Every day, we are told repeatedly that our security agencies are working tirelessly. We hear of sophisticated intelligence gathering, advanced surveillance capabilities, successful covert operations and growing technological capacity. Yet many Nigerians find themselves asking a simple question: if these capabilities exist, why do they seem to work so selectively?
Why is it that individuals who post insulting comments about those in authority can be identified, tracked and arrested with remarkable speed, while kidnappers, bandits and terrorists who openly display their activities and loot online often remain beyond reach? The contradiction is difficult to ignore.
The Efficiency We Know Exists
From time to time, Nigerians witness impressive demonstrations of the state’s capacity.
A social media user posts a controversial video. Within days, sometimes within hours, security agencies identify the individual, locate them and bring them into custody. Another person circulates misinformation about a prominent political figure. Before long, authorities announce an investigation, complete with details of digital footprints, phone records and online activity.
Similarly, when a child of a wealthy businessperson, senior politician or influential public figure is kidnapped, security agencies often mobilise extraordinary resources. Intelligence units are activated. Multiple agencies coordinate efforts. Helicopters may be deployed. Roadblocks appear. Special units become involved. In many cases, the victim is rescued relatively quickly.
This demonstrates something important. It shows that Nigeria’s security institutions are not entirely powerless. They possess trained personnel, investigative capabilities, intelligence networks and operational expertise. The state can act decisively when it chooses to do so.
That is precisely why many citizens are frustrated. The issue is not necessarily the absence of capacity. The issue is the uneven application of that capacity.
The Criminals Hiding in Plain Sight
The modern criminal is often surprisingly visible. Across various social media platforms, videos regularly emerge showing armed groups displaying weapons, cash, motorcycles, vehicles and other spoils of criminal activity. Some record themselves celebrating successful operations. Others issue threats. Some livestream their activities. There have even been reports of criminal gangs distributing money to followers and admirers online, mimicking the behaviour of social media influencers.
In previous generations, criminals attempted to remain invisible. Today’s criminals sometimes seek attention. This raises obvious questions. If ordinary citizens can view these videos, surely intelligence agencies can view them too. If algorithms can identify copyright violations within minutes, surely modern investigative tools can identify geolocations, communication patterns, networks of associates and digital footprints.
If a critic posting from a remote village can be located after making offensive comments about a public official, why does tracking organised criminal groups often appear so much more difficult?
To be fair, counterterrorism and anti-banditry operations are genuinely complex. Criminal networks operate across vast territories. They exploit difficult terrain, weak governance structures, porous borders and local informants. Security operations require planning, resources and coordination.
No serious observer should underestimate these challenges. Yet complexity alone does not fully explain the perception gap between what security agencies appear capable of doing and what they are seen to prioritise. For many citizens, the concern is not merely effectiveness. It is priorities.
Whose Security Matters Most?
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of the conversation is what it reveals about perceptions of value. When the child of a powerful individual or their relative is abducted, the machinery of the state often swings into action. This is understandable. Every kidnapped child deserves rescue. The problem arises when ordinary citizens do not appear to receive the same urgency.
Across Nigeria, countless families sell land, drain savings, borrow money and plunge into debt to pay ransom demands. Many receive little media attention. Their names never trend online. No special task forces are established on their behalf. No emergency meetings are convened. For them, the experience often feels lonely.
The implication, whether intended or not, is dangerous. It creates the impression that some lives are more important than others and that access to state protection depends partly on status, wealth or political influence. A democracy cannot afford such a perception.
The social contract rests on a simple principle: the state exists to protect all citizens equally. The farmer travelling to market deserves security no less than the governor travelling in a convoy. The school child in a rural community deserves protection no less than the child of a billionaire. The trader, teacher, nurse, mechanic and student all pay a price when insecurity becomes normalised.
When citizens begin to believe that security is a privilege rather than a right, trust in institutions erodes. And without trust, even the most sophisticated security strategy will struggle to succeed.
June 12 and the Promise of Democracy
As Nigeria marks Democracy Day on June 12, these questions become even more relevant. June 12 is more than a public holiday. It symbolises sacrifice, struggle and the demand for a society founded on justice, equality, accountability and the rule of law. It honours those who resisted military rule and insisted that power belongs to the people.
Yet democracy cannot be measured only by elections or civilian governments. Its true test lies in the everyday experiences of citizens. Can they live without fear? Can they earn a living safely? Can they trust that public institutions will protect them regardless of status, connections or wealth?
This Democracy Day, perhaps the most important question is: Is this the democracy Nigerians fought for? Are we all enjoying its gains equally, or has democracy become an ideal reserved for a privileged few?
For many Nigerians living under the threat of kidnapping, banditry and terrorism, democracy can feel distant. Freedom means little if one cannot travel safely. Citizenship feels hollow if protection appears reserved for the influential. Equality before the law rings hollow when some citizens command the full attention of the state while others struggle to be heard.
The strength of a democracy is not measured by how well it serves the powerful, but by how effectively it protects ordinary citizens. Democracy Day should compel us to ask whether the benefits of democratic governance are reaching all Nigerians or whether too many remain excluded from its promise.
The Question We Must Ask
This is not an argument against pursuing those who spread dangerous misinformation. False information can cause harm, inflame tensions and undermine public trust. Nor is it an argument against deploying significant resources to rescue kidnapped children from influential families. Every child matters, and every rescue should be celebrated.
The real question is whether the same urgency and determination are being applied to the threats affecting millions of ordinary Nigerians.
Citizens are entitled to ask why kidnappers continue to operate along major highways, why communities remain vulnerable to attacks and why criminals sometimes appear more visible online than law enforcement seems able to acknowledge.
These are not anti-government questions; they are questions of accountability. The strongest security institutions welcome scrutiny and continually improve. Nigeria’s security challenges are undoubtedly complex. But complexity should not become a permanent explanation for outcomes citizens experience daily.
Nigerians have repeatedly seen evidence that the state can act swiftly and effectively when sufficiently motivated. The challenge, therefore, is not simply building capacity but ensuring that capacity serves the public interest rather than appearing reserved for special circumstances, special people or special priorities.
Until then, many Nigerians will continue to look at these contradictions and conclude, with frustration and resignation, that our security story remains exactly what social media would call it:
It’s complicated!
