Beyond the bullet: Why violence alone cannot defeat terrorism in Nigeria, by Bukola Oyeniyi

Introduction

In Nigeria’s public discourse, especially in media coverage of violence in the Middle Belt and northern states, a popular refrain is that the solution to terrorism and banditry lies in “crushing” the insurgents outright. Headlines laud military strikes and urge the violent elimination of terrorists and their foot soldiers as the urgent path to peace.

This perspective, born of frustration at the carnage wrought by Boko Haram, ISWAP, militant herdsmen, and bandit gangs, assumes that annihilation and violent suppression will decisively end the threat. President Muhammadu Buhari even issued a controversial “shoot-on-sight” order against anyone bearing AK-47 rifles in conflict areas, reflecting this inclination toward lethal force. While an aggressive military response may seem necessary and cathartic, history shows that violence alone has never successfully ended terrorism.

Indeed, terrorist and insurgent movements rarely cease simply because all fighters are killed; military-only approaches tend to ignore root causes and can even exacerbate the conflict. This essay argues that Nigeria must resist the allure of an exclusively militaristic strategy. From Colombia and Sri Lanka to Northern Ireland and the Philippines, durable peace was achieved only through multi-pronged strategies addressing political grievances, economic deprivation, justice, and the reintegration of ex-combatants. The Nigerian government’s own experience – whether against Boko Haram in the northeast or communal militias in the Middle Belt – confirms that a purely violent solution is short-sighted and ultimately self-defeating.

Military Force Rarely Ends Terrorism: The RAND Study

Global empirical evidence underscores how exceptional it is for terrorist groups to be eliminated solely by military might. Between 1968 and 2006, researchers at RAND studied 648 terrorist organizations worldwide to understand how these groups ceased their activities. Of these, 268 groups ended during that period, allowing the authors to analyze the primary reasons for their dissolution. The data revealed that terrorist groups seldom ended due to military defeat or outright victory; instead, most were brought to an end through other means.
The RAND analysis identified four major outcomes for terrorist groups. The first two outcomes accounted for the vast majority of cases, while the remaining outcomes were less common:
Political Process (43%) – Nearly half of the terrorist groups ended by entering peace negotiations or transitioning into legitimate political movements, effectively abandoning violence and reaching a peaceful accommodation with the government.

Policing and Intelligence (40%) – Law enforcement actions (e.g. arrests, informant infiltration, and intelligence operations) led to the dismantling of 40% of terrorist groups, underlining the effectiveness of police and intelligence agencies in eliminating terror organizations.
Other (including military force) – 17% – The remaining groups fell into miscellaneous categories. About 10% of all groups ceased to exist after successfully achieving their goals (“terrorist victory”), and roughly 7% were eliminated primarily through military force. These outcomes were comparatively infrequent, highlighting that conventional military action was not the dominant way terrorist campaigns concluded.

Figure 1: How Terrorist Groups Ended (RAND Study). This bar chart illustrates the distribution of outcomes for the 268 terrorist groups that ended between 1968 and 2006, based on RAND’s analysis.

As the bar chart indicates, 43 percent of terrorist groups dissolved after entering political processes or negotiating settlements, while another 40 percent were brought to an end through focused policing and intelligence operations. Only 17 percent ended by other means, including 7 percent through military action and 10 percent through the group’s own triumph in achieving its goals. The pattern is unmistakable: political engagement and law-enforcement strategies have been far more decisive than battlefield force.

These findings carry significant weight for counterterrorism scholarship and policy. The RAND study makes clear that military action was seldom the determining factor in a group’s collapse. Instead, most organizations were neutralized through intelligence-driven policing or political accommodation. This suggests that states should privilege sustained law-enforcement capacity, strategic intelligence gathering, and political problem-solving over heavy reliance on military intervention. Approaching terrorism as a chronic security and governance challenge—rather than as a conventional war—appears to yield more durable outcomes.
The study underscores that the overwhelming majority of terrorist groups were ended by mechanisms other than armed confrontation. The authors’ central insight—that military force “has rarely been the primary reason for the end of terrorist groups”—illuminates a recurrent pattern: campaigns typically recede when governments address the political foundations of rebellion or use precise law-enforcement measures to dismantle leadership structures and demobilize fighters. For Nigeria, confronting a fierce insurgency, the lesson is unequivocal.

