted approach. The problem was never just about guns and bombs. It was also about hunger, hopelessness, and the collapse of trust between citizens and the state. He stressed that while the security forces must confront those who bear arms, the government must do much more to reassure ordinary Northerners that their lives and livelihoods matter. The war, in his view, could not be won if soldiers became the only face of government in the region.

He cautioned that military action must be precise and humane. Civilian casualties, he warned, would only deepen grievances and make extremists look like avengers of the oppressed. His advice was clear: Nigeria needed a broad-based strategy that recognised the link between development, poverty, and violence. Each bomb that tore through a market or a mosque, he implied, was not just a sign of security failure, but a reflection of years of neglect.

The ambassador proposed something few in authority were willing to consider at the time — a social and economic compact between the government and the North. He urged Nigeria to develop a long-term economic recovery strategy that would work in tandem with its security operations. In his estimation, the government could learn from how it managed the Niger Delta crisis, where dialogue, infrastructure projects, and targeted development programmes helped to calm the storm after years of militancy.

To institutionalise this response, McCulley suggested the creation of a Ministry of Northern Affairs or a development commission similar to the Niger Delta Development Commission. He envisioned an agency that could focus attention and resources on rebuilding the region’s battered economy, rehabilitating its youths, and restoring confidence in government. Such a move, he believed, would show that the federal government was not just reacting to violence but was committed to preventing it.

He also addressed some of the myths that were circulating at the time. There were claims that Boko Haram was largely composed of foreigners, or that it was being bankrolled by defeated politicians. McCulley dismissed these as unsubstantiated, saying there was no credible evidence to support them. By doing so, he pushed the conversation away from convenient scapegoats and back to uncomfortable truths — that Boko Haram thrived not because outsiders imposed it, but because insiders allowed despair and division to fester.

McCulley’s prescription went further. He argued that to fix the problem, Nigeria needed the full participation of Northern governors, traditional rulers, and local institutions. Security, in his view, could not be centralised in Abuja. It had to be built from the ground up, rooted in communities that understood their own realities. He noted that the people of the North were trapped between two dangers — the extremists who terrorised them and the heavy-handed state that often responded with more violence. The only way out, he said, was for leadership to “go to extraordinary lengths to fix their problems.”

He acknowledged that such a task would not be easy. Even the Niger Delta amnesty and its accompanying development programs took years to yield results. But McCulley urged Nigeria to act faster and more decisively in the North, where the insurgency was spreading like wildfire. He warned that delay would only harden the crisis. The key, he said, lay in discipline, consistency, and local accountability.

Years later, his words still ring true. Nigeria has poured trillions of naira into fighting Boko Haram and its splinter groups. Entire divisions of the army have been deployed. Foreign allies have supplied intelligence and training. Yet, for every village recaptured, another slips into despair. The North-East remains one of the poorest regions on earth, its schools destroyed, its farms abandoned, its youths unemployed. The very grievances McCulley spoke about have not only persisted but multiplied.

Had Nigeria heeded his advice, perhaps the story would be different. A Ministry of Northern Affairs could have coordinated reconstruction, attracted international development aid, and ensured that communities saw tangible changes. A renewed social compact could have made the people partners in peace, not passive victims of both insurgents and the state. Instead, bureaucracy, corruption, and short political memory have kept the country circling the same mountain.

McCulley also touched on a theme that remains central to Nigeria’s many challenges — transparency. He called on the government to ensure greater openness in the use of public funds and to prosecute those who misuse them. It was a polite but pointed reminder that corruption fuels insecurity as much as ideology does. Money meant for schools, hospitals, and jobs often ends up in private pockets, leaving despair in its wake and making extremism look like an escape.

At the time of that interview, Boko Haram was still largely a Northern Nigerian problem. Today, its ripple effects are felt across the country. Banditry, kidnapping, and communal violence have become the new vocabulary of fear. What began in Maiduguri has echoed in Zamfara, Niger, and even parts of the South. McCulley’s insistence that the fight must be as much about development as about defence now sounds prophetic.

There is still a narrow window to redeem his counsel. Nigeria can still design a genuine post-insurgency framework — one that goes beyond slogans and security budgets. It must invest in education, job creation, and civic trust. It must listen to the traditional rulers who still command moral authority in many parts of the North.

In that 2012 exchange, McCulley ended on a hopeful note. He said Nigeria was too important to be defined by its problems. It must be defined by its promise, its potential, and the resourcefulness of its people. That line deserves to be written in stone. Nigeria’s future will not be secured by the barrel of a gun alone, but by the steady hands of leaders who remember that peace is built, not imposed.

My final take: What the nation needs is partnership built on respect, not paternalistic force. The fight against terror requires intelligence, trust, and investment in education and opportunity. Lest we forget, those who invite foreign guns to solve domestic problems often lose both peace and dignity. Nigeria must chart its own path to stability, drawing strength from unity and reform, not from interventions that history has proved disastrous.