Opinion
General Abubakar, was MKO’s death really natural?
Trinidad and Tobago-born British writer of works of fiction and nonfiction in English, Sir Vidiadhar Surajprasad Naipaul, commonly known as V.S. Naipaul, would seem to have Nigeria and the facts of Chief Moshood Kashimawo Olawale (MKO) Abiola’s death in military detention in mind when he wrote his famous novel, ‘Half of Life’. Renowned for and indeed underscored by the Swedish Academy which awarded him the 2001 Nobel Prize in Literature for his “incorruptible scrutiny in works that compel us to see the presence of suppressed histories”, summarized, Naipaul’s ‘Half of Life’ is a life of lie lionised to be true.
It was the life of Willie Somerset Chandran. Born to a Brahmin father, his father gave him the middle name, Somerset as an homage to English writer, Somerset Maugham. He however despised this middle name and in the bid to hide it, he left India for London to study. There, he shrouded off that name and faked the facts of his life for many years, mimicking in the process other people’s behavior, in order to hide his past. In the end, reality caught up with Somerset as he had to remove his self-imposed mask and eventually come to terms with “the presence of suppressed history”.
Since the announcement of his death in detention in 1998, a world that salivated for the actual truth of Abiola’s sudden death got swallowed in official narratives that lack logic. It is a cruel world where interrupting a flourishing life midstream is commonplace. It is also a world where suppressing and masking the truth of life’s interruption is a daily occurrence. Almost 24 years now after his passage, Nigeria has moved on to the next phase of its grisly life-dom. Here, we conclude without a conclusion because thoroughness and rigour are not part of our social order. The noise of the silence on Abiola’s death however persists, leaving an unfinished conversation of how MKO really died.
The military head of state, Abdulsalami Abubakar, a man who gained the peace of Abiola and Sani Abacha’s death, recently exhumed the facts of Abiola’s passing. And as they say in arithmetic, QED, the general magisterially packaged these “facts”, like a mortician, for eternal rest in the morgue. Abubakar had, in a live television programme, quenched the undying fire of speculations that Abiola died after sipping the tea he was offered by a visiting American delegation, led by secretary of state for African affairs, Thomas Pickering and consisting of assistant secretary of state, who later became the national security advisor, Susan Rice and Bill Twaddell, US ambassador to Nigeria. Abubakar said that, rather than poison that was speculated, Abiola died of natural causes.
“Well, I smile because there were lots of allegations here and there that we killed Abiola. As always, when I am talking about the late Abiola, I still thank God for directing me on things to do when he gave me the leadership of this country,” he said.
The narrative funneled out by the Abubakar military government was that, at the meeting the American team had with Abiola, he suddenly fell sick and as Abubakar himself narrated in the recent interview, “the security officers called the medical team to come and attend to him, and when they saw the situation, they said it was severe and needed to take him to the medical centre. So, it was the medical team plus the American team that took him to the medical centre. Unfortunately, at the medical centre he gave up”.
The prequel to Abiola’s death was the expiration of military despot, Abacha, a few weeks before. Up until then, Nigeria had exploded in a political turmoil provoked by Ibrahim Babangida’s stiff-necked decision to annul the June 12, 1993, election. No government in Nigerian history had evoked so much national perspiration as the goggled general’s. Yes, the history of military rule in Africa had been that of muzzling of freedom and free speech. Under Abacha’s, you couldn’t even sight the shadows of freedom, not to talk of its muzzle. Nigeria under him can be explained by that 1999 political drama produced by cinematographer, Tunde Kelani, entitled ‘Saworoide’. Abacha the titular was not only a despot, but his military epaulettes also dripped with blood. Opponents of his rule vamoosed in daylight and he clamped dissents in detention as easily as ants crowd a diabetic’s pee. Abiola’s wife, Kudirat, was shot dead in broad daylight and people lived in dread and apprehension. When he suddenly died on June 8, 1998, Nigeria exploded in a thunderous orgy of celebrations.
