By Mark Longyen

West Africa’s climate crisis is becoming harder to separate from the region’s familiar struggles with poverty, displacement, food insecurity, resource competition and violent conflict.

That convergence framed the ECOWAS Parliament’s Second 2026 Extraordinary Session and Second Parliamentary Seminar in Accra, Ghana.

It was themed “Climate Change as a Driver of Environmental Degradation, Population Displacement and Growing Insecurity in the ECOWAS Region.

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Beyond the speeches and warnings, the week-long meeting posed a harder question: can ECOWAS convert long standing climate commitments into funded, coordinated and measurable action?

The Parliament’s adopted resolutions offered one answer, urging ECOWAS leaders to consider establishing a regional fund dedicated to climate resilience and human security.

The lawmakers also called for climate resilience to be integrated into national budgets, development plans, land-use policies, conflict-prevention mechanisms and disaster-risk reduction strategies.

They further called for the ECOWAS Commission to develop a five-year implementation roadmap for translating the recommendations into practical measures.

These proposals attempt to move the regional climate conversation from declarations towards institutional mechanisms capable of producing measurable results.

Yet, the Parliament’s own assessment exposed the obstacles.

Speaker Hadja Mémounatou Ibrahima was blunt in her closing address.

“Our region doesn’t lack strategies nor instruments.

“What West Africa lacks are the financing and political will required to implement existing frameworks and transform them into visible and tangible assets for citizens,” she said.

That diagnosis goes to the heart of the region’s climate dilemma, where policies exist, but implementation frequently falls behind ambition.

Earlier, in her opening address, Ibrahima urged lawmakers to view climate disruption through its consequences for ordinary people rather than through statistics alone.

“Climate disruption can no longer be measured only in degrees, statistics or projections,” she said, citing declining land productivity, retreating coastlines, flooded neighbourhoods and displaced families.

For her, the fundamental question was how governments could protect citizens when environmental change was occurring faster than their capacity to adapt.

Ghana’s Vice-President, Prof. Jane Opoku-Agyemang, reinforced that perspective, saying climate change and environmental degradation were compounding pressures on livelihoods and food security.

“Climate change is both a development and a security challenge,” she said, urging ECOWAS states to move from reactive crisis management towards proactive resilience-building.

Her prescription included stronger early-warning systems, resilient agriculture, water management, coastal protection and clean-energy investment.

She also linked climate resilience to youth opportunities, arguing that education, skills and economic empowerment could help prevent environmental pressures from becoming drivers of insecurity.

The financial dimension emerged starkly in a presentation by Dr Derek Sarfo-Yiadom of Ghana’s Environmental Protection Authority.

He disclosed that Ghana would require an estimated 22.6 billion dollars by 2030 to implement its climate actions and strengthen resilience.

“When we put our climate reports together, we found out that we needed 22.6 billion dollars to accomplish our climate actions by the year 2030,” he said.

Sarfo-Yiadom argued that vulnerability assessments must identify not merely climate hazards, but the people exposed, barriers to recovery, responsible institutions, available budgets and measurable outcomes.

He called for stronger early-warning systems, improved drainage, resilient infrastructure and measures supporting rural livelihoods through climate services, crop diversity and better soil-water management.

At the regional level, ECOWAS climate expert Raoul Kouamé highlighted the challenge of translating commitments into implementation, especially where institutional capacities and financing remain uneven.

His argument reinforced a central lesson from the Accra conference; climate governance cannot succeed through isolated national interventions when rivers, ecosystems, migration routes and environmental risks cross borders.

Guinean parliamentarian Bademba Baldé said lawmakers identified effective implementation, financing and national ownership among the principal obstacles confronting regional climate action.

The Parliament consequently connected climate vulnerability with displacement, competition over land and water, pastoral mobility and resource-related conflicts.

That connection is especially important for West Africa, where environmental stress can amplify existing economic, social and security vulnerabilities.

The recommendations therefore went beyond environmental protection, seeking to embed climate resilience within development planning, conflict prevention and disaster-risk management.

For Nigeria and other vulnerable member states, the implications are substantial, given recurring floods, droughts, land degradation, food insecurity and competition over natural resources.

The Accra resolutions also raise an institutional question; how effectively can the ECOWAS Parliament drive implementation when its role remains principally consultative?

Nigerian lawmakers, including Sen. Ali Ndume and Awaji Abiante, argued that strengthening the Parliament’s legislative powers would enhance its ability to scrutinise regional and national responses.

That debate gives the climate question a governance dimension: ambitious recommendations require institutions with sufficient authority to monitor compliance, demand accountability and sustain political attention.

The Parliament itself recognised this when it stressed that its credibility would depend on decisions producing concrete and measurable improvements in citizens’ lives.

Its closing position was both ambitious and cautionary, noting that resolutions must not become another archive of unimplemented regional commitments.

