Understanding Governor Aliyu’s Katsina declaration on banditry
In a nation weary from years of bloodshed and broken promises by the terrorists to lay down their arms, Governor Ahmed Aliyu’s uncompromising and unequivocal declaration—“We will not negotiate with
- By Emmanuel Ado
In a nation weary from years of bloodshed and broken promises by the terrorists to lay down their arms, Governor Ahmed Aliyu’s uncompromising and unequivocal declaration—“We will not negotiate with any criminal, nor will we accept any offer from them unless they surrender unconditionally”—landed like an earthquake. His statement has drawn widespread praise because it cuts through the ambiguity that has long shrouded Nigeria’s counterterrorism discourse. That ambiguity was on full display in the recent remarks by the Chief of Defense Staff, who described insurgents—men who kill, maim, and rape—as “prodigal children” deserving of a second chance. Between these two positions lies the question that has haunted Nigeria for over a decade: how should the Nigerian State confront this crisis? Can peace be brokered without justice—and at what cost is mercy?
At the commissioning of the N12.6 billion Yandaki–Shinkafi–Kofar Sauri Road in Katsina State last week, Governor Aliyu delivered one of the most consequential declarations to emerge from the North-West in recent memory. Standing before his peers, security forces, and the people of the North-West Zone that has bled for far too long, he made what has come to be known as the Katsina Declaration.
Governor Aliyu is absolutely right. To grasp the weight of his position, it’s important to first understand what he is rejecting. For years, the North-West Zone has endured savage banditry—kidnappings for ransom, mass killings, and the displacement of entire farming communities. In response, some states have turned to negotiation in the hope of striking peace deals in the interest of their people. Yet these efforts have repeatedly collapsed, as the terrorists proved adept at making agreements only to shatter them at will, due to the perceived weakness of the federal government. Going by this experience, the region does not need another round of dialogue; rather, it needs an unyielding resolve to confront and crush the forces that have held its people hostage for far too long.
The experience of the former Katsina State governor, Aminu Masari, is instructive. Faced with relentless banditry, his administration experimented with negotiation and amnesty initiatives, hoping that engagement and concessions would lead to an end to the unwarranted violence. The armed groups reneged on the agreements, regrouped, rearmed, and returned to the forests with renewed audacity. That painful lesson still lingers and no doubt emboldened them to continue their reign of terror. But the outcome exposed the fragility of such deals. If Aminu Masari were to write his memoirs, this chapter would likely stand out as one of his regrets—a cautionary tale of how the allure of quick fixes can collide with the reality that not all adversaries negotiate in good faith.
The logic behind his engagement, however flawed, is understandable. When lives are being lost daily and people begin to believe that the state is overwhelmed, even a temporary halt in violence will feel like a lifeline. In such moments, negotiation presents itself as a pragmatic escape—an option to buy time and restore a fragile calm. But every concession unfortunately conferred legitimacy on violent groups, emboldening them further. Each ransom paid merely secured a release and replenished the machinery of the terrorists for more violence. Over time, this created a dangerous signal that the state can be forced into negotiation on their own terms.
Again, Governor Aliyu pointed to history and its sobering warning that appeasement, however well-intentioned, carries consequences that often outlast the relief it provides. Europe learned this lesson too late in its dealings with Hitler, and the cost was catastrophic for the entire world. In much the same way, every negotiation with violent criminal groups risks conferring on them a veneer of legitimacy they don’t deserve.
In his characteristically blunt manner, Governor Aliyu, in his Katsina Declaration, drew a firm line and acknowledged that the region can no longer afford to repeat the mistakes of the past. It is a declaration shaped by hard lessons: that previous negotiations failed, and that what is needed now is a strategy that would crush them. Criminal groups that understand the state will concede nothing short of unconditional surrender will be forced into a different calculation than those who believe that violence will earn them leverage. To the armed groups that had repeatedly exploited dialogue as a tactic, he told them in very clear terms that the North-West governors will unleash the coercive power of the state against them and that it’s a war they intend to win.