The death of Abiola, who had earlier been clamped in detention by Abacha for declaring himself president, exactly a month after Abacha’s, naturally provoked a conspiracy theory. Though Abubakar said he was grateful to providence that the American delegation’s presence at the scene of Abiola’s death provided enough alibi for his government’s innocence in the death, the delegation’s presence further gave vent to the conspiracy theory. As at this time, Nigeria’s intractable crises had proven enough embarrassment to the rest of the world, especially to an America which saw African dictators as hindrances to its self-assigned task of promoting global democracy, human rights, and good governance in the Third World. America’s economic interests were also stalling due to the protracted crises. It was thus difficult to glibly impeach the theory spiraling at Abiola’s death that his “killing” was America’s quest to put a permanent end to the democratic impasse that had seized Nigeria like a pestilence.
Precedence didn’t favour America either. Its leading espionage organ, the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) had scooped frightening renown from all over the world for targeted killings of America’s perceived adversaries or persons who constituted stumbling blocks to its aspirations. While targeted killing is generally a euphemism for state assassination or murder, America’s state kingpins had always seen it as a statecraft tool. It is supervised by governments and carried out outside of judicial procedure and battlefield but enveloped by the shawl of nationalist determination to neutralise terrorists and combatants. For instance, it is said that 76 children and 29 adult bystanders were killed by the CIA in America’s serial attempts to kill the physician and founder of the Egyptian Islamic Jihad (EIJ) and ally of Al Qaeda, Ayman Al-Zawahiri. He had been indicted for his alleged role in the August 7, 1998, bombings of US embassies in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, and Nairobi, Kenya.
CIA’s notoriety in this regard is a plethora. One of such was the Democratic Republic of Congo’s prime minister, Patrice Lumumba, who was nearly killed on September 26, 1960, by an American called Joe. He had arrived in Leopoldville (now Kinshasa) with poison to administer on Lumumba, which would have manifested as an incurable deadly disease. Lumumba, after a putsch, was later on January 17, 1961, in company with his two associates, Joseph Okito and Maurice Mpolo, executed by firing squad with Belgians supervising, their bodies thrown into shallow graves but later dug up, hacked in pieces, and dissolved in acid as Abacha ordered done to Ken Saro-Wiwa.
So also was the CIA’s attempt to assassinate Chile’s leftist politician, Salvador Allende in 1973. Aside from plowing the sum of $3 million into opposition to Allende’s 1964 presidential aspiration, on his win in 1970, President Richard Nixon approved a whopping sum of $10 million for Allende’s overthrow. The same went for Cuba’s late president, Fidel Castro, who in his own admission, America made 634 futile attempts to assassinate. One of such was a 1960 CIA assassination ploy where Castro’s box of favourite cigars was poisoned with a botulinum toxin which would have killed him instantly. Popularised by the stories of Sherlock Holmes, Clostridium botulinum, produced by gram-positive anaerobic bacteria, when ingested in food or laced on an open wound results in muscle paralysis, paralysis of the respiratory system, and then, death.
Even though the US senate attempted to wipe off this blood stains from Uncle Sam through a thorough investigation of this, culminating in President Gerald Ford’s 1976 statement that, “No employee of the United States government shall engage in, or conspire in, political assassination,” the world holds this with a pinch of salt. Many targeted killings allegedly supervised by America are said to have taken place since then.
Susan Rice’s memoir entitled ‘Tough Love: My Story of the Things Worth Fighting For’, which gave an account of what led to Abiola’s death, though plausible, is not entirely believable. Rice had served Abiola the infamous cup of tea which happened to be his last sip alive. She said she offered to give him the tea when Abiola suddenly lapsed into a coughing fit.
“About five minutes into the conversation, Abiola started to cough, at first mildly and intermittently, and then rackingly with consistency. Noticing a tea service on the table between us, I offered Abiola, ‘Would you like some tea to help calm your cough?’ ‘Yes,’ he said, with appreciation, and I poured him a cup. He sipped it, but continued coughing,” said Rice. Glib, suasive and evocative, isn’t it? She further wrote in the memoir that even upon taking the tea, Abiola’s persistent cough revved the more and when the team called a doctor to attend to him, he later pronounced his death, after an hour, as due to a heart attack.
