ANALYSIS: 32 Years After, Coup Whispers Return to Nigerian Barracks
By Kabir Abdulsalam,
It was while reading Yushau Shuaib’s recent article, “Reno’s Factfinders: Genocide Spin, Coup Whispers and Foreign PR Mercenaries,” that my attention first wandered to the frightening re-emergence of “coup talk” in Nigeria’s public space.
Shuaib had examined the growing use of foreign PR mercenaries and perception managers to shape narratives about Nigeria — sometimes irresponsibly so. Yet before I could finish reflecting on his warning about manufactured narratives, reports began flooding social media about a supposed coup attempt targeting President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration.
Two major online platforms — Sahara Reporters and Premium Times had independently claimed that sixteen senior military officers were in detention for allegedly plotting to overthrow the government. Both tied the alleged plot to the curious cancellation of the October 1 Independence Day parade, suggesting that the parade was scrapped because of intelligence pointing to a planned strike during the event.
The Defence Headquarters (DHQ), however, moved swiftly to counter the story, insisting the arrests were routine disciplinary actions unrelated to any coup. Brigadier General Tukur Gusau, Director of Defence Information, described the issue as “purely administrative,” explaining that the October 1 cancellation was due to President Tinubu’s foreign engagement while troops sustained field operations.
His tone was calm, his words deliberate: “Democracy is forever,” he declared. Yet, as often happens in Nigeria, calm explanations rarely survive the stormy sea of public distrust.
By the next morning, the airwaves and WhatsApp groups were saturated with speculations. Some argued that the “arrest” story was credible; others dismissed it as a “phantom coup”—a familiar tactic where a sitting government inflates or fabricates a security scare to command loyalty, distract from governance failures, or consolidate control. There were also voices suggesting that the entire episode was mishandled, that both the DHQ and the newspapers acted recklessly in their handling of a matter capable of shaking investor confidence and igniting public panic.
In fairness, Nigeria has walked this road many times. Since independence, the country has endured five successful coups and several failed or phantom ones. Each emerged in a specific political climate but shared recurring themes: erosion of trust, grievance within the ranks, and manipulation of public perception.
The first coup of January 1966, led by Major Chukwuma Kaduna Nzeogwu and four other officers, shattered Nigeria’s post-independence innocence. It began as an anti-corruption mission but ended in bloodshed and ethnic suspicion. The July 1975 coup that unseated General Yakubu Gowon was almost gentlemanly executed while Gowon attended an OAU summit in Kampala. Announced over Radio Nigeria by Colonel Joseph Garba, it ushered in Murtala Mohammed and Olusegun Obasanjo with promises of reform and transition to democracy.
Read Also:
Then came December 1983, when Major General Muhammadu Buhari toppled President Shehu Shagari, citing corruption and indiscipline—echoing Nzeogwu’s justification seventeen years earlier. Ironically, Buhari himself was overthrown in August 1985 by his Chief of Army Staff, Major General Ibrahim Babangida, who promised “human rights with a human face.” By 1993, after the annulment of the June 12 election, General Sani Abacha seized power from Interim President Ernest Shonekan, marking Nigeria’s last military coup—one that ended only with Abacha’s death in 1998.
Each coup or alleged coup shared a pattern: the justification of saving Nigeria from itself. But this alleged 2025 “plot” stands apart in its vagueness. No names were released. No evidence was presented. The DHQ admitted sixteen officers were under investigation mostly for career stagnation, failed promotion exams, and indiscipline—but denied any link to subversion.
Sahara Reporters quoted anonymous Defence Intelligence officials who alleged that the officers, led by a Brigadier-General, planned to “shoot at the President” during the parade. Daily Trust went further, reporting that a former southern governor with a background in the oil sector was being probed for financing the plot. PRNigeria added a crucial nuance that the lack of foreign media confirmation or credible evidence suggested caution: the story might be “a manufactured scare,” more political than factual.
Still, Nigeria’s history makes such whispers impossible to ignore. Many of our coups were first reported in the press before they became reality. Sometimes, the media merely amplified what it heard from anonymous sources within the barracks; other times, it unwittingly lent legitimacy to rumours planted by political actors. In today’s social media age, a tweet travels faster than a troop convoy, and the danger is multiplied.
This is why Gusau’s statement, although carefully worded, was inadequate. In a democracy built on suspicion, ambiguity feeds conspiracy. His denial calmed no one, and the presidency’s silence only thickened the fog. Whether there was an actual coup attempt, an aborted conspiracy, or a manufactured scare, one truth stands firm: information mismanagement in a fragile democracy is itself a threat to national security.
The deeper question remains, can sixteen officers, all under the same command structure, truly plan a coup in an age where every barrack is digitally monitored? Or was this a case of internal discontent misread as mutiny? Some of the detained officers reportedly complained about welfare and promotion stagnation—issues that, if ignored, can ferment disloyalty even in the most disciplined institutions.
In the end, Nigeria’s democracy is still too fragile to play politics with fear. Real coups destroy governments; phantom coups destroy trust. And when trust collapses, even the mere rumour of a coup can shake a nation more than the sound of a gunshot.
As Shuaib wrote, “foreign PR mercenaries” and domestic propagandists alike profit from crisis narratives. But for Nigeria, the more immediate danger lies not in propaganda crafted abroad, but in the reckless amplification of fear at home.
Whether this was a coup that never was, or a coup that was never meant to be, the damage has been done. Once again, the line between perception and reality has blurred—and the casualty, as always, is public confidence in democracy itself.
Kabir Abdulsalam writes from Abuja and can be reached via [email protected]
