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The recent remarks by Olufemi Oluyede defending rehabilitation programs like Operation Safe Corridor raise serious concerns about consistency, fairness, and the moral framework guiding Nigeria’s security policy.
While the idea of offering a path to repentance is not new—and even finds expression in religious teachings like the Prodigal Son—it becomes deeply controversial when placed against the lived reality of thousands of Nigerians who have suffered from insurgency. Entire communities have been destroyed, families displaced, and lives permanently altered. In that context, calls for leniency can feel disconnected from justice.
The core issue here is not simply whether rehabilitation is right or wrong. It is whether it is being applied selectively.
Many Nigerians observe that groups such as Boko Haram have benefited from reintegration initiatives, while others—like Indigenous People of Biafra—are met with overwhelmingly forceful military responses and labeled strictly as terrorists, with little or no room for dialogue or reintegration.
This perceived imbalance creates a dangerous narrative:
That justice in Nigeria is not uniform
That some regions or groups are treated with more restraint than others
And that national unity is being undermined by inconsistent policy execution
When young people begin to believe that the system is biased or selectively compassionate, it erodes trust in national institutions—including the military. That erosion of trust has real consequences, including reluctance to serve or identify with the state.
However, it is also important to acknowledge a difficult truth: security strategy is often shaped by complex intelligence, geopolitical considerations, and operational realities that are not always visible to the public. That does not excuse perceived injustice—but it does mean the issue is more layered than it appears on the surface.
The solution, therefore, is not to reject rehabilitation outright, but to demand:
Transparency in how individuals are selected for programs like Operation Safe Corridor
Accountability to ensure rehabilitated individuals do not return to violence
Consistency in how all armed groups are classified and treated under the law
And justice for victims, which must remain central to any reconciliation process
If rehabilitation is to exist, it must be part of a balanced justice system, not a substitute for it.
Until Nigerians see fairness applied across all regions and groups, skepticism—and resistance—will remain.
While the idea of offering a path to repentance is not new—and even finds expression in religious teachings like the Prodigal Son—it becomes deeply controversial when placed against the lived reality of thousands of Nigerians who have suffered from insurgency. Entire communities have been destroyed, families displaced, and lives permanently altered. In that context, calls for leniency can feel disconnected from justice.
The core issue here is not simply whether rehabilitation is right or wrong. It is whether it is being applied selectively.
Many Nigerians observe that groups such as Boko Haram have benefited from reintegration initiatives, while others—like Indigenous People of Biafra—are met with overwhelmingly forceful military responses and labeled strictly as terrorists, with little or no room for dialogue or reintegration.
This perceived imbalance creates a dangerous narrative:
That justice in Nigeria is not uniform
That some regions or groups are treated with more restraint than others
And that national unity is being undermined by inconsistent policy execution
When young people begin to believe that the system is biased or selectively compassionate, it erodes trust in national institutions—including the military. That erosion of trust has real consequences, including reluctance to serve or identify with the state.
However, it is also important to acknowledge a difficult truth: security strategy is often shaped by complex intelligence, geopolitical considerations, and operational realities that are not always visible to the public. That does not excuse perceived injustice—but it does mean the issue is more layered than it appears on the surface.
The solution, therefore, is not to reject rehabilitation outright, but to demand:
Transparency in how individuals are selected for programs like Operation Safe Corridor
Accountability to ensure rehabilitated individuals do not return to violence
Consistency in how all armed groups are classified and treated under the law
And justice for victims, which must remain central to any reconciliation process
If rehabilitation is to exist, it must be part of a balanced justice system, not a substitute for it.
Until Nigerians see fairness applied across all regions and groups, skepticism—and resistance—will remain.