The fact that though MKO was a Muslim, a religion that forbids autopsy notwithstanding, an autopsy was said to have been conducted on his remains which turned out negative. However, discarding the theory that the June 12 election winner could have been poisoned would be naïve. Research has shown that there are ten deadly poisons known to mankind and their powers vary. The poisons are arsenic, hemlock, dimethylmercury, polonium 210, mercury, tetrodotoxin, cyanide, Atropa belladonna, and aconitine. While arsenic is renowned for being the most potent of the lot, harvesting in its sack the hugest cadavers in its fury, it has been in existence from ancient times. It is preferred in targeted killings because it presents without colour, smell, or taste. Upon its administration, it manifests in vomiting, severe abdominal cramps, and ultimately, as the Yoruba will say, the hawker of eko (cornmeal porridge) in heaven stridently calls for patronage of her wares. While the list of its preys is endless, Napoleon Bonaparte, George III of England, and Simon Bolivar are its famous victims.
Hemlock as a poison was popularised in tales of the Greek philosopher Socrates’ execution. It has two variants; poison hemlock (Conium maculatum) and water hemlock (Cicuta species and Oenanthe crocata L). When administered, it presents with such numbing paralysis that, though the individual’s mind is continuously working, their physical movements grind to a halt by stealth and gradually lead to death. It is the same for dimethylmercury, known to be an extremely poisonous material known also to be a slow killer. Its victim is only aware of a problem when they have begun to sing the nunc dimittis. Even dosages as low as 0.1ml are renowned to be very lethal. This was the case in 1996 when a Dartmouth College, New Hampshire, Chemistry teacher had a drop of it trickle down her gloved hand. It went through the glove’s latex and an autopsy on her body ten months later indicated that the dimethylmercury led to her death.
It is the same for the rest of the poisons. While mercury could be sprayed in the air for victims to sniff to their death, tetrodotoxin is an uncommon poison found inside marine animals like Pufferfish and Octopus. Atropa belladonna poison is also found in plants. Aconitine, like Atropa, resides in plants and gained notoriety in history as the poison with which the 4th Roman emperor Claudius, also known as Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, was killed by his wife, Agrippina The Younger. Murdered at the age of 63, the empress merely mixed aconite with the mushroom meal she gave Claudius, a man who had been afflicted with a limp and slight deafness — the aftermath sickness at a young age. Traditional Yoruba medicine also believes that the sundried bile of a leopard ranks as one of the deadliest poisons on earth. Some of these poisons can never be captured by any autopsy and even if they do, manifest as organ failure
.
This is however not to conclude that the tea offered MKO by Rice contained the poison that killed him. He indeed could have died a natural death. The strongest motive for anyone to murder Abiola and Abacha however lies in that, taking them out would ensure a tabular rasa political equation for the Nigerian polity, with both Nigerian and American political and governmental elites put in the stead to reap bountiful dividends therefrom. Abiola’s trial by ordeal in detention in the hands of Abacha could as well have been the gradual poison that killed him. Indeed, knowing how maniacal Abacha was, the general could have caused any of the above poisons to be administered on him, in the hope that his expiration would come gradually. While America will look too sophisticated to allow its topmost officials to be amateurishly present at a proposed murder scene, especially with a not too salutary global renown in targeted killings, sometimes, confidence has been held to lead to slips and errors.
Suspicions of Nigerian and international complicity in MKO’s death were further reinforced by the not too dissimilar pattern of his and Abacha’s expiration. While Abacha gradually bloated in his latter days on earth, with a noticeable podgy face seen in his far-between TV appearances, his corpse allegedly distended at burial point. Abubakar, while attempting to disclaim the government’s hand in his death, would seem to be saying that the sudden sickness that took Abiola’s life was the result of heart disease. But heart diseases don’t come suddenly. The fact that a government doctor allegedly attached to treat him in detention didn’t identify hitherto that his heart was tensioned will show suspected lax or nil medical attention from the government for him.
Like Naipaul’s ‘Half of Life’, in the fullness of time, the world may – if indeed they were killed – someday get full disclosure of what or who actually killed MKO and Abacha, as well as other suspected targeted killings by the Nigerian state. It is scary that individuals take out their fellow beings in the name of the state and manage to maintain straight faces, as well as keep their scotched hearts from view.