The adoption of the seminar’s outcome document gave the climate agenda an institutional pathway.

The proposed regional resilience fund offers a potential financing mechanism, and the five-year roadmap, if effectively developed and monitored, could provide the continuity often missing from regional climate initiatives.

Stakeholders insist, however, that money alone will not resolve the crisis.

They say political ownership, institutional coordination, national legislation, community participation and credible monitoring will be equally decisive in translating commitments into action.

The Accra deliberations therefore shifted the focus from whether West Africa understands its climate crisis to whether governments and regional institutions are prepared to govern against it.

The real test now lies in whether governments, ECOWAS institutions and national parliaments will finance, implement and monitor the commitments reached.

For West Africa, the climate crisis is no longer waiting for another declaration. It is demanding decisions, resources and action.

Accra has provided the diagnosis and a framework.

The credibility of the ECOWAS Parliament’s climate push will ultimately be measured by what follows after the conference. (NAN)

‌‍‍‍⁠⁠‌⁠‍⁠‌By Mukhtar Dambatta

In Nigeria, an accusation of theft can turn a calm crowd into a dangerous mob within minutes.

Someone shouts, “Ole!” “Barawo!” “Onyeoshi!” or “Thief!” and people begin to gather.

Before anyone asks what happened or whether the allegation is true, sticks, stones, and other objects may become weapons.

By the time the police arrive, the accused person may already be badly injured or dead.

Jungle justice, or mob violence, is an illegal act where a crowd bypasses the legal system to punish a suspect without a fair trial or formal proof of guilt

The practice has continued in spite of the existence of courts, police and other institutions established to investigate crimes and administer justice.

One of the cases that brought the issue sharply into national focus was the killing of the “Aluu Four”.

In October 2012, four students of the University of Port Harcourt, Chiadika Biringa, Ugonna Obuzor, Lloyd Toku and Tekena Elkanah were attacked and killed in Aluu community, Rivers, after they were accused of stealing.

They were beaten and set ablaze by a mob. Images of the incident circulated widely, prompting public outrage and renewed calls for an end to mob justice.

But similar incidents have continued.

In March 2025, 16 travellers were killed by a mob in Uromi, Edo, after being accused of being kidnappers.

Reports identified the victims as hunters travelling from the South to the North.

President Bola Tinubu condemned the killings and directed security agencies to investigate the incident and prosecute those responsible.

The Uromi killings again raised concerns about what can happen when suspicion and fear replace investigation.

On July 26, 25-year-old Ibrahim Mbaya, popularly known as “Ibee”, was allegedly attacked by a mob in Jos, Plateau, after being accused of stealing an iPhone 12.

He was later taken to the Jos University Teaching Hospital, where he was confirmed dead.

The Police Command in Plateau announced the arrest of suspects in connection with the incident.

Recently, the Inspector-General of Police (I-G), Mr Olatunji Disu, gave a directive that jungle justice would be treated as homicide.

A security advocacy group, the Security Situation Room (SSR) backed the group described mob action as an invitation to anarchy.

The President of SSR, Mr Douglas Ogbankwa, said perpetrators of extra-judicial killings must be held accountable for their actions.

He said that the directive was timely, considering the spate of mob attacks and extra-judicial killings in the country.

“Of course, this directive is timely. Allowing people to resort to strong-arm tactics in solving criminal activities is an invitation to anarchy.

“It is like taking the country to the Hobbesian state of nature, where life was nasty, brutish and short.”

Ogbankwa said the existence of government could be traced to the social contract theory, under which citizens surrendered certain liberties to enable constituted authorities to govern and protect them.

He said allowing individuals to take the law into their hands would undermine the purpose of government and the rule of law.

“The reason we have a government is traceable to the social contract theory, where the people agree to have people who will govern, protect them and take care of their welfare.

“So, if individuals are allowed to have the liberty of taking the law into their hands, then that is simply taking us to the Stone Age without laws,” he said.

The convener noted that every society was governed by laws, adding that the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended) provided lawful avenues for resolving grievances.

He said the Police Act 2020 empowered the police to detect and investigate crimes and arrest those suspected of committing offences within their jurisdiction.

Ogbankwa consequently called for strict adherence to the I-G’s directive, adding that individuals must learn to be personally accountable for their actions or inactions.

On a similar note, a security analyst, Ahmed Umar, said the response to suspected crime should begin with reporting and investigation rather than punishment by a crowd.

“Allowing people to take the law into their own hands could result in the killing of innocent people who might later be found not to have committed any offence,’’ he said.

More so, a legal practitioner, Yusuf Aliyu Yusuf, said an accusation was not the same as proof of guilt.He said the responsibility of determining whether a person had committed a crime belonged to the appropriate institutions established by law.

