Abstract
The peace accord between the Federal Government of Nigeria and the Niger Delta (ND) militants, within the framework of the 2009 amnesty programme, immediately yielded positive results. Daily oil production, which had drastically declined to an all time low of 1.4 million barrels, soon shot up to 2.2 million barrels as the deal restored relative calm in the region. In recent times, however, the seeming peace in the region has disappeared, to the consternation of those who had touted a DDR approach to the conflict in Nigeria’s oil ‘republic’. Kidnapping, for ransom in the region, shifted from high profile abduction to anyone in society that can offer a price. More than any other explanation, this article locates the resurgence of violence in the region in the fault lines of the DDR programme implemented in 2009. The author contends that the deal was a ‘cash for peace’ programme cloaked in ‘amnesty’; which has inadvertently created a violence appeal for those who seek a slice of the so-called ‘national cake’.
Introduction
On 25 June 2009, former Nigerian President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua (2007–2010) granted unconditional amnesty to ND militants. This came at a time when violent youth restiveness had reduced oil production from 2.6 million barrels per day (bpd) to 1.4 million and sometimes 700,000 bpd. Thus, the President’s gesture was applauded in local and international circles as a step in the right direction, perhaps due to the strategic importance of oil and gas access in the region. As a rentier state, Nigeria relies largely on petro-dollars for survival; and in the post 9/11 era, the West African sub-region now ‘accounts for 12 per cent of oil and gas supplies globally; and a third of America’s oil comes from Nigeria’ (Burgis, 2012). However, many perceptive observers of the ND conflict had reservations about the feasibility of the amnesty deal. The fears revolved around the ability of the federal government to implement the programme successfully; the attitude of local politicians and militants who benefitted from the crisis; and the Transnational Companies (TNCs) whose oil exploration has become a curse rather than a blessing for the local people.
Specifically, there were misgivings about whether the federal government could implement a sustainable disarmament, demobilization and reintegration (DDR) programme, considering its past trust deficit. Several economic reconstruction and peace-building strategies have failed in the past owing to government’s lack of ‘political will’ to properly fund, effectively manage and painstakingly drive them through. But in addition to the government’s insincerity, local politicians in the ND were perceived as obstacles to peace in the oil-rich but violent region, owing to their penchant for ‘politics of disorder’ in which youths are instrumentalized in elite corrupt and neo-patrimonial quests for power and resources (Osumah and Aghedo, 2011; Idemudia, 2009). It is instructive to note that despite the formidable foregrounding of rhetoric of grievance, the majority of ND militants were driven by greed and lucre. The ‘spoils’ associated with life in the creeks were thus feared to be an abiding attraction for the militants even in peace time. As for the TNCs, it was doubtful if they would not continue to degrade the environment with impunity and strategically deploy corporate social ‘irresponsibility’ to procure the ‘social licence to operate’.
These skepticisms were seen as mutually reinforcing rather than being exclusive. The inability of government to match words with action has led to conflict in state–society relations in the past. The hijack of power and resources by the local elite, including traditional rulers, bred communal and intergenerational crises in much of the ND prior to the amnesty regime. Also, the destruction of lives and livelihoods as well as the use of divide-and-rule tactics and monetization of the corporate responsibility agenda has been at the core of company–community relationships which have mostly been hostile in the region. And as contesting gatekeepers with local chiefs, youths have always been in the core of the storm, casting doubts on the feasibility of the amnesty programme.
What initially appeared as perceived fears, fast became visible reality as violence resurfaced in the ND. The ‘marriage of convenience’ induced by the programme between the Nigerian state and ex-militants seems to be hanging in the balance as some ex-combatants re-engage the state violently in another round of struggle for benefits. The 2009 amnesty enabled the state to buy off key militant leaders to ensure optimum production of oil. However, the author contends that the poor implementation of the amnesty deal has unfortunately led to re-marginalization of some ex-fighters whose violent agitation for inclusion in the amnesty benefits currently threatens the peace of the graveyard in Nigeria’s oil frontier.
In this paper, therefore, it is opined that sustainable peace remains elusive today in the ND despite widespread belief that the programme has restored order, security and political stability. The argument is that state re-engagement with ex-militants in the post-amnesty regime, as in the pre-amnesty era, is characterized by a high degree of violence and economic agenda because the programme was poorly implemented.
The paper is structured into six sections: The DDR Framework as a Peace-Building Device; Violence as a Bargaining Strategy for Inclusion; From Anarchy to Amnesty; ‘Political Settlement’ as Peace-building; Implications of Political Settlement for Peace in the ND; and Understanding the Resurgence of Violence in ‘Peacetime’.
The DDR framework as a peace-building device
Several years of violent exchanges between Nigerian security forces and regional militant groups in the country’s oil-rich Delta saw severe disruptions to oil production, which accounts for almost 80% of the nation’s foreign exchange earnings. This informed the adoption of the DDR approach to peace. DDR represents a process of social, political and economic transformation so that former combatants have a realistic chance of integrating into civilian society (Gleichman et al., 2004). Inherent in the above conception of DDR is the notion of the centrality of ‘smooth reabsorption into society’, in the whole process. The procedure normally proceeds from the collection of weapons and disbanding and return of former combatants to mainstream society to the provision of opportunities for sustainable livelihoods and socio-political reconciliation (Berdal, 1996; Colleta et al., 1996). This suggests that restoring peace transcends recovery of arms to a greater task of addressing the issues of grievance. The inability of the 2009 amnesty deal to achieve true reconciliation through effective resolution of the drivers of militancy in the ND constitutes a major flaw of the programme.