Unlike in the west, Nigeria does not have shamus agencies and organisations whose operations are independent of the state and who help to puncture these bloody balloons of knotty state and individual murders. Such efforts, aided by a police organisation that knew its onions, led to the unraveling of the killing in May last year of prominent Brazilian conservationist, Joao Claudio Ribeiro da Silva and his wife, Maria do Espirito Santo da, who were ambushed while riding on a bicycle in Para state, near the city of Maraba. The bodies of the couple were found in Praialta-Piranheira, the nature reserve where they resided for 24 years, with Claudio’s ear wickedly cut off. He had repeatedly warned that those who issued persistent death threats against him, consisting of loggers and cattle ranchers, might not relent until they got him.
Of course, like every other sector of Nigerian life, journalistic investigative reporting is almost as dead as a dodo. Otherwise, well-funded media investigators could also undertake to unravel targeted killings. Though the investigations could take years, they will ultimately remove the shawls covering the identities of assassins covered in state clothing which many of our leaders are.
Dr. Festus Adedayo writes from Ibadan, Oyo State
• How systemic fraud is draining billions, weakening businesses and threatening the future of the downstream petroleum sector
The Nigerian petroleum retail industry remains one of the most important drivers of economic activity in the country. Every day, millions of litres of petrol, diesel and other petroleum products are sold through thousands of filling stations spread across cities, towns and rural communities.
To many Nigerians, a filling station is simply a place where vehicles are refuelled. To investors and operators, however, it is a complex business environment involving inventory management, transportation logistics, cash handling, procurement processes, technology systems and human resources. When properly managed, petrol retailing can be highly profitable. When poorly controlled, it can become a breeding ground for one of the most dangerous threats to business sustainability – systemic fraud.
Unlike isolated incidents of theft or misconduct, systemic fraud is far more sophisticated and destructive. It is not the work of a single dishonest employee acting alone. Rather, it is a pattern of fraudulent activities that gradually becomes embedded within an organisation’s operational processes and culture. Over time, such practices become normalised, tolerated and, in some cases, deliberately protected by those who benefit from them.
This is what makes systemic fraud particularly dangerous. It often operates quietly beneath the surface while management remains focused on sales growth, market expansion and operational targets. By the time the full extent of the problem becomes apparent, substantial damage may already have been done.
Across Nigeria’s downstream petroleum sector, systemic fraud continues to drain significant resources from businesses every year. Revenue leakages occur through fuel diversion, stock manipulation, sales suppression, procurement abuses, payroll fraud, inventory theft and cash skimming. In many organisations, these activities take place daily, gradually eroding profitability and shareholder value.
One of the most common schemes is fuel diversion during transportation. Products that leave depots in approved quantities may arrive at their destinations with unexplained shortages. Sometimes these losses are disguised as operational variances or transportation-related discrepancies. In reality, they may be the result of organised siphoning carried out during transit.
Another common practice involves pump calibration manipulation. In such situations, customers unknowingly receive less fuel than the quantity displayed on the dispensing pump. While the discrepancy may appear insignificant on a single transaction, the cumulative financial impact can be enormous when repeated hundreds of times daily across multiple stations.
Tank dip manipulation represents another major challenge. Deliberate alteration of stock measurements allows losses to be concealed, making it difficult for management to accurately determine actual inventory positions. Similarly, sales suppression occurs when transactions are intentionally omitted from official records, creating opportunities for revenue diversion and cash theft.
Procurement fraud, inflated maintenance costs, ghost workers on payrolls, fictitious vendors and collusion between employees and suppliers have also become recurring concerns within many petroleum retail operations.
The unfortunate reality is that systemic fraud thrives where governance is weak, accountability is limited and internal controls are either poorly designed or inadequately enforced. High daily cash transactions, large fuel inventories, multiple operating locations and limited real-time supervision further increase exposure to fraud risks.
The warning signs are often visible long before losses become catastrophic.
Persistent cash shortages, unexplained stock variances, delayed banking, repeated customer complaints, inflated procurement costs and declining profitability despite rising sales should immediately attract management attention. Likewise, employees who resist transfers, refuse annual leave, display unusual secrecy or maintain lifestyles far above their legitimate income levels may warrant closer scrutiny.
