For decades, Nigeria has wrestled with the temptation to frame every national crisis through the lens of religion. Analysts, politicians, and commentators often reach for religious explanations because they appear familiar, emotive, and ready-made. But reducing Nigeria’s escalating insecurity to a “religious war” is not only misleading, it obscures the far deeper, more dangerous forces driving the violence.

Behind the smoke of extremist rhetoric and the sensationalism of blasphemy mobs lies a cold, calculated, and highly profitable ecosystem of mineral extraction, political protection, criminal syndicates, and elite complicity. Nigeria’s insecurity is not fundamentally about religion. It is mostly about money, minerals, corruption in the military and the deliberate manufacturing of chaos to protect illicit economic interests.

This is the argument Nigeria has refused to confront.

The Hidden Engine of Insecurity: Mining Cartels and Political Licence Owners

Across Nigeria’s northern belt, from Zamfara through Kaduna to Niger State, sits one of the richest concentrations of untapped minerals in West Africa: gold, lithium, columbite, tantalite, tin, lead, zinc, and a growing list of strategic rare earth metals critical to global technology and defence industries.

Yet these territories remain some of the least governed, most violent spaces in the country. This is not accidental.

Behind the chaos is a network of private mineral licence owners, local political actors, senior government officials, retired security chiefs, and foreign intermediaries. These are the individuals who hold licences to extract minerals worth billions of dollars, minerals hidden beneath lands deliberately kept insecure.

In short:
Insecurity is the business model.

The less secure the area, the less regulatory oversight.
The more violent the terrain, the fewer eyes watching.
The more “dangerous” the zone, the easier it is to extract minerals without federal interference.

Bandits and extremists are not the owners of mining pits. They are merely the camouflage.

How Chaos Protects a Criminal Economy

Where the Nigerian state should have a presence, mining inspectors, law enforcement, intelligence units, and regulatory agencies, there is instead “ungoverned territory.” But ungoverned does not mean uncontrolled.

The chaos is structured.

Banditry, kidnappings, and violent raids create an illusion of disorder so convincing that government agencies stay away, humanitarian workers avoid the region, and journalists rarely investigate.

Meanwhile, mining continues uninterrupted.

Time and again, after military operations “clear” an area of terrorists, mining trucks, often escorted, resume work within days. Arms move through the same corridors as minerals. Helicopters land in outlaw zones under the cover of darkness. Whistleblowers within the military have testified that units were instructed not to engage certain groups or to vacate mineral-rich terrain entirely.

Such patterns are not driven by religion. They are driven by profit.

Religion as a Mask, Not a Motive

This is not to deny that extremist ideology exists or that jihadist language plays a role in northern Nigeria’s violence. It does. Boko Haram, ISWAP, and their splinter groups use theology as rallying tools, recruitment narratives, and fear mechanisms.

But theology alone cannot explain why violence aligns with mineral belts, trafficking corridors, and smuggling routes.

If this were purely a religious war, the violence would map onto religious fault lines.
It does not.

Instead, it maps perfectly onto:

gold-rich communities,

lithium corridors,

forest belts used for smuggling,

border routes, and

mineral extraction hubs.

Religion provides the soundtrack; economics provide the script.

Furthermore, the majority of victims of northern violence are themselves Muslim, villagers, herders, traders, and mining labourers caught in the crossfire of criminal economies disguised as ideological crusades.

Religion may be shouted; minerals are the prize.

A Cartel Shielded by Political Power

The most unsettling dimension of Nigeria’s insecurity is the class of people who benefit from it. These are not unknown, invisible actors. They sit at the top of the political and social hierarchy:

current and former governors,

well-connected businessmen,

owners of mining licences,

ex-military generals,

local political financiers,

and their foreign partners.

These individuals wield enormous influence, enough to suppress investigations, redirect military operations, and frustrate policy reforms.

Their interest is simple:
A secure Nigeria is bad for business.

If peace returns:

mining sites will be audited,

licences will be scrutinised,

illegal exports will collapse,

and mineral wealth will shift from private pockets to the Nigerian state.

The cartels cannot afford this. So they invest, directly and indirectly, in instability.

The International Dimension: Nigeria in the Crosshairs

Nigeria’s minerals are not valuable only to Nigerians. They feed global supply chains. Gold is laundered through Middle Eastern markets. Lithium is absorbed into Asian tech manufacturing. Rare earth elements disappear into shadowy European and North African channels.

Foreign actors prefer dealing with Nigerian minerals unregulated, unmonitored, and cheap. Their local partners prefer it too.

This global economic value is precisely why international intelligence agencies have ranked Nigeria as one of the most significant illicit mineral extraction hotspots in Africa.

Where the world sees conflict, some see opportunity.

The Real Danger: Misdiagnosis

Mislabeling Nigeria’s insecurity as a “religious war” is a dangerous intellectual shortcut, one that blinds policymakers, fuels sectarian suspicion, and gives cover to the true architects of the crisis.

