Suspected Boko Haram and Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) fighters intercepted a trailer loaded with maize and three trucks carrying building materials in northern Borno State, underscoring the Nigerian government’s continued failure to secure key territories more than a decade into the insurgency.

The attack occurred around 2:35 p.m. on Monday at Garin Kashim in Guzamala Local Government Area, barely 24 hours after insurgents massacred at least 17 civilians in nearby Guzamala-Abbari village. Despite repeated assurances from Abuja, the area remains effectively ungoverned.

Local and security sources said the insurgents mounted a roadblock, deflated the trucks’ tyres, and set the trailer’s head ablaze. The fire was narrowly contained before destroying the maize consignment. Two drivers remain missing, feared abducted or killed.

The ambush came shortly after 10 newly sworn-in local government chairmen held a meeting with military officials in Mairari village—one of the communities the Borno State Government plans to resettle internally displaced persons (IDPs) in.

“The terrorists don’t want civilians to return,” a security source said. “They have controlled Gudumbali and surrounding communities for over a decade. Any attempt to restore civil authority is violently resisted.”

Gudumbali, the headquarters of Guzamala LGA, has been deserted for years and remains firmly under Boko Haram control, despite repeated calls for federal military intervention.

IDP Resettlement Stalls Amid Renewed Attacks

The Borno State Government recently announced plans to repatriate more than 3,000 refugees from Cameroon and resettle thousands of IDPs. Mairari village was identified as one of the return locations, with temporary shelters already under construction.

But displaced persons in Monguno say the renewed violence has shattered confidence.

“There is no real military presence, no civil authority, and the surrounding areas are controlled by Boko Haram,” one IDP told reporters. “How are we supposed to go back?”

On Sunday, Borno State House of Assembly Speaker Abdulkarim Lawan confirmed that 12 bodies recovered from Guzamala-Abbari were buried in Monguno, while five others killed in nearby Nganzai were interred in Gajiram town.

Lawan, who represents Guzamala, again urged the federal government to reclaim the territory and reconstitute civil governance.

‘Repentant’ Militants vs Abandoned Victims

The latest attacks have reignited criticism of Abuja’s controversial policy of rehabilitating so-called “repentant” Boko Haram fighters while survivors struggle without justice, reparations, or psychosocial care.

In February 2020, Senator Mohammed Ali Ndume warned that many rehabilitated insurgents were returning to violence. His fears appeared validated on April 30, 2024, when gunmen dressed in military uniforms attacked a police station in Maiduguri to free detained fighters, later torching Nigeria Immigration Service and NDLEA checkpoints.

Human rights groups say the focus on deradicalisation has sidelined victims—especially women and girls subjected to rape, forced marriage, trafficking, and unlawful military detention.

A recent dialogue convened by the Al-Amin Foundation for Peace and Development in Maiduguri demanded accountability, reparations, and transitional justice for survivors. Amnesty International has repeatedly accused Nigerian authorities of unlawful detention, forced reintegration, and failure to prosecute perpetrators on both sides of the conflict.

A War Without Governance

More than 15 years after Boko Haram’s emergence, entire local governments in Borno remain outside state control. Roads are unsafe, food supplies are attacked, and civilians continue to die, while Abuja insists progress is being made.

For residents of Guzamala, Monguno, and Nganzai, the question is no longer whether Boko Haram is still active, but whether the Nigerian state has abandoned them altogether.

Nigeria’s legal establishment has been thrown into open confrontation following explosive claims by the President of the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA), Mazi Afam Osigwe, SAN, that corruption within the judiciary has reached crisis levels—so severe that court judgments increasingly depend on the “fatness of envelopes” rather than evidence or law.

Speaking at the Ralph Opara Memorial Lecture organised by the National Association of Seadogs in Enugu, Osigwe described Nigeria’s justice system as facing a “moral crisis and democratic emergency,” warning that public confidence in the courts is collapsing.

“The judiciary, once revered as the last hope of the common man, is now widely perceived as a marketplace where justice is auctioned to the highest bidder,” Osigwe said. “This perception alone is fatal to democracy.”

‘Name Names or Stop’: Senior Advocate Fires Back

Osigwe’s remarks immediately drew sharp pushback from senior figures within the profession.

