In his 2009 book, The Grand Strategy of the Byzantine Empire, the acclaimed strategist, journalist and scholar, Edward Luttwak, makes the bold claim that “all states have a grand strategy, whether they know it or not”, since ‘grand strategy’, in his account, is the extent to which a state uses knowledge, persuasion and military force to achieve certain outcomes, desired or not. His whole point is that like the Byzantines did much better than their more well-known and militarily superior Romans, states endure and prosper better when they become adept at using diplomacy and persuasion as they do military might and skill.
Luttwak, of course, is speaking primarily about the international affairs of ancient states. But the lessons he draws remain valid for states in today’s world, and apply very much to the domestic affairs. And in this rereading of Luttwak, it bears noting that the Nigerian state faces an all-important strategic question right now. How do you defuse, peaceably and for the longer-term, dangerous and disruptive homegrown elements like Boko Haram in the North East, IPOB in the South East, militants in the Niger Delta, and rampant banditry in the North West?
As political entities, states exist first to hold together a geographical territory, to exert sovereignty within that territory, and then to establish a social order that builds and sustains peace and prosperity over the long haul. It is precisely in this sense that some observers describe Nigeria as a failing state, because while Boko Haram, IPOB, militants, bandits and so on differ in terms of motivation, scale of violence, and mode of operation, they pose the same threats to the Nigerian state, which again raises the all-important question of what to do for us to move beyond them.
Historians of statecraft, like Luttwak, would suggest only two ways: the force of arms and the force of persuasion and seduction. Nigeria is not new to the first, but has limited experience of the second. And therein lies the real problem we face. All too often in its dealings with disruptive groups, the Nigerian state speaks only one ‘language’, to use a recent parlance in our public discourse. Against criminal gangs like the bandits that language of military force should work well, and indeed should be used to maximum effect.
Against groups with more ambition and motivation than money, whether religious ideology or single-issue politics of some kind, however, military force can only go so far. Almost non-stop over the past 25 years, our military forces have done little more than fight insurgent Nigerian citizens of one hue or another in counter-insurgencies of various fanciful names. They are yet to win any emphatically, even with thousands of mostly innocent citizens, soldiers and policemen dead, not to talk of billions of dollars in military budgets; billions that could have gone into more productive sectors of the economy and society.
These statistical facts tell their own story of how competent the Nigerian state is in speaking even the only language it knows how to. More importantly, they cry out for a new approach that is cheaper in terms of lives, limbs and livelihoods to eliminating, or at least neutralising, homegrown insurgencies than scorched-earth military force. Persuasion and seduction can work. But how might it work?
The government must first persuade itself that persuasion can work, and then persuade the rest of the country. None will be easy. First, even with two decades of democracy, the depths of colonial and military cultures still run deep within both state and society. The government’s default position remains that of treating even peaceful Nigerians as ‘subjects’ or ‘bloody civilians’ to be bullied, rather than as citizens to be cultivated. Moreover, public attitudes around these issues are hardened, often along diametrically opposed lines.
By merely suggesting that the government should find peaceful means of resolving the Boko Haram crisis, for example, one stands the risk of being instantly dismissed as a ‘Boko Haram sympathiser’. This not only discourages many Nigerians of goodwill from venturing forward, but also leaves room for veiled charlatans to rob the state in the name of negotiating peace. Yet, the global experience in counter-terrorism in the past 20 years teaches the important lesson that force alone cannot solve the problem.
So where persuasion is the goal, these hurdles can be cleared. Indeed, one way of doing that is to demystify the ideologies behind some of these insurgencies, and thus render them less potent. Consider Boko Haram or IPOB. There is nothing inherently wrong with saying that you don’t want western education. Depending on where you are located in the world, we all don’t approve of certain forms of education.
Alone as an ideology, that is, without the murderous violence associated with it, Boko Haram is much milder than the ideology behind racism and white supremacy. Both are negating something. But where one negates an idea or a practice—western education—, the other negates people, and therefore strips them of their humanity. It should be clear which is worse. What is wrong and completely unacceptable is for Boko Haram to use violence to advance their ideology.
So the challenge is really how to remove the violence from the group. The state can persuade them to lay down arms, denounce violence, and be free to retain, even espouse, their ideology. The state can infiltrate their membership, and leadership, with agent-members who insist on non-violence until this becomes the norm. You can even encourage them to form Boko Haram People’s Party, while actively working to remove all the vulnerabilities that draw converts to them.
The real point here, if it needs restating, is that a state has far more control over the actions of disruptive groups by seducing them into the political and social mainstream than by pushing them out of it. With an organisation like IPOB, such a strategy will work even better. IPOB has had a violent turn of late, killing policemen and burning down state offices. But unlike Boko Haram, things have not gotten out of hand yet. We are at the perfect point for neutralising their potency.
Emotions of various kind about Biafra will never, never end in Nigeria. But they can be appropriated and rechanneled into cultural and political tendencies that would not threaten Nigeria as presently constituted. Realising that is important. It is not for nothing that Confederate flags, statues, monuments and museums still dot southern United States to this day. These symbols give those who feel deeply about them a sense of belonging, and more importantly, eliminate the need for a ‘round two’ fight.
The Nigerian state must learn these lessons in its dealing with sections of its own citizens. The whole Biafra narrative remains in a self-contained bubble. In books, social media, and street conversations, the Biafra story is told only by Igbos, to Igbos, and for Igbos. Other Nigerians simply cannot be bothered. You cannot fight something like that with a gun, or even a frown. The Nigerian state must seize the Biafra narrative from the crude retelling of people like Nnamdi Kanu and There was a Country.
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