By CHRIS ISHAKU

The rush by some sections of the public to crucify Plateau State Governor Caleb Mutfwang for addressing grieving residents of Angwan Rukuba from an armoured personnel carrier just hours after the Palm Sunday massacre has, regrettably, gained traction among certain vocal critics.

They accuse him of insulating himself from the very security threats ordinary citizens endure daily. This narrative, however, is not only unfair but dangerously hollow. It confuses optics with governance and substitutes emotion for reason.

Let us recall the facts. On the evening of March 29, 2026, suspected gunmen unleashed terror in Angwan Rukuba, Jos North, killing nearly 30 innocent people in a brazen attack that shattered the peace of Palm Sunday. At the time, Governor Mutfwang was in Abuja fulfilling official duties, including attending the APC National Convention and engaging in high-level security consultations with federal authorities.

Upon receiving the devastating news, he cut short his engagements and returned to Jos immediately. By the following morning, he was on ground at the scene of the carnage—transported and protected by security operatives in an armoured vehicle, which he also used as an elevated platform to address the agitated crowd.

The criticism that he should have strolled into the area immediately after the carnage without adequate protection is not just unrealistic; it borders on recklessness. Nigerian governors routinely move with armoured convoys, vehicles often more fortified than standard military transports, precisely because the threats they face are real and unrelenting. Plateau State, sadly, has witnessed too many cycles of violence for any leader to treat personal safety as optional.

The sight of the governor arriving swiftly with visible military backup should instead earn him acclaim. In a moment of raw grief and simmering tension, his decisive presence, backed by the full weight of state security apparatus, projected authority and reassurance. It signalled to frightened residents that the government had not abandoned them.

Security expert Jackson Darman captured this reality succinctly in a Facebook post defending the governor’s actions. “The use of security vehicles or armoured convoys is not an act of intimidation or insensitivity,” he wrote, “but rather a standaprecaution aimed at ensuring the safety of public officials in high-risk zones.”

Darman rightly urged that the focus must remain on confronting the root causes of the violence rather than fixating on the optics of the visit.

To suggest that a governor must expose himself unnecessarily to danger in order to prove empathy is to demand theatre over effective leadership. Mutfwang did what any responsible leader should: he responded promptly, engaged the people directly (albeit from a position of practical safety), announced immediate measures including a 48-hour curfew, pledged government funding for medical treatment of the injured and befitting burials for the dead, and vowed justice for the perpetrators.

In volatile environments like Plateau, true compassion is not measured by how vulnerable a leader makes himself appear, but by how effectively he restores confidence, deploys resources, and pursues peace.

Governor Mutfwang’s armoured visit was not a symbol of detachment, it was a pragmatic assertion of resolve in the face of tragedy. The real scandal is not the vehicle he stood upon, but the persistent insecurity that makes such precautions necessary in the first place. Let us channel our outrage where it belongs: toward the agents of death and the systemic failures that enable them, not toward a governor who showed up when it mattered most.

•Chris Ishaku is national coordinator, Plateau Vanguard for Democracy (PVD).

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