The Last Straw for President Tinubu: Why the Wike–Yerima Armed Confrontation Demands a Psychological Wellness Leave Before Nigeria Slips Into a Jungle -By Professor John Egbeazien Oshodi

A Crisis Far More Dangerous Than a Land Dispute

What happened between FCT Minister Nyesom Wike and Naval Lieutenant A. M. Yerima was not a routine disagreement about development control in Abuja. It was a frightening public x-ray of how fragile Nigeria’s power structure has become when personal temperament is allowed to sit above institutional restraint. A land quarrel is supposed to be a matter of files, letters, meetings, and clear procedure. Instead, the country watched a minister arrive at a contested site with cameras, escorts, emotion, and the full weight of political office — to confront a junior officer in uniform who was, by his own account, obeying instructions.

In that instant, a civil administrative issue, which should have been contained within ministries and barracks, morphed into a staged confrontation that could easily have gone wrong. In the video, one could see the anger in the minister’s voice, the visible presence of armed police, the naval officer standing at attention, and the swirl of aides and security personnel around them. The tension was not theatrical; it was real. There were guns, uniforms, rank insignia, political power, and public humiliation all colliding in one open space.

This was not simply about who owned the land. It was about how quickly power can become reckless when emotional control breaks down. It was about how one man’s inability to pause, reflect, and defer to process could drag an entire security system toward the edge of a crisis. The incident showed that in today’s Nigeria, a minister’s mood can almost ignite an inter-agency conflict, live on camera, with the public watching helplessly and the military silently absorbing the insult.

That is why this must not be treated as a colorful episode in Nigeria’s endless political drama. It is a warning. The real issue before the country is not the land in Gaduwa. It is the psychological stability of leadership at the center of power and the dangerous ease with which emotional governance can threaten national security.

General Lucky Irabor’s Warning: Nigeria Must Not Become a Jungle

When a former Chief of Defence Staff like General Lucky Irabor speaks, he is not just joining public commentary; he is sending a coded message from within the military mind. His words were simple but heavy: Nigeria must not become a jungle where everyone takes the law into their own hands. Coming from someone who once sat at the top of the armed forces, that statement should chill every serious thinker in the country.

Irabor understood what many ordinary viewers also sensed: the scene in Gaduwa was not just about one officer and one minister. It was a symbolic attack on the uniform. Irabor reminded Nigerians that a military uniform is not a costume. It is a living symbol of the State, of the Commander-in-Chief, and of the blood, sacrifice, and discipline of those who wear it. When a serving minister publicly calls a uniformed officer a fool, in the presence of his colleagues, juniors, and armed men, the damage is not only to the man. It is to the institution.

He pointed out that in military culture, even the highest-ranking general cannot casually assault or verbally degrade a subordinate without serious disciplinary consequences. The uniform protects the dignity of the person wearing it and the chain of command above them. Yet, here was a civilian minister, outside the military hierarchy, using language and posture that would have been unacceptable even from a superior officer within the armed forces.

By describing the incident as a desecration of the oath and an indirect insult to the presidency, Irabor located the crisis where it truly belongs. This is not about a field argument. It is about eroding the thin line of respect that sustains the relationship between civilian authority and military obedience. Once that line begins to break, a country does not slide gently into disorder. It falls.

Irabor’s warning about Nigeria becoming a jungle is not just metaphorical. A jungle is a place where hierarchy is meaningless, where strength and noise replace law and process. When ministers can talk down to officers, when tempers replace protocol, and when the State’s own uniform is humiliated on camera, the jungle is no longer a distant fear. It is at the gate.

Two Defence Ministers, One Message: Wike Was Wrong

If anyone still believed this was a misunderstanding or an exaggeration, the reactions from the Ministry of Defence removed that illusion. In a rare and telling development, both the Minister of Defence, Mohammed Badaru, and the Minister of State for Defence, Bello Matawalle, publicly addressed the incident. They did not speak in riddles. They did not hedge. In different ways, they made it clear: the officer acted in line with duty and discipline; the minister’s conduct was unnecessary, avoidable, and institutionally harmful.

In Nigeria’s political culture, cabinet members usually prefer silence when one of their own is embroiled in controversy. They choose private calls, quiet mediation, or neutral language. But this time, the two men in charge of the military portfolio did something different. They chose clarity over solidarity. That alone should tell the President how serious this situation has become.

