One of the most pressing issues facing Nigeria today is the persistent ethnic profiling and targeted persecution of the Igbo people. The Igbo, one of Nigeria’s major ethnic groups, are widely known for their entrepreneurial spirit and resilience, but they have also been victims of deep-seated animosity and discrimination within the country. Ethnic profiling against Igbos has become increasingly visible in the years following Nigeria’s civil war and has escalated to a point where many Ndigbo(Igbo People) have come to question their place in the Nigerian state. These experiences of harassment and marginalization are central to the ongoing call for the restoration of Biafra, the Igbo homeland.
While proponents of a unified Nigeria might dismiss the demands for Biafra as mere political posturing, a closer look at the everyday lives of the average Igbo reveals a pattern of institutionalized ethnic profiling and systemic injustice. It is no longer a question of political disagreements or regional tensions; the Igbo struggle is now rooted in their fight for survival in a nation that seems to see them as outsiders.
Igbo youths have been among the most visible targets of ethnic profiling. In several instances across the country, they have been rounded up by security forces, accused of being agitators or criminals based on nothing more than their ethnicity. The Nigerian government’s treatment of young Igbos, particularly those with ties to freedom fighting movements like the Indigenous People of Biafra(IPOB) has become synonymous with blanket repression and collective punishment.
For example, during periods of political unrest or when there are protests demanding the release of IPOB leader Nnamdi Kanu, Igbo youths are often arbitrarily detained and massacred, many of them not even involved in the protests.
Simply being a young Igbo man in certain regions of the country automatically places you under suspicion. This has led to widespread fear among the Igbo, with many parents warning their children to avoid certain public spaces or political gatherings to avoid being falsely labeled as insurgents or agitators.
In many instances, these youths are detained without trial, with no charges brought against them. Their detentions, which sometimes last months or even years, highlight the degree to which ethnic profiling has become a weapon used to suppress the Igbo people. The message from the state seems to be clear: any show of Igbo pride or solidarity will be met with suspicion and force.
The economic success of the Igbo people has been both a blessing and a curse. Igbos are renowned for their entrepreneurial acumen, dominating trade, industry, and commerce in various parts of the country and world at large. However, this success has often made them targets for harassment by government officials and regulatory bodies. From Lagos to Abuja, Igbo traders and businesspeople are regularly subjected to excessive taxation, unnecessary delays in clearing goods, and trumped-up charges of smuggling or trading substandard products.
In many cases, the harassment appears to be motivated not by genuine concerns over business practices but by ethnic prejudice. It is not uncommon to hear stories of Igbo traders being raided by customs officers or local authorities under the guise of enforcing regulations, only to discover that their goods were perfectly legal. Yet, even after proving their innocence, these traders often face lengthy legal battles or lose significant income due to the disruption of their businesses.
The 2020 case of Igbo traders in Lagos who were accused of importing substandard goods is a prime example. Despite meeting all regulatory requirements, they were detained, and their goods seized without cause. It was only after a public outcry and the intervention of advocacy groups that the authorities were forced to release them, but the damage had already been done. This kind of economic sabotage serves as a clear indication that ethnic profiling extends beyond law enforcement into other sectors of society, with devastating effects on the livelihoods of innocent people.
Another disturbing example of ethnic profiling comes in the form of the frequent targeting of Ndi Igbo at police and military checkpoints. While checkpoints are meant to ensure the safety and security of all Nigerians, they have become hotspots for ethnic discrimination, particularly against Ndi Igbo. Reports of harassment, unlawful searches, and demands for bribes are common, with many Igbo travelers reporting that they are singled out more often than individuals from other ethnic groups.
The experience of being stopped at a checkpoint can be humiliating and frustrating for many Igbo people. It often begins with excessive questioning, followed by invasive searches of personal belongings, vehicles, and sometimes even homes. For Igbo men and women, the mere fact of traveling through regions outside their home states can turn into a traumatic ordeal. A trip meant to last a few hours can extend to days of detention if a suspicious security officer decides to single them out.
