By Jide Adesina

There are moments in the life of a people when politics must step aside and humanity must take center stage. This is one of those moments.

Somewhere in the forests, bushes, hideouts, or criminal enclaves that have increasingly become a stain on Nigeria’s national conscience, students and teachers connected to Ogbomoso remain at the center of a tragedy that should disturb every citizen of Oyo State and every Nigerian who still believes that government exists first and foremost to protect life.

The kidnapping crisis that has spread across Nigeria is no longer merely a security challenge. It has become a test of governance, intelligence gathering, political leadership, community vigilance, and state capacity. Every new abduction raises the same troubling question: how can armed criminal groups continue to operate with such confidence in territories occupied by millions of people, multiple security agencies, local governments, traditional institutions, transport networks, telecommunications infrastructure, and political structures?

The question becomes even more urgent in Oyo State.

Who are these kidnappers? Where did they come from? How do they move? Who feeds them? Who supplies information to them? How do they communicate? Who buys supplies for them? How do they transport victims without detection? Who sees suspicious movements and says nothing?

These questions cannot be dismissed as emotional reactions. They strike at the heart of the security crisis confronting Nigeria today.

No criminal enterprise survives without support systems. History has consistently shown that kidnapping networks, insurgent groups, bandit organizations, and organized criminal syndicates depend on local intelligence, local collaborators, local logistics, and local silence. Criminals do not emerge from thin air. They operate within ecosystems.

That reality demands a more uncomfortable conversation.

If kidnappers can repeatedly strike within communities, travel through local roads, communicate with negotiators, collect ransom payments, and disappear without trace, then society must begin asking whether there are weaknesses within local intelligence structures, community surveillance systems, and broader security mechanisms that are enabling these crimes.

For generations, Ogbomoso occupied a unique place in Yoruba history. The city was never merely a geographical location. It was a symbol of resilience, courage, commerce, learning, and collective defense. The history of Ogbomoso is intertwined with the larger story of the old Oyo Empire, a civilization that built systems of governance, military organization, commerce, and social order that commanded respect across West Africa.

The names of great figures such as Aare Ona Kakanfo Latoosa remain embedded in Yoruba historical memory because they represented a culture that understood the importance of defending communities against external threats.

That history makes today’s reality particularly painful.

Parents now fear sending children to school. Communities fear travel on certain roads. Farmers fear entering their farms. Teachers fear becoming targets. Entire local economies suffer when insecurity becomes normalized.

When citizens begin calculating the risk of simply going about their daily lives, something fundamental has broken within the social contract between government and the governed.

Governor Seyi Makinde, like every elected governor in Nigeria, carries a constitutional and moral responsibility to ensure that every available instrument of government is deployed toward protecting lives and property. This responsibility becomes even more significant during moments of crisis.

The public deserves answers. What intelligence operations are underway? What coordination exists between state authorities and federal security agencies? What technological resources are being deployed? What surveillance mechanisms are active? What role are local communities playing? What progress has been made toward rescuing victims and dismantling criminal networks?

These are not partisan questions. They are governance questions.

The tragedy of kidnapping in Nigeria is that ransom payments, negotiations, and temporary settlements often create the illusion of solutions while leaving the underlying criminal infrastructure intact. Every successful kidnapping operation potentially creates incentives for future abductions. Every unresolved network becomes a future threat to another family, another school, another community.

This is why many security experts increasingly argue that Nigeria’s kidnapping crisis is not only a law enforcement problem but also an intelligence problem. It is a technology problem. It is a surveillance problem. It is a coordination problem.

In an age of drones, satellite imagery, geospatial intelligence, artificial intelligence, digital forensics, telecommunications analysis, and advanced surveillance technologies, citizens naturally ask why criminal groups continue to operate with such effectiveness across large portions of the country.

These questions are not unique to Oyo State. They are being asked in Kaduna, Zamfara, Katsina, Niger State, Sokoto, Benue, Plateau, and many other parts of Nigeria.

Yet Ogbomoso’s case carries particular emotional significance because it touches the future of a community. Students represent possibility. Teachers represent knowledge. When those who seek education become victims of criminality, society itself becomes the victim.

Political ambition must never overshadow this reality.

Whether one supports Governor Makinde, President Bola Tinubu, or any political party is ultimately secondary to the immediate challenge before the nation. The rescue of kidnapped citizens should never become a subject filtered through electoral calculations or partisan narratives. Nigerians expect cooperation between all levels of government. Citizens care less about political rivalries than about seeing their loved ones return home safely.

History offers many lessons for leaders. It rewards those who rise above politics during moments of crisis and judges harshly those who fail to meet the demands of their time.

The people of Ogbomoso are not asking for speeches. They are asking for results.

They are asking for the safe return of students and teachers.

They are asking for security on their roads.

They are asking for confidence in their communities.

They are asking for evidence that government remains capable of protecting ordinary citizens.

The responsibility does not belong to government alone. Community leaders, traditional institutions, religious organizations, youth groups, market associations, transport unions, and residents all have roles to play. Vigilance, intelligence sharing, community reporting mechanisms, and cooperation with legitimate security agencies remain essential components of any effective security architecture.

The kidnapping epidemic confronting Nigeria cannot be normalized. It cannot become another headline that disappears after a few news cycles. Every abduction is an assault on the nation’s collective conscience. Every victim represents a family living through uncertainty, fear, and anguish.

Ogbomoso has a proud history. Oyo State has a proud history. The old Oyo civilization built its reputation on strength, resilience, and collective responsibility. Those values remain relevant today.

The immediate task is clear.

The students must return.

The teachers must return.

The criminal networks responsible must be identified, dismantled, and prosecuted.

Anything less would represent a failure not only of government but of society itself.

And history, as it always does, will remember who answered the call and who remained silent when duty demanded action.