The Tragic Normalcy Of Insecurity: Why We Celebrate What Should Never Happen, By Buhari Olanrewaju Ahmed 

Why should any society celebrate the release of kidnap victims in the first place? Why should innocent people be abducted at all if we truly have a government that cares for its citizens and prioritises their safety?

The very idea that we rejoice after people survive a terror they should never have experienced reflects how deeply insecurity has become normalised.

Testimonies from one of the Eruku church kidnap victims reveal a disturbing reality: the terrorists operate with intimate knowledge of the nooks and crannies of Kwara State.

They know the entry and exit routes, the hidden pathways, and the blind spots where security presence is weak or nonexistent. This shows the alarming extent to which criminal elements—often disguising themselves as herders—use their presence in communities to map out territories, study movement patterns, and identify safe corridors for their operations.

What many believe to be simple cattle rearing has, in some cases, become a cover for gathering intelligence, planning attacks, and evading security forces with precision.

It is disturbing that the government only seems to become visible and vocal when mass abductions occur.

Suddenly, media tours, public statements, and assurances are released, not out of genuine empathy, but often as damage control and political optics.

Meanwhile, communities continue to live under the shadow of fear, and families continue to bury loved ones or wait endlessly for news of abducted relatives.

The constant cycle of kidnappings followed by relief-filled celebrations whenever victims regain freedom is neither normal nor acceptable. It exposes systemic failures in governance, intelligence gathering, policing, and political will.

A government that truly values its citizens would prioritise preventing kidnappings—not merely reacting to them. It would strengthen local vigilante structures, deploy technology-driven surveillance, improve community policing, hold compromised officers accountable, and dismantle criminal networks long before they strike.

Celebrating the return of victims often distracts from the painful truth: these people should never have been taken in the first place.

Behind every “rescue” are families traumatised, children emotionally scarred, communities drained by ransom payments, and a population gradually losing confidence in the state’s ability to protect them. True progress is not measured by how many abducted victims are saved, but by how few citizens fall victim to such atrocities in the first place.

A responsible government ensures that security is proactive, not reactive. Citizens should feel safe in their homes, on highways, in places of worship, in schools, and across the entire country.

The rule of law must be stronger than the firepower of criminals, and leadership must prioritise the welfare of the people above political games, personal interests, or media image.

When a government becomes more interested in hunting journalists, silencing critics, and intimidating activists, it inevitably loses focus on governance.

Instead of channelling energy into improving security, boosting intelligence operations, and building trust with communities, state power is misused to suppress dissent—further weakening the nation’s ability to confront real threats.

Until those in positions of authority begin to see themselves first as citizens—people who could also fall victim to the chaos and insecurity—they will not govern with empathy or urgency.

Just as they would not want any harm to come to their own families, they must use every tool at their disposal to protect the lives and property of ordinary Nigerians.

Only when leaders recognise that they are not above the people, but among them, can the country begin to get things right.

The goal should not be to celebrate rescued victims. The goal should be to build a country where there are no victims to rescue at all.