By Halima Imam
The tragedy unfolding in Benue State is a brutal indictment of our national conscience. This is no longer just a regional crisis, it is a stain on our collective identity and a test of our commitment to justice, equity, and humanity. How long will the people of Benue cry for help before Nigeria listens with action rather than pity?
Once celebrated as the “Food Basket of the Nation,” Benue is now a battlefield where farms have become graveyards, schools lie in ruin, and hope is being eroded by gunfire and displacement. The death toll, over 2,600 in just one year, is not a statistic. It is a loud scream echoing from communities whose pleas have too often gone unanswered.
The efforts by the Nigerian military joint task forces, the deployment of Operation Wild Stroke II, high-level visits, and the delivery of vehicles and motorbikes are commendable steps. But these responses, while crucial, remain largely reactive and insufficient in scope. We cannot continue to fight 21st-century threats with 20th-century tactics. A military presence without a community partnership is a bandage on a festering wound.
To truly solve Benue’s insecurity, we must go deeper into the soil of grievances, historical neglect, and systemic failure that has bred this crisis. The reality is that no amount of firepower can replace the healing power of justice. There must be full and fair implementation of the Anti-Open Grazing Law, not as a political statement but as a legal imperative to protect lives and property. The law must serve everyone equally no favoritism, no immunity, no sacred cows.
Our local vigilantes, those brave men and women who refuse to cower, must be given more than moral support. With proper training, funding, and oversight, they can become the backbone of rural security. But these efforts must be guided by human rights principles. Security must never be an excuse for abuse or for soldiers occupying schools, turning sanctuaries of learning into barracks.
And then there is the question of memory, what happens after the shooting stops? For the displaced thousands, rebuilding must go beyond housing. It must include healing, through trauma counseling, economic empowerment, and targeted support for women and children. Reopening schools, rebuilding farms, and restoring faith in justice systems are not luxuries; they are non-negotiables if we are to prevent another cycle of violence.
Long-term solutions like ranching and agricultural zoning must also be demystified. The idea is not to alienate herders, but to modernize and stabilize an outdated system that has become a flashpoint for violence. With inclusive planning, incentives, and honest dialogue, ranching can benefit both farmers and herders, educing conflict while boosting productivity.
We must recognize that the people of Benue are not just victims; they are survivors who have shown extraordinary resilience in the face of abandonment. Their courage should shame us into urgency. Because when a part of our nation burns, the whole house is at risk. We must all treat Benue’s pain as our responsibility, not just their burden.
Let’s stop asking what more Benue can endure and start demanding what more Nigeria will do. Justice is not a gift, it is a right. And the peace Benue seeks cannot wait for the next attack to jolt us into temporary action. This is the time for bold leadership, for collective resolve, and for every Nigerian to say: Never again will any part of our nation be forsaken.
Only then will the seeds of peace take root, and grow strong in the very soil where pain once reigned.
*Imam, a public analyst, writes from axk4lima@gmail.com