The Chief of Defence Staff’s Intervention: Discipline, Emotional Intelligence, and a Warning to Civilians

Another decisive institutional voice came from the Chief of Defence Staff, General O.O. Oluyede, whose reaction added a critical layer to the unfolding crisis. In a formal statement addressed to defence correspondents, he praised Lieutenant A. M. Yerima for exhibiting remarkable calmness, emotional intelligence, and leadership presence under provocation. General Oluyede stressed that the Nigerian Defence Academy does not train officers to be docile or timid; it trains them to show discipline, self-regulation, and firmness even when confronted with disrespect. Yerima’s posture, tone, restraint, and refusal to be dragged into emotional confrontation were described by the CDS as exemplary military conduct.

General Oluyede went further to caution public officials against making unguarded statements or engaging in behavior that undermines the dignity of the armed forces. In his words, the officer’s reaction was not weakness but training; not fear but discipline; not silence but emotional mastery. He reminded leaders that civility is not a suggestion — it is a responsibility, especially when addressing those in uniform who represent the authority of the State. His intervention made something clear: the military saw this incident not as a land matter, but as a moment where civilian leadership tested the emotional boundaries of the armed forces.

Mohammed Badaru: Standing Between Politics and the Barracks

Mohammed Badaru, the Minister of Defence, went directly to the heart of the matter. He made a public commitment that the armed forces would protect Lt. Yerima so long as he was acting under lawful orders. He praised the officer, described his actions as part of his duty, and assured Nigerians that no unjust punishment would be allowed.

This was not just a kind gesture toward a junior officer. It was a protective wall drawn between the barracks and political anger. Badaru’s message to the rank and file was clear: the military will not sacrifice its own to appease a minister who lost emotional control. His statement indirectly acknowledged the fear that many soldiers and officers must have felt: if one minister can humiliate an officer today, what stops another from ordering retaliatory action tomorrow?

By choosing to publicly align with the officer, Badaru was also sending a quiet message to the Commander-in-Chief. The minister’s outburst may have been loud, but the military’s loyalty still lies with discipline, not emotional power. In psychological terms, Badaru’s position was a stabilizing response to an episode of emotional excess.

Bello Matawalle: An Institutional Autopsy of a Preventable Crisis

If Badaru provided the moral shield, Bello Matawalle provided the detailed institutional autopsy. In his interview, he drew back the curtain on what happened before the cameras ever started rolling. According to Matawalle, Wike had already contacted both the Chief of Defence Staff and the Chief of Naval Staff about the land issue. Both senior officers, representing the pinnacle of military hierarchy, advised him to allow them to investigate and handle the matter.

That should have been the end of it. In a healthy system, once the service chiefs are seized of a matter, an impatient minister must step back and allow institutions to work. Instead, Wike did the opposite. He ignored their counsel and went personally to the site, turning what should have been a quiet inquiry into a public spectacle.

Matawalle was careful in his language but firm in his meaning. He stated that Lt. Yerima acted strictly according to orders, maintained discipline, and committed no offence under military regulations. He noted that the officer’s manner was respectful and professional throughout. In other words, the person who kept the peace on that field was not the minister with the microphone, but the officer with the uniform.

He also went further to highlight a critical principle: disrespecting a soldier in uniform is indirectly disrespecting the Commander-in-Chief. That lesson is not sentimental. It is structural. The entire military command system depends on the belief that the uniform is worthy of respect, and that those who wear it are covered by the authority of the President. When a minister publicly cuts into that dignity, he is not just attacking a man; he is slicing into the symbolic fabric that protects the presidency itself.

Matawalle acknowledged that, even if the former Chief of Naval Staff, Vice Admiral Zubairu Gambo (retired), acted improperly by deploying personnel to guard a disputed property, that matter is already under investigation and subject to established procedures. Whatever the retired officer’s faults may be, they cannot justify the emotionally charged, confrontational conduct of a serving minister. Institutions have ways of correcting their own. What they cannot survive is a pattern where high officials, entrusted with power, use public anger and personal showmanship instead of lawful process.

In that sense, the two Defence Ministers did more than criticise a colleague. They performed a kind of national psychological intervention. They told the country, in different tones: the officer is not the problem. The minister’s temperament is.

The IGP’s Directive: Ending the Misuse of Police Power

Not long after the confrontation, the Inspector-General of Police, Kayode Egbetokun, issued a directive that landed like a quiet indictment. He warned police officers nationwide to stay away from land disputes and civil matters. He reminded them that the police force is not an enforcement arm for private interests or political quarrels, and he warned that officers who disobey this would face consequences.

