BETWEEN NYESOM WIKE AND NAVAL OFFICER
The recent altercation between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Nyesom Wike, and a naval officer in Abuja has once again thrown open Nigeria’s long-standing debate about the use and abuse of power in public service. What began as a dispute over a piece of land quickly escalated into a national talking point — not just about property, but about ego, hierarchy, and the delicate relationship between civil authority and military discipline.
The viral video, which showed a visibly angry Wike confronting a uniformed naval officer over an alleged “encroachment” on government land, has dominated social media feeds and national discourse. While the facts are still being pieced together, the optics alone were enough to raise eyebrows: a sitting minister trading words with an officer of the Nigerian Navy in public view. It was a spectacle that seemed to pit political authority against the very discipline the military prides itself on.
Beyond the drama of the moment lies a deeper question — who truly holds the line of authority in such matters? Many of Wike’s supporters argue that as a minister and political head of the FCT, he possesses the constitutional right to enforce compliance within his jurisdiction. After all, the FCT Administration oversees land allocation and urban development. To them, the Navy officer’s presence on the disputed site amounted to an act of defiance against constituted civil authority.
Yet, others see it differently. They argue that Wike’s approach — loud, public, and confrontational — undermined the very decorum expected of a senior member of the federal cabinet. The confrontation, they insist, could have been handled administratively or through inter-agency coordination rather than a public clash that embarrassed both the civilian and military institutions involved.
Adding to the confusion are claims circulating online that Wike, as a minister, “ranks above the service chiefs” and could lawfully issue orders to them. Legal and constitutional experts have swiftly dismissed this assertion. Section 217(2) of the 1999 Constitution, alongside Sections 7 and 8 of the Armed Forces Act, clearly vests operational command of the military solely in the hands of the President as Commander-in-Chief. Ministers, including the Defence Minister, have administrative oversight, not operational authority. This means that while Wike wields significant political power as FCT Minister, he cannot issue operational directives to any branch of the Armed Forces.
The incident also revealed another failure — that of Wike’s security aides. In situations of escalating tension, the first rule of protective security is de-escalation. Bodyguards are trained to shield their principal from confrontation, not to watch as emotions flare. As one commentator noted, “They stood there like statues while their principal walked into public humiliation.” The comparison to earlier accounts of tactful protection — where officers discreetly diffuse volatile situations without firing a shot — only underscores how professional lapses can expose political figures to needless controversy.
But perhaps the most important lesson from this episode lies in its symbolism. It mirrors a broader Nigerian reality — where power often overshadows process, and personality sometimes eclipses institution. Both Wike and the naval officer represent two faces of authority in Nigeria: the civilian establishment and the disciplined armed forces. When either side steps out of line, the system suffers.
To Wike’s credit, his passion for enforcing order in the FCT is evident. Since assuming office, he has waged a visible campaign against illegal structures and encroachments. But leadership, especially at his level, requires not just firmness but restraint — the ability to command authority without losing composure. The military, on the other hand, must continue to uphold discipline and chain of command, even when provoked. The officer’s calm response in the face of confrontation arguably preserved what could have spiraled into a deeper institutional embarrassment.
Ultimately, the Abuja land incident is a reminder that Nigeria’s democracy thrives when its institutions understand their boundaries. Ministers must act within the ambit of law and protocol; security officers must maintain discipline regardless of circumstance. The day either side forgets these principles, the thin line between order and chaos blurs.
At the end of it all, the question is not merely who was right or wrong — but what the episode says about the health of our governance culture. It calls for emotional intelligence in leadership, professionalism among security agencies, and a return to the old-fashioned virtues of humility and tact in public service.
Because in moments like this, the real test of power is not how loud it speaks, but how calmly it leads.
Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu, Abuja
