Terror Financing: Will the Senate Break Nigeria’s Wall Of Silence?

By TOSAN OYAKHILOME-AKAHOMEN

WHEN the Nigerian Senate advanced the Anti-Terrorism Act amendment bill—one that now proposes the death penalty for kidnapping—senators projected confidence. They promised a public hearing that would confront one of the nation’s most elusive questions: Who actually funds terrorism in Nigeria?

For many Nigerians, this is a familiar political ritual. Over the past decade, every major security crisis—Boko Haram, banditry, unknown gunmen—has been accompanied by vague assurances that “sponsors” exist. Security agencies claim to have intelligence. Politicians hint at “powerful backers.” Yet none of these alleged financiers have been publicly named.

The National Assembly’s oversight powers, at least in theory, should break this secrecy. Instead, lawmakers routinely hold private briefings, debate behind closed doors, and avoid confronting the political forces behind terrorism. Even more troubling, parliament has consistently gone silent when allegations implicate its own members.

Two sitting senators—Ali Ndume and Umar Buba—have previously faced terrorism-linked accusations. Both denied the claims, and in neither case did the Senate initiate an internal inquiry. Buba, despite being repeatedly accused of bandit sponsorship, chaired the Senate Committee on National Security until he was quietly removed—not for the allegations, but for “poor oversight.”

Another senator, Abdulaziz Yari, continues to face intelligence reports suggesting his alleged involvement in illegal mining that fuels banditry. No questions have been raised by his colleagues. And Bello Matawalle, now Minister of State for Defence, has also faced allegations of ties to terror groups that lawmakers have never scrutinised.

Behind the reluctance is a complex web of political risk. Exposing terror financiers could rupture alliances, destabilise campaigns, or implicate lawmakers whose companies violate anti-money laundering regulations. Security expert Kabir Adamu warns that lawmakers themselves may be unintentionally linked to terrorism financing through non-compliant business practices—creating a disincentive to push too aggressively for transparency.

Yet, Nigeria already has a legal pathway for identifying terror financiers: the Nigeria Sanctions Committee. It has designated 118 individuals and companies—including about 30 financiers. None are politicians. Lawmakers rarely mention this mechanism, suggesting either ignorance or deliberate evasion.

Adamu cautions that weakening this process could lead to abuses, with security agents tagging innocent individuals as terrorists. Past cases of wrongful detention underscore why due process is essential.

The Senate’s current promise to “name sponsors” thus sits at a crossroads. Without confronting the political costs, strengthening oversight of intelligence agencies, and publicly engaging the sanctions framework, the institution remains unlikely to break a decade-long cycle of rhetoric without accountability.

For now, the silence holds—and so does the impunity behind Nigeria’s terror economy.