On paper, it was a general policy statement. In reality, everyone understood the context. The IGP was drawing a line after the public saw armed police officers on the ground in a heated land confrontation that had no clear criminal component, but plenty of political heat. Even without mentioning names, the message was obvious: what happened in Gaduwa is not what the police uniform is meant for.

This directive was another institutional response to emotional governance. It signaled that the top of the police hierarchy does not want its officers dragged into the personal battles of powerful individuals. It also suggested that the officers who followed the minister to the site could, themselves, face scrutiny. Politically, that weakens the legitimacy of the minister’s show of force. Psychologically, it reinforces the idea that leadership must be accompanied by internal restraint, not external display.

The Veterans’ Warning: A Red Line Has Been Crossed

When retired soldiers — men who have long left the parade ground and battlefield — threaten to occupy the office and residence of a minister, it is not mere noise. It is a sign that something sacred has been violated. Military veterans reacted strongly to the humiliation of Lt. Yerima. They saw, in his calm restraint, the values they once embodied. They saw, in the minister’s language, a form of contempt that cuts deep into the culture of uniformed service.

Veterans rarely intervene so loudly in a political dispute. Many of them have spent decades obeying orders, living in hardship, and watching younger soldiers die in operations. For such men to rise and say, in effect, “If you punish this officer, you will see us physically,” is a powerful emotional and institutional signal. It shows that this incident has pierced the moral conscience of those who once defended the flag with their bodies.

Their anger confirms that the problem has gone beyond party lines or city politics. It has entered the profound psychological space where the military’s sense of honor lives.

Wike’s Press Briefing: A Complete Absence of Accountability

Under such heavy criticism, one would expect a moment of reflection. A simple recognition of excess. A carefully worded apology that protects both face and institution. Instead, what Nigerians witnessed in Wike’s press briefing was the opposite of contrition. There was no remorse, no regret, no acknowledgment that his language may have been inappropriate for a minister addressing an officer in uniform.

Instead, he doubled down. He shifted the conversation entirely to the alleged misconduct of the former Naval Chief. He insisted he was right. He portrayed himself as the enforcer of order and painted the other side as the symbol of impunity. Legally, some of his arguments may raise valid questions about land use, abuse of office, or improper deployment of military personnel. But psychologically and institutionally, his approach revealed something else: an inability to separate the validity of a grievance from the inappropriateness of the response.

His refusal to see any problem in his own conduct, even after former service chiefs, defence ministers, veterans, and the wider public reacted with shock, is troubling. It points to a deeper issue of self-awareness and impulse control. A leader who cannot see when he has crossed a line, even when the entire security establishment is telling him so, is a leader walking in emotional isolation.

A Pattern of Volatility That Can No Longer Be Ignored

The Wike–Yerima confrontation is only one event in a long trail of controversies. There is now a recognizable pattern: sharp confrontations with institutions, combative engagement with opponents, aggressive use of state power, highly publicized conflicts, and a governance style that often leans on intensity rather than introspection.

Over time, these behaviors cease to be isolated episodes and become a possible psychological profile. Psychologically, the pattern apparently suggests impulsivity, a tendency to personalize institutional issues, difficulty maintaining emotional boundaries, and a strong need to assert dominance in moments of perceived challenge. These traits may be rewarded in electoral battles or intra-party disputes, but they become extremely dangerous when transported into national administration, especially over a sensitive area like the Federal Capital Territory.

When such a temperament is placed at the intersection of politics, security, land, and power, the risk is no longer theoretical. It becomes a daily possibility. The Wike–Yerima incident, therefore, is not just an isolated embarrassment. It is a predictive sign of what can happen again — and perhaps worse — if nothing is done.

Tinubu’s Dilemma: The Limits of Political Loyalty

President Bola Tinubu understands the political value Wike brought in 2023, but loyalty cannot be allowed to unsettle the armed forces, alarm the police, offend veterans, or disturb the wider public. Political debt becomes political liability when it begins to weaken institutional confidence, and that moment has arrived.

Every day without a clear presidential response deepens the impression that the center is reluctant to restrain one man’s volatility. In a country already battling insecurity and public fatigue, the image of a President unable to rein in a minister sends a troubling signal across the system.

