What is the reward of the food basket of the nation?

On the 14th of June the town of Yelwata in Benue State came under attack. For nearly two hours, gunmen moved through the community, shooting, burning homes, and forcing families to flee into the night.  

This was not the first time a community in Benue State had faced this kind of violence. Attacks of this kind have occurred across the state for years. In other parts of the North Central similar acts of violence erupts, lives are lost, homes are destroyed. The sense of vulnerability is now something many communities in the region live with every day.

It is against this backdrop that one must ask: What is the reward of the food basket of the nation? For decades, Benue has proudly carried that title. Its fertile land and hardworking farmers have helped feed Nigeria, supplying yams, rice, soybeans, and more to markets across the country. In return, its people have seen little protection, little justice, and little acknowledgment of their suffering.

This article explores the long history of the conflict in North Central Nigeria - a region so essential to Nigeria’s food security, the failures that have allowed it to deepen, and the question of what justice could look like for the region.

Who are the people of North Central Nigeria?

The North Central spans six states: Benue, Plateau, Nasarawa, Niger, Kogi, and Kwara, along with the Federal Capital Territory, with an estimated population of over 20 million people. Dozens of ethnic groups call it home: Tiv, Idoma, Igala, Ebira, Gwari (or Gbagyi), Berom, Nupe, Jukun, and many others with over 100 languages spoken in the region.

While many of its indigenous communities are Christian, especially in Benue, Plateau, and parts of Nasarawa, there are also large Muslim populations, particularly among the Nupe and Ebira in Niger and Kogi states. 

What binds the region together more than anything is its relationship to the land. North Central Nigeria is predominantly rural, with agriculture at the heart of its economy and culture. The region is a leading producer of staple crops such as yam, cassava, maize, sorghum, and rice. It also plays a significant role in the cultivation of soya beans, sesame, groundnuts, and citrus fruits. Its contribution to Nigeria’s food security is substantial, measurable, and indispensable, with an estimated 48 million+  metric tons of cereals and tubers produced in 2021 alone.

What is currently going on in North Central Nigeria?

Benue and Plateau states have borne the brunt of repeated waves of violent conflict, mostly in rural areas, mostly affecting farming communities, and mostly without resolution. By some estimates, over 60,000 people have been killed, and entire communities displaced.

The persistent conflict arises from a deeply interwoven set of ecological, socio-economic, political, and ethno-religious factors. 

At the heart of the crisis is the intense competition over land and water resources, rooted in ecological and demographic pressures. Climate change has accelerated desertification and drought in the far north of Nigeria, forcing nomadic herders to move further south into the fertile Middle Belt in search of pasture and water for their livestock. 

In an attempt to manage this, state governments have introduced open grazing bans aimed at protecting farmlands from destruction by roaming cattle. In 2017, Benue passed the Open Grazing Prohibition Law and established a Livestock Guard to enforce the ban. However, it deepened resentment among pastoralists, who view such laws as a direct attack on their traditional livelihoods and cultural identity. Enforcement has sometimes led to clashes between livestock guards and fulani herders, cattle seizures, and displacement of pastoral communities. 

Additionally, porous borders and conflicts in Libya and Mali have flooded Nigeria with small arms, turning local quarrels into deadly clashes. Police and military forces, meanwhile, have often proved either complicit through corruption or simply ineffective. In some cases, their heavy-handed or unprofessional conduct has eroded civilian trust, encouraging communities to take justice into their own hands.

Overlaying these problems are complex ethnic and religious dynamics that give the conflict an even sharper edge. Historical grievances between muslims and non-muslims trace back to pre-colonial jihad expansions and colonial administrative policies that left Middle Belt communities feeling politically marginalized. Episodes like the 2001 riots in Plateau state, sparked by disagreements over political appointments and quickly devolving into communal violence, illustrate how quickly ethnic and religious tensions can flare.

