When Terror Has a Tribe: The Media Silence on Governor Alex Otti’s Prison Visit
By Labaran Saleh
The news broke quietly, almost politely: Governor Alex Otti of Abia State visited Nnamdi Kanu, the convicted leader of the proscribed IPOB movement, at the Sokoto Correctional Centre. No outrage. No public uproar. No talk shows. No press-created hysteria. Not even the usual social media thunderstorms.
It was reported as though a sitting governor had simply stopped by to greet an old friend over tea—except this “friend” is a man convicted of terrorism under Nigerian law.
The visit was repackaged with soft words: “dialogue,” “compassion,” “reconciliation,” “statesmanship.” Commentators applauded the governor for “seeking peace.” Editorials described his gesture as “courageous.” The governor even thanked the Sokoto State Government for “taking good care of their son.” Beautiful words indeed.
But the silence was even more beautiful—eerily so.
The same Nigerian media that erupts into volcanic condemnation over far less controversial matters suddenly grew calm, almost romantic, when it involved a Christian political leader visiting a convicted separatist from the South-East.
Now imagine the alternative.
Imagine Governor Babagana Zulum of Borno, or Governor Dikko Radda of Katsina, or Governor Inuwa Yahaya of Gombe walking into a prison cell to visit Hussaini Ismail, a convicted ISWAP commander.
Nigeria would not sleep that night.
Breaking news would break bones. Studio analysts would turn into instant terrorism experts. Headlines would scream treason, complicity, and “Islamization agenda.” Influencers would resurrect conspiracy theories from 1966. Tribal entrepreneurs would cash out on outrage. And every mosque from Sokoto to Maiduguri would be dragged into the conversation.
Images from the visit would circulate globally as proof of collaboration with terrorists.
Because in today’s Nigeria, terrorism is no longer just a crime—
it is a political identity, a regional label, and a religious badge.
Read Also:
The definition of terrorism seems to change depending on the tribe or faith of the suspect. A northern Muslim linked to violence is instantly branded “terrorist,” his entire region indicted. But a southern Christian convicted of terrorism is rebranded as a “political prisoner,” “agitator,” or “activist.” His cause becomes “legitimate agitation.” His visitors become “bridge-builders,” not sympathizers.
This moral flexibility is the true danger.
The Nigerian media—both legacy and digital—has perfected a double-standard reporting template. One Nigeria for saints, another for suspects. One tone for the South, another for the North. One vocabulary for Christian agitators, another for Muslim offenders.
It is not journalism. It is choreography.
And this selective conscience is why our fight against extremism keeps failing. Because a nation that excuses terror in one zone and exaggerates it in another is not fighting terrorism—it is fighting geography.
Terror does not recognise tribe. Violence does not ask for baptismal certificates or mosque attendance before striking. The victims—from Plateau to Benue, Kaduna to Imo—are Nigerians long before they are Christians or Muslims.
Yet our reactions reveal we are not guided by principles, only by sentiments.
When a southern politician visits a convicted terrorist, it is “dialogue.”
When a northern figure hypothetically does the same, it becomes “evidence of sponsorship.”
When Kanu receives political pilgrims, it is “reconciliation.”
If an ISWAP leader ever received a visitor, it would be “national security collapse.”
This double standard is the sickness beneath Nigeria’s insecurity.
You cannot condemn terror in one place and romanticize it in another.
You cannot demonize one ethnic group while deodorizing another.
You cannot build national unity on selective outrage.
If we continue like this, we will not defeat extremism—we will only rearrange its sympathies.
Because a country that excuses terror in one place and weaponizes it elsewhere is not fighting for justice; it is fighting for tribal convenience. And no nation survives on a conscience that reacts only when its “own” is affected.
Nigeria must rise above this hypocrisy.
Not for the sake of the politicians, but for the sake of the country we pretend to love.
Labaran Saleh writes via [email protected]
