Chief Joe-Kyari Gadzama, SAN, a Life Bencher and former Chairman of the Benchers Mentoring Committee, said the allegations, while serious, were incomplete and potentially damaging unless backed by specifics.

“There is nothing wrong with accusing the judiciary of corruption,” Gadzama told Vanguard. “But it is not enough. The NBA President must provide details, name the corrupt judicial officers and their accomplices, and take concrete steps to ensure investigation and prosecution. Anything short of this is spurious and unfair to the many honest judges.”

Gadzama warned that sweeping accusations risk tarnishing the reputation of diligent judicial officers who continue to uphold their oaths under difficult conditions.

The Data Behind the Accusations

Osigwe anchored his claims in official data. He cited a 2024 joint survey by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) and Nigeria’s National Bureau of Statistics, which found that public officials received an estimated ₦721 billion in cash bribes in 2023, with judicial officers ranked among the top recipients.

An earlier Independent Corrupt Practices Commission (ICPC) survey showed that ₦9.4 billion in bribes passed through the justice sector between 2018 and 2020, with lawyers and litigants identified as major bribe-givers.

Transparency International’s 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index ranked Nigeria 140th out of 180 countries.

“This rot has decimated public trust,” Osigwe said. “A compromised justice system protects the powerful and punishes the poor.”

Global Consequences of Domestic Failure

Osigwe warned that judicial dysfunction has driven Nigerians to seek justice abroad, citing landmark cases such as Okpabi v Royal Dutch Shell, where Niger Delta communities pursued redress in UK courts, and the controversial P&ID arbitration case, where a multi-billion-dollar award against Nigeria was overturned in London after fraud was exposed.

“These cases represent a global vote of no confidence in Nigeria’s justice system,” he said.

Calls for Radical Reform

To restore credibility, Osigwe proposed sweeping reforms, including:

• Merit-based judicial appointments
• State-level judicial academies
• Automated case assignment to eliminate manipulation
• Mandatory suspension of judges under investigation
• Removal of the Chief Justice of Nigeria as chair of the National Judicial Council
• Full implementation of judicial financial autonomy

“History will judge us not by our speeches, but by our willingness to act,” he said. “The temple of justice must be cleansed.”

Divided Bar, Shared Anxiety

Other senior lawyers acknowledged corruption but rejected blanket condemnation.

Kunle Edun, SAN, said corruption is a systemic national problem and not unique to the judiciary, adding that its impact is more painful because courts hold society together.

Ken Ahia, SAN, cautioned against equating poor judgments with corruption, noting that heavy caseloads, fatigue, and inadequate preparation also contribute to flawed decisions.

“There are many judges who would never trade their oath for any inducement,” Ahia said.

Similarly, Abuja-based senior lawyer Lamilekan Bakre said sweeping accusations amounted to “hasty generalisation” and ignored the sacrifices of upright jurists.

‘Some Judges Are Corrupt’: A Victim Speaks

Human rights lawyer Maxwell Opara, however, backed Osigwe’s claims, recounting his own experience with what he described as judicial bias and intimidation.

“Some judges are corrupt,” Opara said. “Some are swayed by fat envelopes; others by personal vendettas. The earlier we confront it, the better for all of us.”

Opara detailed a prolonged legal battle in which a judge allegedly refused to recuse himself despite petitions and sworn affidavits alleging bias, eventually forcing him to petition the National Judicial Council.

Judges as Kingmakers?

The controversy echoes arguments made by constitutional scholar and ex-Chair of Nigeria’s National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), Prof. Chidi Odinkalu in his book The Selectorate: When Judges Topple the People, which argues that Nigerian courts, particularly in election disputes, have effectively replaced voters as the ultimate deciders of political power.

Drawing from political science and Nigeria’s electoral history, Odinkalu contends that judges now act as both kingmakers and kings, determining who governs through rulings that often override ballots.

“Democracy no longer collapses with coups,” he argues. “It collapses quietly, with the gavel of a judge.”

A Judiciary at a Crossroads

Despite the criticisms, constitutional rights activist Chief Nkereuwem Udofia Akpan insisted that most judges remain upright and that the National Judicial Council has disciplined erring officers through suspensions and dismissals.

Still, the fierce debate exposes a deepening legitimacy crisis.