Traditionally, DDR strategies have been applied to three main conflict situations: (i) an environment where there is no central authority of governance and civil conflict has splintered authority between locally controlled factions; (ii) a situation where there is no victor in a civil conflict and parties in the imbroglio have fought each other to a standstill; and (iii) an environment where there is a clear winner at the end of a conflict with the victor exercising the instruments of authority and power (Berdal, 1996). However, in Africa, it is becoming increasingly difficult to identify the context of conflict within any of the above scenarios. This changing nature of conflict has necessitated a re-conception of DDR processes to reflect new situations.
The United Nations (UNDPO, 2010) designates the emergent new approaches ‘Second Generation DDR’ practices. The new framework, according to Muggah (2009), incorporates environments where warlordism, ethnic and religious disturbances, gangs, militias and irregularly armed elements abound at the sub-national level. These share semblances with the phenomenon of militancy in Nigeria’s ND region, which the 2009 amnesty sought to resolve. Such groups in Africa proliferate easily because ‘while governments are increasingly finding it difficult to train, equip and maintain their military and policing agencies, those elements within the state who seek to mount challenges to governmental authority are increasingly able to arm themselves through cheaply available weaponry spilling over from various conflicts throughout the continent’ (Ojeleye, 2011). Of course, the effort here is not an attempt to rationalize the growth of militancy in Nigeria’s Delta region, but to provide insight into how the flaws of the amnesty programme partly reproduced same theatre of violence that characterized the pre-deal era.
In 2009, the process of retrieving arms was anything but disarmament. Ojeleye (2011) declared; ‘the process whereby small arms, ammunition, explosives and light and heavy weapons of combatants as well as that of the civilian population is collected, documented, controlled and disposed of, is what is known as disarmament’. Similarly, the United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations (UNDPO) (2010) defines disarmament as the collection, control and disposal of SALWs and the development of responsible arms management programmes in a post-conflict context. During the exercise, disarmament was, for the federal government, simply the collection of as much arms as ex-fighters were willing to part with. On the one hand, lack of trust inhibited surrendering militants from giving up their entire armoury, while at the same time, the interest of government was not resolution of the core issues, but as much as could improve daily oil production. Thus, a coincidence of intent was formed between ex-fighters, whose interest is ‘cash’, and the government, for whom stable oil production remains principal. There was no record of inventory of weapons held by militants against which those surrendered could have been measured. There was also no serious effort to get rid of illicit arms possessed by the civilian population. The result is that the arms turned in by ND militants under the amnesty initiative belie the sophistication of militancy in the region.
As ex-fighters are disarmed, the DDR procedure is expected to proceed to demobilization: a planned process by which the armed force of the government and/or opposition or factional forces either downsize or disband completely. The objective is ‘resettling combatants, fighters and militants into productive labour’ (Ojeleye, 2011). Having been demobilized, the former combatants and their families must be established in a civilian environment, and reinsertion assistance, which is intended to ameliorate the process, often includes post-discharge orientation, food assistance, health and education support and a cash allowance (UNDPO, 1999). While disarmament and demobilization are one-off processes, re-integration, in contrast, takes place on a long term basis with the goal of ensuring that ex-fighters achieve financial independence through involvement in paid employment and/or productive activities. This stage is very critical, not only to the achievement of peace but also in its long term sustenance; because without proper reintegration, disarmamament and demobilization become futile.
A scanty disarmament was implemented, followed by a shabby demobilization; and with re-integration being ineffectual, the 2009 amnesty programme achieved two major results: the creation of millionaires out of warlords and the establishment of near-stable oil production. These appear to be the true objectives of the exercise. The logic for this conclusion stems from the fact that while the ND remains violent and the issues that brought about militant struggles remain significantly to be addressed, the government still considers the programme a success. DDR implies cessation of hostilities and the provision of an environment to redress grievances and build peace. Therefore, resolving issues of grievance is just as critical as retrieval of weapons and reabsorption of ex-combatants into society. The Nigerian government faltered in each critical area of the DDR procedure. Thus the present author contends that the resurgence of violence, while not entirely a product of the flaws of the 2009 amnesty, is mainly a derivative of the programme implementation fault lines.
Violence as a bargaining strategy for inclusion
There are two incontrovertible facts about the Niger Delta Region. First, it is a region of strategic importance to both the domestic and international economies. Secondly, it is a region of great and troubling paradox – it is an environment of great wealth as well as inhuman poverty (Inokoba and Imbua, 2010: 101).
‘Wealth’ and ‘lack’ in the Niger Delta are both products of the discovery of oil in 1956. Prior to the discovery and exploration of oil and gas resources in the ND region, the primary occupation was fishing and farming (Okonta and Oronto, 2001). The expectation at the time was that the discovery of large numbers of crude deposits would result in the transformation of the area into ‘…one of the most developed places in the world and its people into the best sheltered, best fed, best clothed, best educated and most fulfilled in the world (Inokoba and Imbua, 2010: 102). Unfortunately, other than destroying the subsistence economy of the people, years of exploration and exploitation have created political, ecological and socio-economic conditions that generate abject poverty, misery and backwardness in the region. This sordid consequence of oil exploration is limited to the Niger Delta. As noted by Kimiebi (2010), although the oil produced in the ND is the life blood of the Nigerian economy, oil has failed to translate to regional prosperity and development in the Delta. Nwogwugwu et al. (2012) on their part, have identified massive environmental degradation and political and economic marginalization as the only visible outcomes of oil exploration for the region’s people.
