By Idowu Ephraim Faleye
Sheikh Ahmad Gumi has repeatedly made statements that place him far outside the emotional and moral space of victims of terrorism in Nigeria. He has said Nigerians must learn to live with foreign Fulani herdsmen and insisted they are part of the country and cannot be driven away. He has warned against calling them enemies and framed violent actors as neighbors who deserve understanding. On its own, this might sound like peace language, but when placed beside the reality of mass killings, kidnappings, and terror, it becomes something else entirely. It becomes a steady effort to soften the image of people who have turned large parts of the country into killing fields.
This pattern becomes more troubling when Sheikh Gumi refers, directly or indirectly, to terrorists as “their children.” Language matters. When foreign armed groups that kidnap Nigerian schoolchildren, kill villagers, and attack soldiers are described as children who need care and negotiation, the line between innocence and crime disappears. This is not neutral speech. It is sympathy towards certain course. It is emotional alignment. And it sends a message to the killers that they are understood, protected, and morally defended by a powerful voice within the country of their victims.
This sympathy did not start today. Sheikh Gumi once described kidnapping schoolchildren as a “lesser evil” because, according to him, negotiations are possible and bandits are now careful about human lives. There is no lesser evil in kidnapping. There is no humanity in terror. A crime does not become acceptable because ransom can be paid. Parents whose children were dragged into forests did not experience a lesser evil. They experienced terror in its rawest form. When a cleric minimizes such crimes, it strips victims of dignity and emboldens criminals.
Even more dangerous is the attempt to blur the identity of real terrorist groups operating in Nigeria. Along the Nigeria–Niger border, ISIS-linked fighters have been killed in known terrorist hideouts. These are not confused youths. These are trained extremists connected to global terror networks. Yet they are often framed as Fulani children who have been misunderstood or mistreated. Groups like Lakurawa did not grow from local misunderstandings. They evolved from foreign herders from the Sahel into armed groups that impose taxes, enforce their own laws, and challenge traditional authorities. That is terrorism. Calling them children of any community is a deliberate distortion of reality.
This consistent pattern shows that Sheikh Gumi is not merely calling for peace. He is emotionally and ideologically sympathetic to terrorists. Sympathy at this level does not exist without benefit. People do not repeatedly defend killers, excuse crimes, and soften language around terror without gaining something, whether influence, access, protection, or material reward. No one consistently stands between criminals and justice for free.
The danger deepens when we consider that Sheikh Gumi has a son serving as an officer in the Nigerian Army. This is where the issue moves from public debate into national security. In theory, a son is not responsible for the beliefs of his father. But in reality, every son sees his father as a role model. Every child grows up seeing his father as a hero, a teacher, and a moral guide. Children do not just inherit names; they inherit ideas, values, and doctrines. This is human nature. A son may choose a different path, but no one grows in isolation from the influence of his home. When a father consistently teaches that terrorists are children, that negotiation is better than force, and that violent criminals deserve sympathy, those ideas do not vanish at the barracks gate. They settle quietly in the mind. They shape judgment. They affect decisions, especially in moments of pressure.
The Nigerian Army is not a normal workplace. It is built on secrecy, trust, and absolute loyalty. Officers are exposed to sensitive information, operational plans, troop movements, intelligence reports, and counterterror strategies. The system only works when there is zero doubt about where an officer’s loyalty lies. Even the perception of divided loyalty is dangerous.
Allowing the son of a man widely seen as a terrorist sympathizer to remain and grow within the army creates an unacceptable risk. This is not about proven guilt. It is about future danger. A potential saboteur does not need to fire a gun. He only needs to leak information, delay action, misinterpret orders, or quietly warn “his people” ahead of operations. Sympathy is enough to compromise judgment. Silence can be sabotage.
Nigeria has suffered this before. The military has lost soldiers and operations due to internal leaks. Terrorists have escaped ambushes too easily. Camps have been attacked with suspicious precision. Many Nigerians already believe that insiders feed information to armed groups. Whether every case is true or not, the damage is real. Lives have been lost. Trust has been broken. The country cannot afford to repeat this mistake.
Some will argue that removing Sheikh Gumi’s son from the army is unfair. But national security is not built on fairness alone. It is built on caution. Armies around the world remove officers from sensitive positions when there is even a risk of compromised loyalty. Not because the officer has committed a crime, but because the cost of being wrong is too high.
Imagine Sheikh Gumi son rising through the ranks. Imagine him becoming a senior commander. Imagine him receiving orders to eliminate Boko Haram cells, crush bandit networks in the North West, or dismantle kidnapping routes across several states. Those orders would directly contradict the doctrine his father preaches publicly and consistently. Even if the son tries to obey, doubt will hang over every decision. Soldiers under him will question. Superiors will worry. The public will lose confidence.
A military cannot fight effectively when trust is fractured. War does not tolerate emotional confusion. You cannot sympathize with the enemy and defeat him at the same time. This is why Sheikh Gumi’s son should be removed from the Nigerian Army immediately. Not punished. Not humiliated. Simply removed from a position where his background creates a clear and present danger. This is a preventive action, not a revenge action. It is about protecting lives, operations, and the integrity of the armed forces.
Sheikh Gumi himself cannot continue to play both sides. A man who repeatedly defends terrorists, refers to them as children, negotiates on their behalf, and softens their crimes cannot claim neutrality. And no state serious about survival allows the immediate family of such a figure to occupy sensitive military positions. Those who oppose this step must answer a simple question. If nothing is at risk, why the fear of removal? If loyalty is unquestionable, why resist precaution? In a country drowning in insecurity, hesitation is not wisdom. It is weakness. Nigeria must learn from its past.
Sabotage does not always come loudly. Sometimes it comes quietly, wrapped in sympathy, family ties, and misplaced tolerance. Removing this risk now is cheaper than paying for it later with soldiers’ lives and civilian blood. This is not hatred. This is not persecution. This is survival. A nation at war must close every crack the enemy can exploit. And right now, this is one crack Nigeria cannot afford to ignore.
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Idowu Ephraim Faleye | EphraimHill DataBlog – Freelance Writer, Independent Stories, Data-Driven Insights