The root drivers of Nigeria’s insecurity are:

state collapse,

military corruption,

elite mineral profiteering,

porous borders,

unregulated extraction,

foreign smuggling networks, and

the deliberate manufacture of chaos.

Religion amplifies the violence, but it does not drive it.

Until Nigeria confronts the political and economic interests weaponising insecurity, the crisis will persist, regardless of which administration is in power or which ideology dominates the headlines.

Conclusion: Look Beyond the Smoke

Nigeria stands at a crossroads. We can continue chasing the shadows of religious extremism, or we can shine light on the economic machinery benefiting from instability.

The tragedy unfolding in northern Nigeria is not a clash of faiths. It is the byproduct of a ruthless underground economy protected by violence, fueled by politics, and sustained by silence.

Until Nigeria is ready to dismantle the mineral cartels hiding behind insecurity, real peace will remain elusive.

The war is not religious.
The war is economic.
And the battlefield is the Nigerian state itself.


By Hon. Chima Nnadi-Oforgu
Duruebube Ihiagwa ófó asato

3 responses to “Nigeria’s Insecurity Is Not a Religious War, It Is a Billion-Dollar Criminal Economy Protected by Chaos.”

  1. Every Nigerian government produces its own breed of intellectual houseboys: men who write not to inform but to audition, whose op-eds are job applications addressed to Aso Rock. You know the species. Their articles appear, by sheer coincidence, just before ambassadorial lists are compiled. They will, if allowed,  show up at state house receptions, grinning beside ministers, their defences of government policy serving as CVs. Let us be blunt: these men are prostitutes of the pen, and patronage is their currency. The article under review reads like one such transaction, an elaborate exoneration of religious violence convenient to any government that would rather not explain why Christians keep dying in churches. One imagines the author expected a reward. Sadly for him, President Tinubu’s ambassadorial list has just been released, and his name is nowhere on it. The boat has sailed. He missed it.

    This article is part of that tradition. It makes a basic point: Nigeria’s violence has nothing to do with religion. Illegal mining is the actual problem. The violence is caused by criminal groups competing over gold, coltan, and tin. Religion is a diversion, a handy way to blame others for the real material interests that are at stake.

    The premise sounds smart at first, but when you look at it closely, it doesn’t make sense. Nigeria has more than forty-four minerals that are found in all thirty-six states and the Federal Capital Territory. The Nigerian Geological Survey Agency says that there are mineral resources in almost every local government area. If minerals are everywhere and violence happens in a lot of areas, then saying that an attack happened because of nearby mining explains everything and nothing at the same time. It is not a theory; it is a tautology. One may just as easily say that the existence of oxygen causes violence in Nigeria.

    But the premise doesn’t pass a simpler test: The 25th of December, 2011. Boko Haram set off a car bomb at St. Theresa Catholic Church in Madalla, killing 37 people who had come to celebrate the birth of Christ. On the same morning, coordinated attacks hit churches in Jos, Damaturu, and Gadaka. Their spokesman took responsibility and said there would be more attacks on Christians and the government. Why Christmas if this was about mining? Why churches? Why was there a clear declaration of religious war?

    Gunmen broke into St. Francis Catholic Church in Owo, Ondo State, on Pentecost Sunday, 2022, and killed more than fifty people during mass. The Islamic State West Africa Province said they were to blame. Again, why a church? Why is it Pentecost? What mining interest necessitates the slaughter of parishioners at the altar on one of Christianity’s most sacred days? The author does not provide an answer because his framework is incapable of addressing such enquiries.

    A Boko Haram suicide bomber drove into the United Nations offices in Abuja in August 2011, killing twenty-three people. The UN building is in a diplomatic area. Abuja’s job is to run things, not take things out. The United Nations is not bombed by mining cartels. Jihadists who want to show that they can reach people all over the world and have big ideas do.

    The author’s theory necessitates disbelief in the assertions made by the perpetrators themselves. Mohammed Yusuf started Boko Haram to create an Islamic state. The name of the group means “Group of the People of Sunnah for Preaching and Jihad.” Abubakar Shekau said that Gwoza was a caliphate and vowed loyalty to Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. He said that democracy is a sin and that Christians are fair game. These are not what mining executives say. We might want to trust men when they say over and over again that they are fighting holy war.

    Nonetheless, this doesn’t change the fact that illegal mining is a big problem. There are criminal networks in many states. Security agencies have been breached. The author is right that not all violence in Nigeria is religious. For example, the Nigerian civil war, the Niger Delta battle was over oil, the Ife-Modakeke issue was between two Yoruba Christian communities battling over land, and the Warri crisis was between ethnic groups fighting over territory. There are several reasons for the violence in Nigeria. But saying that things are complicated is not the same as denying the obvious. When jihadists attack churches on Christmas morning and say they did it for religious reasons, it’s not smart to say that religion doesn’t matter. It is deliberate ignorance.

