Human rights organisations, including Amnesty International, have decried the “near-daily bloodshed” in Benue State, urging the Nigerian government to put an end to the relentless killings.

In Makurdi, the state capital, protests erupted as enraged citizens demanded justice and accountability, condemning what many see as a disturbingly muted response from the federal government to one of the most brutal massacres in recent Nigerian history. Social media has become a rallying ground for voices calling for urgent intervention, amplifying the sense of abandonment. Even Pope Francis joined in expressing deep concern.

As expected, President Bola Tinubu condemned the violence as “inhuman and anti-progress,” directing security forces to act swiftly. However, the unrelenting attacks point to a deeper failure—one that goes beyond deploying troops and issuing statements. The root causes—land disputes, ethnic tensions, competition for resources, and alleged foreign interference aiming to exploit Nigeria’s vulnerabilities—remain unaddressed. The humanitarian consequences are devastating: thousands displaced, farmlands abandoned, and food insecurity worsening in a state long known as Nigeria’s food basket.

Curiously, President Tinubu visited Benue on June 18—possibly to verify the scale of destruction firsthand. But deeper questions persist: Who arms these marauding groups with military-grade weapons like AK-47s? Why does the government continually cite “security efforts” when it’s clear those efforts are inadequate? Nigeria recently condemned Israel’s strike on Iran—yet the country struggles to emulate the strategic responses foreign powers deploy against such threats. Can we adopt similarly robust, proactive approaches?

Since May 2023, Benue has experienced a horrifying wave of violence, with over 1,043 lives lost in just two years, according to security experts. Between February and May 2025 alone, more than 150 people were killed in Guma, Logo, and Ukum LGAs. On May 25, another attack in Gwer West claimed at least 20 more lives. The brutality escalated in June, with over 200 people massacred in coordinated attacks on Yelewata and Daudu communities in Guma LGA. Entire villages were razed, residents slaughtered, and local security forces overwhelmed. Similar bloodshed has also erupted in Enugu, Ebonyi, and Plateau States.

Despite repeated government assurances and security operations, the carnage continues. The failure to stop it highlights the absence of a sustainable peacebuilding strategy and adequate protection for vulnerable communities.

Critics say the federal government’s reaction to the Benue killings has been selective—swift when politically expedient, sluggish or muted when it concerns opposition strongholds or areas less critical to ruling party interests. Compared to the government’s rapid responses to politically sensitive incidents or regions, the silence over Benue is deafening.

This perceived inaction feeds a troubling narrative: that security interventions are driven more by political calculation than by a duty to protect all Nigerians equally. Some analysts argue that President Tinubu, a South-Western leader, is walking a tightrope—wary of alienating powerful northern blocs whose support may prove vital ahead of the 2027 elections. Such strategic silence could be an attempt to preserve delicate political alliances, even at the cost of innocent lives.

Another school of thought links this silence to broader geopolitical concerns. Nigeria’s vast natural wealth has long attracted foreign interests, and many suspect that some external actors—under the guise of neo-colonial influence—may have a hand in fuelling instability to maintain economic and strategic control. Whether conspiracy or caution, this suspicion of foreign meddling remains deeply entrenched in the public psyche.

Ultimately, Tinubu’s silence, or selective engagement, appears to reflect a troubling trade-off: national unity and political survival over moral clarity and decisive leadership. In a diverse and often divided nation, such silence is seen not as neutrality but as complicity.

The sheer scale of the Benue massacre—where entire families were wiped out in a single night—is an indictment of this silence. If such horror can unfold in just one night, what’s to stop entire regions from being erased in a week? When a government sworn to protect its citizens responds with tepid statements and delayed action, it risks becoming an enabler of the violence.

Silence, in this context, is not just failure—it is endorsement. It emboldens killers, erodes trust, and dismantles the rule of law.

What’s more appalling is the government’s reactive posture. Following the atrocities in Yelewata and Daudu, the Inspector General of Police, Kayode Egbetokun, only visited after public outrage and mass protests forced a response. He pledged enhanced security—but only after lives had been lost. This supports a grim pattern: security agencies arrive to count bodies, not prevent atrocities.

In Makurdi, protesters under the Stop Benue Killings movement were violently dispersed by police, despite demonstrating peacefully for justice. Tear gas was deployed against mourning citizens. Activists noted that the government only began commenting on the crisis once international attention mounted. Some criticised President Tinubu for using the phrase “warring communities” instead of naming it what it was: genocide, or at the very least, a massacre.

The official death toll is pegged at “at least 100,” but eyewitnesses and survivors say it exceeds 200. This discrepancy raises disturbing questions: Is the government downplaying the numbers to save face? To mask its security failures? Or to suppress outrage?

One survivor, Prince Aondona Isaka Ornguga, who lost 23 family members, openly rejected the official figures, accusing authorities of covering up the true scale of the tragedy. If one family lost 23 lives, how many others suffered similar losses? The refusal to acknowledge the full scope of the devastation deepens the pain of survivors and fuels distrust.

This consistent downplaying of casualties, combined with a failure to prevent such attacks, is a damning indictment—not just of the government, but also of the media and all who stay silent. That silence, willful or otherwise, makes them complicit.

To break this deadly cycle, all stakeholders—government, media, civil society—must rise above political caution and confront the truth. We must demand justice, transparency, and protection for every Nigerian.

President Tinubu must understand that leadership requires moral courage—the kind that speaks boldly, acts swiftly, and protects without prejudice. Anything less is betrayal. The time for silence has ended.

The people of Benue—and all Nigerians—deserve not just empathy, but action. To remain silent now is to side with oppression. And history will remember who spoke—and who stayed silent.

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Dr. Mbamalu, a Jefferson Journalism Fellow, member of the Nigerian Guild of Editors, and media consultant, is the publisher of Prime Business Africa.