Bandits Have Created States Inside Nigeria, Holds 'Victory Parades' - Mahdi Shehu

When northern human rights activist Mahdi Shehu sounded the alarm about a bizarre “victory parade” held by armed bandits in Bakori Local Government Area of Katsina State, many Nigerians were stunned—but for locals, it was just another day of humiliation under the shadow of terror. His revelation, shared through a post on his verified X (formerly Twitter) account, cast a chilling light on how much control criminal gangs have gained across swathes of northern Nigeria, turning once-peaceful farming communities into fiefdoms of fear.

Shehu’s post described a surreal scene: dozens of armed men dressed in full military-style combat gear, moving in coordinated formation through Bakori. These were not soldiers of the Nigerian Army, nor members of any recognized security outfit—they were bandits. According to Shehu, their gathering was ostensibly for a “peace deal” with local residents, but in reality, it was a demonstration of dominance, a show of power, and an announcement that they—not the state—held the real authority in the area.

For over a decade, the North has been scarred by a relentless wave of violence from armed bandit groups. They have killed thousands, raped women, razed villages, and forced millions to flee their homes. But beyond the bloodshed, a quieter tragedy is unfolding: the complete collapse of governance in certain rural regions, replaced by a crude but functional shadow government imposed by the bandits themselves. What Shehu described in Bakori is emblematic of a wider breakdown—where fear governs, bullets dictate, and the law of the jungle reigns supreme.

The “Peace Deal” That Masks Surrender

According to multiple local reports, what the bandits call a “peace deal” is essentially an ultimatum. Communities that have been repeatedly attacked and ravaged are summoned to negotiate. But the negotiations are one-sided—villagers are told what to pay, what to obey, and how to live. Those who resist face renewed attacks. In some cases, farmers must pay levies before they can access their land during the planting and harvest seasons. Cattle owners are taxed per animal. Traders must remit a share of market proceeds.

“The bandits have effectively carved out their own state within a state,” Mahdi Shehu wrote. “Their rules override those of the government.” It was not hyperbole. Across large swathes of Katsina, Zamfara, Sokoto, Kaduna, and Niger States, local security analysts confirm that this system of criminal governance has become the new normal. Bandits dictate curfews, settle disputes, and even decide who can marry or travel.

In Bakori, the so-called “victory parade” symbolized the villagers’ capitulation. Sources told journalists that local elders attended the gathering to “sign” the deal, watched closely by the militants. It was not a celebration of peace—it was a performance of conquest.

The Rise of Criminal Fiefdoms

The roots of this terrifying transformation stretch back to Nigeria’s unresolved crisis of rural neglect. The North-West’s banditry epidemic began as a low-level conflict between herders and farmers over access to land and water, exacerbated by climate change, desertification, and weak law enforcement. Over time, it evolved into organized criminality, fueled by ransom kidnappings, cattle rustling, and illicit gold mining.

Now, many of these groups operate like proto-states. They have commanders, tax collectors, foot soldiers, and informants embedded in local communities. They possess motorcycles, satellite phones, and heavy weapons smuggled from Libya and other post-conflict zones. Some even issue written “agreements” with communities—crudely typed documents stamped with their personal seals.

In some places, these groups have become arbiters of disputes, stepping in where state courts are absent. In Zamfara and Katsina, residents have recounted how bandit leaders enforce their own “codes of conduct” against theft or adultery—punishing offenders harshly, in grotesque mimicry of a justice system. “If you report a thief to the police, nothing happens,” one resident of Faskari told local media. “But if you report to the bandits, they will catch him and deal with him immediately.”

This twisted legitimacy has allowed the gangs to entrench themselves. They exploit communities’ desperation and distrust of authorities, offering a form of order in exchange for submission.

Mahdi Shehu’s Warning

Mahdi Shehu is not new to controversy. A fiery critic of corruption and insecurity in northern Nigeria, he has often used his platform to expose state failures and human rights abuses. His latest revelation has reignited national debate over how much control the Nigerian government actually retains in parts of the country.

He warned that Bakori is not an isolated case but part of a growing pattern. “What is happening in Katsina today is happening in many parts of the North,” he wrote. “Communities now negotiate for their lives. The government has lost control over vast areas where the Nigerian flag no longer flies.”

