The Fragile Peace of Nigeria and the Path to Food Security
Nigeria is often described as a nation at peace, yet the actions of its citizens and leaders tell a different story. While there may be moments of relative calm, this peace is not valued or protected. Both the people and the government have, in various ways, allowed insecurity to take root across the country. Over time, chaos has become normalized, turning into a cultural norm, and when the world finally takes notice, we are surprised.
Just last week, I participated in a radio discussion on food security through technology adoption. The conversation naturally led to the issue of livestock and grazing routes. Days later, former U.S. President Donald Trump made headlines by calling Nigeria “a country of particular concern,” citing mass killings and government inaction. While his comments may appear politically motivated, they reflect an undeniable truth: when a nation fails to protect its people, regardless of their faith or background, its economy, and its food systems, it loses both credibility and control.
Food security cannot exist without peace and stability. Farmers cannot plant, herders cannot graze, traders cannot transport goods, and investors cannot deploy technology in an environment plagued by fear and violence. Every instance of insecurity that forces a farmer off his land or blocks a grazing route leads to a drop in food production, rising hunger, and economic decline.
During the radio discussion, we weren’t just talking about herders and cattle; we were discussing the structure of national coexistence. If grazing routes were properly mapped, digitized, and secured, they could prevent conflicts that have cost thousands of lives and disrupted entire agricultural regions. However, over the years, neglect of land management, climate change, and weak governance have turned what was once a pastoral system into a source of conflict. Technology and data-driven mapping could have prevented much of this, if only peace had been prioritized.
Trump’s statement is not just foreign commentary; it’s a mirror held up to Nigeria. It reflects how insecurity, once internal, has become a matter of international concern. When foreign leaders question Nigeria’s ability to protect its citizens, it sends a signal to investors, aid donors, and development partners that instability has real economic consequences.
Nigeria’s problem is not the absence of policy but the lack of implementation and accountability. We have policies on grazing routes, food safety, and agricultural modernization. What we lack is the discipline to enforce them and the foresight to integrate technology into our national security and development agenda.
Imagine a National Agricultural Data Bank that integrates information on farms, grazing routes, rainfall, soil health, and livestock movements. Imagine drones monitoring migration corridors, solar-powered boreholes supplying water along grazing routes, and digital trackers reducing cattle rustling. These are not fantasies; they are real solutions being used across Africa.
In Kenya, GPS collars for livestock tracking help reduce conflict. Ethiopia’s Livestock Information Vision (LIV) monitors herds in real time. Ghana’s Food Safety Authority runs a centralized digital food registry. In Nigeria, however, progress remains piecemeal—brilliant pilots with no continuity. When the environment is insecure, technology adoption slows. Investors pull out. Data becomes outdated. Farmers retreat to survival mode.
When I say that citizens and the government have been complicit, I mean that we have remained silent and indifferent. Communities normalize banditry, leaders politicize violence, and agencies work in isolation. We accept “relative peace” as enough, even when it is fragile.
Every time we ignore small warning signs—blocked routes, stolen cattle, displaced farmers, unaudited subsidies—we contribute to a larger national failure. And every time leaders or citizens justify inaction with “it’s not my problem,” we feed the cycle of insecurity.
How do we move from blame to blueprint? Endless condemnation will not solve the crises undermining our nation’s stability. We must act decisively because the challenge before us cuts deep into agriculture, which is the mainstay of 30 million to 40 million Nigerians who depend on the land for survival.
Our food systems are under siege from insecurity, weak policy coordination, and neglect of critical infrastructure. The way forward requires more than outrage. It demands coordinated, measurable, and technology-driven action that restores both peace and productivity across our rural landscapes.
Here’s how we begin:
- Digitise and secure grazing routes through technology and community participation to reduce conflict, improve monitoring, and restore trust between farmers and herders.
- Establish a National Food Security Data Bank that integrates farmer registration, crop mapping, and livestock movement guiding national planning and response.
- Empower and train youth as digital extension agents to bridge farmers and herders with real-time data, weather forecasts, and conflict alerts.
- Enforce land-use policies and ensure ranching transitions are equitable, sustainable, and environmentally sound.
- Treat peace as infrastructure. Invest in it with the same seriousness we give to roads, power grids, and digital networks.
President Trump’s recent remarks about Nigeria may sting our national pride, but they should awaken our national conscience. They remind us that no nation can outsource its security. If we cannot guarantee safety in our farms, fields, and markets, then no drone, subsidy, or digital platform can rescue us.
The reality is simple but urgent: Food security begins with peace. Technology sustains it. Governance protects it. And only collective responsibility can preserve it. Many feel there is a bigger picture at play, which may be true, but I prefer to focus on how we arrived here.
We must value the relative peace we have today before the world reminds us again of what happens when we lose it.