The modern world prides itself on civilization, on the idea that we have transcended the barbarity of our ancestors, yet, every now and then, a brutal spectacle unfolds that reminds us just how thin the veil of civility truly is. In Uromi, Edo State, 16 travellers, men who were merely making their way home to celebrate Eid, were lynched and set ablaze. Not by criminals, not by some faceless terror group, but by everyday people, by neighbours, traders, students, and even mothers. In one of the videos that has been circulating online, a woman, smiling, was among the men hitting the victims before they were set on fire. A smile. A smile in the face of unimaginable horror.
The true tragedy of mob justice is not just in the act itself, but in the ease with which ordinary individuals descend into the abyss of savagery. History has seen it before, and if left unchecked, it will see it again. From the brutal killing of Deborah Samuel in Sokoto to the murder of Usman Boda, from the horrifying lynching of four university students in Aluu to countless nameless others lost to the bloodlust of the crowd, Nigeria continues to replay the same gruesome cycle. Each time, the outrage comes. Each time, the silence follows. And then, inevitably, it happens again.
The Justifiers and the Death of Morality
Perhaps even more terrifying than the mob itself are the voices that follow — those who, in their desperate bid to sound “rational,” preface their statements with: “While we condemn the incident, but….” What follows is an attempt at justification, a sly, insidious rhetoric that cloaks madness in the pretence of reason. “They looked like kidnappers,” some say. “You can’t blame the people; crime is too much.” “If only security agencies were effective, this wouldn’t have happened.” And then the worst of all: “They should have taken them to the police, but the police would just release them.”
Do these people not realize what they are saying? That in their thinly veiled excuses, they are normalizing the very act they claim to condemn? Every historical atrocity, from lynchings in the Jim Crow South to the Rwandan Genocide, has had its chorus of justifiers, those who, with their words, give permission for chaos to flourish.
Thomas Hobbes, in his masterpiece Leviathan, warned us about the consequences of a lawless society: “During the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called war; and such a war, as is of every man, against every man.” When justice is privatized by the mob, when people assume the role of judge, jury, and executioner, what remains is not a society but a jungle where power belongs only to the strongest, the loudest, and the most vicious.
A Society Where Violence Feels Right
How does an ordinary person turn into a murderer in the space of an afternoon? Psychology provides an answer: desensitization, dehumanization, and the diffusion of responsibility. When an individual is absorbed into a violent crowd, they lose their sense of self. The presence of others gives them the illusion that their actions are not their own, that no single person is responsible for what happens. It is the same psychological principle that allowed soldiers in Nazi Germany to carry out unspeakable horrors and then later claim, “I was just following orders.”
Consider the infamous Milgram Experiment of 1961, in which ordinary participants were instructed to administer electric shocks to another person under the direction of an authority figure. Time and again, they obeyed, even as the “victim” screamed in pain. Why? Because the presence of authority, the structure of the system, and the normalization of violence made it seem permissible. Now, replace the authority figure with the collective rage of a mob, and you have what happened in Uromi. No one felt fully responsible, no one stopped to think, and as a result, 16 human beings were burned alive.
In the days of gladiatorial Rome, men and women cheered as others were fed to lions. They called it entertainment. They convinced themselves that the victims were criminals, enemies of the state, unworthy of life. In Uromi, people cheered, people recorded, and later, people shared the videos as if they had just witnessed a sporting event. The mob does not see a man; the mob sees a thing. And a thing can be destroyed without remorse.
The Path Forward or the Abyss Below
Where does Nigeria go from here? The same place it has always gone after each mob killing? Nowhere? Do we pretend this never happened, like we have done before? Do we wait until another crowd, in another city, picks up stones and tires and does it again?
What happened in Uromi is a mirror, a grotesque reflection of a nation teetering on the brink of anarchy. If the law is weak, then strengthen it. If the police are incompetent, then reform them. If security is lacking, then fix it. But if we do nothing, if we allow mobs to decide who lives and who dies, then we must admit the truth: we are no longer a nation; we are a scattered collection of tribes, communities, and people bound not by law but by fear.
The Uromi massacre must not become just another dark story in our ever-expanding catalogue of horrors. Those responsible must be found, prosecuted, and punished. There must be no escape, no sweeping under the rug, no “we condemn the incident, but….” If Nigeria cannot ensure that human life is sacred, then what is left of our civilization?
Hobbes was right. Without the rule of law, without order, “the life of man [becomes] solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” We are already witnessing it. The only question is: will we stop it, or will we accept it as our fate?
Mr Aliyu writes from 42 Ashiru road, Off Legislative Quarters, Unguwan Dosa New Extension, Kaduna.