There are strong undercurrents of deliberate seizure of fertile land by armed herders. The Tor Tiv, Prof James Ayatse, articulated this perspective when he addressed the President a few weeks ago. By calling it a "calculated genocidal massacre and land grabbing campaign by herder terrorists and bandits", he underscored the intent to eliminate indigenous populations, paving the way for the occupation of their ancestral lands. 

It is tempting to view the crisis in North Central Nigeria as inevitable,  a product of climate change, land scarcity, or ancient rivalries. But this framing is incomplete. What has allowed violence to persist and deepen is not just the presence of conflict triggers, but the consistent absence of state capacity, responsiveness, and will. The tragedy in Benue is not only about land or herders, it is about the Nigerian state’s inability to govern in a way that protects lives and preserves peace.

The first failure is that of intelligence and prevention. Despite having numerous security and intelligence agencies, and a security budget estimate of 4.91trillion naira, the Nigerian government has struggled to act on early warning signs. In many of the attacks that have devastated rural communities around Nigeria, there were reports from locals of strange movements, visible gatherings of armed men, or rising tensions in the area, all ignored or responded to too late. If people knew the attack was coming, why didn’t the state act?

The state has not been able to guarantee basic safety for its citizens. Attacks are met with reactive gestures and public condolences by the government. Where military forces are deployed, they often arrive after attacks or leave too quickly, allowing attackers to strike again or shift to nearby communities. This stop-start approach to security creates a sense of abandonment and predictability for armed groups who now operate with confidence that the state’s response will be reactive, not preventive.

Justice, too, has failed. Most attackers are never arrested, and when they are, prosecutions rarely follow. This lack of accountability emboldens more violence and drives communities to take the law into their own hands. The absence of credible justice not only lets crime thrive but also undermines faith in the very idea of justice. In some cases, government negotiations with bandits have deepened public distrust even further.

What Is the Impact?

Across Benue, Plateau, and other states in the region, once-thriving farming communities are being emptied. Land lies fallow, abandoned either because its owners have fled or because they fear the next attack. Insecurity has turned peak planting seasons into periods of retreat. The consequences are already visible. Food prices across Nigeria have continued to climb. 

Children in displaced communities are losing their chance at an education. Young people who are spending their formative years in IDP camps, with limited schooling, no access to land, and an increasing sense that they have been forgotten.

The long-term implications for development are severe. Communities forced to flee may never return to their ancestral homes. Knowledge tied to the land when to plant, how to harvest, where the water runs risks being lost. The ripple effects of rural decline will eventually reach urban centers, where migration, job scarcity, and insecurity will only deepen already existing pressures.

There is also a psychological impact  harder to measure, but no less destructive. Communities that once lived alongside each other in fragile peace are now divided by fear, suspicion, and resentment. The violence has fractured inter-communal relationships and eroded trust in state institutions. Over time, these fractures become harder to mend. Healing becomes even more difficult when no one is held accountable. 

What Does Nigeria Owe the North Central?

What Nigeria owes the North Central is not just attention, it is justice. Justice, in this case, begins with accountability. The cycle of violence will not end if perpetrators continue to act with impunity. There must be transparent, coordinated efforts to investigate attacks, prosecute cases, and ensure that justice is seen to be done. A national database of incidents and victims, publicly maintained and updated, could be one starting point for truth-telling and record-keeping. 

Justice also means safety. The state must do more than deploy troops in moments of crisis. It must develop a long-term, region-specific security strategy that combines intelligence gathering with community trust-building. Armed groups have filled a vacuum created by neglect. That vacuum can only be reversed by a presence that is consistent, responsive, and accountable to the people it is meant to serve.

Land reform is critical. Nigeria must move toward a national system of land administration that recognises and protects both ancestral land rights and modern realities. Communities need to know what is theirs and feel confident that it cannot be taken by force. At the same time, herders and farmers need structured systems for negotiation, seasonal planning, and compensation. Anti-grazing laws alone will not achieve this. A reimagining of rural land governance is long overdue.

What Nigeria owes the North Central is what any government owes its people: safety, dignity, and the assurance that their lives matter, not just when they produce, not just when they vote, but always.