From Command to Confusion: Three Generals and Their Families Were Dismissed by One Sentence — When Generals Need Therapy, Not Just SUVs -By Psychologist John Egbeazien Oshodi

Shock in Uniform: The Politeness of Pain

They call it a reshuffle. Psychologists call it acute institutional trauma — an event so sudden that the body still salutes while the mind begins to tremble. Three service chiefs — General Christopher Musa, Air Marshal Hassan Abubakar, and Vice Admiral Emmanuel Ogalla — were dismissed overnight. No long farewell, no soft landing, just a statement on presidential letterhead and the silence that follows shock.

The official explanation came in careful language:

“President Bola Tinubu has made changes in the hierarchy of the Service Chiefs in furtherance of the efforts of the Federal Government of Nigeria to strengthen the national security architecture.”

Beautiful words, sterile and surgical. Bureaucratic anesthesia. Then came the line that hurts most:

“The President appointed General Olufemi Oluyede to replace General Christopher Musa as the new Chief of Defence Staff.”

Replace. That word, so small, carries the weight of personal erasure.

The Coup That May Not Exist, But Still Hurts

The dismissals arrived in the same breath as whispers of a foiled coup — talk of sixteen senior officers arrested, rumors that galloped across the barracks faster than official denials could catch up. The presidency called it “malicious,” the military called it “false,” and the Minister of Information called it “unequivocally unfounded.” But in the psychology of power, rumor and truth feel the same — both burn the nervous system with anxiety.

Officers begin reading faces, measuring silences, checking who saluted whom too quickly or too late. The coup may not exist, but the emotional tremor it caused is real. Denial does not undo humiliation; it only pushes it underground, where it matures into distrust.

When the Power Ends at Home

The trauma is not only uniform-deep. It ripples into the living room. The wives, who for years shared in their husbands’ authority — the invitations, the convoys, the silent social respect that comes with command — suddenly face a different kind of morning. The phone rings, and in one call, a world collapses. The Service Chief is gone.

The wife’s question is simple and piercing: “Why you? Why not the others?”

There are no answers, only the sound of packing boxes. She must now prepare to leave the official quarters in Abuja, where guards once stood at attention and aides waited by the door. The family must move out, not gradually but immediately, under the polite supervision of security officers. The children, wherever they are — in boarding schools, universities, or abroad — will hear the news and feel it in their bones. Daddy’s tone changes on the phone. The laughter is different. The authority is gone.

This is the hidden cost of political rotation — the quiet collapse of family pride, the psychological homelessness that follows power loss.

Post-Command Stress Disorder: The Hidden Epidemic

We know about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in soldiers who return from combat. But Nigeria is now teaching the world about Post-Command Stress Disorder (PCSD) — the disorientation that follows sudden removal from power.

One day, you are Commander of the Armed Forces. The next, you are Commander of your own confusion. The brain still wakes at 5 a.m., expecting briefings, expecting reports. But there are no calls, no meetings, no salutes — only the sound of furniture being moved out of a once-protected residence.

The government compensates with SUVs, drivers, guards, and 20,000 dollars a year for medicals. But you cannot treat psychological displacement with luxury. You can bulletproof the body, yes — but never the mind.

The transition from command to silence is not retirement; it is a slow implosion of identity.

Therapy, Not Toyotas

If the government is serious about “strengthening national security architecture,” it must add a psychological wing to that architecture. Here is the treatment plan Nigeria has never implemented:

1. Operational Decompression Therapy: Mandatory counseling before farewell speeches. Power detox first, gratitude later.

2. Peer Healing Circles: Monthly group therapy among former chiefs — no rank, no salutes, just reality.

3. Purpose Reassignment Programs: Former service chiefs should mentor young officers, teach national ethics, and guide peace initiatives. Purpose heals faster than pride.

4. Reality Adjustment Coaching: Remind them that replacement is not disgrace; sometimes it’s just the cost of power in an anxious nation.

5. Confidential Helpline for Former Commanders: Anonymous psychological support for those battling insomnia, rage, or paranoia. An untreated ego is a threat to national calm.

Enter Wike: The Builder of Comfort and Irony

Now comes the honorable Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Nyesom Wike — the loud builder, the man who says President Tinubu authorized him to construct permanent residences for judges and justices in Abuja. A fine gesture indeed. But as a psychologist, I must ask: why stop at the judiciary?

The military kept the country standing so the judges could sit. These dismissed generals also lived and worked in Abuja. They, too, have lost both home and honor in a single week. So perhaps Wike should add three more houses to his design — not mansions of ego, but therapeutic villas for the broken ranks of command.

Call it The Recovery Estate. Each unit should have a garden for reflection, a counseling room, and enough quiet to hear one’s thoughts without sirens. Let the state that gave them medals also give them mental rest.

The Irony of Calm Denial

The government denies the coup rumors but provides bulletproof SUVs. It calls the dismissals “routine” but executes them with midnight precision. It praises national stability even as it replaces half the military hierarchy in one breath. That is the Nigerian genius — denial wrapped in ceremony.

We are a nation addicted to managing pain with protocol. We throw thanksgiving services where therapy is needed. We distribute SUVs where empathy is missing. We confuse loyalty with silence and mistake trauma for strength.

But power has emotions. Institutions have hearts. And leadership, when torn without warning, bleeds privately.

A Final Psychological Note

President Tinubu says these changes are to strengthen national security. Perhaps they will. But emotional security is the deeper architecture on which all nations stand. If it collapses, everything else eventually follows.

Let the dismissed chiefs keep their SUVs, their guards, and their allowances. But also let them keep their dignity — through healing. And let their families, who are quietly grieving the loss of privilege, receive recognition too. Because power in Nigeria does not fall alone; it takes spouses, children, and reputations with it.

So yes, Minister Wike, build the judges their homes — but do not forget the generals who just lost theirs. For when a leader’s family trembles behind closed doors, the country’s security is not as strong as the press release suggests.

Because in Nigeria, the salutes may stop — but the silence that follows is louder than the gun.

About the Author

Prof. John Egbeazien Oshodi is an American psychologist and educator specializing in forensic, legal, clinical, cross-cultural psychology, public ethical policy, police, and prison science.

Born in Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria, and the son of a 37-year veteran of the Nigeria Police Force, he has devoted his career to linking psychology with justice, education, and governance. In 2011, he pioneered the introduction of advanced forensic psychology in Nigeria through the National Universities Commission and Nasarawa State University, where he served as Associate Professor of Psychology.

He currently serves as contributing faculty in the Doctorate in Clinical and School Psychology at Nova Southeastern University; teaches in the Doctorate Clinical Psychology, BS Psychology, and BS Tempo Criminal Justice programs at Walden University; and is a virtual professor of Management and Leadership Studies at Weldios University and ISCOM University. He is President and Chief Psychologist at the Oshodi Foundation, Center for Psychological and Forensic Services, United States.

Prof. Oshodi is a Black Republican in the United States but belongs to no party in Nigeria—he stands only for justice. This writer knows no one on this issue but writes solely for the sake of justice, good governance, democracy, and African development. He is the founder of Psychoafricalysis (Psychoafricalytic Psychology)—a culturally grounded framework centering African sociocultural realities, historical consciousness, and future-oriented identity. A prolific scholar, he has authored more than 500 articles, several books, and numerous peer-reviewed works on Africentric psychology, higher education reform, forensic and correctional psychology, African democracy, and decolonized therapeutic models.