In every civilization that has endured, thrived, and risen from chaos, stability was never bestowed; it was forged through foresight, audacity, and unyielding execution. The United States transformed public research into technology empires that now shape the global economy. Japan empowered inventors like Sakichi Toyoda, whose innovations seeded industries employing millions. Europe industrialized through audacious infrastructure, strategic vision, and relentless execution.

Nigeria stands at a similar crossroads. A nation of immense potential, yet insecurity, porous borders, and unprotected frontiers leave lives, livelihoods, and dreams vulnerable. Just as past civilizations engineered order through deliberate design and disciplined execution, Nigeria too must construct its own bulwarks of lasting stability.

Under a copper sky heavy with promise and peril, Nigeria reaches a pivot. Trillions are poured into defence, tens of thousands of soldiers deployed— yet insecurity persists. Between 2019 and 2024, at least 24,816 Nigerians lost their lives to mass atrocities,  including insurgency, banditry, terrorism, communal violence and related insecurity — according to a 2024 report by Global Rights; the real toll is almost certainly higher, buried in unreported operations and fragmented data.

Despite nearly ₦3 trillion spent on defence and security in 2023, violence and insecurity have worsened. A recent assessment estimates that insecurity has already cost Nigeria over ₦7.17 trillion. It is deeply unsettling that nearly 9 million Nigerians now live as internally displaced people in a nation that is not at war.

Nigeria spends heavily on security but remains unsecured. Money alone cannot win peace — not when economic desperation, lost livelihoods, smuggling corridors, and porous borders fuel instability. This is not a failure of resources, but of strategy.

What we need is not padding of budgets, but a hard-headed blueprint linking national defence with development; border security with agricultural revival; surveillance posts with farm estates; public-private partnerships with rural jobs. If security is treated only as a cost — never an investment — we become addicts of fear, forever pouring naira into endless cycles of violence. But if security is the foundation of growth — the bedrock for agriculture, entrepreneurship, and human capital — every naira spent becomes a seed planted.

THE WALLS THAT PROTECT US

Imagine a fortified frontier stretching from the terror-prone borderlands of Kebbi’s Danko, Jega, and Bagudo regions, through the vulnerable plains of Borno’s Kukawa, Monguno, and Bama axes — not as an iron curtain, but as a declaration of national resolve.

It is not surprising that even General Christopher Musa, Nigeria’s Chief of Defence Staff, recently advocated for a fortified border system. His call for concrete barriers, surveillance towers, and rapid-response units mirrors the type of structured, intelligence-driven frontier we envision, designed not only to block violence but to transform insecurity into opportunity.

As an indigenous company, Sujimoto possesses the capacity, expertise, and resolve to execute this frontier. What remains is rigorous planning: a comprehensive geological survey, detailed mapping, and close collaboration with the local communities and our team of over 480 staff, including 20 internationally experienced expatriates in large-scale infrastructure projects. The work itself — formwork, batching plants, concrete, and steel — is straightforward; it is not rocket science. What it demands is vision, discipline, and execution at scale — qualities we bring in full measure.

This is the same dedication and ingenuity we applied to the construction of LucreziabySujimoto. Faced with a challenge that would have taken other construction companies 18 months to complete, we raised the building from its first slab to the 15th in just 5.5 months. Today, Lucrezia stands as one of the most luxurious and acclaimed buildings not only in Nigeria, but across Africa — a testament to what precision, planning, and unyielding commitment can achieve.

Modern concrete barriers. Surveillance towers every fifty kilometres. High-resolution cameras, drone launch pads, rapid-response bases, and access roads transforming forgotten wilderness into corridors of safety and productivity. A structure designed to suffocate smuggling, disrupt arms trafficking, block infiltration, and restore dignity to the map of Nigeria.

Yet walls alone are not enough. Behind this frontier lies development, farmland, agro-processing hubs, housing, medical clinics, markets — turning once-porous borders into fortifications of productivity. Envision a national agro-development drive — tens or hundreds of thousands of hectares — where youth farm, mill, process, trade; where harvest is not only food but dignity, employment, and a rhythm of life pushing back against fear.

Security fences create time — time for detection, time for response, time for intervention. Development creates resilience — resilience against hunger, corruption, and chaos. Together, they create stability.

A NATIONAL REFLECTION — AND A PROMISE FROM SUJIMOTO

Across the northern frontier stretching toward Niger, and along the eastern wilderness brushing Cameroon, Nigeria’s borders lie open like unsealed letters—read, abused, and exploited by those who wish this nation harm. Criminals do not need visas. Insurgents do not require immigration forms. Smugglers pay no duties. Our borders, once lines of dignity, have become corridors of chaos, testing the patience of a nation blessed with abundance but drained by avoidable loss.

Great Nations do not triumph by lamenting danger. They triumph by engineering solutions stronger than the threats they face. When Saudi Arabia faced infiltration across its northern desert, it built a 900-kilometre fortified, multi-layered security barrier. The United States adopted an integrated physical-and-digital approach along the Rio Grande. India, Pakistan, Israel, Egypt — different histories, different geographies — but one principle: a nation that refuses to secure its borders refuses to secure its people.

