16/11/2025
Nigeria Is Not a Diarchy: Civil–Military Balance, Public Emotion, and the Misplaced Narratives of the Wike–Yarima Confrontation.
By
Sam Kargbo
Caveat:
This is not, in any way, a sweeping castigation of the Nigerian Military. Far from it. Nigeria’s constitutional democracy and Fourth Republic have benefited immensely from the cooperation, professionalism, and institutional maturity of the Armed Forces. The military has borne the weight of internal and external threats—often at extraordinary human cost—and that sacrifice should command the respect of any rational observer.
This intervention in the ongoing conversation about the confrontation between a naval officer and the Minister of the FCTA is not an indictment of the military as an institution; rather, it is a cautionary note, a red flag.
Public reactions to political incidents frequently reveal more about collective psychology than about the incidents themselves. The confrontation at Plot 1946 in Gaduwa District—where Wike, FCTA officials, and the Commissioner of Police were barred from accessing public land by naval personnel acting on the instructions of a retired service chief—has become a mirror reflecting Nigeria’s unresolved anxieties about power, authority, and personality politics.
What should have triggered a sober national conversation about lawlessness, the abuse of military authority, and the subordination of civil agencies to brute force instead degenerated into celebratory mockery of Wike. The emotional intensity of the public response reveals the workings of displacement, affective polarization, and cognitive simplification—mechanisms through which complex institutional failures are transformed into personalized battles.
Yet Nigeria is not, and constitutionally cannot be, a diarchy. The military is subject to civilian authority, and the incident exposes a troubling erosion of this foundational principle.
The heroization of Lt. Yarima represents a dangerous encouragement of military overreach. Public schadenfreude—derived from watching a disliked political figure challenged—must never be elevated above the imperatives of constitutional order. Celebrating insubordination because it embarrasses a polarizing official is a perilous precedent. A democracy cannot afford to confuse emotional satisfaction with institutional wisdom.
I. Introduction
The confrontation on 11 November 2025 between Nyesom Wike, Nigeria’s Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, and Lt. Ahmad M. Yarima of the Nigerian Navy has generated a level of national debate that far exceeds the material facts of the incident. What should have sparked a sober reflection on the misuse of military authority, the growing willingness of uniformed officers to contest civilian institutions, and the troubling implications of a retired service chief deploying serving personnel to obstruct statutory agencies instead evolved into a referendum on the personality of the Minister. The emotions directed toward Wike—shaped by years of political
controversy, governance disputes, and partisan realignments—were swiftly unleashed, creating a tidal wave of condemnations that washed away the core issue: the unconstitutional subordination of civil authority to military force.
Nigeria remains a constitutional democracy with a formal structure that places civilian institutions at the apex of governance. Yet, as the reaction to the Gaduwa incident makes clear, public attitudes are increasingly shaped less by constitutionalism than by personal and emotional biases. This divergence between legal norms and popular reaction raises deep concerns about the health of Nigeria’s democratic culture, the fragility of its civil–military boundaries, and the susceptibility of political judgment to affective polarization.
This article argues that the confrontation between Wike and Lt. Yarima exposed a latent crisis in Nigeria’s civil–military relations—one obscured by a psychological pattern of displacement in which individuals focused on personal antipathy rather than institutional principle. The incident underscores the urgent need to reaffirm the constitutional doctrine that the armed forces remain subordinate to civilian authority and that Nigeria is not—and must not drift toward becoming—a diarchy.
II. Constitutional Supremacy and the Limits of Military Authority
Nigeria’s constitutional design establishes an unequivocal hierarchy: elected leaders and civil institutions govern; the armed forces execute roles defined by civilian authority. This foundational rule exists not as a symbolic preference but as a historical safeguard. Post-colonial African states, Nigeria included, have often witnessed the consequences of blurred civil–military lines: governance paralysis, institutional decay, politicized command structures, and cycles of military intervention.
Against this backdrop, the events at Plot 1946 in the Gaduwa District are especially troubling. The land in question is a designated buffer zone—legally reserved for public environmental use and explicitly excluded from residential or commercial development. It was unlawfully partitioned and sold by private actors, including to a former
Chief of Naval Staff, Vice Admiral Awwal Zubairu Gambo. When officers of the FCTA Development Control attempted to enforce the law—first through posting stop-work notices and then through direct inspection—they were thwarted by uniformed naval personnel stationed at the site.
The Director of Development Control, after being denied entry, attempted institutional escalation. He contacted Lt. Yarima, advised him that his superior might have been misled because the land was not legally developable, and sent text messages urging compliance with statutory restrictions. These warnings were ignored. Even the Director of Security in the FCT, seeking guidance from the Chief of Defence Staff, was informed that the military could not intervene because Admiral Gambo had retired—an interpretation that, while procedurally convenient, sidestepped the fundamental issue: serving personnel cannot be deployed for private purposes.
By the time the Minister visited the site, the road had been barricaded, the naval personnel had asserted they were acting under “orders from above,” and civil authority had been directly challenged. This constituted a breach of constitutional order—one that cannot be legitimized by the emotional appeal or public admiration of military defiance.
III. Public Emotion and the Distortion of Political Judgment
The national reaction to the incident reveals a second, equally significant problem: the degree to which political judgment in Nigeria is shaped by emotional narratives rather than institutional principles. Wike is a polarizing figure. His confrontational approach, his political maneuvers, his rhetoric, and his unabashed style have created strong emotional responses across the political spectrum. For many Nigerians—already burdened by economic hardship, distrust of political elites, and frustration with governance—the incident provided an opportunity for emotional catharsis. The image of a Minister being rebuked by a young officer became a symbolic moment in which pent-up resentment found expression.