A battlefield-centric strategy may degrade militants temporarily, but it cannot produce a definitive end to terrorism. The RAND evidence rejects the belief that overwhelming military power alone can secure victory. Sustainable success requires a comprehensive approach grounded in policing, intelligence, and political engagement—an imperative that Nigeria must take seriously, as both its own history and global comparative experiences make abundantly clear.

Nigeria’s Conflict: Beyond Annihilation in the North

Nigeria’s Northern insurgencies – encompassing Boko Haram’s jihadist rebellion in the North-East, the so-called “bandit” militias in the North-West, and communal violence in the Middle Belt – have posed an existential security challenge for over a decade. Successive administrations have leaned heavily on the armed forces to “crush” these groups, deploying thousands of troops and launching major operations (Lafiya Dole, Safe Haven, Hadarin Daji, and others). These campaigns have yielded some successes, such as recapturing territory from Boko Haram and killing high-profile militant leaders. Indeed, Nigerian troops have repeatedly overrun insurgent camps and touted body counts of “neutralized” terrorists. Yet the insurgencies persist. As one International Crisis Group briefing noted, Boko Haram was put “on the back foot” by military operations but not defeated; preventing a future insurgency “needs more than military success”. The government itself has quietly acknowledged the limits of force. After years of scorched-earth tactics that showed little distinction between Boko Haram fighters and civilian populations living under insurgent rule, authorities recognized that heavy-handed counterinsurgency was often counterproductive. The military’s harsh approach – including reports of extrajudicial killings and mass detentions – bred resentment and drove some locals into the insurgents’ arms. Vanda Felbab-Brown observes that Nigeria’s early response “oscillated between neglect of the problem and counterproductive heavy-handed measures” and that these tactics frequently conflated perpetrators with victims. In other words, crackdowns sometimes punished the very communities whose support is needed to isolate terrorists.

By 2015, even as the army pushed Boko Haram out of major cities, low-level attacks persisted, exposing “the questionable claims of the Nigerian government that Boko Haram has been technically defeated”. Realizing the “no victor, no vanquished” stalemate, Nigerian officials cautiously opened the door to non-military initiatives. They floated amnesty offers and launched Operation Safe Corridor, a defectors’ rehabilitation program for low-risk Boko Haram members. Hundreds of insurgents’ foot soldiers have since passed through de-radicalization and skills training camps rather than face summary execution. This approach acknowledges what years of purely militaristic strategy ignored: many “terrorists” are themselves victims – often young men abducted or coerced into fighting – and can be reconciled with society. A 2018 Brookings study noted that Nigeria’s embrace of leniency programs “emerged out of a recognition that the counterinsurgency campaign has struggled” and that previous repressive responses failed to address underlying issues. Those underlying drivers in Nigeria include extreme rural poverty, youth unemployment, state corruption, and regional inequality. As long as such grievances remain unaddressed, new militants will replace every killed “foot soldier.” Indeed, while the army was killing scores of Boko Haram fighters, splinter factions like ISWAP exploited the power vacuums in ungoverned rural areas and continued to recruit. Northern Nigeria’s reality today – with Boko Haram factions still active, bandit gangs terrorizing villagers, and ethnic militias arming themselves – demonstrates that Nigeria cannot “kill its way” out of these insurgencies. A purely military victory remains elusive, and a lasting peace will demand the kinds of political and socio-economic solutions that have worked elsewhere.

