Femi Akintunde-Johnson
As the world gathers for another FIFA World Cup, Nigeria will be watching from the sidelines. For a country that once treated qualification for footballās greatest spectacle almost as a birthright, our absence from the tournament is itself a reminder that standards can slip when ambition is not matched by preparation. Yet, even without the Super Eagles on parade, millions of Nigerians will immerse themselves in the month-long festival. Viewing centres will overflow. New loyalties will be adopted overnight. Armchair coaches will emerge from every street corner. Old arguments will be renewed and fresh rivalries invented. For a few weeks, generators will hum a little longer, neighbourhood football analysts will suddenly become tactical geniuses, and many citizens will temporarily outsource their worries to ninety minutes of football.
The difficulty, however, is that while football offers distraction, it does not suspend reality. Even as the world celebrates goals, trophies and sporting excellence, Nigeria continues to wrestle with a more sobering challenge. Across different parts of the country, communities remain vulnerable to attacks, abductions and violent criminality. Families continue to mourn loved ones. Farmers remain uncertain about venturing onto their lands. Travellers still calculate risks before embarking on journeys. Fear, unfortunately, has become an unwelcome companion in the daily lives of far too many citizens.
It is a troubling contradiction. While billions gather to celebrate one of humanityās most unifying events, significant numbers of Nigerians remain preoccupied with a far more fundamental concern: personal safety. While some citizens are studying match fixtures and debating which nation will lift the trophy, others are studying escape routes, avoiding certain roads and wondering whether their communities might be next.
That reality should concern us beyond the immediate security implications. It speaks to the image of the nation itself. Countries do not build reputations merely through slogans, public relations campaigns or colourful speeches at international gatherings. They build reputations through the lived experiences of their people. A nation that cannot consistently reassure its citizens about their safety will struggle to convince outsiders about its stability.
This is why security remains one of the most important components of national branding. Investors pay attention to it. Tourists pay attention to it. Members of the diaspora pay attention to it. Foreign governments certainly do. More importantly, citizens pay attention to it. No amount of promotional messaging can compensate for a deficit of public confidence.
The World Cup therefore presents both an opportunity and a warning. Across Nigeria, viewing centres, sports bars, recreational hubs and public gathering spots will attract large crowds throughout the tournament. These places represent the joyful side of football culture. They also represent potential soft targets for those who thrive on disruption, fear and publicity. This is not a call for panic. It is a call for vigilance.
Security agencies must recognise that periods of mass public gathering require enhanced intelligence, visible policing, improved surveillance and proactive deployment. State governments and local authorities should work closely with community leaders and operators of viewing centres to ensure that basic security measures are not treated as optional extras. Early detection, information sharing and rapid response capabilities become even more critical during periods when large crowds gather routinely.
At the same time, citizens have responsibilities. Suspicious activities should be reported promptly. Rumours should be verified before they are circulated. Community awareness should be encouraged without descending into paranoia. Security is ultimately the responsibility of the state, but public vigilance remains an important layer of protection.
Yet, it would be unfair to place the burden primarily on ordinary Nigerians. The greater responsibility rests squarely with the government and the security establishment. Citizens deserve confidence that every available resource is being deployed to identify, disrupt and neutralise criminal networks. They deserve assurance that ongoing operations are not merely reactive but increasingly preventive.
This is why many Nigerians struggle to understand explanations suggesting that certain criminal elements remain difficult to track because they employ sophisticated anti-surveillance or anti-tracking technologies. Such claims may contain elements of truth, but they inevitably raise difficult questions. How is it that individuals capable of terrorising communities often appear boldly on social media platforms displaying weapons, flaunting proceeds of crime, conducting public gatherings and, in some cases, taunting the state itself? How can those visible enough to project influence online appear invisible when accountability beckons?
These questions are not attacks on security agencies. They arise from public frustration. Citizens naturally expect that in an era of technological advancement, international intelligence cooperation and sophisticated surveillance capabilities, the space available to violent criminals should be shrinking, not expanding. At a time when governments across the world are collaborating on intelligence and security matters, Nigerians should not be left wondering whether bandits are technologically better equipped than the state pursuing them.
The truth, however, is that insecurity in Nigeria did not materialise overnight. It is the product of decades of accumulated neglect. A rapidly growing population continues to outpace available opportunities. Industries that once provided employment and stability have either collapsed or weakened significantly. Universities, polytechnics and colleges continue to produce hundreds of thousands of graduates annually, yet the economy struggles to absorb them meaningfully. We celebrate convocation ceremonies with fanfare, but often pay scant attention to what happens after the gowns are folded away. The result is a growing army of frustrated, under-employed and unemployed young people, many of whom become vulnerable to manipulation by criminal, extremist or opportunistic actors.
Added to this are the exploitation of religious sentiments by extremists, persistent security lapses and compromises, policy inconsistencies, weak enforcement mechanisms and the unfortunate tendency of some political actors to encourage or empower violent groups for short-term advantage. History repeatedly teaches the same lesson: violence rarely remains loyal to its sponsors. The monsters created to intimidate opponents today often become the threats that haunt entire communities tomorrow.
The conversation around state police must equally move from endless debate to responsible implementation. The complexity of Nigeriaās security challenges increasingly demands a policing structure that is closer to communities and more responsive to local realities. Such a system must be carefully designed, adequately funded and protected by robust safeguards against political abuse, institutional excesses and the familiar temptations that have undermined many public institutions. No state should be left behind because of financial limitations; a national security priority deserves national support.
As football captures the imagination of the world over the coming weeks, Nigerians will laugh, celebrate, argue and dream along with everyone else. They deserve that joy. But they also deserve something more fundamental. They deserve the confidence that they can gather peacefully, travel safely, work productively and sleep without fear.
The world may be watching the World Cup. Nigerians, meanwhile, are watching something else. They are watching to see whether those entrusted with power will demonstrate the same urgency towards protecting lives as politicians routinely display in pursuing office. Because no trophy, no slogan and no carefully managed national image can substitute for the simple assurance that citizens are safe in their own country.
That, ultimately, is the Nigeria worth qualifying for.
