Beyond The Roadside Video: Nigeria’s Dangerous Journey From Ethnic Suspicion To Collective Blame

By JOANNA ILUSANMI

The Roadside Encounter That Sparked a National Debate

AN ordinary journey along the Lagos–Benin Expressway has become the starting point for a much larger conversation about ethnic profiling, policing and the consequences of collective suspicion in Nigeria.

A roadside confrontation between police officers and a motorist was captured on video. The footage showed a heated encounter involving allegations of intimidation and ethnic profiling. One officer was also heard making a remark suggesting that the motorist would have been detained if he had been Igbo.

The footage spread rapidly.

Soon, Nigerians were debating not only what happened during the encounter but also a broader question: how often does a person’s name, accent, language, ethnicity or state of origin influence the way authorities and fellow citizens treat them before there is evidence that they have committed a crime?

The Nigeria Police Force responded by identifying four officers for disciplinary proceedings. The Inspector-General of Police, Olatunji Disu, also ordered a full investigation.

The police said the conduct displayed in the video did not reflect the values of the Force and stressed that ethnic profiling and disrespect towards citizens would not be tolerated.

Yet the controversy has outgrown the individual encounter.

It has exposed a deeper problem in a country where insecurity, communal violence and political tensions increasingly shape the way Nigerians perceive one another.

When Identity Becomes Evidence

Ethnicity is an important component of Nigeria’s social and cultural history. However, the problem begins when identity replaces evidence.

A criminal may belong to an ethnic group. That does not make the ethnic group criminal.

Likewise, a person may come from a community where some individuals have participated in violent activities. That fact alone does not make every member of the community responsible for those crimes.

Yet fear can quickly erase that distinction.

At a checkpoint, a routine question about a person’s destination can become a question about where the traveller comes from. From there, suspicion can move from geography to ethnicity.

The individual is no longer assessed simply on what he has done. Instead, he begins to carry the burden of what others from his community are alleged to have done.

That is the point at which profiling becomes particularly dangerous.

A Hausa-speaking traveller may be treated with suspicion because of fears associated with insecurity in parts of northern Nigeria. A Fulani man may face suspicion because of criminal groups identified by that ethnic label. An Igbo trader may encounter stereotypes linked to criminality or separatist politics.

Similarly, a northerner living in the South may be asked questions that another Nigerian would never face in the same circumstances.

These experiences do not establish that every such encounter is ethnically motivated. They demonstrate, however, why the roadside video resonated with many Nigerians who have experienced or witnessed identity-based suspicion.

Plateau & the Politics of Fear

The problem becomes more complicated in communities experiencing recurring violence.

Plateau State provides a painful example.

Recent attacks in areas including Mangu and Barkin Ladi have deepened tensions between communities. In September, five Fulani men were reportedly killed after their vehicle came under attack in Barkin Ladi. The Plateau chapter of the Miyetti Allah Cattle Breeders Association condemned the killings and called for an investigation.

At the same time, residents and community organisations have continued to report attacks allegedly carried out by armed groups identified as Fulani. Earlier reports from Mangu also recorded deaths and calls for stronger security protection.

These accounts can exist simultaneously.

One community can genuinely fear armed groups. Another can genuinely fear being targeted because of its ethnic identity.

The danger emerges when those fears become collective judgments.

A person who has never participated in violence can suddenly be viewed as a representative of the group believed to be responsible for it.

Consequently, an individual becomes a symbol of a conflict he or she did not create.

Social Media Can Turn Suspicion Into Retaliation

The digital environment has intensified the problem.

A photograph, video or allegation can now travel across Nigeria within minutes. Context can disappear along the way, while unverified claims can acquire the appearance of established fact.

An old video can be presented as a new incident. A suspect’s ethnic identity can become the headline before investigators establish what happened. Meanwhile, comment sections can transform suspicion into collective blame.

The consequences can extend beyond online arguments.

Investigations into reprisal violence in Plateau have linked misinformation and inflammatory narratives circulating on Facebook to the atmosphere surrounding attacks between February and April 2026.