Oil related environmental multi-dimensional problems that have made life unbearable for the people of the Niger Delta include water and land pollution as a result of spills and drilling activities; destruction of vegetation, deforestation, destruction of farmlands and human settlements as a result of installation and location of exploration facilities such as crude oil and gas pipelines that crisscross most communities in the ND; loss of bio-diversity such as flora and fauna habitat; destruction of mangrove swamps and salt marshes; air pollution and acid rain from gas and oil processing evaporation and flaring; industrial solid waste disposal; and several others (Azaiki, 2003; Ibaba, 2005).
The economic contribution of the ND towards the nation’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) in terms of its crude oil earnings far surpasses the collective contributions of the other states of the federation. However, the comparative disadvantage of the region when placed against the other federating units is quite glaring.
In the ND, Gross National Product (GNP) per capita is below the national average of US$280. Unemployment in Port Harcourt is 30 per cent and is believed to be equally high in rural areas. Education levels are below the national average and are particularly low for women. While 76 per cent of Nigerian children attend primary school, this level drops to 30 per cent in some parts of the Niger Delta (Iyayi, 2006:7).
Whereas the ND has increased in filth, the oil industry has produced mega cities out of Lagos and Abuja, prompting Egwemi’s assertion that the Nigerian infrastructural crisis does not respect natural resources endowment (Egwemi, 2010).
For several years, through different fora, meetings and conferences, Niger Deltans patiently and peacefully presented their case for inclusion to the Nigerian government but, because they were peaceful in making their demands, little or no attention was given. Frustration with the state of affairs slowly grew into aggression and militancy was born. Frustration coupled with state repression made violent struggle inevitable in the region. An essential element therefore in the transition from peaceful agitations to violent engagement with the state, is the use of ‘military brutality’ by the government as a ‘silencer’ to the genuine claims of Niger Deltans. The feeling of oppression by the dominant ethnic groups prompted the declaration of the Niger Delta Republic by Isaac Adoka Boro on 23 February 1966. The federal government declared war on him and he was quickly clamped down upon.
A similar sense of discontent informed the several protests against the Nigerian government that were orchestrated by Ken Saro Wiwa. Unfortunately, his desire for a better Ogoni land earned him and eight other Ogonis the hangman’s noose in 1995 (Egwemi, 2010). The Odi massacre by the Army in 1999 on the order of former President Olusegun Obasanjo (Omotola, 2009) did not help matters in creating a sense of belonging for the people. A lucid explanation for this high-handed approach is that it was aimed at establishing fear as a deterrence strategy.
Nonetheless, rather than acting as a deterrent, excessive force by the state created militancy in the ND region. It changed the texture of the struggle from the non-violent era of the past, to the emergence of well-armed groups working as it were for the liberation and emancipation of the region. It became clear that the only understanding of how change can come about is violence. This eventually became a sort of article of faith (Omotola, 2009). Under two decades, militancy in the Niger Delta impacted serious reverses on the political economy of the nation. Frequent stoppage of oil exploitation activities, intermittent closure of oil wells and blowing up oil terminals, all aided the safe passage of the Niger Delta question into the political agenda of the federal government, and resulted in the 2009 amnesty deal.
From anarchy to amnesty
In 2009, the federal government of Nigeria declared an end to violent confrontation with the well-equipped ND militants, whose ‘lethality’ and disposition to ‘destructive engagement’ sent chills down the spine of most security agents. This heralded a new phase in the relations between the government and ‘creek dwellers’. The amnesty deal, as typical with most DDR programmes, was expected to prepare militants who accepted the presidential pardon for eventual reintegration into society. Amnesty promoters, including the government, oil multi-nationals and the United Nations had hoped that sustainable peace would lead to (i) stoppage of disruptions to oil production; (ii) increase in government rents; and (iii) the possibility for the economic growth and development of the region, with a predominant anchor on infrastructural development.
In pursuit of the programme, a Presidential Amnesty Implementation Committee chaired by retired Major General Godwin Abe was set up. Six ND states – Edo, Delta, Rivers, Bayelsa, Akwa Ibom and Cross River – had designated depots for the submission of arms and ammunition and registration of surrendering militants. The sign-on exercise involved the documentation of ex-fighters and the collection of their fingerprints. Under the terms of the deal, court charges against militants under prosecution such as Henry Okah were dropped; and others in detention were released. However, only offences committed before the end of the programme were forgiven unconditionally, as those committed after the expiration of the 4 October 2009 ultimatum were expected to be visited with the full weight of the law.
