At about 2 pm on Friday, 21 August, Muslims gathered for Juma’at prayers at a mosque in Kpenya, a community in Dekara District of Borgu Local Government Area of Niger State. For the worshippers, it was just another Friday afternoon. But everything changed when armed men burst into the community.
Within minutes, the attackers forced worshippers into the nearby forests.
They also hit other communities like Gidan-Zana and Sabon-Gida. When they left, reports showed that many people had been taken, and about 30 had lost their lives. Thousands fled, with some crossing into Benin Republic.
Then a video surfaced, showing what looked like hundreds of women, children, and elderly people held captive in a forest by armed men. Residents recognized their relatives among the captives. Some estimates say around 600 people were taken.
Finding the exact number has been tough. Initial reports mentioned about 60 people missing, but the higher figure from the video has not been confirmed. More than two weeks later, there is still no clear count of those abducted, and no news of a rescue or release of the captives.
This situation raises a bigger question: How can Nigeria stop waiting for disasters before taking action?
This question is crucial because the attack in Niger State is not a one-time event. A report by SBM Intelligence found that from July 2025 to June 2026, 7,825 people were kidnapped in Nigeria, with at least 1,142 killed. Confirmed ransom payments totaled about $5.79 million, though the real amount is likely much higher since many payments go unreported.
With these figures, kidnapping is no longer just a minor crime. It has become a major part of Nigeria’s security issues.
This situation makes us rethink what we understand by national security.
Nigeria has become quite familiar with responding to crises. When a village gets attacked, troops are sent in. If schoolchildren are taken, a rescue mission is launched. When terrorists strike, security agencies act. If criminal gangs create a new threat, another operation is planned.
There is nothing wrong with this approach. A state must be ready to act with force when needed. Soldiers and police can’t be expected to negotiate with armed attackers who have come to harm people.
But a country can’t keep protecting itself by acting only after disasters happen. At some point, it must learn to anticipate threats.
This means understanding what leads to violence and creating systems that can spot these signs early enough to act. It means asking not only where the next attack might happen but why that area is at risk, who is causing that risk, how the networks function, and what actions could stop the situation from escalating.
This is especially vital because Nigeria’s security threats are increasingly linked. A kidnapping ring might rely on illegal weapons, local information, ransom payments, and open borders. Terrorist groups can take advantage of criminal activities. Cybercrime can fuel financial crimes. Local disputes over land or resources can worsen communal tensions. A threat starting in one area can have effects elsewhere.
The connections between threats remain strong, even when the response institutions are not.
Nigeria is beginning to see this issue. The country is working on its first National Strategy for Combating Organised Crime, covering 2027 to 2031. Its focus on prevention, intelligence-led disruption, protection, and better coordination shows an understanding that fighting organized crime cannot just be about catching individual criminals.
The challenge, as always, is in carrying out these plans. There are good examples from other African countries.
Ghana has set up a National Centre for Coordination of Early Warning and Response Mechanism, built on the idea that emerging threats should be spotted before they escalate into major crises. This approach unites government bodies, civil society, and other groups.
The key lesson for Nigeria is not to create another center in Abuja. Nigeria already has enough institutions. The real question is whether information from these institutions can be put together quickly to show a developing threat and whether those who get this information can act on it.
Kenya provides another useful example. Its National Counter Terrorism Centre has taken its fight against violent extremism down to the county level with County Action Plans for all 47 counties. This acknowledges something often overlooked in national security: threats might be national but are felt locally.
Radicalization does not happen in a vacuum. It happens in neighborhoods. Local grievances build up in communities. People living there first notice suspicious activities. Recruitment networks look for specific individuals. A local leader may sense that a conflict is getting dangerous long before it reaches a security meeting in the capital.
National security should be broad in strategy but local in understanding.
Rwanda’s community policing system offers another view. Through Community Policing Committees, residents are encouraged to share information that can help prevent crime and stay connected with the police.
To be fair, Rwanda’s political and institutional context is quite different from Nigeria’s, and its system cannot be copied directly. But the main idea is relevant: security is more sustainable when local communities are involved in creating it.
This is where trust becomes crucial.
A farmer noticing strange men in his area, a traditional ruler aware of a brewing conflict, or a teacher seeing a student at risk of criminal recruitment should not be expected to act as vigilantes or amateur spies. They need a reliable way to share information safely, quickly, and effectively.
If people report threats and nothing happens, they will stop reporting. If they risk retaliation for speaking up, they will naturally become cautious. When communities stop communicating with the government, the government becomes less informed and less secure.
Information is most valuable before it turns into a crisis.
This is why we should think of national security in human terms. The main goal of national security is to protect people and allow ordinary life to continue.
A road that people can’t travel safely is a security issue. A school children can’t reach because of armed groups is a security issue. A farming community that cannot access its fields without risking kidnapping is a security issue. A border that allows weapons and criminal groups to move freely is a security issue.
National security's job is not just to win fights. It is to create a safe space for citizens to live their everyday lives.
This makes President Bola Tinubu’s recent directive for a National Threat Assessment and a five-year Strategic Defence Operations Plan even more significant. How effective this exercise will be depends on what happens after the documents are ready.
A thorough threat assessment should help Nigeria prioritize risks and adjust resources, spending, and action plans accordingly. Not every danger is equally pressing. Not every fire needs the same response. More importantly, some fires can be stopped altogether if the conditions that cause them are recognized early.
This takes good intelligence. It needs timely warnings. It requires trustworthy community sources. It needs agencies to share information instead of protecting their own interests. It also needs effective policing and justice systems. In some cases, the government must address the social and economic conditions that armed groups exploit.
Most of all, it needs a shift in institutional culture.
Nigeria has made plans before. The harder part has always been turning those plans into ongoing action.
A tactical win can happen alongside a strategic loss. Security forces can rescue hostages, eliminate a gang leader, or fend off an attack, yet the network might still exist, recruit more members, and return to the same area. The operation may succeed, but the security problem continues.
The goal should be bigger than just winning the next operation. It should be to make the next operation unnecessary.
Nigeria will always need to fight fires. No serious security system can operate without the ability to respond effectively when violence occurs. But a mature security system also learns to anticipate threats.
After Kpenya, we should not only ask how many were taken or how fast security agencies can act. We should also consider how the attackers got to the community, what warning signs were present, if those signs were noticed, where the networks got their weapons and information, and what could have been done before armed men invaded during Friday prayers.
These questions take us beyond the immediate crisis. They lead us to a security plan that sees prevention as a key purpose of force, not just a side option.
In the end, the true measure of a security system should not only be its ability to tackle crises. It should also be how often it can see threats coming and prevent them.





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