Colombia: From “All-Out War” to Negotiated Peace

Colombia offers a powerful contemporary example of why military victory alone is insufficient – and how a comprehensive peace strategy can end decades of terrorism. For over fifty years, the Colombian government battled the FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia), a Marxist guerrilla group deemed a terrorist organization. Successive governments in the 1990s and early 2000s poured resources into a militarized counterinsurgency, bolstered by U.S. aid (Plan Colombia). By the late 2000s the FARC had been severely weakened; Colombian forces had killed or captured several top commanders and pushed the rebels out of many strongholds. Yet for all these battlefield gains, the FARC was not eradicated. The guerrillas retained control of remote territories, continued to inflict violence, and – importantly – still commanded a core of hardened fighters. Both sides gradually realized the limits of war. As one analysis noted, after 50 years of conflict, “even though [the government] has weakened the FARC militarily, the FARC still controls parts of the territory. The FARC also realized the limitations of its military operations. This is when a conflict is ripe for negotiation.” A mutually hurting stalemate set the stage for dialogue. President Juan Manuel Santos, himself a former defense minister who had dealt heavy blows to FARC, shifted strategy and embraced negotiations. Starting in 2012, talks in Havana addressed both security and the FARC’s political grievances – including rural land reform, political participation, and reintegration of fighters. In August 2016, a historic peace accord was finalized, ending 52 years of war that had killed over 220,000 people and displaced six million. The agreement provided for the FARC to disarm and convert into a political party, while the government pledged development investments in long-neglected guerrilla strongholds and land access for poor farmers.

Crucially, Colombia’s peace did not come from killing every insurgent but from addressing what the FARC had ostensibly been fighting for. The Colombian case highlights that even a robust military campaign (which did pressure the FARC to negotiate from a weakened position) had to be paired with political compromise and socioeconomic reforms to actually end the conflict. Purely militaristic approaches in earlier decades – such as President Álvaro Uribe’s all-out offensives – decimated FARC ranks but never erased the organization or its support base. The enduring peace was achieved by demobilizing fighters through promises of justice and opportunity rather than death. Even the smaller ELN guerrilla group (National Liberation Army) is now following suit, recently agreeing to disarm after a negotiated ceasefire. Colombia’s journey underscores a key lesson: insurgencies are ultimately resolved through negotiation and reintegration, not endless combat. As a participant in the 2016 talks observed, “the best opportunity for peace is when your enemy is begging to come to the table… once you have shown your military muscle,” but you must then pivot to dialogue. The FARC’s end came when it concluded that its goals could only be achieved through politics, not war – and when the government had the wisdom to offer a path for the rebels to pursue those goals peacefully.

Sri Lanka: Pyrrhic Victory and Unresolved Grievances

Sri Lanka is often cited by hardliners as a rare case where brute force defeated a terrorist insurgency. Indeed, in May 2009 the Sri Lankan military crushed the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) after a 26-year civil war. The army’s final offensive annihilated the LTTE’s leadership and ended the group’s secessionist insurgency in an outright military victory. However, a closer look reveals that violence alone came at tremendous cost and left deep wounds – and that replicating Sri Lanka’s approach elsewhere is neither feasible nor wise. As political scientist Sumit Ganguly observes, Sri Lanka’s war termination was enabled by unique conditions unlikely to exist in other contexts. The government was able to ignore international pressure, and regional powers like India acquiesced to the all-out assault, creating a perfect storm in which “unbridled military campaign” could proceed.

The result was extraordinary brutality: in the final months, some 7,000 Tamil civilians were killed amid relentless shelling, and to this day the UN estimates up to 100,000 people perished over the course of the war. The Tamil Tigers were eviscerated, but at what price? The victory was followed by internment camps for 300,000 displaced Tamil civilians and allegations of war crimes. Most tellingly, the Sri Lankan government undertook few initiatives to address the underlying grievances of the Tamil minority that had fueled the conflict. Decades of discrimination, language exclusion, and marginalization of Tamils had given rise to the LTTE’s militancy, yet after the military win those issues remained unresolved. An analysis in Dædalus bluntly concludes: “A military strategy…brought [the war] to a close. However, few policy initiatives have been undertaken in its wake to address the underlying grievances…that contributed to the outbreak of the civil war in the first place.”. In other words, peace has been negative – merely the absence of fighting – rather than positive and just.

