An Oblong Media Global Intelligence Strategic Analysis.
By Chima Nnadi-Oforgu (Duruebube Uzii na Abosi)
There comes a point in the life of every nation when its citizens must stop asking whether a problem exists and begin asking why those entrusted with solving it appear unable, unwilling, or incapable of bringing it under control.
Nigeria appears to have reached that point.
For decades, Nigerians have been told that security is the primary responsibility of government. It is the first duty of the state and the foundation upon which every other aspect of national development rests. Without security, there can be no meaningful economic growth, no sustainable agricultural revolution, no industrialisation, no educational advancement, no healthcare transformation and certainly no national cohesion.
Yet today, more than sixty years after independence, millions of Nigerians wake up every morning uncertain whether they will return home alive.
Farmers wonder whether they will be kidnapped on their farms.
Students wonder whether they will be abducted from their schools.
Motorists wonder whether they will encounter armed gangs on highways.
Businesses wonder whether they can continue operating under mounting security costs.
Entire communities wonder whether they will survive another night.
This is not how functioning nations operate.
This is how nations begin to unravel.
From Borno to Benue, Zamfara to Kaduna, Plateau to Niger, Katsina to Sokoto and increasingly parts of the South East and South West, insecurity has evolved from a serious challenge into an existential threat to the Nigerian state itself.
What makes the situation even more alarming is that this crisis is unfolding despite unprecedented security expenditure. Over the last decade, successive administrations have allocated trillions of naira to defence and security. Military budgets have expanded dramatically. Fighter aircraft have been acquired. Armoured personnel carriers have been purchased. Surveillance platforms have been procured. Yet the average Nigerian feels less secure today than at any time since the Nigerian Civil War.
According to multiple conflict monitoring organisations, thousands of Nigerians continue to lose their lives annually to terrorism, banditry, communal violence, kidnapping and organised criminality. Thousands more are abducted every year. Entire villages have been emptied. Schools have been shut down. Rural economies have collapsed. Agricultural production has been severely disrupted in many parts of the country.
The economic implications are staggering.
The World Bank and numerous economic analysts have repeatedly identified insecurity as one of the largest obstacles to investment and economic growth in Nigeria. Farmers are abandoning fertile lands. Transportation costs have skyrocketed. Food inflation continues to rise. Businesses spend increasing amounts on private security. Foreign investors either delay projects or move capital elsewhere.
In simple terms, insecurity has become one of the largest invisible taxes imposed upon Nigerians.
The question therefore becomes unavoidable.
Why do the killers keep winning?
Why do terrorists continue to launch attacks despite repeated military offensives?
Why do bandits continue to operate across vast stretches of forest reserves?
Why do kidnappers repeatedly strike highways, universities and communities despite the presence of security agencies?
Why do criminal networks appear capable of replacing their losses almost as quickly as security agencies inflict them?
These are not partisan questions.
These are questions of national survival.
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of Nigeria’s security crisis is the growing perception that criminality has become a low risk, high reward enterprise.
Kidnappers collect millions in ransom.
Bandits impose taxes on entire villages.
Criminal gangs establish sophisticated networks spanning multiple states.
Terrorist organisations recruit new members despite military pressure.
Yet successful arrests, prosecutions and convictions remain disproportionately low compared to the scale of criminal activity.
The issue may not simply be punishment.
The issue may be certainty.
Too many criminals appear convinced they will never be caught.
Too many sponsors appear convinced they will never be exposed.
Too many financiers appear convinced they will never face justice.
The greatest deterrent to crime is not necessarily the severity of punishment. The greatest deterrent is the certainty that every criminal will be identified, arrested, prosecuted and punished.
Unfortunately, many Nigerians no longer possess confidence in that certainty.
This naturally leads to another uncomfortable question.
Why has Nigeria spent such enormous sums on defence and security while insecurity continues to expand geographically?
The issue is not whether Nigerian soldiers and security personnel are making sacrifices. Thousands have paid the ultimate price defending the country. Many continue to serve under extraordinarily difficult conditions. The courage and patriotism of many frontline personnel cannot be questioned.
The issue is whether the overall system remains fit for purpose.
Across the country, allegations of intelligence leaks, compromised operations, insider collusion and institutional infiltration continue to circulate. While allegations must never be mistaken for proof, history demonstrates that no insurgency survives purely because of firepower.
From Afghanistan to Iraq, from Colombia to the Sahel, insurgent movements have frequently relied upon corruption, intelligence compromise, insider support, political protection and institutional weaknesses.
Nigeria cannot assume it is immune from such realities.
This is why independent military audits, counter-intelligence investigations, lifestyle and asset verification of senior officers, stronger parliamentary oversight and whistleblower protection mechanisms have become increasingly necessary.
Without internal accountability, external victories will remain temporary.
Compounding the challenge is the fact that Nigeria appears to be fighting multiple wars simultaneously.
In the North-East, Boko Haram and ISWAP continue to pose serious threats despite years of military operations.
In the North-West, heavily armed bandit groups have evolved into sophisticated criminal enterprises capable of controlling vast rural territories.
