A wound that never healed, by Ibraheem El-Tafseer
At independence in 1960, Nigeria stood tall with confidence and promise. The country inherited a workable federal constitution, a vibrant parliamentary democracy and a leadership class that despite its imperfections was guided by ideas, debate and a shared belief in the Nigerian project. Regional governments competed in development, institutions were respected and politics, though intense, remained largely constitutional. There was a sense that Nigeria, with all its diversity, had found a path forward. That promise was violently interrupted on 15th January, 1966.
On that day, a group of young military officers struck at the heart of the First Republic, overthrowing a democratically elected government. In the process, Nigeria lost some of its most prominent leaders. Prime Minister Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa was assassinated, Premier of Northern Nigeria, Sir Ahmadu Bello (the Sardauna of Sokoto), was killed in Kaduna, Premier of Western Region, Chief Samuel Ladoke Akintola, was murdered and the Federal Minister of Finance, Chief Festus Okotie-Eboh, was also assassinated. These killings were not merely the removal of individuals, they represented the decapitation of Nigeria’s civilian leadership and the violent truncation of its maiden democracy.
The coup failed to take full control of the country, yet its consequences were far-reaching. Power collapsed into military hands and the First Republic effectively ended. More damaging, however, were the perceptions that followed. Some key political figures particularly from the Eastern Region were either spared or absent at the time. President Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe was out of the country on medical leave, Premier Michael Okpara survived and other senior figures did not suffer the same fate as their Northern and Western counterparts. Whether by design, coincidence, or circumstance, the pattern of killings created a lasting impression of ethnic selectivity.
The failure of the new military authorities to swiftly and transparently address these perceptions proved disastrous. The coup plotters were neither immediately punished nor clearly disowned as enemies of the state. Instead, ambiguity prevailed. To many Northerners and to sections of the West, the absence of decisive justice suggested complicity, favoritism or at best indifference. Confidence in the Nigerian enterprise was badly shaken. The sense of belonging that democracy had nurtured began to erode.
What followed was a tragic chain reaction. The counter-coup of July 1966, ethnic reprisals and the breakdown of trust pushed the country further toward the brink. By 1967, Nigeria descended into a brutal civil war, ironically led by actors from the same broad region as some of the January coup plotters. For many Nigerians, especially in the North and parts of the West, this was salt poured into an already deep wound. First was the assassination of their leaders, then the absence of justice and finally a war that threatened the very existence of the federation.
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Although, the war ended in 1970 with the declaration of “no victor, no vanquished,” the underlying grievances were never fully resolved. The military remained entrenched in politics, presenting itself as the ultimate arbiter of national unity. Over the years, coups became normalized, constitutions were suspended and governance by decree replaced governance by consent. Institutions weakened, accountability diminished and leadership selection shifted from the ballot to the barracks.
When civilian rule eventually returned, it did so without adequate reckoning. The foundational questions raised by the 1966 coup of justice, equity, trust, and inclusion were largely swept aside in the name of stability. Nigeria resumed democracy, but without the deep democratic culture needed to sustain it. The result has been a republic burdened by strong personalities, weak institutions and persistent mistrust among its constituent parts.
Today’s Nigeria still bears the scars of that original rupture. Insecurity, fragile national cohesion and recurring leadership crises are not isolated failures, they are symptoms of an unhealed wound. Ironically, despite the enormous damage caused by the coup and the civil war, agitations have persisted in the South East, where feelings of marginalization continue to find expression. In recent years, these agitations have been accompanied by pockets of violence and killings, further destabilizing an already fragile security environment and deepening national anxiety.
This contradiction where no side can truly claim innocence or exclusive victimhood underscores Nigeria’s tragedy. Atrocities were committed, mistakes were made and opportunities for healing were missed across regions. Yet, without a collective willingness to confront history honestly, grievances have been inherited by new generations who did not witness the original events but live with their consequences.
The way forward must begin with truth and institutional courage. National cohesion cannot be built on selective memory or convenient silence. Nigeria must acknowledge that the truncation of its maiden democracy was a grave error whose effects still shape the present. Justice delayed in 1966 became justice denied and the cost has been decades of instability.
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Healing requires deliberate action of strengthening institutions over individuals, ensuring equity in governance, enforcing the rule of law without ethnic or regional bias and promoting leadership that is accountable to the people, not shielded by power. Civic education, constitutional fidelity and inclusive dialogue must replace the politics of suspicion and force.
Most importantly, Nigerians must recommit to democracy not merely as elections, but as a culture of restraint, dialogue and mutual respect. Only then can the nation finally tend to the wound it has carried for nearly six decades. Until that happens, the events of January 1966 will remain more than history. They will remain a warning of how easily a nation can lose its way and how difficult it is to heal when justice and unity are postponed.
Ibraheem El-Tafseer is a seasoned journalist, public affairs analyst and a content creator. He writes from Ibrahim Alƙali Avenue, Potiskum Yobe State. He can be reached via
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