In the northern and western parts of Nigeria, Igbos are especially vulnerable to this kind of profiling. Travelers are often detained on flimsy grounds, such as possessing Biafran flags or other symbols of Igbo identity. In such instances, the assumption is that anyone who associates with the Biafran cause must be guilty of sedition or insurrection, regardless of whether they have broken any laws. The entire Igbo identity, then, is reduced to one of rebellion and disloyalty to Nigeria.
The ethnic profiling of Ndi Igbo is not limited to social or economic spheres; it also extends to the political realm. For decades, the Igbo people have been systematically marginalized from the highest levels of power in Nigeria. While other ethnic groups have dominated the presidency, the vice presidency, and other key government positions, Igbo People have been left out of the country’s political decision-making process.
This marginalization has fueled the belief that the Igbo people are unwanted in Nigeria. In the political landscape, their loyalty is often questioned, and their interests sidelined. The lack of Igbo representation in national politics is not due to a lack of qualified candidates but rather a deliberate exclusion that stems from the post-civil war distrust of the Igbo people.
During the 2019 elections, for example, several reports emerged of Igbo voters being harassed and prevented from voting in parts of Lagos. In some cases, thugs were hired to intimidate Igbo residents and discourage them from participating in the election. This form of voter suppression was rooted in the belief that Igbo voters would not support the ruling party and therefore had to be excluded from the process. Such incidents highlight how deeply entrenched ethnic bias is in Nigeria’s political system.
The way Igbo people are portrayed in the media further exacerbates the problem of ethnic profiling. Negative stereotypes of the Igbo people as rebels, agitators, or troublemakers are regularly reinforced by the Nigerian media. Whenever there is a crime, riot, or unrest involving an Igbo person, their ethnicity is often highlighted, as if being Igbo inherently makes one prone to lawlessness.
This contrasts sharply with how individuals from other ethnic groups are portrayed in the media, where their ethnicity is rarely mentioned unless it serves a positive narrative. For Ndi Igbo, the media’s negative portrayal serves to legitimize the discriminatory treatment they receive from the state and from society at large. It reinforces the idea that Igbos are not loyal Nigerians and that their demands for equal rights or political representation are illegitimate.
This portrayal is particularly harmful to young Igbos who are growing up in a country that seems to view them with suspicion and hostility. It plants the seed of resentment and alienation, contributing to a cycle of distrust between the Igbo people and the Nigerian state.
The ethnic profiling of Igbo people is not just an isolated problem; it is a symptom of a deeper, systemic issue that has plagued Nigeria since its creation. The marginalization, harassment, and persecution of the Igbo people have led many within the Igbo Nation to conclude that their future cannot be secured within the Nigerian state. This sentiment is what drives the continued agitation for the restoration of Biafra.
For Ndi Igbo, the idea of an independent Biafra is not just about self-determination or cultural pride. It is about survival. They see the current Nigerian state as one that cannot protect their interests, provide them with opportunities for political representation, or allow them to thrive without discrimination. The constant targeting of Igbos by security forces, the media, and the political establishments has led to a growing sense of alienation and frustration. The Biafran movement, therefore, is seen as a response to these injustices, a way to carve out a space where Ndi Igbo can live in peace and dignity, free from ethnic profiling and persecution.
While some Nigerians may view the call for Biafra as a threat to national unity, for NdiIgbo, it represents hope. Hope for a future where they are not constantly under suspicion, where they can express their identity without fear of reprisal, and where they can build a prosperous and inclusive society. The demand for Biafra is rooted in the lived experiences of generations of Igbo people who have been treated as second-class citizens in their so called country.
Ethnic profiling against Ndi Igbo in Nigeria is not just a legal or political issue—it is a fundamental human rights violation that affects every aspect of life for the Igbo people. From arbitrary arrests to economic harassment, from political exclusion to media stereotyping, Ndi Igbo are routinely subjected to discrimination based on their ethnicity.
As long as the ethnic profiling continues, the call for Biafra Nation will continue to rise.
Family Writers Press International.
