By Tony Onyima, PhD.
By any objective measure, Nigeria is facing a grave national emergency. Yet the country appears to be responding to it with a disturbing sense of normalcy.
Almost every week brings fresh reports of abductions. Schoolchildren are seized from classrooms. Travellers disappear from highways. Farmers are kidnapped from their farmlands. Worshippers are attacked in places of prayer. Communities are forced to negotiate with criminals for the freedom of their loved ones. What was once regarded as an occasional security challenge has evolved into a thriving criminal enterprise that now threatens the foundations of the Nigerian state.
The recent intervention by the Order of Knights of Saint Mulumba Nigeria (KSM) should therefore not be dismissed as just another reaction to the nation’s worsening insecurity. Rather, it is a timely warning about a crisis that is steadily eroding public confidence in government and undermining the country’s prospects for development. In a strongly worded statement, the Supreme Knight of the Order, Sir Steve Adehi, SAN, expressed profound concern over what he described as the alarming escalation of kidnappings, abductions, and violent criminal activities across Nigeria. His warning was both stark and sobering:
“Nigeria cannot continue on this perilous path. A nation where citizens live under the constant threat of abduction cannot achieve meaningful development, attract investment, or guarantee a hopeful future for its young people. The time for decisive action is now.” His words capture the essence of a national tragedy that has become frighteningly routine.
The statistics alone are enough to provoke outrage. Reports indicate that more than 600 pupils and teachers have been abducted since 2024 despite the Federal Government’s investment of approximately N145 billion in the Safe Schools Initiative. The figure raises uncomfortable but necessary questions about the effectiveness of current security measures and the state’s capacity to protect its most vulnerable citizens. If schools cannot be secured after such enormous public expenditure, where exactly can Nigerians feel safe?
The recent attacks on educational institutions in Oyo and Borno States provide a disturbing answer. Armed criminals invaded schools, abducted pupils and teachers, and in one particularly horrifying case, murdered an abducted teacher. These are not isolated incidents. They are symptoms of a deeper national malaise. Sir Steve Adehi rightly described the targeting of schools as especially reprehensible, observing that: “Educational institutions should be sanctuaries of learning, character formation, and hope for the future, not hunting grounds for kidnappers and merchants of terror.”
Nothing better illustrates the tragedy confronting Nigeria today. Schools represent hope, opportunity, and the promise of social mobility. When criminals successfully transform them into theatres of fear, the consequences extend far beyond the immediate victims. Parents become reluctant to send their children to school. Teachers hesitate to accept postings in vulnerable communities. Educational attainment suffers. Communities become trapped in cycles of insecurity and underdevelopment.
The psychological impact is equally devastating. Children who survive abduction often carry emotional scars long after their release. Families are subjected to unimaginable trauma. Entire communities live under the shadow of fear and uncertainty.
Yet perhaps the most disturbing development is the gradual normalisation of these horrors. Every major kidnapping triggers public outrage, media coverage, official condemnations, and promises of decisive action. Then another abduction occurs, and the cycle begins again. What ought to be regarded as a national scandal increasingly risks becoming another item in the daily news cycle. This normalisation is dangerous.
A society that becomes accustomed to criminality risks losing its collective capacity for outrage. When citizens begin to regard kidnapping as an inevitable feature of national life rather than a failure of governance, the battle for public security has already been partly lost.
The crisis also exposes a troubling disconnect between government spending and measurable outcomes. Security budgets continue to rise. New initiatives are launched. Additional deployments are announced. Equipment is procured. Yet millions of Nigerians remain uncertain whether they can safely travel between cities, farm their lands, attend school, or worship without fear of attack. This is not to diminish the sacrifices of security personnel. Across the country, soldiers, police officers, intelligence operatives, and other security agents continue to risk their lives in difficult circumstances. Their dedication deserves recognition and support.
However, acknowledging their sacrifices should not prevent Nigerians from asking difficult questions. Why do kidnappers continue to operate with such audacity? How are criminal networks able to repeatedly strike schools, highways, and communities? Why do many victims remain in captivity for extended periods despite public attention and official assurances? These are not partisan questions. They are questions of national survival.
The KSM statement correctly argues that Nigerians deserve more than reactive responses after tragedies have occurred. As Sir Steve Adehi observed: “Nigerians deserve more than reactive responses after tragic incidents have occurred; they deserve proactive, intelligence-driven security that prevents such crimes from happening in the first place.”
That observation goes to the heart of the problem. Effective security is not measured by how quickly the government reacts after an attack. It is measured by how successfully such attacks are prevented. What Nigeria requires today is a comprehensive security strategy anchored on intelligence gathering, technological surveillance, inter-agency cooperation, and community participation. The criminal networks behind kidnappings must be dismantled systematically. Their sponsors, informants, financiers, and collaborators must be identified, prosecuted, and punished.
Equally important is the need to address the socio-economic conditions that continue to fuel criminality. Youth unemployment, poverty, weak governance structures, and the proliferation of illicit weapons have combined to create fertile ground for banditry, kidnapping, and violent extremism. Security operations alone cannot solve problems rooted in social and economic dysfunction.
Nevertheless, the government’s immediate constitutional responsibility remains clear. As the Supreme Knight pointedly reminded the nation: “The protection of lives and property remains the primary responsibility of government, and no effort should be spared in dismantling the criminal networks that have turned kidnapping into a lucrative industry.”
The phrase “lucrative industry” is particularly telling. Kidnapping in Nigeria has evolved beyond opportunistic crime. In many parts of the country, it has become a sophisticated enterprise complete with financiers, informants, logistics networks, negotiators, and revenue streams. Unless these networks are comprehensively disrupted, isolated arrests and sporadic military operations will yield only temporary gains.
The economic implications of this insecurity are enormous. Investors seek stability. Businesses require predictability. Economic growth depends on public confidence. A country where highways are unsafe, schools are vulnerable, and citizens fear for their lives inevitably struggles to attract investment and create jobs.
Beyond economics lies an even deeper concern. Persistent insecurity weakens public trust in institutions. It fuels frustration, cynicism, and social fragmentation. Over time, communities may become tempted to seek their own means of protection, thereby creating conditions that threaten the rule of law and national cohesion.
This is why the fight against kidnapping cannot be left solely to security agencies. State governments, traditional rulers, religious leaders, community associations, and civil society organisations must all play active roles in intelligence gathering, public awareness, and support for lawful efforts to restore peace.
Yet ultimate responsibility rests with the government.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration must recognise that Nigerians increasingly assess governance through the lens of personal security. Citizens may endure economic reforms and temporary hardship. What they cannot indefinitely tolerate is a situation in which travelling on a highway, attending school, farming, or worshipping becomes a potentially life-threatening undertaking.
Nigeria stands at a critical crossroads. The nation can either confront this crisis with the urgency and determination it demands or continue down a path where kidnapping becomes further entrenched as a permanent feature of national life. The choice should be obvious. A nation governed by fear cannot achieve its full potential. People living under the constant threat of abduction cannot build a prosperous future. And a government that struggles to guarantee security risks losing the confidence of those it serves.
The alarm from the Order of Knights of Saint Mulumba Nigeria should therefore be taken seriously. It is not merely the concern of a Catholic lay organisation. It is the voice of countless Nigerians who are tired of living in fear and who expect their government to fulfil its most fundamental obligation.
As Sir Steve Adehi warned, “The time for decisive action is now. The country can no longer afford to delay.
