By Usman Abdulkadir Taleeki
In my column this week, I want to take on a very sensitive topic. Security is one of the most delicate issues in any society, especially when it intersects with identity, ethnicity, and brotherhood tested by time. In Northern Nigeria, where I come from, Hausa and Fulani are not strangers to one another. We are brothers bound by history, culture, intermarriage, shared faith, and centuries of coexistence. In many communities, it is almost impossible to draw a rigid line between who is Hausa and who is Fulani. Our destinies are deeply connected.
However, in recent years, banditry and kidnapping have become persistent realities in the Northwestern part of Nigeria. It is important to state clearly that criminality has no tribe. In every society, there are good people and bad people. Every ethnic group has both. That is a universal human truth. But human psychology is also a universal truth. When violence appears to follow a pattern, and when a large percentage of perpetrators are perceived to come from one background while many victims come from another, the human mind begins to draw conclusions. This is not always because people are wicked or tribalistic. It is often because human beings are wired to look for patterns as a survival mechanism. When communities repeatedly see attacks in which the suspected perpetrators are largely Fulani and the victims largely non-Fulani, particularly Hausa, suspicion naturally grows. Whether the statistics are exact or not, perception begins to harden into belief. And once belief settles emotionally, it becomes difficult to reverse. Psychologically, when a group feels attacked, two reactions often occur. The first is fear. The second is generalization. Fear pushes people to seek explanations. Generalization pushes them to simplify complex realities into ethnic narratives. That is how dangerous stereotypes are born.
Now imagine this environment of fear and suspicion. Then imagine hearing influential Fulani leaders describe bandits in sympathetic language. For instance, Mohammed Bello Bodejo, leader of the Miyetti Allah Cattle Breeders Association, described bandits as “freedom fighters.” Sheikh Ahmad Gumi referred to them as “our warriors.” Assadussunnah tradition and other clerical voices who are Fulanis have framed the crisis largely around the narrative of oppression of Fulani communities. Even the Governor of Gombe publicly stated that past oppression of the Fulani explains why some have taken to violence. Even if the intention behind such statements is to contextualize grievances or advocate dialogue, such language interacts with an already fragile psychology. To a community that feels victimized, those words do not sound like analysis. They sound like justification.
This is where leadership becomes crucial. Social psychology teaches that when members of a group feel their identity is under threat, they often close ranks. They defend their own, sometimes even when wrongdoing is evident. It is a natural human instinct known as in-group bias. But when leaders reinforce that instinct instead of correcting it, the problem deepens. If a Hausa leader were to publicly rationalize criminals who are overwhelmingly Hausa and targeting Fulani communities, Fulani citizens would understandably feel abandoned and betrayed by the system. The same psychological principle applies in reverse. This is not about saying all Fulanis are bandits. That would be false and unjust. Millions of Fulani people are peaceful, law-abiding citizens who are also victims of insecurity. But when the dominant public perception links banditry heavily to one group, leaders from that group carry a heavier moral burden to speak clearly. Not because they are guilty. But because they are influential. Words from respected clerics, association leaders, and political figures shape narratives. In a fragile security climate, narratives can either calm tensions or inflame them. When explanations of oppression are not carefully separated from condemnation of violence, they risk sounding like moral cover.
Oppression, even if real, cannot logically justify kidnapping, killing, or terrorizing innocent people. If every aggrieved group in Nigeria were to take up arms, the nation would collapse entirely. That is why moral clarity must come before ethnic sentiment. Right now, the environment in the Northwest is psychologically fragile. Trust is thinning. Suspicion is rising. In such moments, silence is interpreted as sympathy, and ambiguous language is interpreted as endorsement.
This is why I say it is time for some Fulani leaders to do the needful. Doing the needful does not mean accepting collective blame. It means exercising moral courage. It means condemning criminality without qualification. It means separating legitimate grievances from violent extremism. It means protecting the image of peaceful Fulani citizens by drawing a firm line between identity and crime. Hausa and Fulani are brothers. Brotherhood is strongest when it stands on truth, not denial. If we ignore the psychological realities of fear, perception, and identity, we risk allowing criminals to destroy a centuries-old bond.
Usman Abdulkadir Taleeki Writes from Abuja, Nigeria and can be reached via [email protected]
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