More than a decade later, Sri Lanka’s peace is fragile and tinged with bitterness. The Tamil minority still reports feelings of second-class status, and the heavily militarized governance of Tamil-majority areas continues. The mode in which the war ended – total military conquest with no political accommodation – “may have damaged the prospects of a lasting peace,” Ganguly argues. There are no active terror attacks now, but the potential for future unrest lingers because the root causes (ethnic discrimination and denial of autonomy) have not been addressed. Crucially, Sri Lanka’s example does not contradict the thesis that violence alone fails to sustainably end terrorism; rather, it reinforces it. The LTTE was eliminated, but Sri Lanka has not truly reconciled its communities or healed the injustices that gave rise to terror. Moreover, the sheer scale of lethal force employed – along with the suppression of media and civil liberties during the final campaign – would be untenable in most democracies and would likely fuel international backlash today. For Nigeria, the Sri Lankan scenario is neither replicable nor desirable. While some Nigerian commentators impatiently cite Sri Lanka as proof that “terrorism can be wiped out”, they overlook that Sri Lanka’s “peace” was achieved in a manner unique to its context and arguably left a legacy of resentment. Nigeria’s North is not an island; militants can slip into neighboring countries, and global scrutiny in the age of social media is intense. More importantly, Nigeria’s goal is not just to end Boko Haram’s violence, but to ensure another extremist movement does not arise in its place. That requires winning hearts and minds, not bulldozing through them. As Sri Lanka shows, militaristic triumph without justice is a hollow victory.

Northern Ireland: Power-Sharing Over Force

Northern Ireland’s experience during the Troubles (late 1960s–1990s) provides a textbook case where military and police action alone could not defeat a terrorist campaign, but a political settlement eventually did. For three decades, the British government grappled with the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA), which used terrorism in pursuit of Irish unification. Britain initially responded with heavy-handed security crackdowns – mass arrests, internment without trial, curfews, and a substantial deployment of troops (Operation Banner). These tactics did contain violence to a degree, but they also inflamed nationalist resentment and at times acted as a recruiting sergeant for the IRA. An internal British Army review later admitted candidly that while the Army “did not defeat the IRA” through force, it did manage to reduce violence to a level that allowed a political process to take root. In effect, the British came to realize that there was no purely military solution. Prime Minister John Major acknowledged privately as early as 1992 that “he did not believe the IRA could be beaten militarily” – a striking admission that behind closed doors, even the UK government saw the futility of trying to kill its way out of the conflict. Likewise, a declassified British Army document concluded that the IRA, “one of the most effective terrorist organisations in history,” was not vanquished in battle – instead, the conflict reached an “end-state” where the violence was contained enough to permit negotiations. Crucially, draconian measures like internment were deemed a “major mistake”, as they alienated the Catholic minority and drew international criticism.

The real end to the IRA’s terror campaign came with the 1998 Good Friday Agreement (Belfast Agreement), a multiparty accord that addressed the political grievances underlying the conflict. The agreement created a power-sharing government in Belfast, ensured minority representation, and affirmed that Northern Ireland’s constitutional status would only change with consent of its people. It also included provisions for disarmament of paramilitaries, release of political prisoners (reintegrating ex-combatants into society), police reform (replacing the discredited, Protestant-dominated Royal Ulster Constabulary with a more representative Police Service of Northern Ireland), and measures to foster cross-community reconciliation. In short, Northern Ireland achieved peace not by “scorched earth” elimination of every IRA member, but by drawing the IRA into a political process and addressing the community’s legitimate civil-rights complaints. Former militants put down guns in exchange for the opportunity to pursue their aims through politics and to have their identity and rights respected. The effectiveness of this approach is evident: more than 25 years later, the Good Friday Agreement’s core achievements stand – the IRA and other paramilitaries decommissioned their arsenals, and violence fell dramatically. Although isolated dissident splinter groups persist, the era of large-scale terrorist bombing campaigns in Northern Ireland is over. Notably, the British military presence was able to end in 2007 because security had improved so much under the peace deal’s framework.

Northern Ireland’s lesson for Nigeria is that enduring solutions require compromise and inclusion. If Britain, a major military power, could not shoot its way to victory against a few hundred IRA insurgents at the height of the Troubles, it is unrealistic for Nigeria to think sheer force will eliminate far larger insurgencies like Boko Haram or diffuse widespread communal conflicts. Durable peace arrived in Northern Ireland only when underlying issues – unequal governance, marginalization of a community, lack of political voice – were resolved. As one British general reflected, the army’s role was mainly to buy time and contain violence until a political deal could be struck, because the IRA “would not win through violence” yet equally could not be simply exterminated. This underscores a critical point: terrorist conflicts often end at the negotiating table, not on the battlefield. Nigeria, too, will likely find that elements of its conflicts (for example, negotiations with local bandit leaders or peace dialogues between herder and farmer communities) are necessary adjuncts to military pressure.

