Nigeria’s latest wave of abductions, terrorist attacks and killings has once again exposed a troubling paradox at the heart of the country’s security architecture: the nation appears increasingly better at rescuing victims than preventing them from becoming victims in the first place.
The recurring pattern is familiar. Communities are attacked, citizens are abducted, families are thrown into anguish, the government expresses outrage, security agencies launch rescue operations, and, when the victims are eventually released or rescued, the nation celebrates. Then the cycle begins again.
This raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: Should Nigeria’s defence strategy continue to revolve around rescuing victims after attacks, or should it become more focused on preventing attacks before they happen?
The answer should be obvious.
Nigeria needs a defence and security posture that is increasingly proactive rather than predominantly reactive.
The recent directive by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for the Armed Forces, police, Department of State Services and other intelligence agencies to launch an immediate coordinated operation to rescue victims of the mass abduction in Niger State is understandable and necessary. The lives of abducted Nigerians must be prioritised, and every legitimate effort must be made to bring them home safely.
But rescue cannot become the principal measure of success in national defence.
A successful defence system should first make it difficult for criminals and terrorists to attack communities, abduct citizens or operate freely in Nigeria’s forests and remote settlements.
There is an important distinction between defence and rescue.
Rescue is what happens after the security line has already been breached. Defence, properly understood, is about creating the conditions under which that breach is unlikely to occur in the first place.
When dozens of citizens are abducted and the government’s most visible response is to order security agencies to rescue them, it inevitably raises questions about what happened before the attack.
Were there intelligence reports?
Were suspicious movements detected?
Were security agencies adequately deployed to vulnerable communities?
Were local warnings acted upon?
Were known criminal routes and hideouts being monitored?
Could the attack have been disrupted before the perpetrators reached their targets?
These questions are not intended to diminish the bravery of security personnel involved in rescue operations. On the contrary, Nigerian soldiers, police officers and intelligence personnel continue to operate under extremely difficult circumstances. Many have paid the ultimate price in the line of duty.
The problem is therefore not necessarily the courage of the men and women on the front lines. It is the broader strategy, coordination, intelligence architecture, logistics and political will required to move from reacting to attacks to preventing them.
For too long, Nigeria’s security conversation has been dominated by what happens after terrorists and kidnappers strike.
A village is attacked — security agencies respond.
A school is invaded — security agencies respond.
A convoy is ambushed — security agencies respond.
Citizens are kidnapped — security agencies respond.
This reactive cycle cannot deliver lasting security.
Nigeria needs to know where criminal groups are operating, how they are financed, how they move, who supplies them with weapons and information, and which networks enable them to operate with impunity.
That requires stronger intelligence gathering and, perhaps more importantly, the capacity to convert intelligence into timely action.
Intelligence that arrives after an attack is documentation. Intelligence that enables authorities to prevent an attack is defence.
Technology must also become central to this transformation. Nigeria cannot effectively secure vast forests, remote communities and difficult terrain using conventional patrols alone. Surveillance systems, drones, satellite imagery, data analysis, secure communications and other lawful technologies should be deployed strategically to identify threats before they mature into attacks.
But technology alone will not solve the problem.
There must be better coordination among the Armed Forces, police, intelligence services and other security institutions. Criminals do not respect institutional boundaries. A kidnapping operation may involve intelligence gathering, transportation, weapons, communications and financial networks crossing several jurisdictions.
Nigeria’s security agencies must therefore operate with a level of coordination that matches the sophistication of the threats they face.
There is also a compelling case for strengthening community-based intelligence.
People living in vulnerable communities often know when strange faces appear, when unfamiliar motorcycles or vehicles begin moving through their neighbourhoods, or when armed groups establish temporary camps nearby. But information from communities is only useful when residents trust that security agencies will protect them and act on credible intelligence.
Building that trust should be a national security priority.
At the same time, the country must confront the economic ecosystem that sustains kidnapping and terrorism. Criminality thrives when there is money to be made and insufficient risk of punishment. Every successful ransom payment, arms transaction or illicit financial transfer potentially strengthens the criminal enterprise.
Therefore, defeating insecurity requires not only military operations but also financial intelligence, investigation, prosecution and disruption of criminal networks.
The government must also rethink the definition of victory.
Rescuing 50 kidnapped citizens is undoubtedly a success. But preventing those 50 people from being kidnapped in the first place is a far greater victory.
Bringing an abducted child home is commendable. Ensuring that the child is never taken from school is better.
Destroying a terrorist camp after an attack is important. Detecting and neutralising the threat before the attack is infinitely more effective.
This is where the conversation around Nigeria’s defence strategy must go.
The country cannot afford a security system that measures success primarily by the number of people rescued after they have been abducted. The ultimate objective should be to create an environment in which mass abductions become increasingly difficult to plan and execute.
There will, of course, always be circumstances in which rescue operations are unavoidable. No security system can prevent every crime. But a country that repeatedly finds itself mobilising after attacks must honestly examine whether enough is being done before those attacks occur.
Nigeria’s defence establishment must therefore increasingly defend forward — through intelligence, surveillance, deterrence, strategic deployment, community engagement and decisive action against threats before they reach vulnerable populations.
The language of national security should consequently evolve from “rescue” to “prevent, deter and defend.”
The families of abducted Nigerians deserve rescue. But millions of Nigerians deserve something even more fundamental: the assurance that their government and security forces will do everything within their capacity to prevent them from becoming victims in the first place.
Nigeria does not need fewer rescue operations because rescuing victims is unimportant. It needs fewer rescue operations because there should be fewer victims to rescue.
That is the real test of national defence.
And perhaps the time has come for Nigeria to move from asking, “How quickly can we rescue them?” to the more important question:
“Why were they not protected in the first place?”
