Former President Olusegun Obasanjo has publicly denounced the growing culture of negotiations and “sorry‑sorry” gestures towards terrorists. Speaking at the Plateau State Unity Christmas Carol and Praise Festival in Jos, he told the Federal Government in no uncertain terms: quit the excuses, deploy real force, and stop pleading with killers.
A Voice of Frustration — and Truth
Obasanjo — a man who once led this country — was blunt. Nigeria is bleeding. Citizens are being massacred or kidnapped at will across the North. “No matter your religion. No matter where you’re coming from. No matter your profession” — the blood is on everybody’s doorstep, he said. And if the government cannot secure its people, he argued, Nigerians have the right — nay, the duty — to demand international support to defend lives.
That’s not hyperbole. The past two weeks alone have witnessed unspeakable horror. On November 21, assailants stormed St. Mary’s Catholic Primary and Secondary School in Papiri, Agwara LGA, Niger State — abducting what the school’s management, backed by Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), now says is 315 people (303 students and 12 staff).
At least 50 of them have escaped and are now reunited with relatives. But 265 pupils and staff remain in captivity — a horrifying tally for a single attack.
As if that wasn’t enough, just days later, bandits struck again in Palaita community, Erena Ward, Shiroro LGA — again in Niger State — this time abducting 24 people from a rice farm, including a pregnant woman.
In a separate, brutal act, a blind resident was reportedly ambushed in Kakuru (also in Erena Ward), had his phone confiscated — then had his right hand mutilated.
This is not random chaos. It’s a pattern. A bloody loop.
The Old Way vs. What’s Possible Now
Obasanjo didn’t talk about theology; he spoke like a soldier who has lost patience. He reminded listeners about the reasons he once held power — the capacity to “pick up anybody in Nigeria who commits crime anywhere.” The problem, he said, was not ability, but the limitations of the era. Back then you couldn’t reach perpetrators in remote hideouts without going by land or air. But now?
“With drones, we can sleeve them up. You can take them out.” That’s real capability. He asked — with force —: “Why are we not doing that? Why are we apologising? Why are we negotiating?”
Obasanjo is calling for guts. For resolve. For action.
Why This Matters — And What It Exposes
Leaders like Obasanjo demanding firmness is more than posturing. It’s a glaring indictment of a government that — as many Nigerians feel — has been dithering when it should be decisive. Schools are no longer safe havens. Farms are frontlines. And ordinary citizens — including children — are being treated like bargaining chips.
International assistance or not, what Obasanjo surfaces is the question of responsibility. If the state cannot guarantee safety, what’s the point of government? If terror groups can snatch hundreds of students and walk away, then what does “sovereignty” even mean anymore?
What Must Happen — Now
If Obasanjo’s words mean anything, the government must:
- Recognize that negotiations and apologies send the wrong message — that crime pays, terror wins.
- Use modern capabilities — aerial surveillance, drones, intelligence, rapid response teams — to flush out criminals hiding in forests.
- Accept that this is not only a Nigerian problem, but a global shame; if help is needed, call for it. No shame in that.
- Protect schools, farmlands, and vulnerable communities as primary concern — not afterthought.
Because until that happens, the cycle of abduction, ransom, and release will continue — with the innocent paying the cost.
The Clock Is Ticking
At Jos on Friday, Obasanjo removed all pretense. This is a call for blood — not literal bloodshed, but a call for resolve. For national dignity. For saving lives.
If we continue with apologies and negotiations, more children will vanish, more villages will be abandoned, more lives shattered. And one day, we might not even have any cities left.
This is a wake‑up call.