The Philippines: Autonomy and Reintegration in Mindanao

Another instructive case comes from the Philippines, where a decades-long Islamist insurgency in Mindanao was largely resolved not by an “all-out war” but by a peace agreement addressing root causes. The Moro conflict in the southern Philippines, much like the Boko Haram insurgency, was fueled by a sense of injustice and marginalization of a Muslim minority. For years, the Philippine government oscillated between negotiating and launching military offensives against groups like the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). In 2000, President Joseph Estrada tried the “annihilation” approach, declaring an “all-out war” against the MILF. The army seized the rebels’ main camp and Estrada trumpeted the campaign as a success – even celebrating by roasting a pig at the captured stronghold, a pointed insult to the Muslim rebels. Yet this triumph was illusory: “twenty-four years later…the all-out war only caused the escalation of conflict and damages rather than the resolution of the problem,” notes the Bangsamoro regional government’s retrospective report. The massive offensive led to humanitarian catastrophe – hundreds of thousands of Moro civilians were displaced amid bombardment and fighting. More importantly, it failed to provide a lasting solution. As the report states, “Despite successful military operations… it did not provide a lasting solution to the conflict in Mindanao. The root causes of the insurgency, such as poverty, social inequality, and historical marginalization, remained unaddressed.”. In fact, the all-out war arguably entrenched these grievances further, as devastated communities grew more resentful of the central government. The MILF, though temporarily scattered, regrouped and continued its struggle.

Recognizing this, subsequent Philippine administrations reversed course. By the mid-2000s, peace talks resumed, leading eventually to the 2014 Comprehensive Agreement on the Bangsamoro between the government and the MILF. This landmark deal granted the Muslim Moro people an autonomous region with self-governance (the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region), pledged resources for development, and created mechanisms for justice and reconciliation. In exchange, the MILF agreed to disarm a majority of its 40,000 fighters and abandon secessionist demands in favor of local autonomy. Essentially, the government addressed the political and economic drivers of the insurgency – acknowledging Moro demands for self-rule, Islamic cultural recognition, land rights, and investment in their communities. The result has been a dramatic decline in violence. Former MILF combatants are now undergoing demobilization and reintegration; many have been given aid, job training, or slots in local security forces. A multi-billion peso normalization program is transforming ex-guerrilla camps into productive villages. This is not to say Mindanao is without any security issues (splinter factions and radical offshoots like the Abu Sayyaf Group still require policing), but the large-scale rebellion has ended. The key insight from the Philippines is that a strategy combining measured force with bold political concessions can succeed where force alone fails. Notably, when negotiations faltered in 2000 and 2003, the conflict flared again; but when a comprehensive settlement was finally implemented, peace took root. As one analyst dubbed Estrada’s 2000 offensive, it was the “folly of an all-out war” – a folly Nigeria would do well to avoid. Instead of fantasizing about an outright military “solution”, Nigeria can learn from Mindanao that meaningful autonomy arrangements, community-level reconciliation, and offering militants a dignified exit from violence are far more effective in the long run. The Bangsamoro peace process highlights the importance of treating insurgents not just as targets to eliminate, but as stakeholders with whom dialogue is possible once good-faith efforts are made to remedy legitimate grievances.

Why Militaristic Approaches Fail

Across these diverse contexts – Nigeria, Colombia, Sri Lanka, Northern Ireland, the Philippines – a clear pattern emerges: purely militaristic approaches to terrorism and insurgency have a high failure rate. Violence-alone strategies are short-sighted for several reasons:

Igniting Cycles of Revenge: Heavy-handed operations often inflict civilian casualties and abuses that breed hatred. Every counterinsurgency scholar notes that killing insurgents’ family members or mistreating local populations can create new recruits for the extremist cause. In Nigeria, for example, security-force abuses (like the notorious 2014 Baga massacre) fed Boko Haram’s propaganda that the government is the enemy of the people. Militarism that lacks precision and respect for human rights becomes self-defeating, as today’s “collateral damage” victims become tomorrow’s insurgents seeking revenge.