Unfortunately, because most programmes of government are launched without success, the popularity of the plan was initially restricted mainly to those in government circles and western energy-consuming nations. Several analysts of peace building and the recipient audience themselves, the militants, viewed the deal with skepticism, more so on the part of the latter, because the amnesty deal was declared without their consultation. As a result, key ND militant figures such as Asari Dokubo of the Niger Delta Peoples Volunteer Force (NDPVF), Ateke Tom of the dreaded Niger Delta Vigilante Services (NDVS), Government Ekpemukpolo (popularly known as Tompolo), and others, declined the gesture from government. Asari saw the programme as an attempt to criminalize the genuine ‘struggle’ of the ‘freedom fighters’, arguing that only convicted criminals required such presidential pardon and concluding that ND fighters were not criminals to be granted amnesty. Ateke, who had earned notoriety when he masterminded the wanton destruction of Okuru-Ama community on the order of the Rivers state Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), because it was controlled by a rival political party (Eso, 2009), initially expressed reservations about the amnesty because he regarded the programme as a ploy to bring militants out of hiding for prosecution. More so, Ateke and Asari were at ‘daggers drawn’ following the Okuru-Ama massacre in 2007, so he had reasons to be wary of surrendering his arms. Persistent assurances however brought Ateke Tom to the negotiating table with Former President Yar’Adua on 1 October 2009, where the submission of his weapons and acceptance of the peace deal were finalized.
At the end of the ultimatum, some of the weapons submitted by ex-fighters included Brownies (hand-guns), general purpose machine guns, anti-aircraft guns, dynamite, rocket propelled grenade launchers and bombs, rocket chargers, sticker grenades and several tons of different ammunition. It is the view of the author that for most ND militant groups access to these weapons facilitated criminality more than it aided ‘freedom fighting’, which further informs the opinion of ‘limited genuine struggle’ because the activities of these groups mostly reveal the desire to become joint-beneficiaries, with the political class, of state distribution of benefits.
Needless to say, the treatment of the ex-militants who signed up for the amnesty programme was quite humane, but the snag with the whole exercise is that those granted amnesty appear placed ahead of the acclaimed drivers of the ‘struggle’ (economic deprivations and environmental degradation) of the ND region. Though the government stated clearly that there would be no cash for arms, a subsistence allowance of ₦65,000 (which is in line with the DDR process) was provided for each ex-militant who signed on to the initiative. But leaders of the militant organisations received oil contracts, such as pipeline protection, as compensation. The programme made significant gains in restoring relative peace in the region. At the end of the second phase, in November 2010 a total of 26,193 ex-fighters from various states had been demobilized and trained in batches at Obubra Post-Amnesty Transformational Training camp in Cross River state. In addition, December 2011 saw the placement of 7556 ex-combatants in skills acquisition, training centres and formal education in Nigeria, Russia, Israel, Sri Lanka, USA, UK, India, Cyprus, Poland, Ghana, UAE, the Philippines, and Trinidad and Tobago. With training in less populated professions such as pipeline welding, underwater welding, ocean diving, automobile technology, etc., it was hoped that the re-integration programme would end in gainful employment for the ex-fighters either in existing firms or in self-employment. Many, such as Kuku (2011) attribute the increase in oil production to 2.6 million barrels per day in the country to the relative peace which the amnesty engendered.
Nonetheless, while giving handouts may have restored relative peace in the region, the amnesty may, and indeed has begun to have ripple effects at two levels. The first is that devoid of real development efforts, the amnesty deal simply reflects a ‘cash for arms’ policy and becomes an attraction for criminals who violently engage the government for the purpose of enjoying same state largesse. On the second note, because the promise of infrastructural development by the government is yet to go large scale (as emphasis is on those granted amnesty), and partly due to the continued environmental insensitivity by oil multinationals, the possibility for renewed struggle by ex-combatants, genuine or not, remains ever present.
‘Political settlement’ as peace-building
The period immediately succeeding the amnesty deal, to the time of writing (May 2014) is marked by mixed fortunes for all stakeholders of peace in the region, owing to the ill-conception and rickety implementation of the programme The government’s insincere intention of cash for arms cloaked in ‘presidential pardon’, while creating relative peace, has also given rise to violent groups seeking compensation from the state. Oil installations which had started having a feel of the chill of petroleum products were soon reengaged with the scorching heat that accompanies the blasts of bombs. Some ex-warlords whose fortunes had changed from fugitive ‘creek dwellers’ to ‘luxury mansion inhabitants’ soon lost it all, because after all, the Nigerian state has a history of glorifying violence and exalting the violently disposed. State engagement with ex-combatants in the post-amnesty period, while predominantly violent, also indicates the primacy of cash in the deal.
The rhetoric of government that it is indisposed to ‘cash for arms’, is called into question by the fervent attempts, which are also mostly violent, by acclaimed ex-militants to secure a slice of the fallout of the programme. The ensuing scenario is that while on the one hand there appears to be the glorification of ‘the violent’, on the other, unrest (or the opposite, peace) becomes a commodity, a legal tender to be exchanged for a bit of state resources. Consequently, the exclusion of some others from the benefits of the amnesty led to several protests in various cities across Nigeria’s Delta. Such protests were organized in Benin City, Yenagoa, Calabar, Warri, Port Harcourt, and even outside the ND in Lokoja and Abuja. This led to blockade of major roads such as the East-West road between Warri and Port Harcourt, the Benin-Shagamu road, and the Abuja-Okene road for several hours with the attendant social inconveniences and economic losses (Akasike, 2011).
