By Mark Olise
The terse video that went viral this week shows the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Minister, Nyesom Wike, locked in a furious exchange with naval personnel at Plot 1946 in Gaduwa. It is more than theatre. It is a warning.
The footage captures an armed naval detachment. It effectively prevents a ministerial enforcement team from carrying out what the FCT Administration says was a lawful stop-work and demolition inspection on a site linked to retired Vice-Admiral Awwal Zubairu Gambo.
The FCTA has acknowledged the affair. It apologised for the embarrassment. The agency is also seeking to clarify the parcel’s legal status.
At stake are three plainly constitutional questions.
First, who holds authority over land and development control inside Abuja’s Federal Capital Territory?
Second, what are the lawful limits of military activity within the capital?
And third, what precedent will be set? What will happen when a uniformed force is marshalled to protect disputed private interests, whether by serving officers or by retired commanders?
Legal analysts point to the Land Use Act. They note the delegated powers of the FCT Minister confer sweeping responsibility on the minister. This includes allocations, approvals, and revocations.
Practically, enforcement is exercised through the FCTA Department of Development Control. They say the structure at Plot 1946 had no valid building approval.
Wike’s critics are led by former service chiefs and governance figures. They have framed the minister’s behaviour as reckless. They also see it as disrespectful of the military.
Former Chief of Army Staff Tukur Buratai said the episode “poses a threat to national security.” He urged deference to the chain of command.
Osita Chidoka demanded a public apology for the minister’s alleged abusive language toward an officer on duty. Those objections are not trivial. Respect for the armed forces matters in any functioning state.
But the other half of the story is equally stark. Wike’s team and his media aide, Lere Olayinka, say the parcel was originally allocated for parks and recreation. They say a 2022 application to convert the land to commercial use was rejected.
They allege the developer illegally subdivided and sold lots. This includes sales to the former naval chief. They also assert that the FCTA is enforcing its statutory mandate.
The FCTA’s own director of development control has apologised for the fracas while confirming the site’s disputed status. Those are not small details; they speak to alleged land-market abuses that are systemic in Abuja’s peri-urban growth corridors.
The most troubling implication is the diversion of scarce security capacity. Nigeria continues to face a violent landscape. This includes a resurgent Boko Haram in the northeast. There is a decade-long banditry crisis in the northwest. The south is plagued with persistent kidnappings and oil theft.
International monitors and UN humanitarian data report that internally displaced Nigerians number in the millions. They also record rising attack rates in 2024–25.
Against that backdrop, the deployment of naval personnel to guard a contested private construction site seems tone deaf at best. At worst, it is a clear misallocation of national resources. If the armed forces are combustible with private purpose, the state loses its monopoly on lawful coercion.
Historical memory deepens the alarm. Nigeria experienced a long period of military rule between 1966 and 1999. This left a political culture where uniformed power sometimes trumped civil process.
The Fourth Republic curtailed coups. But, retired officers have continued to occupy influential political and economic spaces. Occasional episodes of security personnel defying civilian governors or officials have resurfaced. This was most notable in the Magodo police standoff of January 2022.
The Gaduwa episode fits into a pattern where the instruments of force are usable currency for private and political ends.
That said, this is not an exoneration of Wike’s conduct. Legal experts note that the minister had options. He could have pursued clearer judicial or administrative pathways. Instead, he led a demolition posture to a live standoff.
Even where law favours revocation, best practice advises the use of notice. Injunctions and police-led enforcement are preferred. Direct ministerial confrontation at a disputed site is not recommended.
Several commentators have argued Wike should have given the courts a reasonable window rather than risking a breakdown of order.
The remedial path should thus be twofold.
The federal government must first reassert rules governing uniformed personnel on private sites inside the FCT. Then, they must clarify these rules. The military’s use in domestic, non-combat roles must be tightly circumscribed. It should be transparent and accountable to civilian authorities. It must not be invoked as a shield for property disputes.
Second, land-market transparency in Abuja needs a systemic overhaul. Public registers are required. Forensic audits of large allocations are necessary. Swift adjudication mechanisms must be implemented to remove incentives for self-help. The FCTA’s apology and the public statements now circulating are a start; what follows must be institution building, not spin.
For a democracy that has paid dearly to anchor civilian rule, the Gaduwa face-off is significant. It is more than a quarrel over a plot. It tests whether Nigeria’s security apparatus will serve the republic or private patrons.
The videos will fade. The precedent will not if nothing is done. Abuja, and the nation, need clear answers. Who, within law, may carry a rifle on a disputed plot? Who will be held to account when the uniform is used to broker privilege?
The rule of law can’t be an optional costume to be donned or removed at will.
Mark Olise, Publisher of Atlantic Post.
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