Nigeria must build corridors of purpose—structures that do more than block danger, but unlock development. Imagine, for the first time in our history, a fortified frontier stretching across Nigeria’s most porous borders—not as an iron curtain, but as a shield crafted with intelligence, cameras, surveillance towers, patrol bases, and rapid-response units every fifty kilometres. A 1,500-kilometre line toward Niger. Another 1,400 toward Cameroon. Strong, modern, and unshakably vigilant. Not a barrier that isolates us, but an infrastructure that protects the nation.

Concrete is not rocket science. What Nigeria requires is the audacity to build, and the will to execute with the precision that has defined great nations. Such a frontier would starve insurgent groups of free passage, and suffocate the illegal arms trade that feeds violence across our northern belt. It would give our security agencies something they have long been denied: not just bravery, but advantage.

But let me be clear: this border security project is not a wall—it is an engine. Because every nation that has defeated insecurity did so not with force alone, but with development, employment, and structure. The real enemies of Nigeria are idleness, poverty, hunger, and hopelessness—fertile soil upon which extremism grows. But the true genius of this proposal is not in the fence; it is in the future that rises behind it. Every road built to access the frontier becomes a new highway of opportunity. Every security tower becomes a magnet for small businesses, clinics, markets, supply chains, and agricultural settlements. What has long been dismissed as “distant bush” becomes Nigeria’s next industrial and agro-economic belt. What was once wilderness becomes wealth.

And it is here that Sujimoto places its shoulder to the national wheel not merely to construct a barrier, but to build an entire ecosystem of national renewal. The Sujimoto Farm Estate vision — over 20,000 to 1,000,000 hectares across six geopolitical zones — is not a business proposal; it is a national immunization plan. Abandoned frontiers become agro-industrial hubs with housing, hospitals, markets, clean energy, mechanized farming, and youth employment clusters. Once-dangerous regions become the beating heart of Nigeria’s agricultural resurgence.

At the root of insecurity lies an unspoken truth: when a young man has no work, dignity, or hope, the sound of a gun becomes more persuasive than tomorrow’s promise. Nigeria cannot continue to treat insecurity as a military problem alone. It is an economic, developmental, governance, border, and youth problem. Nations defeating insecurity do so with jobs, opportunity, structure, and vision. Nigeria must build a future its youth do not wish to escape or Jakpa from.

Billions spent, yet insecurity grows. Symptoms are treated while the disease spreads. Every border road must become a marketplace. Every security tower an anchor for settlement. Every farm estate a shield against unemployment. Every engaged youth an ambassador of peace.

If we do not act now, fear becomes the language of our nation, and insecurity its culture. But with conviction, Nigeria can become a global case study: a nation transforming crisis into opportunity, violence into value. Last year alone, the combined economic loss from insurgencies, banditry, kidnapping, and border-related criminality ran into trillions—lost productivity, abandoned farmlands, displaced families, burnt markets, and the silent cost of fear that suffocates investment. No soldier, no amount of bravery, can permanently win a war that economics continues to fuel.

This manifesto is more than a proposal—it is a national plea. A call for courage. A reminder that destiny does not wait for those who negotiate with fear. It is time for Nigeria to build boldly, secure fiercely, and dream unapologetically. With fortified borders, industrialized agricultural belts, and empowered youth, insecurity can become a closed chapter.

“If your neighbour is hungry, your chicken is not safe.” But the fence we build is not a wall against neighbours; it is a wall against chaos. The roads we build are not merely asphalt; they are arteries of prosperity. The farms we establish are not just food sources; they are sanctuaries of hope.

I write not as a critic, but as a citizen who believes in the potential of this administration to erect the strongest legacy of any democratic government. If we build this frontier, Nigeria will send a message to the world: the era of porous borders is over, the age of unchecked infiltration has expired, and this nation has chosen to secure its future with concrete resolve and visionary design. And the future we choose today will determine whether Nigeria stands as a fortress of stability—or a story of squandered potential.

Sujimoto believes Nigeria deserves the former.

God Bless Nigeria.

Dr. Sijibomi Ogundele is the Group Managing Director of Sujimoto Holdings, the Czar of Luxury Real Estate Development, and the visionary mastermind behind the acclaimed Giuliano. His other audacious projects include LucreziaBySujimoto, Nigeria’s first EV-ready luxury residential tower and the most sophisticated building in Banana Island; the grandiose Sujimoto Twin Towers, the tallest twin towers in Africa; the regal Queen AminaBySujimoto, a monument to royal affluence; the magnificent high-rise LeonardoBySujimoto; and the Sujimoto Farm Estate, an advanced ecosystem integrating housing, farm hospitals, hotels, and markets to create opportunities for agro-tourism, entrepreneurship, and affordable housing; and the visionary Sujimoto Smart City Abuja, poised to redefine urban living with 4,920 terraces and apartments in the heart of the capital, offering a singular lifestyle to live. work. play. — all at one unique address. These landmark developments, among many others, have etched an indelible imprint on Nigeria’s skyline, showcasing Sujimoto’s unrivalled mastery, technical precision, and capacity to execute projects of unprecedented scale and national significance.”