The relationship between government and ‘repentant’ ex-militants reveals that it is disposed to buying peace. In 2012 and 2013, the Federal Government (FG) spent ₦ 72 billion and N 88 billion, respectively on its programme for repentant Niger Delta militants (ThisDay, 2012). This far exceeds what it spends yearly to deliver basic education to children and is dwarfed by the handouts of contracts flowing ceaselessly from the Federal Government to ex-militant kingpins. In a move by the Federal Government to ‘buy’ peace in the Niger Delta, ex-militants ‘General’ Ateke Tom ‘General’ Ebikabowei ‘Boyloaf’ Victor Ben, ‘General’ Government ‘Tompolo’ Ekpumopolo and Asari Dokubo were offered oil pipeline protection contracts totaling ₦560 million, ₦560 million, ₦3.6 billion and ₦1.44 billion respectively (Punch, 2012; ThisDay, 2012). The effect of federally distributed largesse to ex-militant leaders is reflected in the life of affluence and opulence which they currently enjoy.
In a show of grandeur and a statement of the arrival of ‘new money’, Chief Ateke Tom, or ‘Godfather’ as he is affectionately addressed by his teeming supporters, was conservatively estimated to have spent a whopping N 30 million on the baby dedication ceremony of his brother. The source of the money is obvious. In accepting the 2009 amnesty deal, Chief Ateke submitted 10,000 names as the active combatants under his command but sources close to the ex-rebel revealed that the correct figure is somewhere around 1000 fighters. With N 65,000 paid as monthly stipends to each amnestied militant without verification, Ateke receives from the Amnesty office, on a monthly basis, a staggering sum of N 650,000,000 (Uchegbu, 2013). The ‘Godfather’ is said to be living in opulence in his multi-million naira residence in Amuwo Odofin in Lagos, having several other properties in Abuja and Lagos, including choice locations such as Victoria Garden City (VGC) and Lekki.
Notwithstanding the above, Ateke has been unable to monopolize the limelight. In 2012, the Rivers state capital, Port Harcourt, practically stood still for the wedding ceremony of Mr. Ebi Kabowei Victor Ben. Uchegbu (2013) likened the event to an auto/fashion show, as each of the ex-militant kingpins boldly tried to make financial and fashion statements with their automobiles. Boyloaf has received generous contracts in Bayelsa State, where he is ‘lord of the manor’, as well as ceaseless largesse from Abuja.
Today, Government Tompolo lives like the fabled Indian Maharajahs courted by both the Federal and State governments, owns an oil block and a private jet that is worth N 2.12 billion (Ileowo, 2013), with his net worth running into billions of naira. He has safely sailed from his dwelling place in camp 5 (the name of his disbanded group’s hideout in the creeks) to the pinnacle of wealth and affluence. Surprisingly, he is now a darling of the Federal Government that only a few years ago considered him an arch enemy deserving of extermination. To cement the romance between President Goodluck Jonathan and Government Tompolo, the government granted the latter’s Global West Vessel Specialist Limited (GWVSL) with a contract worth USD 103.4 million (over ₦ 15 billion) to supply 20 vessels for use by the nation’s military authorities to secure the country’s waterways. Frail in figure, but so stout in courage, Tompolo has succeeded in balancing whatever deficit he suffers in educational accomplishments with suicidal but calculatingly rewarding proclivities (Sahara Reporters, 2013).
In an effort to defend the lucrative oil pipeline protection contracts awarded to ex-rebels, the Federal Government further reveals its cash for peace motive. For example, while defending the contracts, the Special Assistant to President Jonathan on Public Affairs, Dr Doyin Okupe, stated that the country had benefited immensely from the exercise, noting that since it began, crude oil production had jumped from 1.8 million bpd to 2.6 million bpd. The accuracy of this latter figure is questionable, however, given that the country loses more to oil theft now than ever before. In sharing the same line of argument as Okupe, Oronto Douglas, the Special Adviser to the President on Research and Strategy, believes that there is no better option than continuing to ‘buy’ peace. He is quoted by ThisDay, (2012) as saying ‘if it is too huge, what are the alternatives?’
The point to note from all this is that violence and instability remain apparent features of ex-militants’ engagement with the state today, because the country has a record of granting access to state resources in exchange for peace and stability. Otherwise, what explains the threat of ‘General’ Keithy Sese (an ex-militant) in protest of the non-inclusion of some former fighters in the amnesty deal, to campaign violently against the Nigerian state and multinational companies because the language the government understands is violence? (Addeh, 2011). The political landscape itself is characterized by the ‘rule of the muscle’ to the extent that people who assume public offices are mostly those who have mastered the act of violence better than other players in the very bitter politics of Nigeria. Though decades of government insensitivity and unreasoned economic policies have made civil disobedience a last resort for the downtrodden in an attempt to break free from resultant deprivations, placing cash ahead of real and sustainable development in the ND perpetuates the practice of seeking state response through violent engagement. To be sure, efforts have been made to enhance the physical infrastructure in the region since 2009. For instance, in December 2010 alone, government approved contracts worth ₦52.9 billion for the construction of roads. While this is commendable, it does not directly translate into better living standards for the people. Although vocational and technical training have been provided for most of the ‘amnestied’, what sort of human capital development initiative has been extended to the ordinary, non-violent, law abiding individuals who are left with the woes of the deal, an example of which is environmental insecurity which remains a major challenge in post-amnesty ND? The persistent oil spillages in the region partly account for the restiveness in most ND communities today. It provides a legitimate ground for genuine agitation as well as an avenue for criminals and anarchists to create and benefit from unrest, under the guise of ‘freedom fighting’.