This psychological mechanism, known as displacement, allows individuals to direct their frustrations toward a convenient figure even when the true source of their discontent lies elsewhere.
The Navy officer’s defiance became a proxy victory over broader political dissatisfaction. The public celebration of the officer’s conduct, therefore, says less about the facts of the case and more about the emotional economy of contemporary Nigerian politics.
Such responses, however, obscure the actual stakes. The issue was not whether Wike deserved public embarrassment; it was whether Nigeria should normalize the idea that a retired military official may deploy armed personnel against a sitting Minister, a civilian agency, or any organ of government. The emotional excitement surrounding the exchange of words—particularly Wike’s question (“Are you a fool?”) and Yarima’s retort (“I am not a fool; I am a commissioned officer”)—allowed the public to fixate on personalities rather than principles.
This diversion is dangerous. Democracies rely not only on rules but on a political culture that understands and respects institutional boundaries. When personal dislike eclipses constitutional reasoning, citizens inadvertently become accomplices in eroding the very structures that protect them.
IV. Militarized Bravado Versus Constitutional Bravery
In the aftermath, musician and social critic Seun Kuti offered a remark that cut through much of the noise: Lt. Yarima’s true bravery would have been demonstrated in refusing to carry out an unlawful order, not in enforcing it with military vigor. This observation reflects a deeper truth about civil–military dynamics: courage is not demonstrated by performing illegality with confidence, but by upholding legal norms even when pressured by superiors.
The distinction between bravado and bravery is foundational to professional military ethics. A constitutional military is not merely one that refrains from coups; it is one in which officers recognize the supremacy of law over loyalty, legality over command, and institutional restraint over martial assertiveness. The ritualistic invocation of “acting on orders” cannot justify actions that contravene
statutory authority, particularly when carried out on behalf of a retired officer engaged in private property development.
When a society mistakes military defiance for heroism, it encourages a dangerous incentive structure: one that rewards officers for resisting civilian authority rather than respecting it. If public opinion becomes a cheering squad for military insubordination, the normative constraints that prevent democratic backsliding weaken.
V. Institutional Signaling and the Ambiguities of Military Response
The Defence Headquarters’ cryptic social-media post—“UNSHAKEN. UNBENT. UNBROKEN.”—though open to interpretation, was widely perceived as a symbolic endorsement of the naval officer’s conduct. The Minister of Defence’s subsequent statement, affirming that officers acting in “lawful duty” would be protected, added to the confusion by presenting a legally ambiguous scenario as a matter of routine procedure.
Signals from military institutions matter. They shape internal culture, influence public reaction, and either reinforce or undermine the principle of civilian supremacy. Even unintentional ambiguity can embolden those who perceive military authority as a counterweight to civilian governance. In societies with histories of military intervention, such signals carry heightened consequences.
The reluctance of the military hierarchy to clearly distance itself from the actions on Plot 1946 raises serious questions about institutional self-perception. A professional military must be as committed to internal discipline as to external security. It must demonstrate that it does not tolerate misuse of uniform or authority, whether by serving officers or by retirees who seek to politicize military networks for private gain.
VI. Preventing the Drift Toward Diarchy
A diarchy emerges when military and civilian authorities exercise overlapping or competing power, undermining the unity of command essential to democratic order. Nigeria formally rejected this
arrangement in 1999, but the Gaduwa incident reveals the subtle ways in which diarchic tendencies can resurface: through personal influence, institutional ambiguity, cultural deference to uniforms, and public romanticization of military defiance.
To prevent a drift toward diarchy, Nigeria must reaffirm core principles:
1. Civil authority is non-negotiable—no military officer, serving or retired, may countermand a civilian agency’s lawful actions.
2. Private interests cannot command public force—the use of serving personnel to enforce private property claims is incompatible with constitutional order.
3. Public sentiment must not be allowed to legitimize illegality—emotional reactions cannot be allowed to eclipse institutional reasoning.
4. The military must actively repudiate misuse of authority—silence or ambiguity enables future transgressions.
5. Civil institutions must exercise their authority confidently—hesitation signals weakness and invites challenge.
Nigeria’s democratic consolidation depends not only on electoral processes but on the daily enforcement of these principles.
Conclusion
The Wike–Yarima confrontation is more than a moment of political drama; it is a case study in the fragility of Nigeria’s civil–military boundaries and the susceptibility of public judgment to emotional distortion. While Wike's personality may evoke strong reactions, personal sentiment must never override constitutional principle. The central issue is clear: a retired military officer deployed uniformed service personnel to obstruct lawful civil authority, and large segments of the public celebrated the officer who executed that unlawful order.
Democracies fracture when citizens normalize military interference, celebrate insubordination, or fail to distinguish bravado from legality. Nigeria’s historical experiences make this especially perilous. The country cannot afford to drift—subtly or symbolically—toward a
system in which military authority coexists in parallel with civilian governance.
Nigeria is not a diarchy. It must never become one. Civil authority must remain unchallenged, not because politicians are flawless, but because the alternative is a political order in which law bows to the barrel of a gun and public emotion becomes a tool for legitimizing institutional decay.
In this moment, clarity is essential: the rule of law, not the charisma of officers or the unpopularity of ministers, must guide Nigeria’s democratic pathway. The nation’s future stability depends on it.
Sam Kargbo is a Senior Advocate of Nigeria who writes from Abuja, FCT.
