by Mohammed Bello Doka
17 June, 2026
A current attempt to dissuade Northern influencers, social media handlers and people with reasonable followers from discussing, sharing or even posting pictures and videos of the security situation in the North in the name of promoting banditry represents nothing less than a calculated assault on the collective survival of the Arewa people. This is not about protecting national security. This is about protecting political convenience at the expense of human lives. And we must call it what it is: a mischievous, politically motivated silencing of a people who have bled enough and deserve the right to cry out.
Why is this coming only months away from a general election? The Independent National Electoral Commission has fixed Saturday, January 16, 2027, for the Presidential and National Assembly elections, with governorship and State Houses of Assembly polls following on February 6, 2027. The timing of this sudden push to silence Northern voices is no coincidence. With campaigns in full swing, the political class is acutely aware that an informed, vocal Northern electorate poses the greatest threat to their electoral ambitions. They do not fear bandits. They fear the truth. They fear that when Northerners begin to document the corpses on our highways, the abandoned villages and the tears of our mothers, the world will finally ask the question they have evaded for decades: what have you done with our lives?
The world has witnessed time and again how social media and the free press have become the most powerful weapons against tyranny, terrorism and state neglect. When the Arab Spring erupted across the Middle East and North Africa, it was not tanks or armies that toppled dictators—it was Twitter, Facebook and the courage of ordinary citizens who refused to be silenced. In Kenya, the UNESCO Social Media 4 Peace project has demonstrated how digital platforms can build resilience against harmful content while safeguarding freedom of expression and fostering peace. Research has shown that social media can be an effective tool in atrocity prevention—helping to identify early warning signs of violence, amplify the voices of local people, and draw attention from the international community. In Bosnia and Herzegovina, Indonesia and Kenya, peacebuilding through social media has become a recognised strategy for countering hate speech and promoting dialogue.
Here in Nigeria, when the world demanded justice for the Chibok girls, it was social media that kept their memory alive, that forced the government to act, that made their abduction a global cause célèbre. When police brutality erupted across the country during the EndSARS protests, it was young Nigerians on social media who documented every atrocity, who mobilised millions, who forced a reckoning. The hashtag became a weapon. The video became evidence. The post became a testimony that no government could erase. If we in the North continue to surrender our digital voices, we surrender our only genuine means of confronting the monsters that have turned our villages into graveyards and our highways into death traps.
Yet our own state governments do not keep records of the dead. They do not count the kidnapped. They do not document the displaced. Instead, they harass those who dare to speak. Consider the case of Hamdiyya Sidi Shariff, an 18-year-old from Sokoto State who posted a TikTok video criticising Governor Ahmed Aliyu's handling of insecurity. For this act of speaking truth to power, she was arrested on November 13, 2024, and remanded in prison. Before her arrest, armed men abducted her on the street, brutalised her, and threw her off a moving tricycle. On April 11, 2025, a Sokoto Chief Magistrates' Court ordered that she be given 12 strokes of the cane, two years imprisonment, or a fine of N50,000. Amnesty International condemned her treatment, noting that she and her lawyer faced threats, stalking and intimidation. The Director of Amnesty International Nigeria, Isa Sanusi, stated: "Instead of attempting to suppress dissenting voices, Sokoto State government and the Nigerian security agencies should focus on addressing rampant insecurity". This is not an isolated incident. The Centre for Information Technology and Development has documented a disturbing rise in cases where citizens are arrested, detained or intimidated for comments made on social media across Kano, Jigawa, Niger, Katsina and Kwara States. Amnesty International has raised alarm over an escalating pattern of repression in Kano State, where individuals who criticise Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf are being subjected to arrest, detention and intimidation. In Borno State, 19-year-old social media critic Haruna Mohammed, known as Abale Borno, was arrested and detained after a viral social media post on the ramshackle state of public schools.
When bandits operate social media accounts and run live sessions on Facebook or TikTok, what "promotion of banditry" are we talking about? The Federal Government itself has admitted that security agencies are actively identifying and deleting social media accounts linked to bandits, kidnappers and terrorist groups. The Director-General of the National Counter Terrorism Centre, Maj.-Gen. Adamu Laka, revealed that bandits openly posted videos on TikTok showing weapons and loot from kidnappings, and even livestreamed conversations with supporters. In one particularly shocking instance, a self-described celebrity bandit boasted of spending over ₦50 million on a single TikTok live session, while another acknowledged spending close to ₦100 million sourced directly from ransom payments. A bandit dressed in a green balaclava issued a ransom demand targeting Abuja on a live TikTok session, drawing hundreds of live viewers in real time.
The Senate has since ordered security agencies to intensify surveillance and enforcement actions against bandits and terrorists who openly display their criminal activities on social media. Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan revealed that bandits conducted a giveaway, distributing over ₦100 million within the space of 30 minutes through their social media handles, especially TikTok. She questioned why security agencies had yet to apprehend individuals who openly maintain a digital presence while allegedly engaging in criminal activities. Senate President Godswill Akpabio described the development as a troubling display of impunity, declaring: "The Department of State Services should be able to track their movements and arrest them because this is a show of impunity, as if there is no law at all". Security forces have arrested at least one suspected bandit, Sule Yellow, who gained notoriety on TikTok for allegedly flaunting kidnapping operations and ransom proceeds during livestream sessions.