As Osigwe warned, the survival of Nigeria’s democracy may hinge on whether the judiciary can reclaim its role as an impartial arbiter, or whether public faith will continue to erode in a system many now see as serving power, not justice.

Concerns over Nigeria’s culture of public-sector waste have resurfaced, with professionals warning that the rotting Federal Government Secretariat in Ikoyi, Lagos—alongside three adjoining high-rise towers—has become one of the country’s most expensive symbols of neglect.

Built environment experts under the aegis of the Building Collapse Prevention Guild (BCPG) say the abandoned assets are conservatively valued at ₦12.608 trillion (about $9.3 billion) based on 2025 comparative market valuations, yet have been left to decay for decades in one of Lagos’ most valuable real estate corridors.

In an open letter to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, the group urged urgent intervention to rehabilitate and repurpose the Old Federal Government Secretariat and the adjoining 12-storey Ikoyi Towers, warning that continued abandonment represents not only financial waste but escalating safety, security, and reputational risks for the country.

A National Asset Rotting in Plain Sight

The Old Federal Secretariat, a 12-storey complex completed in 1976, was once the nerve centre of Nigeria’s federal bureaucracy. It was largely abandoned in 1991 after the seat of government moved to Abuja. A 1993 proposal to convert the complex into residential housing for about 480 families never materialised.

The adjoining Ikoyi Towers—three separate 12-storey buildings constructed in 1978—have also remained idle since 2005, according to public records.

Together, the properties occupy some of the most strategic land in Lagos: the Secretariat sits on roughly 120,000 square metres, while the Ikoyi Towers stand on an adjoining three-acre parcel measuring about 12,140 square metres.

Despite their prime location, successive administrations have failed to bring the assets back to life.

Billions Lost to Inaction

In the letter signed by Arc. Bola Arilesere, coordinator of the BCPG Ikoyi–Obalende Cell, and quantity surveyor Adebola Aseyera, the group estimated that Nigeria is forfeiting about ₦93.5 billion annually in potential rental income—net of operating costs—by leaving the buildings unused.

“This loss is particularly painful given Nigeria’s persistent housing deficit and growing demand for premium office and residential space,” the experts said.

They warned that prolonged abandonment has accelerated structural deterioration, significantly increased the eventual cost of rehabilitation, and exposed security personnel, informal occupants, nearby residents, and workers to avoidable safety hazards.

The group also raised alarms over rising vandalism, noting that steel scrap thieves and scavengers have increasingly targeted abandoned government buildings nationwide, stripping valuable components and speeding up decay.

Ikoyi and the Politics of Neglect

BCPG linked the Ikoyi decay to broader concerns about wasteful governance, especially at a time when Nigeria is borrowing heavily while critical infrastructure projects stagnate.

Recent reports from late 2025 and early 2026 have sparked public outrage over controversial budget items, including ₦3 billion reportedly earmarked for books for personal libraries and ₦6 billion for a legislative car park, even as the National Library remains unfinished more than 30 years after construction began.

A February 2026 report by BudgIT’s Tracka revealed that of 2,760 federal projects monitored nationwide, only about half were completed. Ninety-nine projects were fully abandoned, 471 were never executed despite budgetary allocations, and 92 projects worth ₦15.07 billion were flagged as “fraudulently delivered.”

Separately, the House of Representatives has launched an investigation into more than 11,000 abandoned federal landed properties across Nigeria, estimated to be worth over ₦20 trillion.

A Maintenance Culture That Never Took Root

Professionals say the Ikoyi Secretariat reflects a deeper institutional failure: Nigeria’s lack of a maintenance culture.

“Magnificent buildings decay within two decades because upkeep is ignored until collapse looms,” the group warned, describing a cycle where public assets are built, neglected, abandoned, and eventually written off—only for new ones to be funded.

This pattern persists even as federal spending on infrastructure declines. For the 2026 fiscal year, budgetary allocation to infrastructure fell by 13.1 percent to ₦3.56 trillion, down from ₦4.06 trillion in 2025, despite chronic shortages in power, healthcare, roads, and water access.

A Test for Tinubu’s Presidency

BCPG acknowledged what it described as positive momentum from the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Road Corridor, which has sparked housing and urban renewal along the Lagos Peninsula. The group argued that redeveloping the Ikoyi Federal Secretariat and Towers could catalyse similar regeneration.