In his submission, Barau Kawu, a community leader, said communities also had a role to play in preventing mob attacks by discouraging rumours and immediately reporting suspected criminal activities to security agencies.

“Community members should avoid taking action based solely on allegations or information received from others,’’ he said.

Getting an accurate national figure for deaths resulting from jungle justice is difficult.

Human rights organisations and other researchers have documented hundreds of cases over the years, but the actual number is difficult to establish.

Many incidents, particularly in communities far from major towns, may never reach the police, courts or mainstream media.

Analysts say a major factor behind the practice is public distrust of law enforcement institutions.

Where citizens believe that suspects may escape justice or that criminal cases will not be handled effectively, some may become tempted to punish accused persons themselves.

The country’s worsening insecurity has also made people more suspicious of strangers and unfamiliar situations.

Kidnapping, banditry and other violent crimes have affected communities across the country. In such an environment, suspicion can spread quickly.

Section 33 of the 1999 Constitution protects the right to life, subject to the exceptions stated in the Constitution.

The law provides for allegations to be investigated and suspects to be tried in court.

That process cannot be replaced by a crowd.

The danger is that the person being attacked may not even be responsible for the alleged offence.

“A stolen phone may have been misplaced; a misunderstanding may have been mistaken for criminal behaviour; a person may have been wrongly identified.

“Once a mob attack begins, however, there is often little opportunity for the truth to emerge; ending jungle justice will require more than condemning each incident after it happens.

“It will require proper investigations, prosecution of those responsible and greater confidences in the justice system.

“Citizens also need to understand that reporting a suspected crime is different from punishing a suspect.

“The police and courts have the responsibility to investigate allegations and determine guilt according to the law,’’ a social commentator said.

For communities, the challenge is to resist acting on rumours and accusations before the facts are known.

Experts agree that criminal accusations must be legally investigated and tried in court. When justice is taken into the streets, a mere accusation can instantly become an irreversible death sentence.(NAN)

By Dovish Okojie

Whether you are buying food in the market, renting a house, importing goods, securing a contract, or even seeking employment, there is often someone standing between the producer and the consumer, the seller and the buyer, the opportunity and the beneficiary.

In many ways, Nigeria has become a nation of intermediaries and nowhere is this more evident than in the food supply chain.

Across markets, consumers are confronted daily by rising food prices, which has forced many households to adjust their spending habits and dietary choices.

When Nigerians ask why food is so expensive, the answers usually point to inflation, fuel costs, insecurity, exchange rate, climate change, poor infrastructure, and government policies.

Yet another recurring explanation often emerges from market conversations and public debates: the activities of middlemen.

For many Nigerians, middlemen have become the visible face of an invisible economic problem. Farmers accuse them of exploitation, consumers blame them for price increases, policymakers frequently identify them as contributors to food inflation.

But are middlemen truly the villains of Nigeria’s economic story, or are they merely products of deeper structural failures? The answer is far more complex than many assume. Nigeria’s agricultural sector provides perhaps the clearest illustration of the role intermediaries play in the economy.

Millions of farmers across the country cultivate crops and raise livestock. Yet despite their hard work, many struggle to earn sustainable incomes. At the same time, consumers often complain about the high cost of food. Somewhere between the farmer and the family dinner table lies a long chain of traders, transporters, brokers, wholesalers, aggregators and retailers. Each participant performs a function.

Each adds a cost and seeks a profit. Consequently, by the time a basket of tomatoes harvested in Kaduna reaches a kitchen in Abuja, or a bag of rice produced in Kebbi arrives at a market in Lagos, its price may have increased substantially.

This creates a paradox that defines much of Nigeria’s economic reality: the farmer earns too little, the consumer pays too much, and yet everyone in the value chain insists they are barely surviving. To understand why this occurs, one must first understand the circumstances under which many Nigerian farmers operate.

Imagine a tomato farmer in northern Nigeria. After months of preparing the land, planting, irrigating, applying fertilizer and protecting crops from pests, harvest season arrives. The farmer’s greatest challenge is no longer production but preservation because tomatoes are highly perishable. Without access to cold storage facilities, modern processing centers or efficient transportation networks, harvested produce can begin deteriorating within days. Faced with the prospect of losing an entire harvest, many farmers have little choice but to sell immediately.

That is where the middleman enters the picture. Armed with cash and transportation arrangements, the trader purchases produce directly from farmers, often at prices significantly lower than those eventually paid by urban consumers. Critics argue that this disparity demonstrates exploitation. Supporters counter that the trader assumes risks associated with transportation, spoilage, market fluctuations and storage. In reality, both arguments contain elements of truth.

The middleman is not merely purchasing produce; he is purchasing urgency. He understands that farmers often lack alternatives. The bargaining power therefore rests largely with the buyer rather than the producer.

