Over the past two years of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration, one truth has become painfully clear: kidnapping has grown into one of the most traumatic and destabilising threats facing ordinary Nigerians. From farmers in the North to commuters in the South, from school children in rural communities to entire families taken from their homes, Nigerians live with a fear that never truly sleeps. It is a fear that has reshaped how people travel, how they work, how they raise their children, and how they dream of the future. It is a fear that has become a constant shadow over a nation that deserves far better.
When President Bola Ahmed Tinubu took the oath of office, he promised Nigerians “Renewed Hope” and made security the stated top priority of his administration. For millions, that pledge felt like a lifeline. But the weeks and months that followed have left those promises frayed at the edges. Kidnapping once concentrated in particular zones has metastasized into a business that reaches into cities, towns, and highways; it has become a daily threat to schooling, commerce, and the basic dignity of life. A major security analysis found that between July 2023 and June 2024 some 7,568 people were abducted in 1,130 incidents across Nigeria a scale that makes clear this is not sporadic criminality but an industry of fear.
The headlines that haunt us are not abstractions. In March 2024, gunmen stormed a school in Kuriga, Kaduna State, and abducted hundreds of pupils and staff; later rescue operations freed many, but the image of frightened children bundled into trucks remains imprinted on the national memory. Such mass abductions — from Kuriga to Bwari and beyond — show how the crisis has crept from rural outskirts into places once regarded as safe, including parts of the Federal Capital Territory.
The human toll is not fully captured by incident counts. Research by security analysts revealed that kidnappers demanded nearly ₦11 billion in ransom in that same July-to-June year but received only about ₦1.048 billion, and that roughly 1,056 people lost their lives in those abduction incidents. For families, the cost is more intimate and devastating: homes sold, futures mortgaged, children pulled from school, entire communities uprooted. Those figures remind us that each statistic represents a human story — a lost harvest, a home emptied, a parent who cannot stop replaying the moment the knock came.
Mr. President, this is where your legacy will be forged. Not in the grand infrastructure projects or the economic reforms, vital as they are. A nation cannot prosper on crumbling highways built over a foundation of fear. Your legacy will be defined by whether you looked into the abyss of this national nightmare and chose to act with the unflinching resolve this moment demands.
President Tinubu, you stand at a crossroads. One path leads to a legacy of unfulfilled promises, a footnote in the story of a nation’s continued decline into fear. The other path, the harder path, is the one that leads to a "Renewed Hope" that is more than just a phrase. It is the path of a leader who stared down the monster terrorising his people and refused to rest until it was slain.
The silent screams are getting louder. They are echoing in every home, every office, every classroom across this country. We are a resilient people, but our resilience is not infinite. We are crying out for a leader who will give us back our country, our peace, and our fundamental right to live without fear.
Mr. President, the time for promises is over. The time for action is now. Fulfil your vow. Eliminate kidnapping. Give Nigeria back to Nigerians. History is watching.