Ikoyi, widely regarded as part of President Tinubu’s political and residential base, could become a showcase for responsible public asset management, the group said.

“Our sole demand is the restoration of active use to these national monuments,” the experts said. “Such action would enhance public safety, restore confidence in federal infrastructure management, and convert decades of underutilisation into opportunity.”

As Nigeria grapples with shrinking resources, rising debt, and growing public frustration, the abandoned Ikoyi Secretariat now stands as a stark question confronting the federal government: whether reform will extend beyond rhetoric to reclaim assets worth trillions—or whether they will continue to rot in silence.

After decades of failed repairs, ballooning costs, and public assurances that never matched reality, Nigeria has shut down its state-owned refineries—an admission, according to the head of the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPC Ltd), that the country has been “lying to itself.”

Bayo Ojulari, Group Chief Executive Officer of NNPC Ltd, said the decision to halt refinery operations marked a deliberate break from what he described as years of self-deception in Nigeria’s downstream oil sector.

“For years, we told ourselves stories,” Ojulari said while speaking at the Nigeria International Energy Summit. “But the numbers never supported those stories.”

The remarks come months after NNPC declared the Port Harcourt Refinery operational in November 2024 following a rehabilitation project that reportedly cost $1.5 billion. At the time, the company said the refinery was running at 70 percent capacity, with plans to scale up to 90 percent.

Public optimism was short-lived.

Within weeks, the refinery was shut down for what NNPC described as routine maintenance. As of July 2025, operations have yet to resume, overshooting the corporation’s own restart timeline and reinforcing long-standing skepticism around the viability of Nigeria’s government-run refineries.

From Optimism to Admission

The Port Harcourt announcement had sparked a public dispute between NNPC officials and former President Olusegun Obasanjo, who openly doubted claims that the refineries could be successfully revived. In response, NNPC’s spokesperson invited Obasanjo to tour the facilities—an invitation widely viewed as dismissive.

Months later, Ojulari’s comments appeared to validate Obasanjo’s scepticism.

NNPC has since acknowledged that selling the refineries remains an option. Ojulari said rehabilitation efforts proved “more complex than anticipated” and confirmed that “all options are being reviewed.”

For critics, the admission underscores what they say is a pattern of mismanagement stretching back decades.

Billions Spent, No Fuel Produced

Nigeria’s four state-owned refineries—Port Harcourt, Warri, and Kaduna—have a combined installed capacity of 445,000 barrels per day. Yet they have rarely operated at meaningful levels since the early 2000s.

In 2020 alone, NNPC reported spending ₦101.69 billion to maintain three refineries that processed zero crude oil throughout the year. The facilities collectively posted monthly operating losses ranging from ₦5.48 billion to more than ₦10 billion.

Between 2010 and 2023, Nigeria is estimated to have spent more than ₦11 trillion on refinery repairs and turnaround maintenance, even as the country relied almost entirely on imported fuel—draining foreign exchange reserves and worsening energy insecurity.

“We were running processes, not enterprises,” Ojulari said. “Money was going out, but value was not coming in.”

A System That Became a Ritual

Ojulari said internal reviews showed refinery operations had devolved into a ritualised system that rewarded spending rather than performance. Preventive maintenance culture collapsed, while turnaround maintenance cycles, often lucrative for contractors, became the norm.

“These refineries mean a lot to Nigerians emotionally,” he said. “But emotion cannot replace truth.”

He added that continuing to operate loss-making refineries without confronting their structural failures would have been irresponsible.

“At some point, leadership requires honesty,” Ojulari said. “You cannot fix a problem you refuse to acknowledge.”

Dangote Changes the Equation

Ojulari credited the privately owned Dangote Refinery for creating the space to confront reality.

“Whether you love Dangote or not, thank God it is working,” he said. “It allows us to stop pretending.”

With domestic refining capacity now emerging outside government control, NNPC says it is pursuing restructuring talks with “credible partners,” insisting that future reforms will focus on substance rather than cosmetic fixes.

“This shutdown is a moral decision as much as an economic one,” Ojulari said. “This is how nations grow—by telling themselves the truth.”

