Amid Silence and Sorrow: Why We Must Never Forget the Humanity in Us

By Nankpak Cirfat

Following the passing of Nigeria’s former President Muhammadu Buhari, the nation has engaged in a public reckoning with his legacy. Tributes have poured in from political allies, foreign diplomats, and citizens. Flags flew at half-mast, and debates resurfaced on whether he deepened Nigeria’s democratic fabric or weakened it through prolonged silence and policies that many considered exclusionary.

While this national reflection is understandable, perhaps even necessary it is impossible to ignore a glaring inconsistency in how we distribute compassion in Nigeria. As we mourn one man’s death at the highest echelon of power, we continue to turn a collective blind eye to hundreds of lives lost in rural communities, particularly in Plateau State.

Since early 2023, coordinated attacks in Bokkos, Mangu, Riyom, and Barkin Ladi LGAs have led to the deaths of over 1,300 civilians, with tens of thousands displaced. In December 2023 alone, the Christmas Eve massacre in Bokkos saw at least 190 people killed across 23 villages, according to Human Rights Watch. Despite this, national outrage was largely muted, federal response tepid, and media coverage fleeting.

Read also: Kwall Massacre – How Government Neglect Fuels a Cycle of Death

This disparity in response reveals a disturbing hierarchy of empathy in Nigeria’s public consciousness, where the lives of the elite are grieved with state-backed solemnity, but the poor are mourned only by their neighbors.

What is happening in Plateau State is not merely intercommunal conflict or isolated acts of violence; it is a slow-burning genocide. Villages are wiped out, cultural heritage erased, and survivors are abandoned to IDP camps with inadequate security or support. Yet, we continue to frame the issue in passive, euphemistic terms like “clashes” or “reprisals,” thus avoiding the moral clarity and urgency the crisis demands.

Why does this matter?

It matters because the way a nation responds to suffering, particularly of its most vulnerable defines its moral standing. When state institutions and political elites demonstrate more concern for protocol than for protection, they erode public trust and feed the very instability they claim to combat.

Moreover, selective empathy undermines social cohesion. Nigeria is a multi-ethnic, multi-religious state that cannot afford to normalize systemic indifference to certain regions or groups. If justice and dignity are not evenly distributed, then peace will always be fragile and conditional.

The federal government’s silence and the sluggish pace of justice have emboldened impunity. Perpetrators continue to attack knowing there will be no meaningful investigation, prosecution, or international spotlight. Plateau is bleeding, and Nigeria is watching.

I believe this is not just a security issue, it is a governance crisis, a communication failure, and a moral emergency. We must demand accountability not just from armed actors, but from institutions tasked with preventing violence and protecting lives.

The death of former President Buhari should not overshadow the death of our national conscience. If anything, it should compel us to interrogate what kind of republic we are building, one where we remember the powerful but forget the powerless?

We need more than condolences. We need a shift in national priorities. That includes:

• Immediate deployment of impartial investigations into the Plateau killings;
• Transparent and equitable support for all internally displaced persons (IDPs);
• Stronger early-warning systems and community-based conflict prevention strategies;
• A responsible media that doesn’t allow crises to vanish from the headlines once political drama resumes.

Finally, we must recenter humanity in public discourse. Behind every number is a name, a family, a future extinguished. Whether in the corridors of Aso Rock or the ravaged hamlets of Daffo, every Nigerian deserves dignity in life and justice in death.

Buhari’s death is a moment not just of mourning, but of moral recalibration. If we can lower our flags for a former president, we can raise our voices for the voiceless.

The test of any nation is not how it remembers its leaders, but how it protects its people.

Nankpak Cirfat is a communications officer – media relations at Connected Development (CODE), a journalist, and a development advocate He works at the intersection of civic accountability, good governance, peacebuilding, and public storytelling.