Why truth, not narratives, will end the killings in Plateau’s endless cycle of bloodshed

By Zagazola Makama

In Plateau State, the sound of gunfire is no longer shocking. It is expected. What follows each incident has also become predictable outrage, media attention, blames and accusations, as well as a rush to frame the tragedy within familiar narratives.

The latest reports of miners lynched by unknown gunmen have once again drawn national and international attention. Youth leaders, clerics, and advocacy groups are already describing the incident in sweeping terms, some branding it as genocide.

But beneath the headlines lies a more complicated and more troubling reality. Plateau is not witnessing isolated acts of violence. It is caught in a deeply entrenched cycle of reprisals, where attacks and counter-attacks have become the norm, and where truth is often buried beneath sentiment and selective narratives.

In the early hours of April 3, troops responded to a distress call from Sabongida village in Jos South Local Government Area. What they found was grim: the lifeless, beheaded body of a 30-year-old herder, identified as Shafiyu, lying in the bush. Security sources indicated that the killing was allegedly carried out by suspected Berom youths. Before the shock of that incident could settle, retaliation came swiftly.

Later that same day, armed men attacked an illegal mining site in Gyel village, Riyom Local Government Area. Three miners, including Samuel Davou, were killed in cold blood, while others fled for safety as troops moved in to secure the area. What might appear as separate incidents are, in reality, part of a continuous chain of violence, one feeding directly into the other.

Across Plateau, recent events reveal a troubling pattern that has defined the conflict for years.
On March 25, the body of Abdullahi Mohammed , a Fulani boy, was discovered in a shallow grave in Mangu Local Government Area, raising suspicions of targeted killing. On the same day in Riyom, irrigation farms belonging to several farmers were destroyed, by Fulani herdsmen, an act capable of provoking immediate retaliation.

Three days later, on March 28, gunmen assassinated Alhaji Bilyaminu Julde, a prominent Fulani community leader and Ardo of Gindiri, in Barkin Ladi. The attack, carried out at his residence, sent ignited tensions through the Fulani community and set off alarm bells across the state.

That same day, another flashpoint emerged in Riyom, where stray cattle destroyed farmlands in Tahoss village an incident that further strained relations between farmers and herders.
By April 2, violence had escalated again. In Bokkos Local Government Area, troops foiled an attack by suspected armed herders following a clash with vigilantes over grazing disputes. One vigilante sustained gunshot injuries.

Then came April 3, a day that encapsulated the crisis. Aside from the killing of the herder in Sabongida and the retaliatory attack on miners in Gyel, more killing were reported in Jos South.
On the same day, troops in Barkin Ladi recovered suspected rustled cattle reportedly taken by the Birom armed militia, while in Riyom, another Fulani youth was allegedly killed in an isolated attack. Each of these incidents is not just an entry in a security log. They are links in a chain, each one strengthening the justification for the next.

The Plateau conflict has increasingly been framed through singular lenses, often ethnic or religious. While these dimensions exist, they do not fully capture the complexity of what is happening on the ground. What emerges from security reports and field accounts is a cycle of reciprocal violence involving armed elements across communities. Fulani herders have been attacked and killed. Berom farmers and miners have also been targeted in deadly reprisals.
Yet, public discourse often pointing fongers only one side of the suffering.

This selective framing creates a dangerous distortion. It fuels anger, deepens divisions, and makes reconciliation even more difficult. More importantly, it prevents a clear understanding of the crisis one that is essential for any meaningful solution.

As observed by Simon Kolawole, the conflict has become a cycle of “attacks and counter-attacks, reprisals and counter-reprisals.”
In such an environment, violence becomes normalized. Communities begin to see retaliation not as a crime, but as justice.
Without accountability, peace remains elusive,”he said in his latest article, titled The Killing fields in plateau State.

In Plateau State, the search for peace has become a long, uncertain journey with no immediate destination in sight. Despite sustained military deployments and repeated calls for calm, deadly attacks continue to rage across communities, reinforcing a grim reality: this is a conflict deeply rooted in cycles of violence, mistrust, and silence.