Many organisations make the mistake of assessing fraud only from the perspective of direct financial losses.
However, the true cost extends much further.
Systemic fraud distorts management information and weakens decision-making. It undermines operational efficiency, damages corporate reputation, attracts regulatory sanctions and erodes customer confidence. Investors become wary, employees lose morale and businesses struggle to achieve sustainable growth.
Perhaps most damaging is the fact that fraud weakens trust—the single most important asset any organisation possesses. Once trust is compromised, rebuilding it becomes both difficult and expensive.
Addressing this challenge requires a shift from fraud detection to fraud prevention.
The most successful organisations understand that preventing fraud is significantly less costly than investigating fraud after it has occurred. Prevention begins with strong corporate governance, ethical leadership and a clear commitment to accountability at every level of the organisation.
Technology has also become an indispensable ally in the fight against fraud.
Automated tank monitoring systems, CCTV surveillance, GPS tanker tracking, integrated enterprise resource planning systems and data analytics tools provide organisations with greater visibility over operational activities and help identify unusual patterns before they escalate into major losses.
Yet technology alone cannot solve the problem.
Organisations must also invest in people, processes and culture. Employees should receive regular ethics training.
Whistleblower mechanisms must be strengthened and protected.
Responsibilities should be properly segregated and surprise verification exercises should become part of routine operational oversight.
In this regard, Internal Audit has a strategic role to play.
Modern Internal Audit functions must evolve beyond traditional compliance checks and become proactive partners in fraud risk management. Through fraud risk assessments, data analytics, control testing, fraud mapping and unannounced verification exercises, Internal Audit can provide independent assurance that critical controls are operating effectively and that emerging fraud risks are identified before they become crises.
To strengthen organisational resilience against systemic fraud, the Sedabuk Fraud Risk Management Model (SFRMM) was developed as a practical framework for fraud prevention, detection, investigation and sustainable risk management within petroleum retail operations.
The model is built around seven strategic pillars: Surveillance, Fraud Risk Assessment, Robust Internal Controls, Monitoring and Data Analytics, Management Accountability, Detection and Investigation, and Ethical Culture and Employee Engagement. Together, these pillars create a continuous cycle of identifying risks, implementing controls, monitoring activities, detecting anomalies, conducting investigations and driving continuous improvement.
The message for operators in Nigeria’s downstream petroleum sector is simple but urgent: the greatest threat to profitability may not be competition, inflation or market volatility. It may well be the silent leakage of resources occurring within their own operations.
As the industry continues to evolve under ongoing reforms and changing regulatory expectations, organisations must recognise that sustainable profitability is achieved not merely by increasing sales but by protecting every litre of fuel, every naira of revenue, every operational process and every stakeholder’s trust.
Companies that embrace ethical leadership, strong governance, proactive Internal Audit, technology-enabled monitoring and a zero-tolerance culture towards fraud will not only reduce losses but also strengthen stakeholder confidence, improve operational efficiency and position themselves for long-term success.
Dr. Solomon Oroge, PhD, is an accomplished professional in Internal Audit, Risk Management, Corporate Governance, Compliance and Fraud Risk Management with extensive experience in Nigeria’s downstream petroleum industry.
He is the developer of the Sedabuk Fraud Risk Management Model (SFRMM), a proprietary framework designed to help petroleum retail organisations proactively identify, prevent, detect and manage systemic fraud risks.
Oroge can be reached via the following contact details: saoprofessional@gmail.com or +234 806 512 6192.
Opinion
State Police, Local Government Autonomy: Answers to Nigeria’s Lingering Questions | By Titilope Gbadamosi
Almost every democratically elected administration in Nigeria has had to grapple with pockets of insecurity in one form or another. Nigerians have watched uprisings metamorphose into banditry and terrorism, as though every administration had its own uniquely tailored brand of insecurity, defined by the modus operandi of these vicious elements.
The faces change, the methods change, but the burden on whoever occupies the highest office in the land has remained heavy and constant.
Just two administrations ago, during President Goodluck Jonathan’s tenure, we witnessed the horror of the abduction of the Chibok girls and explosives going off in public spaces in Abuja, the nation’s capital. Every well meaning Nigerian was worried, and nowhere felt truly safe. The President’s seat was not the most desirable at the time, and it was clearly a difficult job.
