There comes a point in the life of a nation when a problem becomes too large, too complex and too consequential to be treated as a temporary emergency.
I believe Nigeria has reached that point with the crisis of internal displacement.
That is why I am adding my voice to the call by Chief Eskee Terna Same-Kange for the establishment of a Ministry for Reconstruction, Rehabilitation and Compensation of Displaced Persons.
I came across Chief Same-Kange’s Facebook post over the weekend and was struck by the simplicity of his central argument: Nigeria has gone beyond asking how to feed displaced persons. The more important questions now are: How do we return them home? How do we rebuild their communities? How do we restore their livelihoods? How do we compensate their losses? And how do we prevent displacement from becoming a permanent way of life?
These are questions that deserve serious national attention.
The statistics alone are frightening.
According to figures cited from the International Organization for Migration (IOM), between 1.3 million and 1.5 million people have been displaced from their ancestral homes across the Middle Belt since 2015. The wider displacement crisis is, of course, much larger, with the North-East having endured years of devastation from the Boko Haram insurgency and the North-West battling the growing menace of banditry.
But the Middle Belt has increasingly become another major theatre of displacement.
Benue, Nigeria’s acclaimed “Food Basket”, has borne an especially heavy burden. Hundreds of thousands of people have reportedly been forced away from their farms and ancestral communities by recurring attacks and violence. Plateau, Nasarawa and parts of Kaduna have similarly witnessed repeated attacks that have emptied communities, destroyed livelihoods and made normal life increasingly precarious.
And behind every statistic is a human being.
A farmer who has lost his farm.
A family that has lost its home.
A child whose education has been interrupted.
A widow who has lost her means of livelihood.
A community that has lost its school, health centre, market, place of worship and, sometimes, its entire social fabric.
This is why I believe we need to change the way we think about displacement.
For years, Nigeria’s response has largely been humanitarian. We provide food, temporary shelter, clothing, medical assistance and other relief materials.
All of these are necessary.
But relief is not recovery.
A country cannot indefinitely feed people who should be farming, particularly at a time when food insecurity remains one of Nigeria’s most pressing challenges. We cannot permanently house people in camps when they should be living and working in their ancestral communities.
Nor can we continue distributing relief materials while the homes, farms, schools, hospitals, roads and markets destroyed by violence remain in ruins.
At some point, the policy must move from managing displacement to ending it.
And recovery requires an institution specifically designed for it.
This is where Chief Same-Kange’s proposal becomes particularly compelling.
Dr. Dan Mou, a respected public policy expert, author and former senior civil servant, has also thrown his weight behind the proposal, describing it as coming at the right time.
His argument is difficult to fault: displacement in Nigeria has gone beyond a humanitarian emergency. It has become a question of governance, national security, economic recovery and social justice.
I agree completely.
Consider the wider economic cost.
When a farmer is driven from his farm, Nigeria loses agricultural production. When a trader abandons a market, the local economy contracts. When children remain out of school, the country loses human capital. When homes and public infrastructure are destroyed, government must eventually rebuild them.
And when displaced young people remain without livelihoods, the vulnerability to crime, radicalisation and social instability increases.
Displacement, therefore, is not simply a humanitarian problem.
It is an economic problem, a security problem, a development problem and ultimately a national reconstruction problem.
There is also a compelling precedent in the Federal Government’s creation of the Ministry of Livestock Development.
The establishment of that ministry recognised that livestock had grown beyond being merely one component of agriculture. It had become intertwined with food security, livelihoods, land use, investment, environmental concerns and the persistent farmer-herder crisis.
The logic is straightforward: when a national challenge becomes sufficiently important, complex and consequential, government gives it institutional focus.
Why should displacement be treated differently?
If Nigeria can create a dedicated ministry to drive livestock development, attract investment, improve productivity and address challenges associated with the sector, why should millions of Nigerians whose lives have been destroyed or disrupted by conflict continue to depend largely on fragmented humanitarian interventions?
A Ministry for Reconstruction, Rehabilitation and Compensation of Displaced Persons would have a different but equally important mandate: moving Nigerians from dependency to dignity, from camps to communities and from humanitarian relief to sustainable recovery.
Its work should include a credible national database of displaced persons and destroyed homes, farms, businesses and public infrastructure. It should coordinate community reconstruction, restore livelihoods, support agriculture, facilitate safe and voluntary return or resettlement, provide psychosocial rehabilitation and promote reconciliation in affected communities.
It should also establish a transparent framework for compensation and restitution.
This last element is particularly important.
For too long, displaced Nigerians have been treated primarily as beneficiaries of charity. But a farmer whose house, crops, livestock and equipment have been destroyed has suffered a measurable economic loss.
Compensation should not mean indiscriminate cash distribution. It should mean a transparent system for assessment, verification, valuation, restitution, compensation and appeals, subject to law and due process.
Without such a system, grievances remain unresolved. And unresolved grievances have a dangerous way of becoming political, social and security problems.
But there is one important caveat.
The proposed ministry must not become a ministry for managing IDP camps indefinitely.
That would institutionalise displacement rather than solve it.
Its philosophy must be clear:
From camps to communities.
From relief to recovery.
From dependency to productivity.
From loss to restitution.
From displacement to resettlement.
Where security conditions permit, displaced persons should be helped to return voluntarily, safely and sustainably to their ancestral communities.
Where return is impossible, alternative resettlement arrangements should be developed in consultation with affected communities and in accordance with the law.
And there must be accountability.
A dedicated reconstruction fund could draw from federal allocations, contributions from affected states, development partners, private-sector participation and other lawful sources. But every naira must be traceable.
Government should periodically publish what has been received, what has been spent, where projects are located and who has benefited.
Otherwise, a noble idea could easily degenerate into another bureaucratic mechanism for waste and patronage.
The proposed ministry should therefore not be viewed simply as a demand for another government office.
It should be seen as an institutional response to a national crisis that has outgrown the capacity of scattered agencies and temporary interventions.
Most importantly, it would send a powerful message to displaced Nigerians: that the Nigerian state does not regard their suffering as a temporary humanitarian inconvenience.
It would affirm that displacement has consequences for citizenship, property, livelihood, dignity and the future.
It would also establish an important principle of governance: that the responsibility of the state does not end with protecting citizens from violence. Where violence destroys the foundations of their lives, the state must also help them recover.
This cannot, however, be a one-man campaign.
Chief Same-Kange has put the proposal on the table. Dr. Mou has supported it. But civil society organisations, traditional institutions, religious leaders, youth organisations, the media and, most importantly, affected communities must sustain the conversation.
Because this is bigger than Benue.
It is bigger than the Middle Belt.
It is bigger than the North-East.
It is about whether Nigeria is prepared to restore hope to citizens whose lives have been shattered by violence.
The ultimate objective should be simple:
No Nigerian should spend a lifetime as a displaced person.
Government must not only ask how displaced Nigerians can survive today.
It must answer the more important question:
How do we help them go home, rebuild their lives, recover their livelihoods and reclaim their future?
Nigeria has managed displacement for far too long.
It is time to institutionalise recovery.