Ignoring Root Causes: Terrorism usually arises from real or perceived injustices – whether political exclusion, ethnic marginalization, or dire poverty. A “kill ’em all” approach ignores these drivers. No terrorist movement is an island; it is sustained by an ecosystem of grievances. Crush one group without addressing the context, and another group (or the same group under a new name) may pop up. Nigeria has seen this with Boko Haram’s evolution into ISWAP, and with banditry thriving in areas long neglected by the state. Military action can treat the symptoms (temporarily reducing violence) but not cure the disease. As a retired Nigerian General, Lamidi Adeosun, recently warned, the Middle Belt’s insecurity is “a product of historical grievances, elite exploitation, and climate-induced resource conflicts” – in short, a governance crisis – and without context-sensitive responses, “the country risks a breakdown of state authority”. In his view, marginalization breeds rebellion, and only inclusive governance can stem the tide.

Entrenching Extremist Narratives: Annihilation strategies can validate the extremists’ narrative of an oppressive government and leave no exit ramp for moderates. When the state declares all-out war, it paints the conflict as zero-sum. Rank-and-file fighters who might have considered defecting or surrendering instead fight to the death, believing (often correctly) that they will receive no mercy. This prolongs conflicts. By contrast, offering amnesties or negotiations can peel off less-committed fighters and isolate irreconcilable hardliners. The U.K.’s secret backchannels to the IRA and Colombia’s demobilization of thousands of paramilitary fighters in the 2000s are examples of divide-and-conquer through carrots and sticks, rather than fueling a unifying martyrdom mentality among insurgents.

International and Ethical Costs: A military-only crackdown, especially one involving collective punishment or abuses, can trigger international condemnation, sanctions, or loss of crucial aid and intelligence support. It also raises profound ethical issues for a democratic state bound by the rule of law. Nigeria, as a respected member of the international community, cannot adopt tactics of unchecked state violence without consequence. The “shoot-on-sight” order in 2021 was criticized by human rights groups as turning Nigeria into a “jungle” of lawlessness. Counterterrorism must not jettison the very principles of justice and human rights that distinguish a legitimate government from the terrorists. Sustainable peace is built on legitimacy, which blunt repression undermines.

In sum, military power is a double-edged sword in counterterrorism. It is certainly a necessary component – no one advocates that Nigeria simply negotiate with bloodthirsty terrorist leaders or allow lawlessness to go unchecked. Tactical operations to defend civilians, target terror leaders, and disrupt plots are indispensable. However, as the RAND study showed, military force is rarely the primary reason terrorist groups end. More often, victory comes through political strategy: addressing the root political/economic issues, leveraging policing to undercut terrorists, and offering off-ramps to militants. The next section outlines how Nigeria can apply these lessons in practice.

Recommendations for a Holistic Strategy in Nigeria

To move from a vicious cycle of endless insurgency to a virtuous cycle of peace and stability, Nigeria must adopt a multi-pronged counterterrorism strategy. Below are five clear and realistic recommendations, grounded in successful elements from global case studies and tailored to Nigeria’s context:

