By Ademola Lawrence
Words are not neutral in politics. In a country with a history like Nigeria’s, words can calm tensions or ignite them.
So, when Governor Seyi Makinde reportedly invoked language reminiscent of Operation Wetie at the Ibadan opposition summit, it was not just another political statement. It was a signal, one that should unsettle anyone who understands the weight of history.
“Operation Wetie” is not a metaphor to be used loosely. It is a reminder of a time when politics in the old Western Region descended into chaos, when disagreement turned into violence, and violence into anarchy. Homes were burnt, opponents were attacked, and the streets became battlegrounds for political supremacy. It was a crisis that destabilised an entire region and contributed to the chain of events that ended Nigeria’s First Republic.
To echo that language today, whether directly or symbolically, is not bold politics; it is dangerous politics.
Let’s be clear: Nigeria in 2026 is not yet at that point. But that is precisely why such rhetoric must be challenged early. Political violence does not begin with action; it begins with normalisation. It begins when leaders speak in ways that make confrontation appear inevitable, even justified.
At the Ibadan opposition summit, what should have been an opportunity for democratic engagement instead risks being remembered for something else: the subtle legitimisation of political hardline tactics. And when that signal comes from a sitting governor, it carries even greater weight.
Public office demands restraint.
The Constitution may grant power, but it also imposes responsibility—especially on those who command influence over millions. A Governor is not just a political actor; he is a stabilising figure. His words must cool the system, not heat it.
But beyond the political class, there is another audience that must not be ignored: young activists.
Many of today’s politically active youth did not witness the events of the 1960s. For them, “Operation Wetie” may sound like just another dramatic phrase. It is not. It is history written in violence—history that carries lessons Nigeria cannot afford to forget.
This is why political education matters.
Young Nigerians engaging in activism today must go beyond slogans and social media narratives. They must understand the roots of the system they are trying to influence. A recommended starting point is The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran War, which, while focused on the civil war, provides critical context on the political instability that preceded it, including the crises of the Western Region. Works on the First Republic and the Western Region crisis more broadly should be essential reading for anyone serious about political engagement in Nigeria.
Because without historical awareness, there is a risk of unknowingly romanticising or normalising the very patterns that once nearly tore the country apart.
What we are witnessing now is a dangerous synchronism—a quiet alignment between the impulses of the past and the tensions of the present. It may not yet be “Operation Wetie” in form, but the psychology is creeping back: us versus them, power at all costs, and the gradual erosion of democratic restraint.
Makinde must be cautioned.
Not because he is alone in this pattern, far from it—but because leadership is about setting the tone. If those at the top normalise aggressive rhetoric, the system below them will amplify it in unpredictable ways.
And Nigeria has seen this before.
History does not repeat itself exactly, but it leaves warnings. Ignoring those warnings is how nations drift into crises they later claim were unforeseen.
If this trajectory continues, then the political class itself may force a situation where drastic responses become inevitable. And at that point, Nigeria risks throwing away both the baby and the water—sacrificing democratic stability in a desperate attempt to restore order.
That is not a place any serious nation should be heading.
The responsibility, therefore, lies first with those in power: to speak carefully, act responsibly, and remember that in Nigeria, politics is never just politics; it is a trigger.
And once pulled, it does not reset easily.
. Ademola Lawrence, political scientist/public affairs analyst, writes from Abuja