On April 18, 2025, Private Yahaya Yunusa, a 25-year-old Nigerian soldier, was arrested in Jaji, Kaduna State, with 214 rounds of ammunition he allegedly smuggled from frontline operations in Zamfara. The image of Yunusa, surrounded by bullets, shared by Sahara Reporters on X, has sparked outrage across Nigeria. But the real outrage should be directed at the systemic failures that drove him to this point—and the need for a fair judicial process to uncover the deeper rot within the Nigerian military.
Yunusa’s story is not an isolated incident; it is a symptom of a military institution rotting from the top down. Nigerian soldiers, the foot soldiers in the fight against Boko Haram, bandits, and separatists, are paid a pittance—less than $100 a month, roughly N50,000. For context, a bag of rice in Nigeria today can cost N80,000. These soldiers, often deployed to the most dangerous regions like Zamfara and Borno, are expected to survive on salaries that cannot feed their families, let alone provide dignity. Meanwhile, their parents, spouses, and children look to them for support, piling on the pressure to make ends meet. As Senator Ali Ndume noted in a 2024 documentary by Truth Nigeria, “Their parents are expecting that they will send them something monthly, and you pay the guy N50,000 or less. These are the major challenges that the government must rise to.”
Contrast this with the actions of Nigeria’s military top brass, who have turned defense budgets into personal piggy banks. A 2024 investigation by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP) revealed how millions of dollars meant for Niger’s military—often in collaboration with Nigerian firms—were siphoned off through inflated contracts. Between 2014 and 2018, companies like Etablissement Aboubacar Charfo and Agacha Technologies cost Niger’s Ministry of Defense $24.7 million through corrupt practices. In 2012, Ukraine’s Ukrspecexport sold Niger two outdated SU-25 fighter jets for $12.5 million, a deal riddled with overpricing. These are but a few examples of a pervasive culture of embezzlement that stretches across West Africa, leaving soldiers like Yunusa under-equipped, underpaid, and demoralized.
The 2024 Truth Nigeria documentary further exposed how corruption, unpaid salaries, and mistreatment of junior officers have led to mutinies within the Nigerian Army. In 2016, soldiers of the 21st Brigade in Borno State went on a rampage over unpaid allowances worth hundreds of thousands of naira. David Adakole Ida of the International Human Rights Commission told Truth Nigeria, “When salaries are delayed, when soldiers are unnecessarily subjected to hardship and corrupt practices, soldiers tend to react negatively.” Yunusa’s actions—smuggling ammunition likely to sell to bandits—are a tragic but predictable consequence of this betrayal.
Let’s be clear: Yunusa’s actions are indefensible. The ammunition he smuggled could end up in the hands of bandits who have terrorized Nigeria’s Middle Belt, where an estimated 2,000 people have been killed annually in farmer-pastoralist clashes between 2011 and 2016, according to the Tom Lantos Human Rights Commission (2023). As one X user, @Aloba_Gideon, pointed out, “Is he unaware that whatever he sells to the bandits will be used against him and his colleagues?” The betrayal cuts both ways—soldiers like Yunusa endanger their comrades and civilians alike. But to focus solely on his guilt is to ignore the larger crime: the systemic exploitation that pushed him to such desperation.
This brings us to the heart of the matter: Yunusa’s trial must be a reckoning, not a scapegoating. The Nigerian military and government have a history of punishing the small fish while the sharks swim free. In 2014, the Council on Foreign Relations reported suspicions of Boko Haram penetration within the Nigerian military, with operatives using weapons from Nigerian armories and attacking facilities where gates were mysteriously left unlocked. Yet, high-ranking officers implicated in such failures often escape accountability. X user @eddiebrendan suggested, “Use him to trace everyone in the circle before bringing him to the interwebs.” This is the kind of thorough investigation Nigeria needs—one that follows the trail of corruption to the top.
A fair judicial process for Yunusa is not about leniency; it’s about justice. He must face the consequences of his actions, but so must the generals and contractors who have plundered defense budgets while soldiers starve. The military court must investigate whether Yunusa was part of a larger network of ammunition smuggling—a network that likely involves senior officers who turn a blind eye for a cut of the profits. It must probe the conditions that led to his actions: the delayed salaries, the stingy welfare checks, the mistreatment of junior officers. And it must hold accountable the top brass who have embezzled millions, leaving soldiers like Yunusa to fend for themselves.
The Nigerian government cannot continue to ignore the cries of its soldiers. Operation Safe Corridor, launched in 2016 to reintegrate “repentant” Boko Haram fighters, has struggled to address the root causes of insurgency, as noted by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace in 2018. How can Nigeria expect to defeat terrorism when its own soldiers are driven to arm the enemy? X user @AfricanJesu sarcastically remarked, “See as monkey keep face like repentant Boko Haram,” reflecting the public’s cynicism about the military’s integrity. This cynicism will only grow if Yunusa’s trial becomes a show of punishing the powerless while the powerful go free.
President Bola Tinubu’s administration must seize this moment to reform the military. Pay soldiers a living wage—$100 a month in 2025 Nigeria is an insult. Crack down on defense contract corruption with independent audits and international oversight. And ensure that Yunusa’s trial is transparent, fair, and far-reaching, exposing the systemic failures that have brought Nigeria’s military to this shameful low.
Yahaya Yunusa is not a hero, but he is a victim of a broken system. His trial must be more than a condemnation of one man—it must be a mirror held up to the Nigerian military’s failures. Anything less is a betrayal of the soldiers who risk their lives for a nation that has failed to protect them.
