When Citizens Begin to Sound Like the State
A society enters dangerous territory when its citizens begin to speak the language of the state, not because they seek power, but because they no longer trust those who possess it.
That is the uncomfortable question hanging over Nigeria following the recent ultimatum issued by Sunday Adeyemo, popularly known as Sunday Igboho, to Fulani leaders in his hometown of Igboho, Oyo State. In a viral video, the Yoruba activist demanded the release of an abducted pregnant woman and her relatives, reportedly giving community leaders two hours to produce the victims or face consequences. The statement drew swift condemnation from northern groups, including the Arewa Consultative Forum, which described it as unconstitutional, dangerous and capable of pushing the country toward anarchy.
But beyond the outrage and counter-outrage lies a deeper question: what produces a society in which an activist can issue ultimatums and still receive applause from many citizens?
The Vacuum That Creates Strongmen
History teaches that strongmen rarely emerge in functioning societies. They emerge where institutions are perceived to have failed.
For years, insecurity has stalked communities across Nigeria. From Plateau to Benue, Zamfara to Oyo, stories of kidnappings, killings and displacement have become recurring headlines. Citizens who once waited for government intervention increasingly seek alternative protectors, vigilantes, local hunters, ethnic organizations and community defenders.
This is not unique to Nigeria. Philosophers from Thomas Hobbes to John Locke argued that the legitimacy of government rests fundamentally on one obligation: the protection of life and property. Once citizens begin to doubt that protection, they start searching for substitutes.
Whether one agrees with Igboho or not, his popularity cannot be understood without acknowledging this reality. To many supporters, he represents frustration made flesh, a man saying publicly what fearful communities whisper privately.
By the way, have you seen the recent video of Igboho and his team surveling the forest with a drone?
Did Igboho Cross a Line?
Yet another question must be asked.
Can frustration justify an ultimatum directed at an entire ethnic community?
This is where the debate becomes uncomfortable for supporters of the Yoruba activist. While Igboho has consistently argued that his opposition is directed at criminal elements and not at any ethnic nationality, critics contend that language matters. In a fragile federation already burdened by ethnic suspicion, broad accusations can easily be interpreted as collective blame.
The Arewa Consultative Forum's warning stems from this concern. Its argument is straightforward: criminality is individual, not ethnic. To hold an entire group responsible for the actions of criminals risks creating the very conflict everyone claims to oppose.
That concern deserves consideration.
After all, if every community begins issuing ultimatums to entire ethnic populations based on the crimes of a few, what remains of citizenship?
But Arewa Must Also Face Difficult Questions
Yet fairness demands that scrutiny should not stop with Igboho.
The northern groups condemning him must also answer questions many Nigerians continue to ask.
Why does every discussion about ethnic profiling often move faster than discussions about the insecurity that gave rise to public anger in the first place? Why do citizens repeatedly hear warnings about the dangers of community self-help while kidnappers continue to operate across vast territories with alarming boldness?
These questions do not imply collective guilt on the part of any ethnic group. They simply reflect a widespread public frustration.
Many Nigerians wonder why responses to inflammatory rhetoric often appear swifter than responses to recurring violence. That perception, whether accurate or not, fuels resentment and deepens distrust.
In politics, perception can be as consequential as reality.
The Government Stands at the Centre of This Debate
Ultimately, neither Igboho nor Arewa sits at the centre of this controversy.
The Federal Government does.
Every argument in this national conversation eventually circles back to one issue: confidence in governance.
The administration of President Bola Tinubu insists that security operations have intensified, that military actions have yielded results, and that progress is being made. Presidential spokespersons point to infrastructure projects, economic reforms and security gains as evidence that government remains firmly in control.
Yet opposition voices, including Peter Obi and other critics, argue that insecurity remains widespread and that citizens continue to pay the price for institutional weaknesses.
The truth is that neither official statements nor opposition criticisms can substitute for lived experience. Citizens judge governments less by press releases than by whether they can travel safely, sleep peacefully and conduct business without fear.
Security is the most visible test of state legitimacy.
The Sowore Question and the Problem of Priorities
The debate has been further complicated by controversies surrounding activist Omoyele Sowore and his encounters with security agencies.
For many observers, these incidents have raised broader questions about state priorities. Why, some ask, does the state often appear highly effective when confronting critics yet less effective when confronting violent criminal networks?
Whether such perceptions are fair or unfair, they persist because trust in institutions remains fragile.
A government may reject the criticism, but it cannot ignore the sentiment behind it.
Between Justice and Anarchy
There is a dangerous temptation in moments like these.
Supporters of Igboho may conclude that only force gets results. His critics may conclude that every act of community resistance is extremism. Both positions miss the larger point.
The real danger is not Sunday Igboho.
The real danger is a society becoming accustomed to needing a Sunday Igboho.
When citizens begin to celebrate activists for performing functions they believe belong to the state, the issue is no longer about the activist. It is about the institutions that left the space open.
The Question That Remains
Nigeria does not face a choice between Sunday Igboho and the Arewa Consultative Forum.
It faces a choice between strengthening institutions and allowing public frustration to continue filling the vacuum.
Anarchy rarely begins with angry speeches. It begins when citizens lose faith that lawful systems can deliver justice.
And so the question confronting Nigeria is not whether Igboho's ultimatum was justified or whether Arewa's warning was exaggerated.
The question is far more profound:
If citizens truly trusted their government to protect them, would anyone have listened to that ultimatum in the first place?
Author :
Idowu Anuoluwapo Ezekiel