President Muhammadu Buhari’s administration had its own share, mostly in the form of clashes between farmers and herders, driven by grazing routes lost to farming, droughts pushing herders toward greener pastures, and old accommodations between communities slowly breaking down.
I recall quite vividly, while serving as Special Assistant to the former Governor of Oyo State, the late Senator Abiola Ajimobi, joining the head of our team in several peace talks with farmers, traditional rulers, and the Hausa and Fulani community in the state. One lesson from those rooms has stayed with me ever since. The people who understood the grievances, the terrain, and the actors were all local, yet the command of security sat far away in Abuja. That gap is the question every administration has struggled to answer.
Today, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu is in charge, and Nigerians who are students of history watched to see what shape insecurity would take and, more importantly, what this President would do differently. In recent development, the country received an answer that previous decades only debated.
On June 11, following the President’s formal request to the National Assembly to restructure our security architecture, the House of Representatives passed the constitutional amendment to establish state police, with 289 members voting in support and barely a voice against, while the Senate works to complete passage before year end. Today June 12th,2026, in his Democracy Day address, the President spoke plainly: the insecurity we face is partly the product of collapsed grassroots governance, and his administration remains committed to financial autonomy for our 774 local government councils. There it is, a two pronged solution: state police and true local government autonomy.
The first prong closes the gap I saw in those Oyo State peace talks. The amendment to Section 214 of the Constitution creates a dual policing structure under which each state may establish its own force. Security decisions will now be taken by those who know the terrain, the actors, and the grievances at first hand.
To his credit, the President did not merely champion the idea; he asked the National Assembly to institute controls to prevent abuses, the mark of a leader interested in a reform that endures rather than one that backfires. All of this rides on the largest security investment in our history, a 5.41 trillion naira commitment in the 2026 budget and over 50,000 new police officers approved for recruitment.
The second prong puts resources where the new responsibility will live. Since the Supreme Court ruled in July 2024 that federation allocations belonging to local governments must reach them directly, monthly allocations to the 774 councils have grown from roughly 387 billion naira in March 2025 to nearly 530 billion naira by September 2025. The money has never been the problem; control of it was. By pressing autonomy to its conclusion, this administration is returning both funds and accountability to the communities where insecurity actually begins, so that the grassroots governance whose collapse the President identified can finally be rebuilt.
So who wins in all of these? Nigerians win, because security decisions and development funds will finally live where the people live. Governors win the powers they have long demanded, and with them the responsibility they can no longer pass to Abuja. And the country wins a President willing to attempt what others only discussed. The President reminded us on Democracy Day that Nigerians bend and bleed but do not break. With these two reforms, we may finally stop having to prove it so often.
Dr. Titilope Gbadamosi is the Special Assistant on Youth Initiatives (Monitoring and Delivery) to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu.
The most foolish person in a burning house is not the one who cannot find the exit. It is the one who knew the house would burn, watched it happen, and only ran when the ceiling collapsed. That is Nigeria’s governance posture toward insecurity—a pattern so consistent that it has become normalized.
“Ikú tó pa ojúgbà ẹni, òwe ló fi pa. (The death that kills your neighbour is a proverb directed at you).
The bandits did not simply arrive. They sent warnings ahead of them through a trail of violence that crossed state lines and appeared in every massacre headline we filed away as someone else’s problem.
When Insecurity Was Still “Someone Else’s Problem”
When the North was burning and the Middle Belt bleeding, the South West treated it as distant noise. Kwara became the first warning sign—the bridge between North and South—slowly slipping under the shadow of insurgency. The question every serious observer should have asked was simple: what happens when it crosses the border?
South West governors issued statements—careful, brief, and reactive. None moved with the urgency the threat demanded. Before long, violence arrived at our doorstep: herder brutality in Oke-Ogun, attacks in Oyo and Ekiti, kidnappings along the Ibadan–Ijebu-Ode expressway, and forest camps emerging in Ondo.
The warning signs had matured into reality, yet we were still searching for an exit strategy that should have been built years earlier.
