That resolve by suspected political thugs – Tribune Online

A video circulating across Nigerian social media has stirred a familiar mix of shock, anger, and disbelief. In it, a group of young men, faces uncovered and voices steady with defiance, address the public about what, at first glance, sounds like a labour dispute. They speak of compensation, of being undervalued, of refusing to continue unless their demands are met. But this is no ordinary grievance. The “work” in question is organised political violence. Their demand is explicit: ₦40 million, or they withdraw their services. If politicians cannot pay, they say, then those politicians should send their own children to do the job.

The outrage this has provoked is justified. Yet the deeper concern lies not in the brazenness of the demand, but in what it reveals about how normalised political violence has become. These young men do not question the legitimacy of their actions. There is no hesitation, no moral reckoning, only a negotiation over price. Violence, in their telling, is simply a service rendered, part of a political marketplace where intimidation, ballot disruption and coercion are tradable skills. They see themselves not as criminals, but as contractors in a brutal informal economy. This is the tragic logic of a system where criminality has been absorbed into everyday politics. To be clear, the young men are not entirely wrong to feel exploited. For years, politicians have relied on such groups to influence electoral outcomes and consolidate power. When the contests are over, these same actors are discarded, underpaid, unprotected, and forgotten. Their anger reflects a pattern of manipulation that has long defined political engagement at the margins. Nonetheless, their conclusion is profoundly misguided. Exploitation in a criminal enterprise cannot be remedied by higher pay. The real alternative is the rejection of political violence as a means of livelihood.

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What this moment exposes is not an isolated incident but a systemic failure decades in the making. Political thuggery in Nigeria is no longer exceptional. It is structural. In many parts of the country, violence is treated as an electoral tool deployed as routinely as campaign messaging or voter outreach. The boundary between politics and organised crime has eroded to the point of near invisibility. The consequences extend far beyond elections. Young people recruited into these networks rarely return to ordinary life. Instead, they are drawn into a continuum of violence sustained by access to weapons, quick money, and a culture of impunity. What begins as “political work” often evolves into more entrenched forms of criminality, kidnapping, armed robbery, and land disputes enforced through force. The skills acquired during election cycles become assets in a broader underworld economy. In this way, political violence does not end with elections. It metastasises.

Equally troubling is the confidence with which these young men spoke. Their openness reflects a system where accountability is weak and enforcement selective. Public admission of wrongdoing does not necessarily invite consequences. And when authorities fail to respond decisively to such blatant declarations, silence becomes complicity. A functional system would treat such a video as evidence, triggering investigation not only of those who appeared but of the networks behind them: their sponsors, financiers, and protectors. Instead, what often prevails is a culture of quiet tolerance. In some cases, individuals linked to political violence are rewarded rather than punished, absorbed into systems of patronage, and granted contracts or appointments. When this happens, violence is no longer a liability. It becomes a credential. The message is unmistakable: coercion pays.

This is the deeper crisis. The video is not just a spectacle; it is a mirror reflecting a compromised political culture. The young men did not create this system, they learnt it. They observed that loyalty to powerful patrons can shield wrongdoing; that proximity to power can convert risk into reward. Their ₦40 million demand is not an anomaly. It is the logical outcome of a system that has long monetised violence. Breaking this cycle requires more than outrage. It demands action, deliberate, sustained, and collective. First, political actors must be held accountable. Parties and candidates who employ or tolerate violence should face real legal consequences, including disqualification and prosecution. Electoral competition cannot continue to operate as a theatre of coercion without consequence. Second, law enforcement agencies must act with independence and consistency. Selective enforcement erodes trust and emboldens perpetrators. Investigations into political violence must extend beyond foot soldiers to include those who finance and direct them. Third, electoral institutions must be strengthened to reduce the incentives for violence. Transparent processes, credible result transmission, and effective monitoring can diminish the perceived need for coercion as a political strategy.

Fourth, society must withdraw its tolerance. Communities, civil society organisations and the media all have roles to play in refusing to normalise or excuse political violence. Public condemnation must be matched by sustained advocacy for reform. Finally, there must be a direct appeal to young people caught in this cycle. The sense of being used is real. The frustration is justified. But the path of violence leads only to deeper precarity and danger. The choice is not between better pay and worse pay for coercion. It is between a life constrained by exploitation and one grounded in dignity, however difficult that transition may be. The normalisation of violence in politics threatens not just elections but the foundations of social order. If left unchecked, it will continue to erode trust, fuel insecurity, and weaken governance.

This moment must not pass as just another viral episode. It should serve as a turning point. Citizens must demand accountability. Institutions must enforce the law. Political leaders must renounce the use of violence, not in words alone, but in practice.