Further, a group with the name, ‘Third Phase Federal Amnesty’, threatened that it would cripple oil facilities in the ND if the relevant authorities refused to resolve their plight and frustration, having complied with the directive of peaceful disarmament. This was not a baseless threat because on 3 October 2011 it orchestrated attacks on the Agip-operated Main Link Pipeline along Olugbobiri in Southern Ijaw LGA, Bayelsa state. This was followed by attacks on the Tereke Obama Flow Station in Nembe, Bayelsa, also operated by Agip. The group was also alleged to have destroyed Shell Well Head linking Bayelsa and Rivers states at Imiringi Road, Ogbia on October 5, 2011 (The Punch, 2011a). Now seen as agents of the state, some ex-militants have themselves become targets of those groups who seek violently, albeit unsuccessfully thus far, their share of the amnesty benefits. Some of these include Olah Abogha, popularly known as Commander Areama, who was killed in Bayelsa state; former Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND) Commander Soboma George, killed in Rivers state; Commander Ezekiel, gruesomely murdered in Ondo state and Mr Ebi Albert, also killed in Bayelsa (Odiegwu, 2013). It was such killings that prompted the formation of ‘Group of Peace’ (a group of ex-militants set up to protect the depleting ranks of ex-warlords) and the ‘Famous Tangbei’ (a special police force established to respond to ex-militants’ demands for state protection).
In addition to being violent, ex-militants’ engagement with the state also demonstrates a larger character of criminality. Such crimes as armed robbery, kidnapping and oil bunkering have been on the rise in most parts of the region. In March 2012, for instance, the 102-year-old mother of the Ovie (King) of Masogar Kingdom in Ethiope LGA of Delta state was kidnapped from her home with a ransom of ₦150 million demanded for her release. At the same time, a former employee of Delta State Oil Producing Areas Development Commission (DESOPADEC) was also abducted with a ₦10 million ransom slammed on his family. In May 2012, two Indians with the Asaba Alluminium Company and the younger brother of the Speaker of Delta State House of Assembly were kidnapped. Though not all crimes in Nigeria’s Delta are committed by ex-militants, a significant number of ex-fighters have been arrested by security agents for kidnapping, piracy, armed robbery, etc. (Bivbere and Ejoh, 2011; Amaize, 2012; Daily Sun, 2012b).
Implications of political settlement for peace in the ND
Relative, essentially fragile peace was restored in Nigeria’s oil-rich ND region owing to the 2009 amnesty deal which required surrendering militants to turn in their weapons and get registered into the programme. The imperfect implementation of the DDR strategy, while enhancing daily oil production (the only meaningful peace achieved), failed to resolve the proliferation of arms in the region. Furthermore, the inability to obtain accurate estimates of weapons stockpile precluded any real chance of effective disarmament. Thus, large caches of arms remain in circulation and the consequence has been continuance of kidnapping, armed robbery, piracy and oil theft on an even larger scale in some cases.
Piracy has been a major source of revenue for militants who violently engage with the state in the ND. The presidential pardon to such activities, which the 2009 amnesty programme declared, has failed, for the reasons cited above, to inspire a halt to such nefarious acts by regional militants. Evidence abounds to support this claim. At Ayama-Ogbia community, on 5 February 2010, a pirate attack was reported which left a woman dead and several others injured (Ombe, 2010). Pirate attacks have become very rampant between Calabar and Cameroun Channel, Adoni, Benin, Brass and Yenagoa waters. On 15 July 2010 a pirate attack on the vessel Olokun IV saw the death of a sailor. Similarly, on 19 May 2011 pirates from the ND attacked a vessel, MV Endurance, travelling from the Calabar inland waterways en route to Limbe in the Republic of Cameroun and relieved the passengers of over ₦32 million (Affe, 2011). Excessive premium on force, rather than military intelligence, also often results in increased violence in state attempts to clamp down on pirates; as was the case in December 2010 when the Joint Task Force (Army, Navy and Air Force) raids on militants camps in Delta state led to the killing of 150 persons, many of whom were civilians (Business Day, 2010).
The trajectory of kidnappings in the ND has only evolved in such a way that Nigerians are increasingly being targeted rather than foreign oil workers. Two reasons account for the shift: multi-national companies operating in the region are not employing as many expatriate workers; and those that do have drastically improved their security measures. Thus, unsecured traditional rulers, businessmen and women, medical doctors, university and High School teachers, and poorly guarded government officials and their relatives have become easy targets. Everyone perceived as being able to afford a ransom that averages US$50,000 (Elombah, 2012) is targeted. From one part of the region to the next, the tale is the same, and many of these kidnappings have been traced to ex-militants (Odidi, 2014).