In one documented case, assumptions about the ethnic and religious identities of alleged attackers circulated before those identities had been established. Reprisal violence against Muslims followed.

Among those killed was Haruna Ibrahim, a youth corps member and newlywed.

That example demonstrates why the ethnic-profiling debate cannot be reduced to questions of political correctness or sensitivity.

It can become a matter of life and death.

The Dangerous Rise of Community Protection

The erosion of trust in formal security institutions creates another challenge.

When citizens believe that the police or other state institutions cannot protect them, they may turn towards community-based security arrangements.

Such arrangements can provide a sense of protection. However, they can also become dangerous when membership and perceived threats are defined primarily through ethnicity.

One community creates a vigilante structure because it believes it is under attack.

Another community then interprets that structure as an ethnic militia.

In response, it creates its own security network.

A traveller from the other group is stopped. Questions about identity follow. Suspicion increases.

Then another violent incident occurs.

Each side interprets the new incident as proof that its fears were justified.

The cycle continues.

Nigeria has experienced variations of this pattern before. What makes the current environment more difficult is the speed with which information, misinformation and inflammatory narratives can travel.

What Journalism Adds to the Crisis

The media therefore carries a particularly important responsibility.

The Executive Director of the International Centre for Investigative Reporting, Dayo Aiyetan, has questioned whether a perpetrator’s ethnicity is always relevant when reporting a crime.

His position, as presented in the source material, is not that ethnicity should never be reported. Rather, journalists should establish whether the identity is verified, relevant and necessary to understanding the event.

That distinction matters.

If an ethnic identity has been independently established and genuinely helps explain a conflict, it can form part of responsible reporting.

However, inserting ethnicity merely because it appears interesting, familiar or politically convenient can create an entirely different narrative.

A headline describing “Fulani kidnappers”, “Igbo criminals”, “Muslim attackers” or “Christian attackers” carries implications beyond the individual suspects involved.

The question, therefore, should be straightforward: What evidence establishes the identity, and why does the identity matter to the story?

If neither question has a satisfactory answer, the description deserves reconsideration.

Naming Perpetrators Without Criminalising Communities

Responsible journalism does not require the media to conceal uncomfortable facts.

Where an armed organisation has an established ethnic, religious or ideological identity that is relevant to understanding its activities, that identity can be reported.

Similarly, credible investigations may establish the identities of perpetrators.

But there is an important difference between identifying perpetrators and criminalising populations.

That distinction is particularly important in reporting violence involving Fulani communities.

Communities have reported attacks attributed to armed groups whose members were identified as Fulani. Those victims deserve justice. Displaced residents deserve protection. Their fears deserve serious attention.

At the same time, the existence of criminal elements within a community cannot make every member of that community a suspect.

The same principle must apply to every ethnic and religious group in Nigeria.

Security Depends on Trust

The response to ethnic profiling cannot stop with disciplinary proceedings.

Police accountability matters because citizens must have confidence that officers will assess them according to evidence rather than identity.

The same principle applies to journalism, social media users and community leaders.

Security operations also require accurate intelligence. That becomes difficult when citizens fear that reporting information could expose them to retaliation or discrimination.

Plateau’s continuing security challenges demonstrate the stakes.

Government authorities have repeatedly urged residents to reject reprisals, while police leadership has emphasised community engagement and intelligence gathering. Those measures can only work effectively when citizens believe security institutions will treat them fairly.

Ultimately, a Nigerian citizen should not have to prove that he or she is innocent of another person’s crime because of a name, language, tribe or place of origin.

The roadside video may have captured one troubling encounter.

Its larger significance, however, lies in the question it has forced into public view: Can Nigeria build a security culture in which evidence comes before identity, and individual responsibility remains separate from collective blame?

That question extends beyond the police.

It reaches the newsroom, the community, the political arena and the social-media timeline.

And answering it will require Nigerians to resist the temptation to put an entire tribe on trial for the actions of individuals.