Murderous blame shifting
Former Kaduna governor alleges government payments to bandits, a claim denied by security officials.
Former Kaduna governor Nasir El-Rufai sparked controversy last week after alleging that the Federal Government is paying incentives to bandits under a policy coordinated by the Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA). He warned that appeasing criminal groups would worsen insecurity and contrasted it with the Buhari administration’s reliance on military offensives. ONSA swiftly rejected the claims as “false and baseless,” calling them insulting to the sacrifices of security forces. The row coincided with a major Boko Haram attack in Borno State, where at least 60 people were killed in Darul Jamal, a resettled community near Banki Town. Victims included civilians, travellers, and reconstruction workers caught in the overnight assault. The attack underscores the continued reach of insurgents despite years of military campaigns.
The ongoing debate about the Nigerian government’s strategies for handling insecurity was reignited by former Kaduna governor Nasir El-Rufai’s recent claim that the Federal Government is incentivising bandits. While the Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA) swiftly dismissed the claims as “false and baseless,” this denial alone doesn't change the fact that appeasement strategies are not unprecedented in Nigeria. For years, credible reports and government actions have suggested that tactics like ransom payments, prisoner exchanges, and quiet deals have been used to navigate crises.
This approach often involves public condemnation and private action, creating a pattern of double-speak. During his time in office, El-Rufai himself publicly rejected paying ransoms, but his administration facilitated a prisoner exchange to secure the release of abducted Greenfield University students in 2021, and he initially admitted to paying bandits in 2016. This contradiction is not unique. In October 2021, the Wall Street Journal reported that the Nigerian Air Force paid ₦20 million to a bandit group in Katsina to retrieve an anti-aircraft gun that could have threatened then-President Muhammadu Buhari’s aircraft. Although the Air Force denied the story, it fits a larger pattern of denials that strain credibility when viewed against other documented practices.
This appeasement has a corrosive impact. According to SBM Intel’s Economics of Kidnap report, abductors collected at least ₦2.56 billion in ransom between July 2024 and June 2025 alone. Despite a 2022 law outlawing ransom payments, the government remains among the biggest violators. Every payment or concession to these armed groups further entrenches their criminal economies, incentivises more abductions, and strengthens the shadow power structures that thrive in poorly governed areas. Bandit leaders now openly levy taxes, dictate local movement, and establish quasi-administrations in large parts of the North-West and North-Central. The problem isn’t a lack of intelligence about their location, but a lack of intent and capacity to dismantle their operations.
This dynamic was tragically underscored in Borno’s Darul Jamal community, where Boko Haram killed at least 60 civilians, travellers, and reconstruction workers in one of the deadliest attacks of the year. The community was part of Governor Babagana Zulum’s controversial resettlement programme, which the UN reluctantly endorsed in 2021. The programme was premised on claims that Boko Haram was “technically defeated” and that communities could be safely returned. Yet, the resurgence of Islamist groups in late 2024, particularly ISWAP factions, exposed the fragility of this hope-driven strategy. The Darul Jamal massacre showed that while military defences focused on base protection, civilians remained highly vulnerable—a reality that undermines both humanitarian resettlement and counterinsurgency credibility.
Another major challenge is the military’s overstretched posture. Nigeria’s armed forces are simultaneously fighting insurgents in the North-East, bandits in the Northwest, separatist militants in the Southeast, and oil thieves in the Niger Delta. This "war of attrition" is unsustainable, leaving troops fatigued and citizens exposed. Meanwhile, the police, who are constitutionally mandated to handle internal security, remain hollowed out by decades of neglect, underfunding, and political manipulation. Their absence forces the military into policing roles it’s ill-suited for, blurring lines of accountability and fuelling cycles of impunity.
Ultimately, the root of the problem is political. Successive governments have failed to overhaul Nigeria’s centralised security architecture, clinging to a federal monopoly even as insecurity outpaces central capacity. The idea of state police remains a rhetorical talking point rather than a genuine reform priority, despite being the most logical way to empower sub-national governments closest to local realities. Without decentralised policing and structural accountability, insecurity will continue to flourish in the vacuum between overstretched federal forces and under-resourced local communities.
There is also a symbolic dimension to this crisis. At moments of national trauma, such as the Borno massacre, optics matter. The President’s absence on a "working vacation" while citizens were being killed reinforced a perception of a disconnect between governance and lived realities. Nigerians are not only suffering from physical insecurity but also the psychological toll of normalising mass violence. Each attack that fails to trigger a structural response erodes state legitimacy, leaving citizens to rely on vigilantes, militias, or luck for survival.
The path forward requires more than episodic military strikes or ad hoc deals. First, the financial and logistical networks sustaining banditry and insurgency must be dismantled with the same vigour used in countering terrorism financing globally. Second, intelligence must be geared to protect state assets and shield vulnerable civilians, especially in resettled communities. Third, Nigeria must embrace security as a development challenge, investing in education, employment, and rural infrastructure to make illicit violence a less attractive way of life. Finally, decentralising security through state police and enforcing accountability for officials who collude with or enable criminal networks are indispensable reforms.
Until the Nigerian state demonstrates the political will to confront these systemic issues, insecurity will remain a viable economic enterprise and a constant feature of national life. The danger is not just the persistence of violence, but its normalisation: a slow but steady hollowing out of the state’s legitimacy in the eyes of its citizens.