In a move that caught the nation by surprise, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu this week relieved General Christopher Gwabin Musa of his duties as the Chief of Defence Staff (CDS), replacing him with General Olufemi Oluyede, a Yoruba officer from the South-West. Though the Presidency framed the action as a routine reshuffle aimed at “realigning national security leadership,” beneath the official rhetoric lies a deeper political and ideological struggle — one that reveals much about the direction of Tinubu’s administration and the competing visions within Nigeria’s security architecture.
General Musa’s exit did not occur in a vacuum. It comes at a time of renewed insecurity across the North-West and North-East, rising political discontent, and quiet murmurs of a failed coup plot allegedly foiled in early October. But insiders say Musa’s removal was not just about performance — it was about philosophy, loyalty, and politics. His uncompromising military doctrine clashed sharply with the more conciliatory approach favoured by Tinubu’s kitchen cabinet and the National Security Adviser, Mallam Nuhu Ribadu.
The Ideological Rift: Peace Versus Force
At the heart of Musa’s dismissal lies a deep and growing disagreement over how to handle Nigeria’s worsening insecurity — particularly in the North-West, where banditry and terrorism have merged into an entrenched criminal economy.
General Musa’s approach was firm and uncompromising. He consistently maintained that terrorists and bandits are enemies of the state, not aggrieved citizens to be negotiated with. He argued that peace without justice was an illusion, and that dialogue with killers would only embolden others. His philosophy was shaped by years of combat leadership in the North-East under Operation Lafiya Dole and Operation Hadin Kai, where he saw firsthand how past “peace deals” with armed groups often collapsed into renewed violence.
President Tinubu’s camp, however, has embraced a different philosophy — one driven by political pragmatism rather than military doctrine. The NSA Nuhu Ribadu, supported by some northern APC governors, has championed a “peace-through-dialogue” initiative, aimed at calming volatile regions by opening communication channels with armed groups.
The idea, they say, is to buy stability first, then development. Critics call it appeasement; the government calls it strategy.
The Asadus-Sunnah Factor
The ideological divide became public when Sheikh Musa, popularly known by his alias Asadus-Sunnah, announced that he had initiated peace talks with the notorious bandit leader Bello Turji — one of the most feared figures in Zamfara and Sokoto States. Sheikh Musa claimed that the initiative was undertaken “with the full backing of the National Security Adviser, Mallam Nuhu Ribadu, and other top government officials.”
When the claim made national headlines, many expected the government to deny it. But neither the Office of the NSA (ONSA) nor the Presidency issued any rebuttal. The only comment came from the Defence Headquarters, which stated that it had “no official record of Turji’s surrender.” That statement, while distancing the military, did not deny the existence of talks — a silence that analysts interpreted as tacit approval from the top.
The absence of denial confirmed what many insiders had whispered: that the Federal Government was quietly supporting local peace initiatives with select bandit groups, hoping to pacify regions where military operations had failed to yield lasting peace.
Musa’s Resistance and Isolation
Within the National Security Council, this approach sparked quiet friction. General Musa, known for his candour, was reportedly uncomfortable with what he viewed as the “politicization of security.” He believed that negotiating with warlords was a betrayal of fallen soldiers and a dangerous precedent for national authority.
At one meeting, sources say, he questioned the sustainability of “buying peace from criminals,” warning that the so-called repentant fighters often regrouped once they received amnesty or material incentives. His insistence on hardline operations and his advocacy for citizens’ right to self-defence in rural communities put him at odds with both the NSA and some northern political elites who preferred a less confrontational posture.
Over time, Musa found himself increasingly isolated within the inner circle of power. While his professionalism earned him respect within the armed forces, his refusal to align with Tinubu’s political doctrine of “negotiated calm” may have sealed his fate.
Two Doctrines, One Presidency
| Musa’s Doctrine | Tinubu/Ribadu Doctrine |
|---|---|
| No dialogue with terrorists or bandits; military action only. | Dialogue and amnesty for short-term peace and political stability. |
| Advocated citizens’ right to self-defence against rural attacks. | Favoured centralized peace committees under government supervision. |
| Saw banditry as criminality, not a social issue. | Viewed it as an outcome of socio-economic neglect requiring dialogue. |
| Prioritized deterrence and justice over political expediency. | Prioritized calm and optics over prolonged warfare. |
This contrast — one moral, one political — became irreconcilable. For Tinubu, the choice was clear: between an uncompromising soldier and a flexible doctrine that aligns with his political survival.
A President Tightening His Circle
Observers note that the sack fits a growing pattern of ethno-regional consolidation of power around Tinubu’s long-time political base — the South-West. In recent months, the President has stacked key institutions with loyalists or allies from his trusted Lagos network. The Finance Ministry under Wale Edun, the Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS) under Zacch Adedeji, and now the Defence Headquarters under Oluyede, all point to a deliberate power alignment.
Critics warn that this shift upsets Nigeria’s delicate North-South and Christian-Muslim balance, especially since Musa, a northern Christian from Kaduna State, represented both military professionalism and regional inclusion. For a nation built on fragile federal equilibrium, such moves risk reigniting old suspicions that national cohesion is giving way to sectional dominance.
But for the President, this appears to be about control. With economic challenges, anti-government protests, and political tensions simmering, Tinubu seems determined to ensure that every institution of power — especially the military — is firmly loyal to his political center.
The Politics Behind The Uniform
Beyond ideology, the decision reflects raw political calculus. President Tinubu’s administration has faced mounting criticism from the North, where insecurity and economic hardship have combined to erode public confidence. The peace-deal narrative, heavily promoted by some northern clerics and politicians, offers the President a softer image — one of reconciliation and listening — compared to the harsh optics of endless military campaigns.
Removing Musa therefore served two purposes:
- It neutralized a dissenting voice within the security council who opposed the peace agenda.
- It allowed Tinubu to recast the Defence leadership with a loyalist more willing to align with the government’s broader political and security objectives.
A Nation At Crossroads
Nigeria’s struggle against terrorism and banditry has never been purely military — it has always been political, economic, and deeply moral. But this latest reshuffle exposes a crucial question: can peace built on negotiation with armed warlords deliver justice to their victims, or does it merely postpone another cycle of violence?
For many Nigerians, General Musa’s removal is more than a personnel change — it is a turning point. It signals a shift from a doctrine of hardline defence to one of calculated accommodation. Whether this new path leads to stability or emboldens criminal networks remains to be seen.
But one thing is certain: in President Tinubu’s Nigeria, loyalty and alignment now matter as much as competence. The silent war between military conviction and political control has ended — and politics, once again, has triumphed over principle.
Final Thought:
In the end, the question lingers: Was General Musa fired for failing the President — or for refusing to fail his conscience?