1. Institutional Security Sector Reform: Strengthen and reform Nigeria’s security institutions to be more effective, accountable, and rights-respecting. This includes improving military professionalism and rules of engagement to minimize civilian harm, as well as bolstering the police and intelligence agencies for counterterrorism. The goal should be to shift from a purely military approach to a policing and intelligence-led model (as RAND recommends), which is better at precision targeting of terrorists. Oversight mechanisms must be instituted to address corruption and human rights abuses by security forces, since these abuses fuel terrorist recruitment. A reformed security sector should also partner with local community watch groups and vigilantes under a legal framework – “community-based security” as one Nigerian general called for – to gather intelligence and build trust with civilians.
2. Community Engagement and Reconciliation: Engage local communities as critical allies in preventing and countering terrorism. In the Middle Belt, this means empowering traditional rulers, religious leaders, and peace committees to mediate conflicts (for instance, between herders and farmers) before they escalate. The U.S. Institute of Peace has documented successful peace committees and early warning systems in Nigerian states that helped calm crises. Such initiatives should be expanded. Furthermore, programs that facilitate dialogue between estranged communities – Muslim-Christian dialogues, or forums where pastoralists and farmers negotiate resource-sharing – can address mutual suspicions. Nigeria should also invest in peace education in schools, especially in conflict-prone regions, to break the cycle of interethnic hatred. As Adeosun noted, “local communities understand their terrain and threats better. Their involvement is critical in building intelligence-led responses.” When civilians see the government genuinely protecting and consulting them (rather than just bombing their villages in pursuit of terrorists), they are more likely to provide tips and reject extremist influence. Grassroots reconciliation (such as dialogues and joint development projects) will undercut the communal grievances that militants exploit.
3. Strategic Demobilization and Reintegration of Fighters: Expand programs to encourage defections and safely reintegrate repentant militants. Nigeria’s Operation Safe Corridor should be strengthened and scaled up, with clear criteria and transparent processes to allay public skepticism. The program has already processed hundreds of low-risk Boko Haram defectors, offering them vocational training, psychological counseling, and religious re-education. These efforts must continue and be complemented by support for communities that receive former fighters – including reconciliation ceremonies and victim compensation – so that returnees are accepted rather than lynched. Similar demobilization, disarmament, and reintegration (DDR) initiatives could target bandit groups in the Northwest. For example, dialogues with bandit leaders (several states have attempted this) can be tied to offers of amnesty, land, or livelihoods for those who lay down arms, coupled with credible threats of force for those who refuse. An International Crisis Group report on Boko Haram defectors emphasizes that without viable exit pathways, foot soldiers have no incentive to surrender. Nigeria can learn from the Niger Delta amnesty of 2009, which dramatically reduced militancy by paying fighters stipends and training them – but this time, ensure it is done in a way that does not simply reward violence but truly rehabilitates former militants into contributing citizens. Justice and reconciliation mechanisms (possibly a truth commission or community service requirements) can help healing while avoiding blanket impunity. The overarching idea is to drain the swamp of fighters by giving those on the periphery of terrorist groups a reason and opportunity to quit – thus isolating hardcore ideologues who can then be dealt with by focused law enforcement.
4. Political and Economic Development Initiatives: Address the socio-economic roots of terrorism through robust development and governance reforms in affected regions. Northern Nigeria – particularly the Northeast and rural Middle Belt – suffers from extreme poverty, youth unemployment, poor infrastructure, and lack of state services. These conditions create a fertile recruiting ground for violent groups. The government must make a visible commitment to “winning hearts and minds” by improving daily life. This includes investing in schools, hospitals, roads, and electricity in long-neglected communities. Development should be coupled with good governance: stamping out local official corruption, ensuring that aid actually reaches the people, and involving local leaders in project planning. President Bola Tinubu’s recent emphasis on reviving the northern economy with infrastructure and exploiting oil discoveries is encouraging, but it must translate into tangible jobs and income for at-risk youth, not just contracts for big companies. Special initiatives should focus on youth empowerment – for example, vocational training programs, entrepreneurship grants, and recruitment of northern youth into public works. As Adeosun highlighted, issues like livestock modernization and land reform are also critical. Implementing a system of ranching and grazing reserves, as well as clarifying land rights, would reduce the violent competition over land between herders and farmers that fuels conflict in the Middle Belt. Fundamentally, development and inclusive governance will undercut the “appeal of the gun”. If a young man can envision a decent future – education, a job, a voice in his community – he is far less likely to be swayed by extremist recruiters offering stipends or playing on his frustrations. Marginalized groups must come to feel they have a stake in Nigeria’s future. As one Nigerian leader put it, “No community should feel excluded or silenced in a democracy.” Development is not a quick fix, but it is the essential long-term cure for the deprivation that often lies at the heart of insurgencies.
5. Regional and International Cooperation: Terrorism in Nigeria is a regional problem, and so must be the solution. The Boko Haram insurgency spans the Lake Chad Basin, with militants and arms flowing across the porous borders of Niger, Chad, and Cameroon. Similarly, the nomadic nature of some bandit and militant herder groups means they can slip into neighboring countries when under pressure. Nigeria should continue to strengthen the Multinational Joint Task Force (MNJTF) with its neighbors, sharing intelligence, coordinating border patrols, and conducting joint operations to deny terrorists any safe haven. Improved border security – through better surveillance technology and patrols – will help stem the influx of illicit weapons that fuel conflicts (echoing Vanguard’s call to “block the arms inflows at the borders”). Beyond immediate neighbors, Nigeria can seek support from international partners for training its forces in counter-insurgency best practices, obtaining advanced equipment like drones for surveillance, and investing in deradicalization programs. Western and African allies alike are keen to see Nigeria defeat jihadism and criminal networks, as these have global security implications. By partnering with the UN, AU, ECOWAS, and donor countries, Nigeria can access additional resources for humanitarian relief and post-conflict reconstruction in war-torn areas like Borno state. Regional cooperation should also tackle the transnational criminal economy (smuggling, trafficking) that finances terror groups. Finally, Nigeria can look to examples like the G5 Sahel joint force and ensure lessons learned there (both successes and pitfalls) inform its strategy. Terrorists thrive where states are divided; Nigeria showing leadership in a united regional front will make it far harder for insurgents to survive. As President Tinubu noted, unity is the North’s greatest asset – this applies not just internally, but among Nigeria and its neighbors: united, they can overcome any challenge.

