By Ahmad Shuaibu Isa
I saw the DPO fall in Rano’s flame,
A mirror of pain, yet none without blame.
For boots have crushed and guns have lied—
Two wrongs can’t heal what truth must guide.
The brutal killing of the Rano DPO was heartbreaking, yet we must also confront the cruelty often inflicted by security forces on citizens. Both are wrong—barbarism from any side must end if we truly seek justice and peace.
This tragic mob attack on the Rano Police Division in Kano State, which claimed the life of a senior police officer and led to the destruction of government property, is not an isolated incident—it is a mirror reflecting Nigeria’s deeper crisis. Beneath the surface of this violent outburst lies a combustible mix of institutional decay, broken family systems, youth alienation, rampant corruption, and unchecked extrajudicial killings that threaten the soul of the nation.
At the heart of the Rano tragedy was the death of Abdullahi Musa, a young motorcycle mechanic reportedly under the influence of drugs, who died in police custody. His death ignited a violent and spontaneous reaction from a frustrated and disillusioned public—a crowd already burdened by economic hardship, social neglect, and a deep mistrust of law enforcement. This is not the first time such rage has exploded. Nigeria has been here before.
From the 2020 Lekki Toll Gate shooting during the #EndSARS protests, where peaceful demonstrators were met with gunfire, to the systematic killings of Muslims of the Islamic movement in Nigeria since 2015—where hundreds have been killed by security forces—the country has witnessed countless examples of extrajudicial killings that have fanned the flames of public resentment, religious tension, and national instability.
Such killings erode the rule of law and give the impression that Nigerian life is cheap and justice is selective. In many communities, people no longer trust the courts or police to deliver justice. Instead, anger festers, and retaliation becomes normalised. Extrajudicial actions, once overlooked or excused, are now proving to be explosive in consequence, often resulting in deeper chaos and prolonged violence.
At the core of Nigeria’s unraveling is a governance failure of epic proportions. Public office is no longer viewed as a platform for service but as a gateway to personal enrichment. Leadership is marred by selfishness and greed, with politicians routinely diverting public funds meant for schools, hospitals, roads, and security into private coffers. Corruption is no longer episodic—it is embedded in the very architecture of the state.
This leadership vacuum is reinforced by weak and politicised institutions. Courts are compromised, law enforcement is underfunded and poorly trained, and public administration lacks integrity. When institutions lose credibility, citizens lose hope—and when hope is lost, societies unravel.
But governance failure is only part of the picture. The social fabric of the nation is equally frayed. Across all classes—wealthy, middle, and poor—there is a glaring breakdown in family structure and moral upbringing. In affluent homes, children are often emotionally neglected, exposed to substance abuse as a coping mechanism for pressure and isolation. Middle-class youths, left largely unsupervised due to busy working parents, also fall into addiction and behavioural struggles. Among the poor, survival eclipses supervision—young people grow up in street cultures saturated with drugs, crime, and hopelessness.
This nationwide youth crisis, compounded by widespread drug abuse, is largely ignored or, worse, exploited by the political elite. Instead of addressing addiction and illiteracy, some politicians arm vulnerable youths and use them as pawns during elections. They promise nothing, offer no future—only cash handouts and T-shirts in return for loyalty and violence.
The influence of colonial structures and foreign interests remains a haunting shadow. Nigeria’s economy is still externally dependent, its industries dominated by multinationals who prioritise profit over people. Many of the country’s leaders still seek foreign validation and solutions, lacking the confidence or vision to craft home-grown progress. This inferiority complex entrenches dependency, stifling innovation and reform.
Meanwhile, community-police relations have completely broken down. The police, seen by many as agents of oppression rather than protection, operate without transparency or accountability. Citizens, especially the youth, feel targeted, profiled, and brutalised. In this environment, tragedies like the Rano attack become inevitable—not because people are inherently violent, but because they are desperate, unheard, and dehumanised.
The Road Ahead: A Call for National Rebirth
Nigeria stands at a critical crossroads. To move forward, the country must pursue holistic reform—not only of systems but of values.
Justice and accountability must be the cornerstone of governance. Extrajudicial killings must end, and all security agencies must be retrained to uphold human rights and dignity.
Leadership must be redefined—from self-service to public service. Politicians must be held to higher ethical standards and subjected to transparent scrutiny.
Institutions must be rebuilt, not just funded. The judiciary, police, and civil service need independence, professionalism, and protection from political interference.
Families must return to parenting, and society must invest in raising children with discipline, empathy, and purpose.
Youth-focused interventions—from drug rehabilitation to vocational training and mental health support—must become national priorities.
Traditional and religious leaders must be mobilised to rebuild trust and mediate conflicts in communities.
The colonial economic model must be broken, replaced with a national strategy that prioritises self-sufficiency and local empowerment.
Conclusion
The crisis Nigeria faces today is not simply one of security or economics. It is a crisis of conscience—of broken leadership and betrayed citizens. From Rano to Lekki, from Zaria to Port Harcourt, the signs are clear: a nation cannot thrive when its youth are lost, its justice is selective, and its leaders are disconnected.
The time to act is now—with boldness, with truth, and with compassion. Only then can Nigeria heal. Only then can it rise.