If bandits can broadcast their crimes to millions, if they can display weapons, boast of ransom proceeds and issue threats against the President himself, and yet the government's response is to silence the victims rather than the perpetrators, then the argument that social media "promotes banditry" collapses under its own weight. The criminals are already on social media. They are already recruiting, intimidating and terrorising. The only people being silenced are the victims, the survivors and the mourners. The government has been taking down bandit accounts, yet the same government that can identify and delete a bandit's TikTok profile cannot protect a young woman in Sokoto from being caned for speaking the truth. The hypocrisy is staggering. When a bandit goes live to threaten the President, the government does not arrest the platform. When a terrorist displays weapons on TikTok, the government does not ban the internet. But when a Northern mother posts a video of her child's corpse, when a village youth tweets about an attack, when a content creator dares to name the dead—suddenly, there is concern about "promoting banditry." This is not about security. This is about control. This is about ensuring that the horrors of the North remain invisible until after the ballots are cast. This is about protecting the political class from the wrath of an electorate that has been slaughtered, neglected and betrayed. The silence being demanded is not for our safety. It is for their survival.
The silence of our political and business elite has been deafening. Northern Nigeria has produced more heads of state than any other region—47 years of leadership since independence. And yet, the region has fallen to the bottom of virtually every developmental index. As one analyst put it, the North's problems "were born from decades of neglect, sustained by silence, and cemented by the failure of our own leaders to act". The Northern elites' apathy towards investing in media perpetuates a cycle of neglect, hindering the region's ability to amplify its voice on the national stage. While the Southwest has ruled for just 13 years since independence, it has strategically invested in critical sectors. Our elite, meanwhile, has been busy playing ethnic politics, consolidating personal influence, and preserving structures that benefit a few at the expense of millions. A lack of support and patronage for our own media outlets has left the Arewa region voiceless. As one observer noted, "the Northern elites' apathy towards investing in media... perpetuates a cycle of neglect". The result is that the North remains largely underreported, its voices muted in the corridors of power.
The media bias against the North is glaring and undeniable. When terrorists strike in the North, they are "Fulani herdsmen," "Fulani jihadists" or "Islamic terrorists." When the same atrocities occur in the South, the perpetrators are "gunmen," "unknown gunmen" or "activists." Sunday Igboho is a "Yoruba activist." Nnamdi Kanu is a "Biafran activist"—even when a court of competent jurisdiction has indicted him for terrorism. No Southern media outlet will ever call him an "Igbo terrorist." Senator Ali Ndume, representing Borno South, has cautioned against this dangerous religious profiling, noting that Boko Haram does not kill only Christians. In a recent attack, five Muslims were killed in Ngoshe village while three Christians were killed in Mussa village. Ndume stated: "It is unethical and unconscionable for any media outlet to drive the narrative that Christians are the targets of these attacks". Between 2010 and 2025, more than 25,000 Muslims were killed and over 6,000 mosques destroyed across northern Nigeria, particularly in Borno, Yobe and Adamawa. Fewer than 200 churches were confirmed destroyed within the same period. Yet global media consistently frames the crisis as a religious genocide targeting Christians alone. The main reason this Christian genocide narrative is taken seriously by many is simple: we have failed to tell our own story. We have allowed others to define us. We have been silent while our villages burn and our people die.
The advantages of a vibrant media landscape are undeniable. Media holds power to account. Media documents the truth. Media mobilises the world. Media ensures that the dead are not just statistics but names, faces and stories that demand justice. The disadvantages of silence are equally clear: when we do not speak, others speak for us. When we do not document, our suffering is erased. When we do not demand accountability, our leaders feel no obligation to act. Silence is not just suicidal—it is a betrayal of every Northerner who has fallen to the bullets of bandits, the machetes of terrorists and the indifference of those who should protect them.
However, we must also recognise the boundaries of responsible speech. Not every piece of information should be divulged. The identities of victims of sexual violence must be protected. The locations of vulnerable displaced persons must not be exposed. The operational details of security forces must remain confidential. Human rights, human dignity and the safety of the vulnerable must always guide our reporting. But speaking truth to power about the existence of insecurity, the failure of governance and the suffering of our people is not a crime—it is a civic duty.
Our strength as Northerners has always been our resilience. We have survived the Sahel, the desert, the colonial conquest and the civil war. We have produced scholars, warriors, traders and leaders. Our possibilities are limitless if we choose to embrace them. We have the numbers—over 150 million souls. We have the resources. We have the talent. What we lack is the will to speak, the courage to confront and the unity to demand better. As Senator Ndume reminds us, "the forces behind these mindless killings are blind to faith and tribe". The victims are Muslims and Christians alike. The perpetrators are not representatives of any faith or ethnicity. They are criminals who thrive on our silence.
To our social media influencers, content creators and every Northerner with a platform: the time for silence is over. Tell your story. Post the picture. Share the video. Document the atrocity. Demand the accountability. We must tell our stories because if we do not, we will always be on the defensive. We will always be defined by others. We will always be the victims of narratives crafted by those who do not know us, do not love us and do not mourn with us.
Let this be the moment Arewa finds its voice. Let this be the moment we conquer our demons—not by ignoring them, but by exposing them to the light of truth. Our stories are our power. Our voices are our weapons. Our unity is our salvation. The world is watching. The world is waiting. Arewa, speak.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
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