By implementing these recommendations – security reform, community engagement, demobilization, development, and regional cooperation – Nigeria would be pursuing exactly the kind of comprehensive strategy that has proven effective around the world. This multi-pronged approach does not preclude using force; on the contrary, it makes force more effective by coupling it with political solutions. The military may win battles, but only such a holistic strategy can win the war for lasting peace.

Conclusion

Calls for the violent extermination of Nigeria’s terrorists and insurgents resonate with a populace weary of suicide bombings, mass kidnappings, and village raids. It is emotionally satisfying to imagine a swift and total victory achieved by the firepower of the Nigerian Armed Forces. Yet history, both global and Nigerian, teaches that this is a dangerous illusion. From the RAND study’s data showing military victories are exceedingly rare to the on-the-ground experiences in Colombia, Sri Lanka, Northern Ireland, and the Philippines, the verdict is consistent: terrorism cannot be sustainably defeated by bullets and bombs alone. Pure militarism is a short-term catharsis that in the long term often sows the seeds of the next conflict. By contrast, the enduring resolutions to terrorism have come when nations had the courage to pair strength with wisdom – to address the political grievances of marginalized communities, provide economic hope to the desperate, pursue justice and reconciliation, and offer a way back into society for those willing to lay down arms. Durable peace is achieved through a combination of coercion and conciliation, through force and reforms.

For Nigeria, the implication is clear. The country stands at a crossroads in its fight against terrorism. Down one path lies a continued cycle of violence – a “whack-a-mole” of killing militants only to see new ones emerge, of communities caught in the crossfire, of endless deployments with no victory. Down the other path lies a steady journey toward peace – using force strategically to contain threats while simultaneously healing the wounds that gave rise to those threats. The latter path is harder and requires patience, but it is the only route that leads to a Nigeria where children in Borno or Kaduna can sleep without fear. As the Bangsamoro negotiators in the Philippines reflected on their own hard-won peace, “war is not and will never be a solution.” Nigeria’s leaders and media commentators must reject the short-sighted narrative of total annihilation and instead champion a comprehensive strategy that addresses why terrorism took root in the first place. By reforming institutions, engaging communities, demobilizing fighters, cooperating with neighbors, and investing in development, Nigeria can transform its landscape of conflict into one of opportunity and hope. In doing so, it will affirm a powerful lesson for the world: that lasting victory over terror is won not by the sword, but by the sustained efforts to build a just and inclusive peace.

Bukola Adeyemi, Oyeniyi
Dept of History, Reynolds College
Missouri State University
Email: BukolaOyeniyi@MissouriState