By Kachi Okezie, Esq.
The smoke rising from the recent precision strike against ISWAP targets in Sokoto is more than just a tactical victory in a distant theatre of the global war on terror. For the embattled communities of Nigeria’s Middle Belt and North East, those plumes of smoke represent a long-overdue acknowledgement of a harrowing reality: Nigeria has become a killing field, and the international community can no longer afford the luxury of diplomatic silence.
As Nigerians and the world grapple with the implications of direct military intervention on Nigerian soil, the discourse has largely centred on the abstractions of “sovereignty” and “geopolitics.” But to view this event through a purely political lens is to ignore the visceral, blood-soaked context that necessitated it. We must ground this conversation in a truth that many in Abuja and Western capitals find inconvenient: the targeted violence against Christians in Nigeria has evolved beyond mere “insecurity.” It has met the grim, legal, and moral threshold of genocide.
Genocide is not a term to be used lightly; it is the “crime of crimes,” defined by the intentional and systematic elimination of a group. This is achieved through mass killing, violent eviction from ancestral lands, and the calculated destruction of the means of survival. In Nigeria, this definition is being fulfilled with terrifying precision.
For over a decade, a pattern has emerged that defies the “clash of farmers and herders” narrative so often peddled by the state. This is not a resource war; it is an existential one. The evidence is stark: over 90% of the millions of Nigerians languishing in Internally Displaced Person (IDP) camps are Christians. Their villages are not just attacked; they are occupied. Their churches are not just burned; they are replaced. Their farms—the very heartbeat of their survival—are seized by invaders, leaving survivors with no home to return to and no means to feed their children.
Critics often argue that because Muslims are also killed by groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP, the label of genocide is inapplicable. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of international law. The fact that a wildfire consumes everything in its path does not mean the arsonist didn’t have a specific target. What defines genocide is the intent to eliminate a specific group. The relentless, documented targeting of Christian clergy, the destruction of Christian villages, and the rhetoric of the perpetrators—who openly declare their mission to establish a fundamentalist Caliphate—provide the smoking gun of genocidal intent.
The cries for help from the Middle Belt have been piercing, yet they have largely fallen on deaf ears within the corridors of the Nigerian state power. For years, advocacy groups and traditional rulers have submitted petitions and provided GPS coordinates of terrorist hideouts, only to be met with lethargy or, worse, complicity.
When a government fails to protect its citizens, or when sections of its security apparatus are seen to be shielding the aggressors, the social contract is voided. This institutional failure forced the victims to look beyond their borders. Frustrated by a domestic government that seemed more interested in “rehabilitating” terrorists than protecting their victims, Nigerian Christians turned to their global faith community.
That advocacy reached the highest levels of the US government, leading to the decisive action we see today.
Some observers, including recent reports from international outlets like Sky News, have questioned the choice of Sokoto as the strike zone, noting that the most notorious “killing fields” are situated in the Middle Belt and the North East. On the surface, this geographical shift seems puzzling—until one considers the source of intelligence. As one astute commentator recently noted, if the US had relied solely on intelligence supplied by the Nigerian government, it is highly doubtful that Sokoto would have appeared on the radar at all.
The strike suggests that the US is no longer looking through the filtered lens provided by Abuja. It indicates a bypass of local obfuscation, targeting the logistical hubs and gathering points of groups like ISWAP and the Lakurawa militants before they can descend upon the vulnerable populations of the South and Middle Belt. By striking in Sokoto, the US is not ignoring the genocide in the Middle Belt; it is cutting off the head of the snake in the areas the Nigerian state has historically claimed were “secure.”
A curious criticism has also emerged in the wake of the strike: why should one victim group receive “special” international attention? This question misses the mark. If other groups affected by the violence have not mounted similar global advocacy efforts, we must ask why. Did they accept the carnage as an immutable “will of God”? If so, that is a theological choice. But it is a choice that cannot be forced upon those who refuse to be slaughtered in silence.
The Christians of Nigeria have chosen to fight for their right to exist. To object to their seeking of international protection is to essentially demand that they participate in their own extermination for the sake of a false national unity.
The perpetrators are primarily Fulani militants—ranked as one of the deadliest terror groups globally—and jihadist organisations like ISWAP and Boko Haram. These groups share a radical ideology that views the “infidel” as targets for elimination. The Sokoto strike targeted the infrastructure of this extremism. By doing so, the US has signalled that the era of “strategic patience” with Nigerian terror is over.
However, a single mission does not stop a genocide. Sustained action is required on several fronts: an official international inquiry to designate these killings as genocide, accountability for Nigerian officials aiding or abetting militants, and a Marshall Plan for IDPs to ensure Christians can return to their ancestral lands with guaranteed security.
As Nigerians, we must look past the knee-jerk reactions of wounded national pride. Sovereignty is not a shield for state-sponsored or state-ignored mass murder. The lives and dignity of our citizens must be the ultimate priority. The world is finally watching, and more importantly, the world is acting.
The Sokoto strike is a clarion call. It tells the victims that they are seen, and it tells the perpetrators that the world’s most powerful forces are no longer content to watch from the sidelines. It is time to end the bloodshed, seek justice for the martyred, and rebuild a Nigeria where “faith” is a source of peace, not a death sentence.
The views expressed by contributors are strictly personal and not of Law & Society Magazine.
