On the Federal side of the Nigerian struggle many people seem unaware that a war is going on. There are, of course, minor discomforts — the nightly blackout in Lagos; the unavailability of cars, Scotch whisky and textiles; the increase in prices; and the soldiers, who demand bribes from civilians and push them around.

But in general, the discomforts of war are minor. Obese men in enormous robes can still be seen scattering chips across the roulette tables at the Federal Palace Hotel. Nigerian businessmen are getting rich, for the restriction of imports is bolstering local industry and oil production is near prewar level.

There are, of course, tensions and economic dislocations within Nigeria, but they are minor compared to conditions in Biafra, and Nigeria should be able to absorb them easily while still carrying on the war. Yet comparing conditions in the two regions may be pointless, for Nigerians may be unwilling to take as much as the Biafrans and may be more hurt by minor dislocations than Biafra is by major dislocations. Since assessing the will of the people and their capacity for discomfort is almost impossible, all one can say is that Nigeria looks very strong to a visitor.

The area of Nigeria seemingly least affected by the war is the old Northern Region. Yet changes have occurred there in the last few years that may affect the future stability of the country and be as vital to Nigeria in the long run as the course of the fighting in Biafra. Biafran Ibos were skeptical when in May 1967 Lieutenant-Colonel Yakubu Gowon abolished the old federal system of four regions and divided the country into twelve states (six in the North). They were convinced that the split was merely formal and that in reality the old North remained united and powerful, ready to dominate Nigeria and slap down the Ibos again should they ever return.

But is there a new North? Has the monolithic, authoritarian structure of the old Northern Region cracked ? Is separatism dead and Nigerian nationalism awake? Can the Ibos ever come back? Nigerian officials smugly reply yes to all these questions, but the answers are, in fact, elusive and contradictory. Northern officials insist that the division of the country is real and permanent, and certainly Kwara State, which is Yoruba-speaking, and Benue Plateau State, which is heavily Christian, are free from domination by the rest of the North, which is largely Hausa-speaking and dominated by Muslim Fulani emirs.

The other four states of the North also seem satisfied with the country's division. For years, the leaders of Kano, for example, felt shortchanged by the Sardauna of Sokoto in Northwestern State. Now, with the division of the North, Kano has its own state and can pursue its own interests.

Yet it would be misleading to consider the division of the North permanent at this stage. Colonel Abba Kyari, military governor of North Central State, has said that being divided into separate states would not prevent people from thinking alike. Certainly if the Muslim Hausas and their Fulani rulers ever felt threatened by an outside force, their four states could easily unite into a Muslim state almost as powerful and monolithic as the old Northern Region.

Still, there is talk of a "new North," run by "new men" instead of by the emirs. And there is some evidence that the emirs' power is diminishing. The military governors of the six northern states have appointed civilian commissioners to head the state ministries — several of them progressive, educated Northerners who have resisted the authority of the emirs in the past. In four of the states the institution of "chiefs in council" has been replaced by a governor-appointed local council, in which the emir, as chairman, has only one vote.

Another change that has come about in the North during the past few years is the influx of Yorubas, who have replaced the Ibos as Northern Nigeria's clerks, foremen, businessmen and teachers. The Northerners, who once regarded Ibos as foreign invaders, now see the Yorubas in the same light.

A year ago, rumors swept through Kano and Kaduna that the Hausas intended to slaughter the Yorubas just as the Ibos were slaughtered three years ago. Firm talk by the military governors and the emirs, however, calmed the Hausas, and the massacre never materialized. But tension still remains, and most state governments in the North prefer hiring white foreigners to Nigerian Yorubas. Despite this ethnic tension, Northern officials still speak of "one Nigeria," and there is no separatist talk. As long as the Federal Government poses no threat to the traditional North, the North will probably accept the present structure, for Gowon is a Northerner —although a Christian and a minority tribesman—and Northerners have no cause to chafe under his rule.

As for the future of the Ibos in the North, there is too little evidence to reach a conclusion. The state governments are collecting rents for Ibo property and promise to return both the property and the money to the Ibos when they come back. So far, a handful of Ibos have returned to claim their property and this small number has caused no problem. But a return of thousands might. The question of Ibos and Ibo property, like the question of Northern power and Northern separatism, can probably not be settled until after the war.

Nigeria's most dramatic disruptions recently have occurred in the West. It has been estimated that more than 200 people have been killed in clashes between agitators and the authorities since September 16, when farmers rushed the prison in Ibadan and released more than 400 persons arrested for failure to pay taxes (see "Yorubas Stir," Africa Report, November 1969).

Biafrans were elated by the news of these clashes. At the time of their secession, the Ibos were counting on the Yorubas forming a separate state of their own. Chief Obafemi Awolowo's support of the Federal Government was regarded as treachery by shocked Biafrans. Now, some Biafrans have revived their old hopes: Biafran independence founded on the foundering of the West.

But the Biafran hope is overblown. Without doubt, the inconveniences of war have contributed to the West's troubles. Taxes and the cost of goods are higher. While cocoa commands higher prices in the world market, little of the profit goes to the Yoruba farmer, since the Government keeps most of the extra revenue to pay for munitions. Traders must even bribe soldiers to get their trucks past roadblocks.

But in many ways the violence is tied less to disgruntlement with the war than to echoes of the past. The Yorubas are playing out the old Akintola-Awolowo rivalry again (Chief S. L. Akintola, the Western premier until his assassination in 1966, was opposed by Chief Obafemi Awolowo, president of the Action Group Party) and much of the rioting is aimed at discrediting Colonel Robert Adebayo and forcing the Federal military government, to split the Western state in two. The old rivalry is played out with more sophisticated weapons these days because the war has left so many modern guns around.

In a sense the West can afford the luxury of bitter political strife because it feels so aloof from the war. There is no compulsion to bury differences for the good of the war effort. But Nigeria's 150,000-man army (of which 12,000 troops are stationed in Ibadan) can handle the troubles in the West without slackening its latest offensive in Biafra, and the riots in the West are probably more indicative of Nigeria's instability after the war than of the course of the war itself.

One sign of Nigeria's inner strength is the story of oil production and the Biafran campaign against it. In April, oil production was going so well that Nigerian officials and foreign oil executives talked optimistically of reaching a production level of one million barrels a day by the end of the year. (Production had reached almost 600,000 barrels a day in April.) But then Biafra began attacking Nigerian oil installations, reducing oil production to 470,000 barrels a day by August. However, the Nigerians managed to get through the first year of the war with a much smaller oil production, and they can surely fight without strain on the revenue from 470,000 barrels a day — a royalty of perhaps $3.5 million a month.

The most depressing aspect of life in Nigeria is the atmosphere created by military rule. The soldiers are arrogant and bullying, for the army's enormous growth has come at the cost of discipline and training. Gone is the image of the honest soldier who seizes power to save the country from the corruption of politicians. The black Mercedes of the politicians have been replaced by the khaki Mercedes of the soldiers, and officers have made fortunes in bribery, looting and profiteering. Although the politicians continue to influence policy, they are despairing of ever returning to full power. Gowon has promised to return to the barracks once the war is over — but politicians are skeptical.

The tension in the North, the troubles in the West, the reduction in oil production, the malaise of military rule — all contribute to a certain weakening of spirit and morale in that part of Nigeria not directly involved in fighting the war. But Nigeria has held together fairly well during these many months of civil war, and these problems are not enough to enervate the war effort or split the country while the war is going on.

Stanley Meisler is a correspondent for the Los Angeles Times and a frequent contributor to Africa Report.