By YUSHAU A. SHUAIB

When the Presidential Spokesman, Bayo Onanuga, announced that President Bola Tinubu had constituted an eleven-man committee to develop a National Threat Assessment and a Strategic Defence Operations Plan within ninety days, several things struck me with about four months to the general elections even before I reached the substance of the directive.

The first was a detail so small it might ordinarily escape notice. The release identified Major General Adeyinka A. Famadewa, the President’s Special Adviser on Homeland Security being tasked to coordinate the committee and provide secretariat support. His name appeared without the designation Rtd — retired — after his military rank. In routine communication, such an omission may be a harmless editorial slip. But in security communication, precision is not a luxury; it is a discipline.

The substance of the directive, however, is consequential. The President has mandated the committee to produce the plan that will establish medium-term operational priorities by identifying force requirements, capability gaps, and equipment needs across all theatres.

The committee’s membership is composed of named individuals, not offices — a significant distinction. It includes the National Security Adviser, Malam Nuhu Ribadu; the Minister of Defence, General Christopher Musa; the Minister of State for Defence, Alhaji Bello Muhammad Matawalle; the Chief of Defence Staff, General Olufemi Oluyede; the service chiefs; and the heads of the DSS and NIA. Naming individuals rather than offices removes the flexibility of substitution and attaches personal accountability to the mandate. That means the meeting with not be by representation or delegation.

Yet the composition raises legitimate questions the release did not address. The Inspector General of Police and the Chief of Defence Intelligence are absent. So are the heads of the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps and the Nigeria Immigration Service. Whether these omissions reflect a deliberate architectural choice or an oversight is unclear. But in a country where internal security, public order, and counter-insurgency rely heavily on policing and civil defence structures, their absence is not a trivial matter.

The release cited a single operational event — the rescue of pupils and teachers abducted in Oriire LGA of Oyo State — as justification for the new initiative. The rescue was indeed commendable. But anchoring a national-level defence planning directive on one successful southern operation inadvertently reinforces the asymmetry in how security successes across Nigeria’s regions are framed. Comparable and often larger rescue operations in the North-East and North-West — from freeing abducted students to reclaiming communities from insurgents — have received far less national attention.

Nigeria is not a country that lacks security strategy documents. If anything, it has produced them in abundance. The ninety-day mandate would benefit from an honest reckoning with what already exists — and what became of it.

In 2013, under President Goodluck Jonathan, Nigeria launched a comprehensive national security architecture built on three interconnected documents: the National Counter Terrorism Strategy (NACTEST), the National Security Strategy (NSS) and the National Cybersecurity Policy and Strategy.

NACTEST, initiated by NSA Colonel Sambo Dasuki (Rtd), rested on five pillars — Forestall, Secure, Identify, Prepare, and Implement — and mandated periodic reviews every five to ten years.

Under President Muhammadu Buhari, the Office of the National Security Adviser, led by Major General Babagana Monguno (Rtd), revised the framework of NACTEST and launched the National Crisis Management Doctrine (NCMD) in 2022. The NCMD translated broad policy directives into concrete crisis protocols, establishing standardised command structures, strategic communication channels, and escalation pathways for coordinated national response.

Under the current administration, the Office of the National Security Adviser unveiled the NCTC Strategic Plan 2025–2030, a five-year roadmap for preventing and countering violent extremism built on intelligence fusion, inter-agency collaboration, operational capacity building, and strategic communications. It was unveiled in November 2025 by Senate President Godswill Akpabio on behalf of President Tinubu, while NCTC Cordinator Major General Adamu Garba Laka represented Ribadu at the occasion.

The logical question the ninety-day committee must answer before drafting a single page is simple: What is the relationship between its new mandate and the frameworks that already exist? Is the new Strategic Defence Operations Plan intended to replace NACTEST, the NCMD, and the NCTC Strategic Plan? Will it sit alongside them? Is it a military-specific operational layer beneath the broader national security architecture? If so, how will coordination be ensured?

Onanuga’s release contains a paragraph that deserves particular attention. It states that once approved, the proposed plan “would serve as the principal framework for coordinating military and defence operations over the medium term” and would guide a multi-year defence expenditure and procurement plan.

The emphasis on military and defence operations and spending — rather than national security in the broader sense — is telling. It may align with the committee’s composition, which is heavily weighted toward the armed services and intelligence agencies, and with the choice of a retired Major General Famadewa as coordinator rather than the NSA, whose remit covers the entire national security spectrum.

Ribadu’s background is in civilian law enforcement — he retired as an Assistant Inspector General of Police before his distinguished career at the EFCC and in politics. His placement as a member rather than coordinator reflects a committee architecture that is primarily military in orientation. Whether this orientation is appropriate for Nigeria’s diverse security challenges — from economic crime and banditry to coastal piracy and electoral violence — is a legitimate question for scholars and policymakers.

The most consequential paragraph in the release is the one that received the least attention. It notes that the proposed framework will guide multi-year defence expenditure, ensuring resources are directed toward agreed operational priorities. That is funding — and funding is where seriousness is ultimately tested.

Nigeria has a long history of producing sophisticated security strategy documents that were quietly shelved once the budget cycle arrived and political priorities shifted. The question now is whether the new plan will emphasise expenditure more than operational efficiency — and whether it will avoid becoming another well-written document without practical impact.

A ninety-day planning exercise can produce a credible framework, but it must be backed by a realistic, legislatively supported multi-year funding commitment. It should not demand excessive new spending, especially at a time when the country continues to borrow heavily for major capital projects.

In the concluding paragraph of the release, the President tasked not individual officers but the Office of the Secretary to the Government of the Federation (OSGF) and the Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA) to give immediate effect to the directive. Their compliance — and the quality of output from the committee’s named members — will define the next ninety days.

With the general election approaching, the ninety days will tell us much, while the budget will tell us the rest.

•Yushau A. Shuaib is the author of “MNI Versus MNIPR in NIPSS- Tackling institutional Bullying” yashuaib@yashuaib.com

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