    The mining thesis provides solace for individuals who wish to avoid addressing the religious aspect of Nigeria’s dilemma. It offers a materialist explanation that doesn’t have to deal with hard concerns like ideology, theology, and the government’s failure to defend its Christian citizenry. In sum, this is exactly the kind of argument that a government that wants to avoid being accused of sectarian carelessness would like. It’s not surprising that it comes now, when people are making plans. It will be of no surprise if the author of this article is  seen at Aso Rock  banquets after this. The murdered in the churches of Madalla, Owo  and thousands of others deserve better than to have their murders written off as incidental damage in a mining conflict. No nomination is worth that falsehood.

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    1. This response is rhetorically powerful, but analytically careless. It substitutes moral outrage for causal clarity and personal insinuation for serious rebuttal.

      Let us separate tone, motivation, and substance.

      1. On “intellectual houseboys” and imagined patronage

      The opening attack is not an argument; it is a character assassination built on speculation. No evidence is offered that the author wrote to curry favour, expected an appointment, or auditioned for Aso Rock.

      The fact that an ambassadorial list exists, whether under Bola Tinubu or any other president, does not transform every dissenting analysis into prostitution.

      Once analysis collapses into guessing motives, it signals weakness. Ideas should be confronted on their merits, not on imagined banquets.

      2. A false binary: religion versus material drivers

      The central flaw in this essay is its insistence on a binary choice:
      either violence is religious or it is material.

      That is not how conflicts work.

      Serious conflict studies, from the Sahel to Afghanistan, show that ideology supplies justification, while material incentives sustain violence. These are not mutually exclusive explanations. They are layered.

      Groups like Boko Haram and Islamic State West Africa Province operate in environments where:

      arms must be bought,

      fighters must be paid,

      logistics must be financed,

      territory must be economically viable.

      Illegal mining, taxation of local economies, cattle rustling, kidnapping, and smuggling are not afterthoughts, they are what keep insurgencies alive after ideology recruits them.

      To point this out is not to deny religion; it is to explain endurance.

      3. The “why Christmas?” argument is emotionally compelling, and analytically incomplete

      Yes, attacks on churches during Christmas or Pentecost are religiously symbolic. That is undeniable.

      But symbolism does not negate economics.

      Insurgent groups often:

      choose symbolic targets because they generate maximum publicity at minimal cost,

      attack soft targets to demonstrate reach,

      inflame sectarian narratives to polarise communities and weaken state legitimacy.

      This is strategic violence, not theological debate.

      The UN building in Abuja was not attacked because of mining, but the network that enabled the attack was funded through criminal economies. Ideology explains why they hate. Economics explains how they function.

      Ignoring this distinction leads to moral clarity but strategic blindness.

      4. “Trusting perpetrators when they say why they fight” is naïve

      Militant groups are not neutral narrators of their own actions.

      Insurgents routinely exaggerate ideology to:

      legitimise brutality,

      attract foreign fighters,

      secure transnational support,

      cloak criminal enterprise in moral language.

      History is full of movements that spoke in absolutes while surviving on extortion. Taking every declaration at face value is not realism; it is credulity.

      5. Where this essay overreaches

      The strongest concession is buried halfway through:

      “Not all violence in Nigeria is religious.”

      Exactly. And that admission undermines the essay’s absolutist posture.

      No serious proponent of the mining thesis claims all violence is about mining. The claim is more modest, and more dangerous to ignore:

      Criminal economies are the connective tissue linking insurgency, banditry, and state failure across Nigeria.

      Downplaying that reality in favour of a single explanatory frame, whether religious or otherwise, risks misdiagnosis and bad policy.

      6. Moral clarity is not policy clarity

      Finally, invoking the dead of Madalla and Owo is emotionally legitimate, but it does not resolve the analytical question. Honouring victims requires effective prevention, not only moral naming.

      If violence is framed purely as religious hatred, responses default to rhetoric and symbolism.
      If its economic lifelines are exposed and dismantled, violence actually declines.

      That is not exoneration. It is strategy.

      Ultimately

      This essay succeeds as polemic, not as refutation.
      It confuses:

      motive with mechanism,

      symbolism with structure,

      moral condemnation with causal explanation.

      Recognising illegal mining and criminal economies as central drivers does not deny religious extremism. It explains why extremism persists, spreads, and pays.

      Reducing the debate to accusations of patronage may feel satisfying, but it does nothing to make Nigerians safer.

      And safety, not rhetorical victory, is the point.

      Oblong Media Unlimited
      http://www.oblongmedia.net

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  2. You’ve hit the nail on the Head of the multifacet chaos in Nigeria. Well research piece indeed. Hello oblong media kindly available me and connect me to Adams Jones I once made contact via Oblong media here, he has a business connection I need from him. Please kindly give him my contact both this email address and my Whatsapp numbers as follows,; +2348024288390,08059420768 Thanks so much.

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