In Akwa Ibom state, prominent traditional rulers (Paramount Ruler Okobo, HRM Edidem Ime D Umoette); medical practitioners (Doctors Uwah and Austin Edet); clergymen and women (Reverend Ime Iyire, Deacon Sandy Ntuen Ubok, Reverend Ntia I Ntia, Prophetess Mercey Effiong, Prophetess Mercey Inyang); university lecturers (Professor Akaninyene Mendie, Professor Imo Ukpong), and other notable personalitites such as General Edet Akpan, Honourable Mike Dan, Chief Obosi-Clan Headinen, Chief Emmanuel Ntukidem, Barristter (Mrs) Archibong among others, have been victims of kidnappers in the post-amnesty period (Nigerian Elites Forum, 2012). In Edo state, Chief Mike Ozekhome (Senior Advocate of Nigeria, SAN); Justice Daniel Okungbowa (a High Court Judge); and Athanacious Ugbome (a chieftain of the All Progressives Congress, APC) are some of the notable personalities kidnapped and released after ransom payment, in 2013 alone (Famous People News, 2013; Odunsi, 2013).
Some of the victims of kidnappers in Delta state in recent times include Professor Hope Eghagha (Delta State Commissioner for Higher Education); Chief (Doctor) Gregory Oke Akpojene (Member, of the Order of the Niger, MON); Markson Macaulay (son of the Secretary to Delta State Government); Reverend J Israel; Justtice Marcel Okoh, Benedicta Offorkachi, Madam Suzanne Elumelu (mother of the Chairman of UBA Group); the mother of Ngozi Okonjo Iweala (Minister of Finance); Okey Ofili, Obomejerio Aforkeya, Christian Obodo (former Super Eagles footballer); Professor Abednego Ekoko (former Vice Chancellor of Delta State University, DELSU); Pa Samuel Uduaghan (cousin to Delta State Governor, Emmanuel Uduaghan) (Odidi, 2014; Addeh, 2012). The notorious Liberation Movement of the Urhobo People (LIMUP), headed by Kelvin Ibruvwe, now in the custody of the Department of State Security (DSS), is accused of being responsible for most of the kidnappings in the Edo-Delta axis of the region (Ezeamalu, 2013; Sahara Reporters, 25 September, 2013).
Perpetrators of large scale oil theft (commonly referred to as oil bunkers) operate in a similar fashion to the drug cartels in Columbia, Brazil and Mexico. This illicit lifting of oil in the ND persists in the post-amnesty period partly due to the flaws of the DDR initiative. Partly, because, other ‘unamnestied’ militants, politicians and security operatives, as well as government officials, have been indicted with regard to oil theft in the past, which makes it incorrect to exclude them from today’s practice. The April 2006 National Extractive Industry Transparency Initiative Audit Report suggested that some illegally lifted crude oil is refined in government refineries. According to the report, the refineries in 1999/2000 received more illicit crude oil than was sent legitimately from the oil terminals. It also indicates that a total of 22 million barrels of crude sent to the refineries between 2001, 2002 and 2004 were not received at the intended destinations (The Punch, 15 December, 2011b).
Thus, bunkering cannot be entirely explained by the ‘militancy argument’. Since the end of the amnesty ultimatum, over 1000 illegal refineries in the region have been discovered and destroyed by the JTF. In October 2009 and February 2010 respectively the vessels MT Laila and MC Shekina were impounded for oil bunkering. In October 2010, 16 suspected ex-militants were arrested by the Nigerian Navy at Takwa Bay near NNPC Atlas Curve in Lagos, for the same reason (Odita, 2010). What is most troubling in this trade is that the oil is poorly refined. This means that, in addition to huge revenue losses to government, significant proportions of stolen crude are spilled into the environment, blighting large swathes of the ecosystem (Chukwu, 2011) and generating the inspiration for fresh agitations. On these bases, therefore, it is the author’s contention that the relativity of peace in the ND today only implies near-stable production of oil, as changes to oil theft, kidnapping, piracy and armed robbery have only been in terms of increase in scale.
Understanding the resurgence of violence in ‘peacetime’
The persistence of violence in the post-amnesty period is underscored by a complex interplay of factors. While some forces may act independently, the influence of other factors is ignited only by a previously existing circumstance. This is further explained thus: the breakdown in social service delivery is one of the expressions of state failure in Nigeria and accounts in part for the frustration of the local ND population, exacerbated by the complacency of TNCs in the region. Elite economic and political manoeuvres produce militias that become uncontrollable even beyond the theatre of elite struggle. More so, these elite wars for economic resources and potentially political power are often facilitated by the fluidity of arms flow in the region and, indeed, nationwide. The easy flow of arms is itself made possible by the porosity of Nigerian borders. Arising from the amnesty programme itself are a disjointed disarmament procedure which mopped up only a fraction of illicit SALWs in the ND and inadequacy in the reintegration plan for the skill-acquired/trained/amnestied ex-militants, thus making the ND increasingly volatile.
In the absence of effective state response to existing deprivations in the ND, crime is seen as a means of survival. The people of the Delta already groan from the age-long consequences of unreasoned economic policies of government as well as an endemic culture of corruption that has become synonymous with ‘Nigeria’. This is worsened by the destruction of the ecosystem that is supposed to guarantee the sustenance of a predominantly fishing and farming population.
