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Bandits or Terrorists? Nigeria’s Unequal Justice and the Politics of Labels in Nigeria
By Engr. Tamunofiniarisa Brown
Introduction
Nigeria stands at a moral crossroads. The same nation that crushes dissenters in one region rolls out amnesty programmes for violent actors in another. The contradictions are stark; the hypocrisy is unmissable.
While bandits—heavily armed groups terrorising the Northwest—walk free under the guise of “dialogue” and “rehabilitation”, those who once fought for justice in the Niger Delta are forever branded militants, and Biafran activists are crushed as terrorists.
It begs the question: Is Nigeria truly one nation—or a country divided by tribal bias and political convenience?
The Bandit Paradox
Across northern Nigeria, “bandit” has become an oddly gentle term for groups responsible for mass killings, abductions, and the displacement of thousands. Despite their atrocities, these armed gangs are often treated as wayward children rather than criminals.
Some state governors have held peace talks with them; others have paid ransom disguised as “negotiations”. In some cases, these so-called repentant bandits return to the forests to continue their bloody trade.
Despite repeated calls, the Federal Government has refused to label them terrorists. Their actions mirror Boko Haram’s brutality, yet the language remains watered down—soft enough to comfort political sensitivities.
When Militants Fought for Bread, Not Blood
The Niger Delta struggle was born out of decades of exploitation, oil pollution, and neglect. The people rose not to destroy the nation but to demand justice for a region that fuels Nigeria’s economy yet lives in poverty.
Although their actions—blowing up pipelines and disrupting oil production—shook the country, their motive was rooted in equity, not conquest. The 2009 amnesty programme was a partial acknowledgement of their legitimate grievances.
Yet today, the word ‘militant’ remains a scarlet label, wielded to stereotype and suppress.
Why is fighting for economic emancipation considered rebellion, while kidnapping for ransom earns dialogue and forgiveness?
The Proscribed and the Protected
The case of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) adds another layer to Nigeria’s selective justice. In 2017, the group was swiftly proscribed and declared a terrorist organisation—long before it became violent.
Their primary tools were words and protest banners, not AK-47 rifles. Still, they were crushed with military might.
Meanwhile, hundreds of northern “bandits” who slaughtered children and razed villages are described in the media as gunmen, attackers, or repentant insurgents.
It is a double standard so glaring that even the blind can see it.
The Language of Injustice
Words shape perception. By choosing the term ‘bandit’ instead of ‘terrorist’, the Nigerian state sanitises brutality and shields perpetrators from accountability.
In contrast, ‘militant’ and ‘terrorist’ are used liberally for groups from the South, painting them as existential threats to the nation.
This linguistic hypocrisy reinforces an ethnic hierarchy—where crimes are judged not by their severity, but by the origin of the criminal.
Justice in Nigeria, it seems, wears regional lenses.
Amnesty or Impunity?
Amnesty, by definition, is a tool for healing and reconciliation. Yet in Nigeria, it has become a political instrument—a bargaining chip handed out selectively.
When the Niger Delta militants accepted amnesty, they laid down arms in exchange for training and inclusion. But the same programme, when extended to northern bandits, appears to serve as a revolving door for impunity.
No clear framework, no accountability, no justice for victims—just public theatre dressed as peace.
If amnesty is meant to heal, why does it feel like a reward for violence when applied selectively?
Is Nigeria Truly One?
The foundation of any nation lies in equal justice. When one region is coddled and another crushed, unity becomes an illusion.
The South-East watches its youth languish in prison for waving flags, while northern bandits pose for photographs with governors. The Niger Delta remains under economic siege, its creeks monitored by the same government that pays stipends to murderers in the North.
The message is clear: In Nigeria, justice depends on your geography.
What Must Change
If Nigeria must endure, justice must be colour-blind, tribe-blind, and region-blind.
- Call crimes by their true names. Banditry on this scale is terrorism.
- Apply laws equally. Amnesty should not be a reward for politically convenient criminals.
- Engage legitimate grievances, not crush them. Groups like IPOB and Niger Delta activists should be heard, not hunted.
- Rebuild national trust. Without fairness, there can be no unity.
Until then, Nigeria will continue to wobble between fragile peace and silent resentment, a country pretending to be one while living as many.
Conclusion
The selective justice of Nigeria has become a mirror reflecting our national hypocrisy.
Bandits kill and dine; agitators speak and die.
One is forgiven, another forgotten.
The Nigerian state must decide what kind of nation it wants to be—one built on justice and equity, or one forever ruled by tribal favouritism and double standards.
Until then, the ghosts of selective justice will continue to haunt our conscience, asking:
Is Nigeria one nation—or a federation of convenient lies?
Author Bio:
Engr Tamunofiniarisa Brown is a project and cost engineer, writer, and public affairs commentator based in Finima, Bonny Island, Rivers State. He writes for Tamfis Nigeria Limited (www.tamfitronics.com) and other civic platforms promoting equity, justice, and socio-political accountability.
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