THIS DAWN — The confrontation between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Nyesom Wike, and Naval Officer Lieutenant A.M. Yerima at a disputed property site in Abuja has sparked widespread debate across the country.
The viral videos and images of both men standing chest-to-chest captured not only a dramatic moment, but also a deeper, longstanding crisis in Nigeria: the erosion of due process and the rise of raw, unrestrained power.
Though the full facts of the incident remain unclear—with competing narratives emerging from political circles and the military establishment—its symbolism is unmistakable.
The altercation mirrors a broader societal pattern in which authority, wealth, and connections often overshadow law and order.
As analysts note, it is not merely about who was right or wrong in Abuja that day; it is about a culture where “might is right” has taken firm root.
The misuse of power is not new in Nigeria.
On highways nationwide, soldiers routinely flag down trucks under the guise of “seeking a lift,” only to join drivers on illegal trips that help evade extortion at police and customs checkpoints.
These uniformed escorts, not officially sanctioned, receive payment for facilitating the movement of goods—an everyday example of how individuals in uniform exploit the system for personal gain.
Systemic decay
Similarly, politically connected individuals can hire soldiers to secure private properties or intimidate rivals, regardless of the legality of their claims.
Tenants owing rent can weaponise the police to harass landlords, while wealthy individuals routinely enlist law enforcement to detain or silence critics.
Meanwhile, ballot boxes are hijacked in elections, public roads are cordoned off by politicians, and public facilities are appropriated by those who boast that “nothing will happen.”
These behaviours are rarely endorsed by the highest levels of the military, police, or government.
Yet the frequency of such incidents reveals systemic decay: uniforms, wealth, titles, and political access have become tools to circumvent justice, rather than uphold it.
The Wike–Yerima standoff is therefore not an isolated event, but a vivid depiction of this national crisis.
With both men shouting at each other in public—each representing a different arm of institutional power—the incident devolved into a “two-fighting” spectacle.
On one side stood government authority embodied by the minister; on the other stood the military institution, represented by an officer reportedly acting on behalf of former Chief of Naval Staff Vice Admiral Awwal Zubairu Gambo, said to own the contested property.
Nigerian Citizens the real casualty
In a functioning system, such a dispute would be resolved through official channels: clear documentation, legal procedures, and institutional arbitration.
Instead, the matter exploded into public confrontation—proof that legal mechanisms are increasingly sidelined by those who believe they can dictate outcomes based on personal clout.
For the ordinary citizen, this episode only reinforces a painful truth: between government power and military influence, there is little room for justice.
A regular Nigerian at that same property site would not dare confront either party; they would risk arrest, harassment, or worse—while “nothing will happen.”
The irony is that Wike and the naval chief will ultimately settle their dispute through back channels or elite negotiations.
The real casualty is Citizen Nigerian, who remains vulnerable in a society where power blocs battle openly while the law is trampled beneath their feet.
As the nation reflects on the Abuja standoff, the core question remains: Where is the Nigerian citizen in all this?
Until due process regains primacy and the instruments of power are restrained by the rule of law, the ordinary Nigerian will continue to lose in the struggle between the powerful.