The Problem: We Only Count the Dead
In safety performance management, there is a critical distinction between lagging indicators—outcomes after failure (deaths, destruction, losses)—and leading indicators, which measure prevention before failure occurs.
Aviation, oil and gas, and other high-risk industries understand this clearly: a system that obsesses over lagging indicators will always arrive after the accident.
Nigeria’s security governance is built almost entirely on lagging indicators. We count attacks after they happen. We rebuild after a collapse. We mourn after preventable deaths.
We rarely ask:
How many attacks were prevented this quarter?
How many threats were neutralized before execution?
How many cells were dismantled at the planning stage?
We do not know the answers—because we are not measuring them. The system was never designed to prevent. It was designed to respond: loudly, visibly, expensively, and always too late.
Another Base. The Same Question Nobody Asks
The presidency is reportedly considering a military base in Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo state. It is a familiar pattern: a major security incident, public outrage, and an institutional response designed to signal seriousness.
But the critical question remains unanswered: what has been the leading-indicator performance of existing bases?
How have long-standing military formations in places like Jos, Benue, and Zamfara—some active for over two decades—actually shifted the security outcome?
A military base without actionable intelligence is a stationary slaughter ground for soldiers. It does not prevent attacks; it often becomes a reactive outpost in a repeating cycle: attack, deployment, statement, investigation, and then silence—while underlying threat networks remain intact.
The Incentive Structure Behind the Chaos
The deeper issue is not the capability of security forces. It is the incentive structure of the system.
When leadership is judged only by incidents that have already occurred, governance shifts from prevention to performance management of failure. The objective becomes managing optics, not reducing probability.
Nigeria’s security budget has grown significantly over the past decade, yet insecurity has worsened. Kidnappings have become more brazen. Why? Because funding is justified by the persistence of the crisis, not its resolution.
If the problem is solved, what justifies the next budget cycle?
For years, decentralization has been proposed as the structural reform that could change the system—but it remains trapped in political rhetoric. Why? Because decentralization disperses power, and power in Nigeria’s political economy is not dispersed. It is concentrated.
Sixteen Days. Full Stop.
Forty-six children and teachers were kidnapped in Oriire. It reportedly took sixteen days for the presidency to authorize a specialized rescue framework.
Sixteen days before the Commander-in-Chief treated the abduction of forty-six human beings as a crisis requiring formal executive activation.
But responsibility in moments like this is not singular.
The Oyo State Governor, by constitutional convention regarded as the Chief Security Officer of the state and a recipient of security votes, also occupies a central coordinating role in the security architecture of the state. Within a crisis of this scale, expectations of rapid intergovernmental coordination, visible command urgency, and sustained pressure on federal response mechanisms are not optional, hey are inherent to the office.
Yet, the response cycle, from abduction to high-level coordinated action and physical engagement with affected communities, unfolded at a pace that raised legitimate public concern about the speed and intensity of institutional reaction.
By the time visible field visits and coordinated engagements occurred, the delay had already become part of the public record of the crisis itself—shaping perception as much as the incident shaped fear on the ground.
In a functional security system, crisis response is measured in hours, not days. Not for symbolism, but because time directly affects outcomes: every passing hour in an active kidnapping reduces the probability of safe recovery and increases the leverage of perpetrators.
Sixteen days, therefore, is not merely a lapse in timing. It reflects a deeper structural problem—where urgency is often declared after pressure builds, rather than operationalized when intelligence first breaks.
And in that gap between incident and action, citizens are left to absorb the consequences of delayed coordination across all tiers of authority.
The Verdict
Nigeria does not primarily need more military bases. It needs a new security measurement architecture—one that prioritizes intelligence conversion rates, early-warning response times, and pre-emptive disruption metrics over post-incident operations.
Every threat must be treated as time-sensitive, where minutes and hours determine outcomes—not weeks and statements.
Most importantly, citizens must shift the accountability question:
Not only “why did the attack happen?”
But “why was it not prevented?”
Nigeria’s security challenge is ultimately a leadership and systems failure—an institutional preference for reaction over prevention, because prevention is politically invisible.
You cannot hold a press conference about the attack that never happened.
Until this reality is named and confronted with precision, the cycle will continue.
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