His words resonated with Nigerians who have grown weary of official assurances that “security is improving.” For many, the image of bandits holding a “victory parade” in a Nigerian town while residents look on helplessly is the ultimate symbol of state failure.

Public Outrage and Government Silence

Following Shehu’s post, social media erupted in outrage. Many Nigerians demanded immediate investigation, asking how such a gathering could occur without interception by security agencies. Some accused local politicians of complicity, alleging that political leaders often pay the gangs for electoral support or turn a blind eye in exchange for temporary peace.

However, official response was muted. Neither the Katsina State Government nor federal authorities issued an immediate statement. Local security sources privately admitted that security forces are overstretched and often outgunned. The terrain—vast, rural, and dotted with forests—makes it nearly impossible to police effectively without aerial surveillance and community cooperation.

The silence, analysts say, reflects a deeper problem: a normalization of insecurity. What would once have provoked national outrage is now treated as routine. “When communities are forced to negotiate with bandits for survival, and government calls it peace, that’s not peace—it’s surrender,” said a senior retired security officer in Kaduna, speaking anonymously.

The Human Cost

Beyond the statistics of killings and kidnappings lies a humanitarian catastrophe. Hundreds of thousands have been displaced across northern Nigeria, crowding into makeshift camps or urban slums. Schools have shut down in entire districts. Farmlands lie fallow. The psychological toll—fear, trauma, and despair—is incalculable.

In Bakori, residents who once lived off fertile land now depend on aid. “We just want to farm,” said one local farmer during an interview with a community-based NGO. “If the bandits say we must pay, we pay. If we don’t, they kill us. Government does not come here.”

For many children, education has ended. Teachers refuse to travel to rural schools. Girls are kept at home to avoid abduction. In some communities, marriages are now sanctioned by bandit leaders who demand payment before granting approval. It is a dystopian nightmare—a parallel Nigeria operating beyond the reach of law and justice.

A Broken Contract Between Citizens and State

At the heart of Shehu’s revelation lies a fundamental question: What happens when a state can no longer guarantee the security of its citizens? Political scientists call it a “governance vacuum.” In the North-West, that vacuum has been filled by violence. Bandits collect taxes, enforce laws, and control territory—functions that traditionally belong to government.

This reality challenges the very definition of Nigeria as a sovereign state. If sovereignty means monopoly of force and authority within a defined territory, then large portions of Katsina, Zamfara, and Sokoto now exist in a legal grey zone—territory Nigeria claims but cannot control.

Experts warn that unless decisive action is taken, these criminal enclaves could evolve into insurgent proto-states, similar to Boko Haram’s early days in Borno. “The more these groups entrench themselves, the harder it becomes to dislodge them,” says Dr. Kabiru Mohammed, a criminologist at Ahmadu Bello University. “They begin to accumulate legitimacy and even sympathy among locals who see them as a necessary evil.”

The Way Forward

Restoring order, analysts agree, will require more than military raids. It demands governance—real presence of the state through schools, hospitals, jobs, and justice. Security forces must regain credibility, not just by firepower but through protection that is consistent and fair.

Experts also urge accountability. Many rural residents accuse security operatives of collusion—accepting bribes from bandits or ignoring intelligence. Without trust, communities will continue to prefer accommodation to resistance.

In Katsina, local civil society groups have called for an independent inquiry into the Bakori “parade” and for urgent deployment of additional troops. They also want a long-term strategy that targets the socio-economic roots of the crisis—youth unemployment, poverty, and weak local governance.

The Symbolism of Bakori

To outside observers, the incident may appear as another disturbing headline in Nigeria’s endless cycle of insecurity. But to the people of Bakori, it was the moment they realized that their government had, for all practical purposes, retreated. The flag still flies in Katsina’s capital, but in the hinterlands, new banners—those of fear, coercion, and impunity—now wave in its place.

Mahdi Shehu’s warning is more than an exposé; it is a mirror reflecting a painful truth: Nigeria’s northern heartland is bleeding, and unless the country acts decisively, that wound will fester into a permanent scar on the nation’s conscience.

The Bakori “victory parade” was not just the bandits’ show of strength—it was the state’s silent surrender.