In the North-Central, recurring communal conflicts, farmer-herder clashes and organised criminal gangs continue to destabilise communities.
In the South-East, kidnapping has become an increasingly lucrative criminal industry, threatening economic activity and public confidence.
In the Niger Delta, oil theft and illegal refining continue to drain billions of dollars from the national economy annually.
Along Nigeria’s maritime corridors, piracy, illegal bunkering and transnational smuggling remain persistent challenges.
Few countries in the world confront such a diverse range of active security threats simultaneously.
The strain on manpower, logistics, intelligence assets and operational funding is enormous.
It is therefore unsurprising that increasing numbers of Nigerians have revived discussions about specialised intervention forces and external military expertise.
Many Nigerians remember reports that foreign military contractors assisted Nigerian forces during the final years of President Goodluck Jonathan’s administration in reversing some of Boko Haram’s territorial gains. Whether one agrees with that approach or not, the broader lesson remains important: unconventional threats often require unconventional responses.
The terrorists, kidnappers and criminal networks threatening Nigeria today do not operate according to conventional military doctrine.
They are mobile.
They are adaptive.
They exploit forests, porous borders, technology and local intelligence networks.
Defeating such threats requires a similarly adaptive response.
It was against this backdrop that I proposed the establishment of a Special Operations Command (SOC), a highly specialised national rapid response force integrating elite military capabilities, intelligence assets, advanced technology and law-enforcement expertise.
Such a force would not replace the military, police or intelligence agencies. Rather, it would complement them by focusing exclusively on high value counter terrorism, hostage rescue, anti kidnapping operations and the dismantling of organised criminal networks.
Drawing inspiration from elite formations such as the SAS, Delta Force and other internationally respected special operations units, the SOC would be designed for speed, flexibility, precision and technological superiority.
Its operatives would undergo rigorous selection processes and specialised training in counter terrorism, cyber intelligence, drone operations, surveillance, electronic warfare, hostage rescue and unconventional warfare.
However, military capability alone is not enough.
One of the greatest lessons from successful counter insurgency campaigns around the world is that local communities remain the most valuable source of intelligence.
Communities know who arrives.
Communities know who disappears.
Communities know where criminals hide.
Communities know who collaborates.
The challenge has always been creating enough trust for people to speak.
This is why any effective security architecture must include robust community engagement programmes, local intelligence partnerships and mechanisms for protecting citizens who provide information.
No security strategy can succeed without the confidence and cooperation of the people.
The insecurity crisis is also destroying institutions that should be driving Nigeria’s future.
Consider the case of the Federal University of Technology, Owerri (FUTO), one of Nigeria’s premier technology institutions. How can a university fulfil its mandate when the roads leading into and around the institution are in deplorable condition? How can students, lecturers and researchers thrive when adjoining forests become potential hideouts for kidnappers and criminal gangs? How can innovation flourish when fear becomes part of everyday life?
The same question applies across countless institutions and communities nationwide.
A farmer cannot farm in fear.
A trader cannot trade in fear.
A student cannot learn in fear.
An investor cannot invest in fear.
A nation cannot develop in fear.
This is why security must no longer be viewed solely as a military issue.
It is an economic issue.
It is an educational issue.
It is an agricultural issue.
It is a developmental issue.
Above all, it is a governance issue.
Nigeria therefore requires more than rhetoric.
It requires special anti terror and anti kidnapping courts capable of delivering swift justice.
It requires modern forensic laboratories and scientific investigative capabilities.
It requires aggressive confiscation of criminal assets.
It requires drones, satellites, artificial intelligence and modern surveillance systems.
It requires stronger border security.
It requires intelligence reform.
It requires regional cooperation.
It requires institutional accountability.
Most importantly, it requires political courage.
Governors must increasingly be judged by security outcomes.
Legislators must increasingly be judged by security outcomes.
Security chiefs must increasingly be judged by security outcomes.
Presidents must increasingly be judged by security outcomes.
Not by speeches.
Not by press conferences.
Not by propaganda.
By results.
Because perhaps Nigeria’s greatest security threat is no longer Boko Haram.
It may not be ISWAP.
It may not be banditry.
It may not even be kidnapping.
Nigeria’s greatest security threat may be the growing belief among ordinary citizens that the state can no longer guarantee their safety.
That belief is dangerous.
Because when citizens lose confidence in the state’s ability to protect them, they inevitably begin searching for alternative protectors.
History teaches us that nations often reach crossroads where decisive action becomes unavoidable.
Nigeria appears to be standing at such a crossroads today.
The question is no longer whether insecurity exists.
The question is whether the Nigerian state still possesses the political will, institutional discipline, strategic imagination and national resolve required to defeat it.
The answer to that question may determine not only the future of Nigeria’s security architecture.
It may determine the future of the Federal Republic itself.
And if decisive action is not taken soon, future generations may one day ask a painful question:
When the warning signs were visible to everyone, why did those entrusted with power fail to act?
By Chima Nnadi-OforguDuruebube Uzii na Abosi
For Oblong Media Global Intelligence
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