ISWAP JUST KILLED A NIGERIAN BRIGADIER – GOVERNMENT FAILS AGAIN!
by: Temitope Ezekiel
The recent ambush in Borno State — reportedly culminating in the capture and killing of Brigadier-General M. Uba by fighters of the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) — has once again dragged Nigeria’s simmering crisis into painful clarity. The official response, predictably cautious and partially contradictory, could not blunt the gravity of the moment. Whatever nuances remain about the details of the incident, one fact stands stark and immovable: a non-state armed group was able to strike at a level of command that symbolises the backbone of the Nigerian military.
This is more than a battlefield incident. It is a message.
For over a decade, Nigeria has wrestled with an insurgency that has mutated from Boko Haram’s chaotic brutality into ISWAP’s disciplined, ideological militancy. The transformation has been steady and unmistakable. Where Boko Haram thrived on terror and spectacle, ISWAP thrives on strategy — ambushes, assassinations, taxation networks, territorial administration, cross-border logistics, and skilful propaganda. The recent attack fits that pattern: an insurgent movement probing the state’s strength, and finding too many soft spots.
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The North-East has long presented difficult terrain for counter-insurgency. The Sambisa Forest, the Mandara Mountains, and the porous borders linking Nigeria to Chad, Niger, and Cameroon offer insurgents endless escape routes. But geography is only one part of the story. Nigeria’s security challenges are deeply structural.
The military is large, yet chronically overstretched. Decades of under-investment in intelligence systems, inconsistent modernisation, and corruption scandals have left frontline troops bearing the cost of institutional dysfunction. Soldiers often describe equipment shortages, delayed reinforcements, and communication gaps that undermine morale and operational cohesion.
This is not a reflection on individual courage; Nigerian troops routinely fight under extraordinarily difficult conditions. But courage cannot compensate indefinitely for weak strategy, political ambiguities, and fragmented command structures. When insurgent groups can repeatedly stage well-executed ambushes on convoys, the conversation shifts from battlefield setbacks to systemic vulnerability.
The government’s communication strategy has become part of the problem. Over the years, repeated denials of attacks, downplaying of casualties, and euphemisms such as “bandits” or “unknown gunmen” have eroded public trust. Communities affected by violence often feel their experiences are contradicted or minimised in official statements. The resulting gap between reality and rhetoric creates fertile ground for rumours, conspiracy theories, and extremist propaganda.
The ISWAP ambush touched a nerve partly because Nigerians have lived through similar episodes. When denials are followed weeks later by confirmations, the damage to public confidence becomes hard to repair. In the vacuum created by this credibility deficit, insurgent narratives spread more easily than governmental reassurances.
Compounding the crisis is the rise of figures like Sheikh Gumi, who openly mediates with armed groups and presents them as misunderstood actors rather than hardened criminals. His ability to move, negotiate, and speak publicly without meaningful governmental constraint exposes a wider fragmentation of authority. Such ambiguities muddy the waters: while the state publicly condemns insurgents and bandits, parallel channels operate beneath the surface, sending mixed signals about accountability and power.
When a state’s response to insecurity appears inconsistent — firm in rhetoric, hesitant in enforcement, and selectively permissive with non-state actors — extremist groups read it as an opportunity.
Nations rarely handle deeply entrenched extremist movements alone, especially when those movements belong to wider transnational networks. ISWAP is not merely a local faction; it is part of the Islamic State’s global franchise system, sharing doctrine, training, financing models, and digital communication tools with cells across Africa and the Middle East.
This internationalisation of the conflict is what brings external intervention into the strategic conversation. Historically, when insurgent groups become transnational in behaviour and ideology, regional and global actors are drawn into the equation. Not for altruism, but because instability has a way of spilling over borders — affecting trade, migration, regional governance, and international security.
The United States already maintains a counter-terrorism footprint across the Sahel, including intelligence-sharing agreements, drone surveillance networks, and partnerships with several African militaries. Nigeria’s prolonged struggle, combined with the rising sophistication of ISWAP, inevitably raises the question of whether deeper cooperation, training, or operational support might eventually become necessary.
External intervention does not necessarily mean foreign boots on Nigerian soil. It can take many forms: intelligence fusion cells, air surveillance, training exchanges, equipment upgrades, or joint operations against high-value targets. What forces the issue forward is not political desire but operational reality — the recognition that Nigeria is confronting a terrorist ecosystem with global ties.
The ISWAP attack on the brigadier general is not just another entry in Nigeria’s long list of tragedies. It is a turning point that forces the nation to re-examine the assumptions guiding its security strategy. It demands clarity about what the military can realistically achieve alone, and what level of external partnership might now be prudent.
The core issue is sovereignty — but sovereignty in the practical sense, not the cultural one. True sovereignty is not the absence of help; it is the capacity to protect citizens, uphold territorial integrity, and enforce the authority of the state. When an insurgency repeatedly demonstrates the ability to undermine these fundamentals, the conversation must shift from pride to pragmatism.
Nigeria stands at such a crossroads. The country possesses courageous soldiers, committed officers, and deep national resilience. Yet the insurgency has outgrown the frameworks that were designed to contain it. It now functions like a shadow state with its own taxation system, judicial mechanisms, recruitment pipelines, and military units.
This is not a threat that fades with incremental efforts. It requires a fundamental reassessment of strategy, communication, resource allocation, and partnership models.
The tragedy of the brigadier general’s reported killing is a painful reminder of what is at stake. It illustrates that ISWAP and its related factions are not fading adversaries; they are evolving ones. Their capacity to strike high-value targets reveals a level of boldness that cannot be met with half-measures, political hesitation, or inconsistent messaging.
Modern terrorism is not a purely domestic problem. It is a global organism that adapts, migrates, and mutates across borders. Any state fighting such a threat must consider alliances, intelligence support, and international cooperation as part of its defensive architecture.
Nigeria’s path forward begins not with denial, but with clarity — the clarity to acknowledge the scale of the crisis, the courage to confront its political roots, and the strategic humility to consider external partnership where national capacity falls short.
The ISWAP ambush is a tragic marker on that journey, but also a call to re-think the future of security in the region.
Ezekiel sent this article to TextandPublishing.com from Ilorin
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