For many residents, the first instinct after every attack is to look toward the government, Security forces and President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Questions are asked why were the troops not there? Why was the intelligence not acted upon? Why are communities left exposed?

These concerns are valid. The primary responsibility of any government is the protection of lives and property. Yet, beneath these criticisms lies a difficult truth that is often left unspoken. In many cases, the same communities that demand protection are unwilling to confront the problem from within.

Across flashpoints in Riyom, Barkin Ladi, Bokkos, and Mangu, patterns have consistent which suggest that perpetrators of violence are not faceless outsiders operating in isolation. They are often known by name, by face, by affiliation. But they are rarely exposed. Instead, a culture of silence prevails. Fear, loyalty, and sometimes complicity prevent communities from identifying or handing over those responsible for attacks.

This silence creates a protective shield around perpetrators, allowing them to strike repeatedly without consequences. The result is a dangerous cycle: attacks occur, blame is assigned externally, and the real actors remain embedded within the communities.

There have been instances where youth leaders publicly blamed Fulani groups for atrocities even in cases where the victims themselves were Fulani. Such claims stretch logic and risk undermining credibility. The argument that a group would attack itself, rustle or poison its own livestock, and transport it into rival territory solely to assign blame raises fundamental questions.

While misinformation is a powerful tool in conflict, it cannot fully explain away patterns that are repeatedly documented by security agencies. These narratives, rather than promoting justice, deepen mistrust and inflame passions, making reconciliation more difficult.

This cycle has blurred the lines between victim and aggressor. Communities that mourn their dead today may be accused of launching attacks tomorrow. In such an environment, truth becomes contested, and justice becomes subjective. A herder is killed, reprisal follows.
Miners are attacked, revenge is planned.
Cattle are rustled, retaliation is inevitable. Each incident becomes both consequence and justification.

Intelligence gathering, the backbone of effective security operations depends heavily on local input. When communities withhold information, protect suspects, or distort facts, security agencies are left to operate in the dark.
This creates gaps that perpetrators exploit.
Blaming the government alone, without acknowledging this dynamic, presents an incomplete picture of the crisis.

Security forces have remained active, responding to distress calls, conducting patrols, and attempting to stabilize volatile areas. Yet, their presence has not been enough to stop the killings. The reality is that no amount of military deployment can fully secure a population that is unwilling to cooperate.

One of the most dangerous drivers of the conflict is impunity. For decades, perpetrators of violence in Plateau have rarely been brought to justice. Killings are recorded, condemned, and eventually forgotten until the next incident occurs.

Community, religious and youths leaders, who should serve as stabilizing forces, are increasingly unable to control armed youth groups. Such interventions are rare and often overshadowed by more powerful forces of anger and revenge. In many cases the leaders are the once directly fueling the crises and encouraging the youths to take up arms to carry out reprisals attacks.

The nature of the Plateau conflict makes it resistant to purely military solutions. This is not a conventional war with clear battle lines. It is a fragmented conflict driven by local grievances, economic competition, and historical mistrust.
Calls for heavy-handed interventions, including suggestions of foreign military involvement, fail to recognize this reality. Force alone cannot resolve a conflict that is rooted in social and communal dynamics.

If Plateau is to break free from this cycle, the first step must be honesty. The violence must be acknowledged for what it is a series of interconnected attacks involving multiple actors, not a one-sided campaign. Only then can meaningful solutions emerge.

This is not just a story of victims and aggressors. It is a story of a society caught in a loop of vengeance, where yesterday’s victim can become today’s perpetrator. Until the truth is confronted in its entirety without bias, without omission peace will remain elusive.

The government must move beyond reactive security measures and take decisive steps to address the root causes of the conflict. This includes ensuring accountability, strengthening intelligence capabilities, and facilitating genuine dialogue among communities.Equally important is the role of local leaders. They must rise above partisan interests and work actively to restrain their followers, promote peace, and reject all forms of violence regardless of who commits them.

Zagazola Makama is a Counter Insurgency Expert and Security Analyst in the Lake Chad Region

Why truth, not narratives, will end the killings in Plateau’s endless cycle of bloodshed