Structural inhibitions to military intervention

File: Nigerian troops

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With seven military coups occurring across Africa within four years, concerns about the prospects of military intervention have re-emerged in Nigeria, particularly amid widespread national hardship, insecurity and public disenchantment. Yet, Nigeria’s historical trajectory of military rule, withdrawal and civilian transition reveals a distinctive pattern not shared by many other African states. This paper demonstrates that Nigeria’s armed forces, shaped by fragmentation, internal diversity, civil-military interdependence and long-standing institutional learning, are structurally disinclined and effectively inhibited from re-engaging in political governance.

Drawing on two theoretical frameworks – fragmentation within the Nigerian armed forces, and a civil–military cultural-class–class equilibrium – the analysis shows that military disengagement has historically been both inevitable and rational. And now, after 26 continuous years of democratic rule, these inhibitions have deepened, rendering any anti-democratic intervention undesirable, destructive and fundamentally contrary to Nigeria’s institutional logic. The paper conclusively argues that contemporary fears of a coup lack a structural basis.

That Africa has witnessed a troubling resurgence of military coups, with seven regimes having been overthrown within a short span of four years, is a stark reminder of the continent’s unresolved tensions between the barracks and the ballot. Against this backdrop, Nigeria has not been untouched by anxiety, amplified further by a controversial allegation of an attempted coup. Given the country’s widespread insecurity, economic hardship, pervasive public frustration and a superpower threat of military invasion, such anxieties are understandable.

However, Nigeria’s political–military evolution is fundamentally different from that of the countries recently experiencing coups. While Nigeria experienced three major successful interventions against democratically elected governments, it experienced far more transition programmes, withdrawal initiatives and institutional self-corrections by the military than most African states. The Nigerian military has shown, time and again, that its grip on political power is both unstable and undesirable, and that its structural nature inexorably drives it toward disengagement. More importantly, the Nigeria that existed in 1966, 1975 or even 1993 is not the Nigeria of today. After 26 years of uninterrupted democratic rule – the longest in national history – the state, society and military have transformed in ways that profoundly undermine the possibility of a successful or rational military intervention.

The historical trajectory of military intervention and disengagement validate this conclusion. Nigeria’s coup phenomenon cannot be understood without examining this significant history of military disengagement, which reveals an internal logic of withdrawal embedded within Nigeria’s armed forces. General Aguiyi Ironsi, leading the first military regime, in his 1966 maiden broadcast, described his administration as an interim military government, established solely to enable “an orderly transition to the type of government desired by the people”. This initial framing cast military rule in Nigeria as temporary and contextual, not permanent or self-justifying – a conceptualisation that set a template for military reluctance to claim authority permanently!

General Gowon’s early transition plans and later failure, after overthrowing the Ironsi regime, are also of note. On August 8, 1966, just days into power, Gowon announced a three-stage transition program (later expanded to five), with a scheduled handover in 1969. Though derailed by civil war and subsequently abandoned immediately after the war, his ouster in 1975 reflected a crucial reality: military regimes that fail to disengage invite internal contradiction and military backlash! Then came in the Murtala/Obasanjo regime of 1975-1979. In his maiden broadcast to the nation, Murtala indicated that a transitional program towards a democratic government was a cardinal policy of the regime. Subsequently, even after his assassination, the Obasanjo administration that succeeded him produced the most credible, systematic and successful transition to democratic rule in Africa at the time. The professionalism and decisiveness with which the regime executed its program entrenched a template for disengagement. The successful return to civil rule in 1979 institutionalised the notion that military rule is inherently temporary and transitional.

However, the ushered democratic regime of President Shehu Shagari was itself overthrown by the military. The successive junta of Major General Muhammadu Buhari refused to indicate its plans to restore democracy. It was then promptly ousted by General Ibrahim Babangida, who initiated a transitional programme. The Babangida transition created elected subnational governments and attempted to civilianise the presidency through orchestration – a strategy that collapsed under its own contradictions. Yet, even in its failures, the programme underscored the structural necessity of eventual military exit. Though ultimately collapsing into the 1993 crisis, the transition program reflected structural constraints – they could attempt manipulation, but could not negate the imperative of eventual disengagement!

Abacha’s self-succession scheme after Babangida was forced “to step aside”, provoked widespread resistance domestically and internationally, but his sudden death prevented a deep political rupture. Then came in General Abdulsalami Abubakar, whose swift 10-month transition program restored democratic rule in 1999, stabilised the political landscape and laid the foundation for Nigeria’s longest and most resilient democratic period.

Collectively, these transitions show that military survival in Nigeria depends more on disengagement than on prolonged rule, a pattern that has hardened over decades. In other words, the historical record unmistakably reveals that intervention has always been less durable than disengagement.

In making analysis of this thesis, the paper is theoretically based on two broad conceptual frameworks. The first is postulating a theory of fragmentation and fragments within the Nigerian armed forces for the study of demilitarisation in the politics of the country. The second framework is a broad interdisciplinary approach to the study of civil-military relations within both democratic and military regimes.

The Nigerian military is not a monolithic, ideologically unified body. Instead, it is profoundly shaped by quota-driven nationalisation, ethnic and regional diversities and the absence of corporate homogeneity. The framework posits that Nigeria’s military is structurally fragmented, both by design and by sociological evolution. This fragmentation, rooted in the quota-driven Nigerianisation policy and the country’s ethnic, religious and regional pluralism, makes sustained military corporateness impossible.

