For the second time in seven years I have had the unpleasant experience of seeing someone close snatched off one of Nigeria’s highways by faceless gunmen. In both instances, the only difference was identity of the victims; the sense of helplessness hasn’t changed with time.
In 2018, we were advised by a very senior security official to negotiate with the kidnappers to preserve life – with the promise that after release the abductors would be apprehended. In the latest episode, the families involved, who had clearly lost confidence in institutions of state being able to deliver their loved ones, preferred to negotiate with the cold voice at the other end of a phone call.
Hardly a week passes without some harrowing new tale of people taken into captivity against their will by criminals for a lucrative return. Their methods are unchanged: terrorise hapless families with ominous threats if demands are not met. Ransom claims remain ambitious – always in the tens of millions of naira.
Many of these stories occasionally find their way into social and mainstream media; myriads go unreported with those at the receiving end of the trauma preferring to lick their wounds away from public glare.
In one recent case, a young woman named Aisha Wahab who was seized in Auchi, Edo State, spent weeks in captivity. Her plight drew attention after she was seen on social media appealing to friends and family for N20 million to secure her liberty.
She was kidnapped at Igbira Camp in Auchi by gunmen who took her into the forest. Her abductors threatened to kill her if the ransom wasn’t paid by Friday, October 24, 2025. She has since been freed after public-spirited persons raised the amount.
Some other victims were slightly luckier in that they only had to undergo the horrors of captivity, without their families being stripped financially. A few days ago, the Nigeria Army freed 23 persons who had been abducted in parts of Kwara State. Ifelodun, Edu, and Patigi Local Government Areas of the state as well as parts of Kogi, have witnessed an upsurge in kidnapping.
Once confined to the Niger Delta militancy era and later to the bandit-plagued Northwest, kidnapping for ransom has now spread across all six geopolitical zones. Highways, schools, and even homes are no longer safe. What is troubling is not just the frequency of these abductions, but the growing sense that the state has lost control of parts of its territory – the so-called ungoverned spaces.
The numbers tell a grim story. By most estimates, thousands have been kidnapped in the past few years, with billions of naira paid in ransom. The victims are not confined to the wealthy – drivers, artisans, farmers, traders, and students have all fallen prey. It is now a crime that feeds on the vulnerabilities of the poor as well as the powerful.
Despite numerous security summits and policy pronouncements, the government’s response remains reactive and fragmented. Some states have passed laws providing the death penalty for those found guilty of kidnapping. Others have been demolishing houses linked with kidnappers. Clearly, these measures haven’t been much of a deterrent.
Security agencies often appear overstretched, under-equipped, and poorly coordinated. Arrests are sporadic, convictions few and far between. What Nigerians mostly see is a pattern: outrage after an attack, high-level meetings, promises of reform, and then silence until the next abduction.
This apparent helplessness is rooted in deeper structural problems. Decades of underinvestment in policing, a weak intelligence network, the politicisation of security appointments, and the absence of local policing have created a vacuum. The problem is compounded by recent economic challenges which have which the criminally-minded have taken advantage of.
As this criminal activity grows, the country faces a test of state capacity and political will. But Nigeria wouldn’t be the first to be terrorised by this scourge. Many others have confronted similar challenges and in some cases, overcame them.
Colombia, for instance, was once dubbed the ‘kidnapping capital of the world,’ in the 1990s when guerrilla groups and criminal gangs made abductions a daily occurrence. The government responded with tough law enforcement, intelligence-driven operations, and sweeping reforms to professionalise the police.
Equally critical was political will – a clear, sustained commitment over many years made the state, not private ransom payments, the centre of response. Over time, the frequency of abductions dropped sharply as the government tightened control and restored public confidence.
In Mexico which also struggled with the problem, the authorities focused on improving coordination between federal and local police, strengthening anti-kidnapping units, and establishing hotlines and rapid-response systems that made it easier for citizens to report abductions early. Although the country still battles organised crime, its approach has significantly reduced incidents.
The Philippines offers another useful model. Faced with a spike in abductions in the early 2000s, it created a special Anti-Kidnapping Group within the national police, empowered with intelligence resources and operational autonomy. The unit was backed by consistent political support and public trust, which allowed it to carry out targeted operations and dismantle several high-profile rings. The country significantly reduced kidnap-for-ransom cases over time.
Nigeria can learn from these experiences. The key ingredients are not mysterious: a professional and intelligence-driven police force; strong inter-agency coordination; credible prosecution and community involvement in intelligence gathering.
At the heart of our problem is a policing system that no longer fits the scale or complexity of today’s security challenges. The centralised structure makes it ill-suited for the kind of local intelligence and rapid response that effective anti-kidnapping efforts require.
If the country is to make progress, there must be a serious conversation about policing reform – one that moves beyond political slogans and fears of misuse by state governments. Properly designed state or regional police forces, subject to clear oversight and accountability, could help fill the vast security gaps that now exist. States already spend large sums supporting federal police operations; it makes sense to give them the tools and authority to do more than play a supporting role. But up till now the debate has been stymied by fear those who ultimately control these forces would abuse them.
Technology also has a role to play. In countries that have reduced kidnapping, technology-driven surveillance, data analysis, and digital reporting platforms have been central to success.
President Bola Tinubu’s administration has an opportunity to redefine the state’s security outlook. While economic reforms dominate the headlines, the safety of Nigerians remains the foundation upon which all else rests. A government that cannot guarantee security risks having its economic and political achievements undervalued.
If the government is serious about ending this cycle, it must drive policing reform to its logical conclusion – empowering states to take ownership of internal security through well-trained, accountable local forces. Intelligence must underpin operations, not politics. Security funding must be transparent, and successes must be measured not by press releases, but by safer roads, freed hostages, and communities that no longer live in fear.
Only then will Nigerians begin to believe that the state is truly reclaiming its authority from the grip of criminality. Until that happens, the country will continue to live under the shadow of a menace that has turned ordinary citizens into hostages in their own land.