On December 10, 2025, during the 20th edition of the Wole Soyinka Centre for Investigative Journalism Awards in Lagos, Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka delivered a blistering condemnation of what he described as the “excessive, battalion-size” security detail around Seyi Tinubu, son of Nigeria’s president. In a moment of candor and biting sarcasm, Soyinka suggested that, given the powerful escort accompanying Seyi, the president “did not have to send the Air Force or the military” to Benin Republic during its recent coup crisis — the son’s convoy alone would have sufficed.
This is not mere hyperbole. The story of how Nigeria intervened militarily in the Western African country — and the moral, political, and security questions raised — demands close scrutiny.
🇧🇯 What Happened in Benin Republic — and Nigeria’s Response
On December 7, 2025, the security of Benin Republic was tested when a group of mutinous soldiers calling themselves the Military Committee for Refoundation attempted a coup, seizing the national television station and a military base in the capital, Cotonou. The group, led by Lt. Col. Pascal Tigri, issued a televised announcement claiming dissolution of the government and the suspension of democratic institutions.
Within hours, loyal forces backed by foreign intervention turned the tide. At the request of Benin’s government, Nigeria dispatched fighter jets from its air force and ground troops to restore constitutional order. The Nigerian Senate subsequently approved the deployment. The intervention was swift and decisive — the coup was foiled, rebel forces neutralized or arrested, and President Patrice Talon restored power.
In his public statement after the operation, Nigeria’s president, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, commended the Armed Forces for acting gallantly and protecting democratic values, underscoring the response as consistent with regional norms under the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) protocol.
By any conventional measure, the intervention likely prevented a serious breakdown of order in a neighbour and a key regional partner. Yet amid applause for what appears to be responsible regional leadership, Wole Soyinka’s critique cuts to the heart of a deeper systemic concern: the domestic misallocation of state security resources.
🌐 Soyinka’s Stinging Rebuke: “A Battalion for a Private Citizen”
What distinguishes Soyinka’s remarks is not merely the adequacy of his rhetorical flourish, but the precise sequence of events and observations he drew upon. While staying at a hotel in Ikoyi, Lagos, he witnessed what he initially assumed to be a movie being filmed — armed men, heavily bristling with weapons, hundreds of metres of security cordons, and a level of force that struck him as overkill even for a film set. Only later did he realize that these armed personnel were attached to Seyi Tinubu, the president’s son.
He counted “about 15 or so heavily armed to the teeth” — enough, in his own words, to “take over a small neighbouring city like Benin.” Disturbed, he called the National Security Adviser, Nuhu Ribadu, to request clarification. The response — or lack thereof — only amplified his unease.
At the journalism awards event, Soyinka didn’t mince his words: he called this heavy security detail a “misallocation of state resources,” a distortion of national security priorities that undermines public trust — especially when vast swathes of the country remain vulnerable to banditry, kidnapping, and violent crime.
Then came the rhetorical kicker: Why deploy jets and troops to Benin when “the same troops” already accompany Seyi Tinubu in Lagos? A sardonic suggestion: “Next time there’s an uprising, the president should call that young man and say, ‘Seyi, go and put down those stupid people there. You have troops under your command.’”
In pushing this narrative, Soyinka elevated a single anecdote into a searing indictment — not just of Seyi’s privileges, but of a system in which state security becomes private security, and public resources are bent to individual advantage.
⚠️ Beyond Irony: Why This Matters for Nigeria’s Security Architecture
Soyinka’s criticism should not be dismissed as hyperbole or elitist outrage. It speaks to concrete, structural issues emerging in Nigeria’s governance and security framework. Consider the following:
Inequity in Security Distribution: When a private citizen — regardless of lineage — enjoys militarized protection, it distorts priorities. Resources that could be deployed to patrol hotspots, secure vulnerable communities, or reinforce overstretched police stations end up concentrated on personal convoys.
Public Perception and Legitimacy: In a country plagued by insecurity, such glaring displays of privilege breed resentment and erode confidence in the state’s commitment to protecting all citizens equally.
Implications for Regional Security: The irony is stark. Nigeria — under Tinubu — has positioned itself as a regional guarantor of constitutional order, using military force to stabilize a neighbouring country. Yet at home, the same instruments of force are privatized, reserved for family and friends of those in power. Does that inspire confidence in Nigeria’s internal security institutions, or raise questions about selective protection and potential abuse?
Governance and Accountability: The lack of transparency around such security deployments — including how they are funded, authorized, and monitored — challenges the very notion of accountable governance. When state security becomes personal security, citizens lose insight into whether these resources serve public good or private privilege.
📢 What Soyinka’s Message Should Mean for Nigerians — and for the International Community
Soyinka’s critique — delivered with both gravity and wit — resonates beyond a single incident or a single person. It calls for a fundamental rebalancing of Nigeria’s security priorities, and for renewed commitment to equity, justice, and accountability.
1. Reassess Security Allocations
The government should audit how security resources — especially manpower, weapons, logistical support — are distributed. Private escorts with military-grade firepower should be strictly limited, regulated, and justified only under exceptional circumstances with transparent oversight.
2. Restore Public Confidence
In a climate where ordinary citizens fear for their lives — from kidnappings to bandit attacks — the state must convincingly demonstrate that its first priority is the safety of the many, not the image of the few.
3. Promote Transparent Oversight
Security agencies should publish periodic reports detailing their deployments — domestically and internationally — including justifications, funding sources, and oversight mechanisms. The public has a right to know when and why the state mobilizes force.
4. Align Regional Role with Domestic Responsibility
Nigeria may continue to intervene abroad as a regional security actor — as it did in Benin — but its credibility depends on maintaining high standards of security governance at home. Exporting stability must go hand in hand with ensuring justice and equity domestically.
5. Encourage Civic Dialogue and Reform
Voices like Soyinka’s must be encouraged. Civil society, media, and citizens should demand accountability, engage in dialogue about the state’s use of force, and press for reforms that dismantle structures of privilege and institutionalize fairness.
💡 Conclusion: The Stakes — and What Is at Risk
The episode surrounding Seyi Tinubu’s security convoy is not a trivial matter, nor is it just a celebrity-style scandal. It is emblematic of how power, privilege, and force are being interwoven in ways that may undermine the very fabric of Nigerian democracy. When public security becomes private privilege, the value of every citizen’s safety is diminished.
By highlighting this brazen overcommitment of state resources, Wole Soyinka is sounding a warning bell — and calling on all Nigerians, and indeed the global community, to pay attention. For a country that expects to play a leading role in West Africa’s stability, the message must be clear: internal security and good governance matter as much as external commitments.
Using jets to defend democracy abroad while militarizing personal convoys at home — that’s not just poor policy. It’s a moral contradiction. And a dangerous one.
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