by Mohammed Bello Doka
14 March, 2026
Nigeria today stands at a crossroads of security crisis and accountability deficit. The string of mass kidnappings that have defined the past decade — from Chibok to Jangebe to the harrowing school raids in Kebbi, Niger and Kwara states — is not merely a catalogue of suffering; it is a searing indictment of leadership failures that have gone unanswered. Yet, amid spiralling insecurity, the federal government’s refusal to address serious public concerns has fed suspicion, eroded trust, and made political rancour the dominant national discourse.
No one questions the emotional weight of loss: the nearly 25 schoolgirls abducted from the Government Girls Comprehensive Secondary School in Maga, Kebbi State in November 2025, who were later rescued after an operation whose details remain opaque. No claim of ransom has been independently verified, but the girls’ safe return was welcomed by President Bola Tinubu as a national relief.
Just days later, in Niger State’s Papiri community, armed gunmen stalked St. Mary’s Catholic School and abducted scores of students and teachers. Reports suggest that some hostages later escaped and others were freed, but the episode has become part of a broader pattern of insecurity that demands more than superficial comment.
These attacks occur against an unsettling backdrop: armed groups exploit Nigeria’s porous hinterlands, kidnapping civilians and schoolchildren with tragic frequency, and the official responses — when publicly delineated — are sometimes vague, tactical, or reactive. The public deserves clarity about how policies are designed to prevent such recurrence, not merely relief when hostages are eventually freed.
Into this vacuum of accountability have stepped heated political allegations — most notably from former Kaduna State Governor Nasir El‑Rufai. Between late 2025 and early 2026, he publicly challenged the Federal Government’s security strategy and called out national authorities on matters of policy, practice, and transparency. Whether one agrees with his politics or not, the refusal by the federal authorities to meaningfully engage with the substance of these concerns only deepens public mistrust.
El‑Rufai’s criticisms — repeatedly articulated on national television and through public correspondence — have focused on what he perceives as the government’s non‑kinetic approach to banditry and mass abduction incidents. While the Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA) and other federal bodies have categorically denied allegations of ransom payments or improper negotiations, they have never offered a comprehensive, transparent account of strategy and outcomes.
When reports emerged in international media that intelligence sources claimed ransom funds were delivered to secure the release of hostages, the government’s response was to deny it categorically and dismiss the reports as false and baseless. But the absence of transparent information — not the presence of a clear counter‑narrative — is what fuels public suspicion.
This is the heart of the crisis: insecurity is endemic — defined by kidnappings, armed raids, and targeted attacks — yet the public narrative offered by leadership often lacks detail, context, or accountability. The National Assembly, opposition parties, civil society, and citizens have repeatedly pressed for full disclosure: what precisely are the terms of negotiation? By what legal authority does security policy prioritise alternate strategies? How does the government weigh the ethical and long‑term security risks of engaging with criminals?
Instead of answers, Nigerians have seen political theatrics. A prominent example is the government’s focus on a televised claim about intercepted communications involving the NSA and El‑Rufai, which has been the subject of intense media and legal scrutiny. The administration’s push to characterise El‑Rufai as having admitted to unlawful actions on television has, by implication, suggested that the NSA’s office is being used to settle political scores — a charge that, ironically, highlights concerns about the politicisation of national security institutions. Such controversies expand a culture of accusation without accountability.
Meanwhile, detention processes and alleged procedural irregularities in El‑Rufai’s case have raised additional concerns about fair treatment and access to justice. Reports of delays in arraignment and restrictions on access to family and legal counsel, whether accurate or exaggerated in political discourse, fuel a perception that the criminal justice process is being used as a political tool. In a democracy committed to the rule of law, perception matters as much as practice — and both must be beyond reproach.
It is here that Nigeria’s leaders fall into a dangerous pattern: rather than addressing legitimate questions with facts, transparency, and documented policy explanations, the government relies on denials, dismissals, and media counter‑attacks. This approach damages credibility, weakens institutional trust, and allows insecurity narratives to be weaponised politically rather than analysed constructively.
As the philosopher John Stuart Mill warned in “On Liberty”, the value of unfettered inquiry — not merely political dissent — is central to a functioning society. Even when allegations are contentious or contested, they must be met with evidence, openness, and reasoned public explanation, not derision or suppression.
Similarly, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis once wrote that “sunlight is the best disinfectant” — meaning that transparency and public scrutiny are essential to counter corruption and restore faith in governance.
Yet what do Nigerians see? They see endless headlines about disputes, denials, and political wrangling but very little concrete information about how billions are allocated for security, how strategies are measured for success or failure, and how public concerns about national strategy are substantively addressed.
This is not merely about El‑Rufai. It is about the Buhari, Tinubu, and successive federal administrations’ approach to insecurity, which often oscillates between denial and defensive posturing instead of strategic clarity. It is about ensuring that hostages — whether schoolgirls, congregants, or villagers — are protected not once but always, through a security architecture that is transparent, accountable, and law‑based.
Nigeria’s people are entitled to know:
What is the government’s defined strategy on banditry and insurgency?
What metrics exist to evaluate success or failure?
If negotiations occur, under what legal and ethical frameworks do they proceed?
How are ransom policies defined, enforced, and overseen?
These are not partisan questions. They are public interest questions that should be answered with data, documentation, and accountability — not deflection.
The nation cannot heal while its leaders engage in performative denial and political blame games. It needs accountability, clarity, and sincerity of purpose.
Nigeria deserves answers — not accusations. The Federal Government must do more than deny; it must demonstrate, explain, and justify, with evidence and respect for the law. And if it cannot, then it must ask itself why its silence speaks louder than its assurances.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
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