Between 2006 and 2010, the Nigerian government received 3203 oil spill reports from oil companies with an accompanying 92564 barrels of oil spilled into the environment (Ezekiel, 2010). Research has also shown that oil companies in the region release into the atmosphere as much as 35 million tons of carbon dioxide and 12 million tons of methane through gas flaring annually (Ibeanu and Lukham, 2006). The scale of harmful gas flaring in Nigeria makes the country the largest culprit in the world ahead of Russia, Iran, Algeria, Venezuela, Indonesia and the United States. As noted by industry experts, the country’s gas flares emit as many greenhouse gases as 18 million cars, and its toxic substances are often dangerously released into densely populated areas in the Delta (Shaxson, 2007). Issues such as this informed the emergence of militant groups which violently engaged the state in a bid to secure government attention. Unfortunately, as Omehia rightly remarked, ‘the issues that caused the crises have not been addressed while the effect (militancy) has taken centre stage. Unless and until those issues, of poor development and environmental degradation are revisited and fairly addressed, amnesty is just like postponing the evil day’ (The Nation, 2011).
As an emphasis, the author shares the view that partly due to criminal motive and the continued neglect of oil-producing communities by the government and TNCs, grievance and restive engagement are noticeable features of post-amnesty ND. Though it was hoped that the amnesty would open up the region infrastructurally, today it remains in a state of squalor. Many communities remain neglected, developmentally. The rate of youth unemployment in the region is still higher than the national average. These factors fuel the anger of youths who feel shortchanged in a land of plenty. On 2 April 2012, over 2000 ex-militants in Akwa Ibom state blocked access to ExxonMobil Qua Iboe Oil Terminal in protest about long-term neglect of the oil bearing communities in the state by Mobil (Daily Sun, 2012a).
The elite have also been indicted as major culprits in the violence that plagues this part of the country. Some politicians have agreed that the elite created militancy in the pursuit of power and ‘spoils’. Therefore, I argue that because the elite struggle for power and resources could not possibly have been addressed by the amnesty programme, post-2009 ND still retains its violent outlook. In Bayelsa state, for example, ex-militant leaders have been employed and deployed by factional politicians in the post-amnesty era. In Rivers state, Governor Rotimi Amaechi is also alleged by opposition parties to have used ex-militants to disrupt electoral politics in the state (Ebiri, 2011). The history with such occurrences is that ‘armed groups that elites initially hired…eventually start acting autonomously’ (Duquet, 2009).
The elite’s struggle for power, as earlier noted, easily turns violent due to the ease of acquiring SALWs. This is itself influenced by the porous nature of the Nigerian borders which facilitate ‘black market’ sale of arms. The variety of illicit sources of SALWs also facilitates violent engagement with the state by groups opposed to it. Sources of arms in the country include local fabrication, such as in Aba and Awka; those sold to militias by security personnel; and those acquired and subsequently supplied by politicians to thugs for election ‘monitoring’. Police stations and the state armoury are also often raided, but most of the sophisticated weapons in the ND are bought from ships that come from different parts of the world to cart away illegal crude oil. Sometimes, there is a direct exchange of weapons for stolen crude on the high sea in a manner reminiscent of a barter economy (Duquet, 2009). Violence is then greased by the easy availability of these instruments of crime.
Moving now beyond factors external to the amnesty programme, to those which directly emanate from it, worthy of note is the haphazard manner with which the region was cleaned up of arms, if the exercise can be described at all as achieving this. As noted by Ojeleye (2011), for post-conflict peace building to succeed, there must be a comprehensive arm mopping. The process of disarmament in 2009 lacked coordination and hence ex-fighters retained large caches of arms. In Nigeria’s Delta, the militia camps were not thoroughly searched and not all recovered arms have been destroyed. Thus, stockpiles of arms remain in the creeks and remote communities. The evidence of unsurrendered arms is the discrepancy between the amount of sophisticated G3, FAL, GMP and RGPs in the armoury of militants, and those surrendered. Re-engaging the state violently has therefore been a possibility because the militants retained most of their sophisticated tools of engagement. Part of the amnesty programme was an agendum to convert the energies of ex-militants into a productivity impetus. The plan involved training these ex-fighters both within the country and overseas. Unfortunately, for many, skills are acquired without appropriate avenues for practice, just as knowledge is gained with hardly any opportunities to earn a living out of it. Self-employment remains a remote possibility as the enabling infrastructure is mainly non-existent. In these circumstances, only one feeling becomes apparent; that of increased frustration. Given that there was also no concrete plan for de-radicalization, frustration easily degenerates into resurgence of violent engagement with the state.
Conclusions
As decades of peaceful agitation failed to resolve the petitions of the people of the Niger Delta, violent struggle became inevitable. With the escalation of violence in the region, criminals soon profited from the crisis. The infiltration of criminal intentions into the genuine struggle of the local people exacerbated the conflict as it became difficult for the state to engage many groups that had sprung up. In what can be termed a watershed in the engagement between the government and militant groups in the region, a peace deal was entered into by both parties. The relative peace engendered by the amnesty programme was, however, short-lived, for a number of reasons already advanced in this paper.
Looking to the future, the government will need to take bold and practical steps to address the fault lines in the DDR program which it commissioned in 2009. Practical and genuine steps must be taken to mop up illicit SALWs in the Niger Delta. The Federal Government must be willing to investigate and prosecute suspected ‘merchants of violence’ and ‘contractors of terror’ in a way that is just with regard to local and international laws. Adequate measures must be put in place to review the reintegration phase of the programme. Here lies the greatest challenge for the government. As well as society having to reabsorb amnestied militants, provision of gainful employment is key to reducing attraction to the lucre of violence. Above all, the grievances of the local people, most of which remain unresolved, must be completely addressed if sustainable peace is to be achieved.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