If the North-West governors are resolute in their refusal to negotiate with terrorists, then the inevitable question that follows is what, precisely, their plan to crush the terrorists is. This matters because Governor Aliyu was not speaking for Sokoto State alone—he was projecting the position of the North-West as a united bloc, signaling a collective commitment to ending insecurity by defeating the various terrorist groups rather than bargaining with them. This question also matters because it goes to the heart of whether this consensus in their strategy portends some decisive action in the works, and because the stance raises expectations of the traumatized people who are tired of the nuisance the terrorists have become.
Though security is constitutionally anchored with the federal government—indeed, Section 14(2)(b) of the 1999 Constitution (as amended) declares that “the security and welfare of the people shall be the primary purpose of government,” while matters of defence and policing are firmly and squarely placed on the Exclusive Legislative List—the reality on the ground has forced states into roles they were neither designed nor resourced to play. Faced with relentless insecurity and the immediacy of threats to their citizens, North-West governments have had little choice but to step in by procuring patrol vehicles, motorcycles, allowances for security personnel, and, in cases like Sokoto State, constructing military bases and supplying critical logistical support. What was once supplementary has become essential, exposing both the urgency of the crisis and the limits of a system in which those closest to the problem lack formal control over the instruments needed to solve it.
Despite the above,the North-West governors must back their effort with coordinated, practical measures; a unified regional security framework that enables joint operations across state lines- working with the federal government; stronger grassroots intelligence; working with the federal government the disruption of financing networks such as ransom flows and illicit markets; and a “clear, hold, build” approach that ensures security forces remain in reclaimed areas. At the same time, community guards must be properly trained and integrated into formal structures, while efforts to curb recruitment through targeted economic opportunities are expanded. Finally, effective prosecution of suspects and consistent, transparent communication with the public are essential to sustain trust and the buy in of the people.
Governor Aliyu’s Katsina State declaration pointed toward a more structured way forward. At its core is a clearly articulated position, backed by the need for coordination and a level of execution that has been previously missing in the fight against banditry. Across the North-West, some states, like Sokoto and Katsina, have established community guards to complement the military and to improve intelligence gathering at the grassroots. This regional solidarity is critical because banditry, by its very nature, thrives on fragmentation. Armed groups have been moving fluidly across state lines, exploiting the fact that there have not been simultaneous attacks. A united position by the seven North-West states signals a change in strategy and an understanding that defeating banditry requires building a security architecture at multiple levels simultaneously.
Governor Aliyu also drew attention to a dimension of the crisis that is often acknowledged in private but overlooked: the role of local informants. His assertion that “no bandit attack occurs without some level of local collaboration” is the reality. Communities, he argues, must remain vigilant, monitor suspicious movements, and expose those who provide intelligence or logistical support to criminal groups. It is a fact that the bandits operating in the North-West are not external invaders—they are embedded within the communities they terrorize. In many cases, their operations are sustained by the complicity of members of the community. So to address the insecurity without confronting this internal dimension is to treat only the symptoms while leaving the infection untouched.
Equally important is the emerging understanding—now openly acknowledged within this regional consensus—that intelligence failures are often rooted within the communities themselves. By aligning their approach, the governors are effectively agreeing that the fight against banditry must extend beyond military deployments to include dismantling the local support systems that enable these groups to survive and move across the North-West. In this sense, it is an attempt to close the gaps created by fragmented responses and ensure that communities in Zamfara, Katsina, Sokoto, Kebbi, Kaduna, Kano, and Jigawa are no longer treated as isolated theatres of conflict but as part of a single, coordinated security space.
Nigerians owe Governor Ahmed Aliyu—a man whose restraint in speech is matched only by the weight of what he says whenever he speaks—a bouquet of gratitude for letting the world know that the policy of appeasement is dead and buried. By also making the Katsina Declaration at the commissioning of a road project, the governor’s message is simple: “By building this road, we expect you to live and work in your community, and we know we must provide you with security.”
Postscript: The 19 Northern States have launched a Security Fund, which signals not only a recognition of the scale of the challenge but also their determination to crush the terrorists. The war chest—running into billions of naira—is substantial; expectedly, the governors are playing their cards close to their chests.
