If the first chapter of a nation’s security crisis is written in the shock of unexpected violence, the second is defined by how authority responds when the smoke clears.
In recent weeks, Nigerians witnessed a rare and welcome glimpse of swift state action. The rapid operation that led to the rescue of a kidnapped judge in Kebbi State alongside the arrest of suspects linked to the abduction proved that when intelligence, operational resolve, and inter-agency coordination converge, the state can still assert its supremacy over lawlessness.
That breakthrough deserves clear acknowledgement. It demonstrated what is possible when security agencies move decisively, refusing to let perpetrators dictate terms or retreat into the shadows with impunity.
Yet, as vital as the Kebbi success was, it cannot be allowed to serve as a convenient curtain drawn over a much wider, ongoing tragedy. For every high-profile rescue that makes front-page news, dozens of quiet, uncelebrated tragedies unfold across the country away from the cameras. The enterprise of mass abduction remains active, lucrative, and deeply entrenched across multiple geopolitical zones.
One need only look to the recent findings by the International Center for Reconciliation and Initiative (ICRI) on the persistent crisis in Borno State and the wider Lake Chad basin. The report paints a sobering picture of communities where rural kidnapping, highway ambushes, and targeted abductions of local farmers remain a daily reality.
In these belts, criminal syndicates and terrorist remnants operate in tandem, exploiting terrain, weak communication networks, and porous border corridors to maintain a reign of low-intensity terror. For millions of Nigerians in these vulnerable pockets, news of a successful rescue elsewhere offers cold comfort when their own roads remain unsafe and their farmlands remain off-limits.
A single victory, no matter how commendable, does not constitute a systemic turnaround. Deterrence is not built on episodic success; it is built on certainty, the absolute predictability that every attack, whether against a public official in a state capital or an unsung villager on a rural bypass, will trigger the same relentless state response.
Beyond operational tactics, however, lies the fundamental human element, the men and women tasked with standing on the frontlines. A state cannot demand extraordinary sacrifice from its security forces while subjecting them to ordinary neglect. In this regard, the Federal Government’s recent approval of an up to 80 percent salary increase for personnel of the Nigerian Armed Forces represents a long-overdue step in the right direction.
It is a policy that aligns with basic moral and operational logic. Those who lay their lives on the line confronting heavily armed bandits in dense forests, patrolling high-risk border tracks, and sleeping in trench lines should never be left to struggle for survival on meager pay. It is an indictment of priorities whenever those elected to serve the public live in opulent comfort while the troops protecting them struggle to support their families.
Rewarding our troops is not just about financial compensation; it is about dignity, morale, and national respect. But let this salary upward review be understood for what it truly is: just the beginning.
Better pay must now be matched with better equipment, modern surveillance technology, superior logistics, and uncompromised medical and family welfare packages for troops killed or wounded in action. Higher remuneration must also come with higher standards of internal discipline, tactical intelligence execution, and inter-agency synergy.
The state’s first duty remains an active, ongoing commitment. Celebrating recent breakthroughs while ignoring persistent dark spots like Borno would be a fatal miscalculation.
The victory in Kebbi showed us what our security architecture is capable of achieving; the ongoing agony in forgotten communities shows us how much work remains to be done. Until every Nigerian in every corner of this country can sleep without fear, the mission remains unfinished.