The killings continue—unabated—despite presidential orders, military deployments, and repeated assurances that the tide has turned.

In the early hours of Saturday, suspected armed militants stormed Karku community in Kauru Local Government Area of Kaduna State, abducting a Catholic priest and at least 11 others while killing three residents. The attack, residents said, was swift, coordinated, and executed with military-style precision.

The kidnapped priest, Rev. Fr. Nathaniel Asuwaye, is the parish priest of Holy Trinity Catholic Church, Karku, according to the Catholic Archdiocese of Kafanchan. Church officials confirmed that Asuwaye was taken alongside 10 villagers during the assault, which began around 3:20 a.m.

Witnesses described gunmen arriving in large numbers, firing indiscriminately as they moved from house to house before retreating into nearby forests with their captives.

“This attack has left our community devastated,” said Jacob Shanet, Chancellor of the Kafanchan Diocese, who confirmed that three residents—Jacob Dan’azumi, Maitala Kaura, and Alhaji Kusari—were killed during the raid.

The violence extended beyond Kauru.

In Kagarko Local Government Area, the Chief Imam of Janjala Central Mosque, Bello Abdullahi, and a Fulani community leader, Shehu Bello, were abducted in separate but related attacks. Armed groups reportedly struck multiple villages, abducting residents, rustling cattle, and forcing families to flee overnight.

A community leader said the attackers, armed with AK-47 rifles, arrived around 9 p.m., targeting community leaders first.

“They went straight for the imam. Then they took the Fulani leader. That was when people started running for their lives,” the source said.

Residents fled to nearby towns, while others slept in surrounding bushes, fearing further attacks.

Security sources said joint military and police units engaged the assailants in gun battles, but residents say such statements have become routine, rarely followed by arrests or rescues.

The kidnappings occurred days after armed groups reportedly issued a seven-day ultimatum demanding ₦6 million ransom for a previously abducted woman and her four children—an ultimatum that expired without visible security intervention.

Police authorities declined to comment. Repeated attempts to reach the Kaduna State Police spokesperson were unsuccessful.

Religious leaders warn that the attack reflects a deepening national crisis.

“The kidnapping of priests and innocent citizens has become unbearable,” said Rev. Joseph Hayab of the Northern Christian Association of Nigeria. “Despite repeated promises, the violence continues.”

A Familiar Pattern, a Failing State

Public affairs analyst Sa’adiyyah Adebisi Hassan says Kaduna is no anomaly.

“Kwara. Benue. Kaduna,” she said. “Different locations. Same script—massacres, condolences, deployments, silence, repeat.”

Nigeria, she argues, continues to misdiagnose terrorism as criminality rather than organized ideological violence sustained by financing, recruitment networks, and political hesitation.

Other nations confronted similar threats and prevailed by abandoning ambiguity. Sri Lanka dismantled the Tamil Tigers by reclaiming territory and crushing command structures. Colombia broke insurgent networks through intelligence and financial disruption. Egypt, Indonesia, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, and France asserted state authority through surveillance, religious regulation, elite counterterror units, and zero tolerance for enablers.

Nigeria, Hassan argues, has done the opposite—negotiating with killers, protecting narratives, and surrendering territory.

“Nigeria wants to defeat terrorism without offending anyone,” she said. “That is not how states survive.”

Why the Violence Persists

According to Hassan, Nigeria’s failure rests on five realities it refuses to confront:

Terrorism in Nigeria is ideological, not accidental.
Extremists operate with political, religious, and financial enablers.
Negotiation culture emboldens violence.
The state does not control large swathes of its territory.
Narratives are protected more than lives.

As long as armed groups dictate movement, worship, and survival in rural communities, no number of operations or press statements will restore security.

The Choice Ahead

Ending the violence, Hassan argues, requires naming terrorism as terrorism, criminalizing incitement, dismantling funding networks, reclaiming territory, and building elite, intelligence-driven counterterror units.

Above all, it requires political resolve.

“Terrorism does not defeat states,” she said. “Indecision does.”

For communities like Karku and Janjala, the consequences of that indecision are already written—in empty homes, mass graves, and abducted leaders.

Until Nigeria chooses authority over ambiguity, tomorrow will bring another kidnapping, another condolence message, and another promise that changes nothing.