Some argue Tinubu is protecting Wike because of 2027 political calculations, but the truth is no one knows what 2027 will look like or who will remain central to it. Leadership cannot sacrifice present stability for a future that is uncertain for everyone.

Wike has been in the news almost every week, often due to conflict or confrontation. This pattern possibly suggests strain, fatigue, or deeper psychological pressure. He does not need punishment; he needs possible rest, a psychological evaluation, and therapeutic support. President Tinubu needs this man to get help — for his sake, and for the nation’s stability.

The Only Safe Path: A Psychological Wellness Leave?

The answer is not humiliation. It is not suspension for the sake of drama. It is not a noisy dismissal that tears open new political wounds. The answer is psychological and administrative at the same time: a non-punitive, time-bound psychological wellness leave for the Minister.

Such a step would require that he step aside temporarily to possibly undergo a comprehensive psychological evaluation, structured therapy focused on stress and impulse regulation, and a period of reflection away from daily confrontation and constant political motion. It would also allow the administration to quietly assess his readiness to continue in such a sensitive role.

This is not about declaring him “mad” or unfit in a stigmatizing way. It is about recognizing that leadership, especially in a fragile democracy, demands emotional stability as much as technical competence. A wellness leave framed correctly would protect him from further self-damage, protect institutions from further shocks, and protect the President from the appearance of indecision.

In choosing such a path, President Tinubu would send a powerful message: in this government, emotional health matters. Temperament matters. The mental readiness to handle power matters. It would set a new precedent that could outlive this administration and benefit future leaders and citizens alike.

Conclusion: Nigeria Must Not Drift Toward the Jungle

At this point, the voices are too many to ignore. Former Chief of Defence Staff General Lucky Irabor has spoken. The current Chief of Defence Staff has spoken. The Inspector-General of Police has spoken. The Defence Minister has spoken. The Minister of State for Defence has spoken. Veterans have threatened to march. Legal experts and ordinary citizens have raised alarm. And these warnings are not coming from one tribe or one region. Three key voices — the former Chief of Defence Staff, the current Chief of Defence Staff, and the Inspector-General of Police — are all Southerners. Two others — the Defence Minister and the Minister of State for Defence — are Northerners. This balanced alignment shows that this is not a ethnic or regional attack on Wike. It is a unified institutional response.

They are all pointing to the same wound: unchecked emotional volatility in high office is now a national security concern.

Wike does not need public shaming.

He does not need revenge.

He needs rest.

He needs help.

He possibly needs therapy.

He needs distance from the triggers of daily political confrontation.

For his sake, for the sake of the officer he insulted, for the sake of the uniforms he embarrassed, and for the sake of the presidency he indirectly undermined, the time has come for the Commander-in-Chief to act.

Mr. President, your next decision will tell Nigerians whether the country is still governed by institutions — or already drifting toward the jungle that your military leaders, past and present, have warned us about.

About the Author

Prof. John Egbeazien Oshodi is an American psychologist and educator with expertise in forensic, legal, clinical, cross-cultural psychology, public ethical policy, police, and prison science.

A native of Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria, and the son of a 37-year veteran of the Nigeria Police Force, he has devoted his professional life to bridging psychology with justice, education, and governance. In 2011, he pioneered the introduction of advanced forensic psychology in Nigeria through the National Universities Commission and Nasarawa State University, where he served as Associate Professor of Psychology.

He currently serves as contributing faculty in the Doctorate in Clinical and School Psychology at Nova Southeastern University; teaches in the Doctorate Clinical Psychology, BS Psychology, and BS Tempo Criminal Justice programs at Walden University; and lectures virtually in Management and Leadership Studies at Weldios University and ISCOM University. He is also the President and Chief Psychologist at the Oshodi Foundation, Center for Psychological and Forensic Services, United States.

Prof. Oshodi is a Black Republican in the United States, but his allegiance is to justice alone. On every issue he addresses, he speaks for no one and represents no side—his voice is guided purely by the pursuit of justice, good governance, democracy, and Africa’s advancement. He is the founder of Psychoafricalysis (Psychoafricalytic Psychology)—a culturally grounded framework that integrates African sociocultural realities, historical consciousness, and future-oriented identity. A prolific thinker and writer, he has produced over 500 articles, several books, and numerous peer-reviewed works on Africentric psychology, higher education reform, forensic and correctional psychology, African democracy, and decolonized models of therapy.