By Mohammed Bello Doka
The announcement by Bayo Onanuga, spokesperson to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, that the remaining 130 schoolchildren abducted from St. Mary’s Catholic School, Papiri, Niger State, have been released should have been a moment of pure national relief. Two hundred and thirty children, taken by terrorists on November 21, are now free and expected to reunite with their parents in Minna ahead of Christmas.
That fact alone matters. The lives of children matter.
But in a country battered by years of mass abductions, ransom rackets, and recycled official statements, Nigerians are no longer satisfied with announcements. Nigerians demand explanations.
The Facebook post claims the release followed a “military-intelligence driven operation.” This phrase has now become a familiar refrain in Nigeria’s security communication—used repeatedly, rarely explained, and almost never audited. What exactly does it mean in concrete terms?
Was there a gunfight or a rescue operation?
Were the abductors arrested, killed, or forced to surrender?
Were weapons recovered?
Were camps dismantled?
Or was this, once again, a negotiation dressed up in security language?
These questions are not insensitive. They are necessary.
For years, Nigerians have watched a dangerous pattern unfold: children are abducted, negotiations quietly happen, ransoms are allegedly paid through intermediaries, captives are released, and the kidnappers return to the forests richer, bolder, and more organized. If this cycle continues unchecked, then every successful “release” becomes an advertisement for future kidnappings.
If no ransom was paid, the government must say so clearly and provide verifiable details.
If ransom was paid, Nigerians deserve to know who authorized it, how much was paid, and why public policy continues to reward terrorism.
If arrests were made, names, numbers, and charges should be disclosed.
If no arrests were made, then what exactly was won beyond temporary relief?
Silence only fuels suspicion.
More troubling is the international implication of this culture of secrecy. Nigeria is increasingly viewed through a global security lens, not just as a fragile state, but as one struggling to confront terrorism decisively. When governments celebrate outcomes without disclosing methods, foreign partners begin to draw their own conclusions.
Why should international agencies not classify Nigeria as a country of particular concern when armed groups abduct hundreds of children with alarming ease and appear to negotiate their way out without consequences? Why should global actors believe Nigeria is winning the war on terror when terrorists routinely survive, regroup, and rearm?
Even the diplomatic environment has grown harsher. Under Donald Trump, the United States has previously adopted blunt security classifications against countries it deems unable or unwilling to confront internal threats decisively. Should Nigeria be shocked if similar labels resurface when transparency remains absent?
And how does the government explain the reputational damage caused when the ruling party, the All Progressives Congress, was reportedly designated a terrorist organization by a Canadian court months ago? Whether the government agrees with that decision or not, perception matters in international relations—and perception is shaped by patterns, not press statements.
If kidnappers are never publicly dismantled, if their financing channels are never exposed, if intelligence successes are never followed by prosecutions, then the world sees a state managing terrorism, not defeating it.
Nigerians are not asking for classified operational secrets. They are asking for accountability. They are asking to know whether their government is protecting lives without empowering criminals. They are asking whether future schoolchildren are safer today than they were yesterday.
Above all, Nigerians are asking a simple, painful question:
Are these releases signs of victory—or evidence of a system that has learned to coexist with terror?
Until the government answers plainly, every announcement of freedom will carry an uncomfortable shadow. Relief will come—but trust will not.
Abuja Network News
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Opinion