This imbalance fuels resentment throughout the agricultural sector. Many farmers believe they bear the greatest production risks while receiving the smallest share of profits. Consumers, on the other hand, see food prices rising beyond their purchasing power and conclude that someone in the middle must be benefiting excessively and the middleman becomes the convenient target.

Yet focusing exclusively on middlemen risks overlooking the deeper issues that create opportunities for their dominance. The truth is that middlemen thrive where systems fail.

In countries with efficient agricultural ecosystems, farmers have access to storage facilities, processing plants, organized cooperatives, real-time market information, affordable transportation, and direct access to buyers. These systems reduce dependence on intermediaries because producers possess alternatives.

Nigeria’s situation is markedly different because poor road networks increase transportation costs, inadequate storage facilities contribute to substantial post-harvest losses, insecurity disrupts farming activities and supply routes, rising fuel prices make logistics more expensive, limited access to financing constrains investment across the value chain. These deficiencies create economic gaps that intermediaries step in to fill.

Where storage facilities are absent, traders provide temporary storage. Where transportation networks are unreliable, they organize logistics. Where information is scarce, they become information brokers. Where farmer cooperatives are weak, they aggregate produce from multiple sources.

Economics rarely tolerates a vacuum. Whenever institutions fail to perform essential functions, private actors emerge to fill the void. This reality explains why attempts to eliminate middlemen altogether are unlikely to succeed.

The issue is not their existence but the extent of dependence on them. Indeed, Nigeria’s culture of intermediation extends far beyond agriculture. Real estate agents connect landlords and tenants, procurement contractors connect suppliers and government agencies, clearing agents connect importers and ports, political brokers connect citizens to power structures, recruitment consultants connect employers to job seekers.

In many sectors, Nigerians have become accustomed to operating through intermediaries. This phenomenon reflects both entrepreneurial ingenuity and institutional weakness.

The more difficult a system becomes to navigate, the more valuable those who understand it become. In this sense, the Nigerian middleman is not simply an economic actor. He is a symptom. He represents the inefficiencies embedded within the broader system.

Fortunately, change may already be underway because the rapid growth of digital technology is beginning to challenge traditional patterns of intermediation. Mobile payment platforms, digital marketplaces, agricultural technology solutions and online trading networks are increasingly connecting producers directly with consumers and businesses.

Farmers can now access market information that was once available only to traders, consumers can compare prices across locations, businesses can source products directly from producers, digital platforms are gradually reducing information asymmetry and increasing transparency.

However, technology alone cannot solve Nigeria’s structural problems. A mobile application cannot repair a damaged highway, an online marketplace cannot preserve perishable crops without cold storage, a smartphone cannot eliminate transportation bottlenecks. Technology works best when supported by functional infrastructure.

Ultimately, the debate about middlemen is not merely an economic discussion. It is a conversation about fairness, opportunity and national development. Behind every statistic lies a human story; the farmer struggling to recover production costs, the transporter battling rising fuel prices, the trader managing market uncertainty, the salary earner whose income can no longer sustain a family’s food needs, the mother forced to reduce the quantity or quality of meals she serves her children. Food inflation is not simply a number reported by economists.

It is a lived reality affecting millions of Nigerians every day. Addressing this challenge requires more than blaming intermediaries. It requires rebuilding the systems that make excessive intermediation necessary in the first place.

Nigeria must invest aggressively in rural infrastructure, modern storage facilities, agricultural processing centers, transportation networks and market information systems. Farmer cooperatives should be strengthened, supply chains should become more transparent, and competition should be encouraged across the value chain.

The objective should not be to eliminate middlemen but to ensure that every participant in the chain earns income through genuine value creation rather than through control of access. The Nigerian middleman is often portrayed as a villain.

In reality, he is neither hero nor villain. He is a mirror reflecting the strengths and weaknesses of the economy. Where institutions function effectively, his influence diminishes. Where systems fail, his importance grows.

For too long, public discourse has focused on the symptoms rather than the causes. The high cost of food in Nigeria is not the result of a single actor or group. It is the cumulative consequence of inadequate infrastructure, fragmented markets, information gaps, transportation challenges, post-harvest losses and broader economic pressures.

The path forward therefore lies not in declaring war on middlemen but in building an economy where producers have greater bargaining power, consumers enjoy fairer prices, and intermediaries compete on efficiency rather than scarcity. When that day comes, Nigeria’s farmers will earn more, families will spend less on food, and the nation’s vast agricultural potential will finally translate into shared prosperity. Until then, the middleman will remain exactly what he has always been: a reflection of the Nigeria we have built, and perhaps a reminder of the Nigeria we still need to create.

Dovish Okojie is a Management Consultant, Data Scientist, and Public Affairs Analyst. He writes from Abuja and can be reached through dovishokojie@gmail.com