News Room 
By Fwangmun Oscar Danladi
I’ve struggled to find the right words to respond to the horrific events that have unfolded over the past few days—yet another wave of communities ravaged by the now-familiar “unknown-known” gunmen. Our collective response continues to baffle me: shock, outrage, and momentary lament, as though we’re unaware of the time bomb we all live on. Truth be told, every community in Plateau State—and across the Middle Belt—is on edge, anxiously waiting to see who will be next.
The cost of our indifference or perhaps our powerlessness disguised as indifference, is unbearably high. It seems we are caught in a cycle of waiting for the next tragedy so we can publicly grieve, condemn, and move on. At what point will this pattern end? At what point do we stop burying our dead and start holding each other accountable?
This moment calls for deep introspection, especially among those of us who claim to care about the future of the Middle Belt. It’s time to reflect on Martin Niemöller’s haunting words: “…then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me.” God forbid we reach that place where every community must mourn alone, unheard, and unsupported.
But to speak of the “unknown-known” gunmen without speaking of the “unknown-known” Trojan horses within us would be a disservice. These internal saboteurs—those who stoke division, exploit ethnic and religious differences, and undermine solidarity—are perhaps more dangerous than any external aggressor. As long as we ignore them, the Middle Belt will remain fragmented and vulnerable.
A hard but necessary truth must be confronted: the average Middle Belt person is often more united by hatred for their kinsman than by a common cause. This is a painful reality, but until we acknowledge it, we will continue to be pawns in a broader game of conquest and control.
Has there ever been a moment in recent history where leaders across the Middle Belt—traditional, political, or religious—spoke with one voice on the true nature, intent, and scale of the crisis facing our communities? Instead, we see a disjointed cacophony: leaders interpreting the crisis through narrow partisan, ethnic, or denominational lenses. The result is paralysis.
This disunity has created conditions far worse than the classic “divide and rule” colonial strategy. What we are witnessing is what historian Moses Ochonu aptly calls sub-colonialism—a more insidious strategy that operates through infiltration and co-optation, not merely external domination. Unlike indirect rule, which relies on visible colonial administrators, sub-colonialism thrives through insiders—Trojan horses—who manipulate the existing sociopolitical architecture to facilitate external control. Our greatest threat, therefore, is not the enemy at the gate, but the one seated among us.
This subcontracted model of governance—where power is decentralised not to empower, but to pacify and divide—has hollowed out the capacity of the Middle Belt to respond collectively. It explains why cycles of violence continue unabated and why local responses are often reactive, fragmented, and politically compromised.
To break this cycle, we must first confront the internal rot. We must shed the mentality that pits us against one another and begin to rally around a cause greater than our individual tribes, denominations, or political affiliations. I commend the current Plateau State government for its efforts to foster unity, but the burden of building a united front cannot rest on the government alone. All religious, cultural, and political leaders must recommit to the vision once held by the founding fathers of the Middle Belt—a vision of solidarity, justice, and collective self-determination.
Sadly, there are still those who benefit from the tokenism of “One North” politics, and they will resist any move toward Middle Belt unity. They fear that an awakened Middle Belt will challenge the structures of co-optation and control they have come to rely on. Until we are willing to confront this age-old dilemma—until we choose cause over convenience and unity over resentment—the killings in Plateau, Benue, and beyond may never truly end.
Fwangmun Oscar Danladi
University of Iowa, Iowa City, IA, USA
