By Amos Aar
In what Borno State officials described as a major milestone in Nigeria’s deradicalisation efforts, more than 3,000 repentant Boko Haram members recently took a public oath on the Holy Quran, pledging to permanently renounce violence and extremist ideology. But, the complex crossroads for Nigeria: How do Nigerians balance the essential work of post-conflict peacebuilding with the valid demands for public safety and justice for victims?
The ceremony, held under tight coordination between security authorities, religious leaders and government officials, was framed as the final stage of a reintegration process designed to restore former insurgents back into society after years of conflict in the North-East.
Standing before clerics and state officials, the participants swore by the Quran that they would never again engage in terrorism or any form of violent extremism, marking what authorities presented as a symbolic break from their past.
Yet, even as the oath was being administered, a far more complex national conversation was already taking shape, extending far beyond the symbolism of repentance and into the difficult terrain of security, trust and long-term peacebuilding.
To some Nigerians, the central question was not whether repentance is possible, but whether a religious oath, however solemn, is sufficient to guarantee that individuals once associated with violent extremism will not return to it.
The Borno State Commissioner for Information and Internal Security, Prof. Usman Tar, defended the exercise, stressing that participants were instructed to adhere strictly to their commitment.
“We told them to abide by the terms and conditions of the Quran, that is not to go back to any form of violence and not to support the armed forces in the ongoing counterinsurgency operation,” he said.
The Special Adviser on Security to the Borno State Government, Brigadier General Abdullahi Ishaq (rtd.), reinforced the call for reintegration, urging the participants to return peacefully to their communities and avoid isolation or regrouping.
“They should go back to their community, live with the people there, work together, and they should not isolate themselves or form any group,” he said.
Traditional leaders, security officials and academics at the event also encouraged communities to embrace the returnees, describing reintegration as an essential step toward restoring peace in the region.
Some of the repentant fighters themselves offered emotional testimonies, reflecting on the destruction caused by years of insurgency.
One former member, in a video reported by Sahara Reporters, claimed many of those in captivity were not willing participants in the conflict.
“We did not join Boko Haram voluntarily. When they captured Bama, many of us were forced into their ranks,” he said, appealing for forgiveness and acceptance.
“We are asking Nigerians to accept us. We have changed and we will never go back to terrorism again. We are ready to work with the authorities for peace and a better Nigeria,” he added.
His words, however, have done little to settle the broader debate now unfolding across the country. Instead, they have intensified questions about whether reintegration programmes are adequately balancing rehabilitation with public safety.
While the emotional appeals of former insurgents resonate with some Nigerians, they have also deepened mistrust among others who remain sceptical about the sincerity and durability of such transformations.
That scepticism has been reflected in public commentary, particularly on social media, where reactions to the reported killing of a commercial driver and abduction of 9 passengers by suspected repentant terrorists on Kaduna road after the Borno ceremony.
Oyelade Mathew Oluwasoji, reacting on Facebook, questioned the logic behind rehabilitating former insurgents, arguing that criminal behaviour cannot be reversed through reintegration programmes.
“We warned them to desist from rehabilitating the ex-terrorists but they never listened. You can only rehabilitate those who abuse substances but not criminals,” he wrote.
Another user, Jah Love, expressed deep frustration with government policy, alleging that rehabilitation efforts may be counterproductive.
“You can call them The Nigerian Government Pampered Babies. They are working together; they gave them education on a better style of their kidnapping before releasing them back into the society,” he said.
For Siaka Eneji, the issue is one of instinct and irreversibility.
“They are just like local rabbit no matter how you train them for house. Any time you open your door they will enter bush back,” he wrote.
Uzajja Dauda, on his part, shifted attention to victims of insecurity, arguing that government priorities appear misplaced.
“Once a bandit always a bandit. It would be better to focus on reconstruction and empowerment of victims and intensify security,” he said.
The most emotionally charged reaction came from Adamsy Dahiru, who echoed earlier political statements questioning the idea of “repentant bandits.”
“Tanx to Mallam El-Rufai he said earlier there is no repentant bandit”, Dahiru recalled.
Beyond public frustration, deeper concerns have also emerged regarding the balance between rehabilitating offenders and supporting victims of violence.
A retired Assistant Superintendent of Police, Japhet Buinda, himself a victim of armed robbery, recounted his personal ordeal in a lengthy Facebook post, describing life-altering injuries sustained during an operation in Taraba State.
He lamented that while significant attention is given to reintegrating former insurgents, victims of violent crime often struggle with inadequate support and long-term neglect.
“I am also a victim here with one hand fist chop off by an stubborn arm robber during operation in Taraba state since 2008 and retired as an ASP suffering with 32 naira penson, my advice to does on service should be wise in going emergency or discreet [sic] calls while on duty”, Dahiru revealed.
His reflection adds another dimension to the debate, one that centres not only on security, but also on justice, healing and institutional responsibility.
Amid these contrasting perspectives lies a critical policy question: what does effective deradicalisation actually require?
Security and peacebuilding experts argue that while public ceremonies and religious oaths may serve symbolic and cultural purposes, they are only one component of a far more complex process.
Across global counterterrorism practice, successful reintegration programmes typically combine ideological reorientation with psychological counselling, vocational training, structured monitoring and long-term community engagement.
Nigeria’s own federal framework, notably the Operation Safe Corridor programme, follows a similar multi-layered approach, integrating religious re-education with psychosocial support and skills acquisition before reintegration into society.
In contrast, critics of simplified reintegration models warn that overt reliance on symbolic gestures, such as public oaths, may risk overstating progress while underestimating latent security threats.
Comparative experiences from countries such as Saudi Arabia, Indonesia and Singapore suggest that while religious counselling can play a role in ideological reform, it is rarely considered sufficient on its own without sustained institutional monitoring and socioeconomic reintegration support.
Within this context, the Borno State Quranic oath model is increasingly being viewed not as an isolated intervention, but as one layer within a broader, evolving strategy for managing post-conflict reintegration.
Still, questions persist about how such commitments are verified over time, and what mechanisms exist to ensure accountability once participants return fully into civilian life.
For victims and sceptical citizens alike, trust remains the most difficult element to rebuild.
Ultimately, the effectiveness of the programme may not be determined by the sincerity of the oath itself, but by what follows in the months and years after participants leave the ceremony grounds.
Whether they reintegrate peacefully, relapse into violence, or become part of a sustained peacebuilding process will shape public confidence in future programmes of this nature.
For now, the Quran remains central to a powerful act of public repentance in Borno State. But whether it can serve as a lasting guarantee of peace is a question that Nigeria’s security situation has yet to fully answer.