From the early postcolonial period, recruitment and promotion followed national character principles. This diversity – by ethnicity, region, religion and educational background – undermines any possibility of a unified military identity capable of sustaining authoritarian rule. Unlike the ethnically narrow militaries of some coup-prone African states, Nigeria’s officer corps is a mosaic. This diversity produces fragmented loyalties that prevent any single faction from asserting permanent dominance.

Every coup in Nigeria was executed by a fragment of the officer corps, never by the military as a whole. This internal pluralism explains why no military government could consolidate ideological or institutional coherence. Thus, no regime has been able to forge a stable, monolithic military identity capable of sustaining prolonged political rule. To prevent implosion, factional conflict or countercoups, military regimes historically moved toward withdrawal. The imperative of maintaining internal unity logically compelled disengagement.

In contemporary Nigeria, which is more diverse, more socially conscious and more politically contested, this fragmentation is even more pronounced. A modern coup would immediately fracture the military along the same social lines, making the takeover unsustainable. Given the deepened pluralism and professionalisation after 1999, no ethnic bloc can dominate the command structure without a strong ideological bind superseding such cleavages; with risks of counter-coups becoming exceedingly high. Also, in the wider society, internal trust for extra-constitutional adventurism within the elite class is near zero, as politics has increasingly become the most rewarding industry that cannot be supplanted. Therefore, given these circumstances, a military coup in Nigeria today would almost certainly trigger societal implosion rather than institutional consolidation, making it strategically irrational for officers to undertake.

Then, there is the theoretical framework of cultural–class equilibrium in the civil–military relations, which in the context of present Nigeria is shaped less by ideological conflict and more by class alignment, shared elite culture and mutual dependence. Unlike the revolutionary militaries of 1960s Latin America or the ideological armies of the Cold War era, today’s Nigerian military and civilian elites share similar worldviews and class interests. The military and the political class partake in the spoils of political power. In this, the military is equally complicit as the civilian politicians. Neither side seeks to radically transform the other. Military officers benefit from democratic governance through institutional budgets, political postings and expanded influence across economic and business sectors. A coup would jeopardise these advantages.

Just as intervention in the past was rationalised as necessary to preserve the unity of the state, staying disengaged now has been rationalised as necessary to preserve the unity of the military itself. A coup today would destroy that unity and disrupt the corporate structure of the benefiting officer corps, while staying aloof preserves it. Historically, when military leaders ignored this equilibrium – Gowon by reneging on his transition and Buhari by refusing any transition at all – they faced internal consequences. Thus, now, staying aloof is beneficially rational, while intervention is institutionally destabilising.

Furthermore, several other post-1999 transformations have deepened coup inhibitions. They include the entrenchment of democracy in these twenty-six years of uninterrupted civilian rule – the longest in Nigeria’s history. This has normalised constitutional politics and delegitimised military rule across society. Also, the evolution of the armed forces within the democratic system, which gave rise to the professionalisation, joint-service coordination, a long exposure of the armed forces in domestic engagements against internal insurrections and international partnerships, has substantially reduced barracks adventurism. There is also the evolution of a complex security architecture in the country with a multiplicity of armed agencies and command structures across the country. This makes coordinated takeover by the military alone nearly impossible without massive institutional rupture.

Then, there is high public scrutiny within a fragmented society. The media, civil society, ethnic balancing and political competition ensure no faction can claim popular legitimacy. Also, rational choice constraints have made military officers understand that in the modern global economic order, military government would not only collapse the economy but would also provoke international sanctions and trigger domestic resistance, thus destroying internal military cohesion. Hence, coups are not just unlikely, but they are even irrational.

In conclusion, it can be seen that Nigeria stands apart from many African states experiencing recent coups because its political and military evolution has created deeply entrenched structural inhibitions against military intervention. Fragmentation within the armed forces, class and cultural equilibrium between civilian and military elites, decades of transition programmes and 26 years of democratic continuity, no matter how imperfect, all work together to make coups both undesirable and unsustainable.

Despite widespread hardship and insecurity, Nigeria’s societal and institutional architecture still strongly resists extra-constitutional power seizures. The military, as currently constituted, has more to lose than to gain from intervention. Contemporary fears of a coup, though emotionally understandable, are structurally unfounded. Yes, Nigeria’s history of military intervention is undeniable, but its history of deliberate, structured military disengagement is even more significant.

These factors render any contemporary coup attempt irrational, unappealing, unsustainable and institutionally hazardous. Nigeria’s armed forces today are not the military of 1966, 1975, 1983 or 1993. They are a professionalised, heterogeneous institution with far more to lose than to gain from extra-constitutional power. Thus, while vigilance remains necessary, the structural foundations of Nigerian society make fears of military takeover largely misplaced. Nigeria’s democratic system, again, however imperfect, has become the country’s default political settlement. And in this settlement, military intervention is not just undesirable, unviable and irrational; it is also structurally impossible to succeed and to sustain.

Umar Ardo is a former Special Assistant to ex-Vice President, Atiku Abubakar, on Local Government and State Affairs

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