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FEMI OYEWALE
The kidnapping of innocent schoolchildren is not just a failure of government, it is a collective indictment of a nation that has grown dangerously accustomed to tragedy
William Butler Yeats, in his timeless poem The Second Coming, captured the frightening consequences of a society losing its moral and institutional bearings:
“Turning and turning in the widening gyre, The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…”
Those haunting words resonate deeply with the Nigerian reality today. They paint a portrait of a nation where order struggles against chaos, where innocence is swallowed by violence, and where the future itself appears under siege.
The recent abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State is more than another security incident. It is a moral catastrophe. It is a painful reminder that the sanctity of childhood, once protected by communities and institutions alike, has become vulnerable to the cruelty of armed criminals.
Nigeria is blessed with brilliant minds, resilient people, rich cultures, and communities built on the ideals of collective responsibility. Yet, somehow, we have descended to a point where a handful of criminals can invade learning environments, seize innocent children, and disappear into the shadows while an entire nation watches helplessly.
The tragedy is not only that the children were abducted. The greater tragedy is that days after their disappearance, uncertainty still surrounds their whereabouts, while their parents endure unimaginable anguish and the nation gradually moves on to the next headline.
As usual, there has been outrage. Politicians have issued statements. Security agencies have promised action. Religious leaders have offered prayers. Activists have organized campaigns. Social media has erupted with hashtags and emotional appeals.
Yet, the children remain in captivity.
This uncomfortable reality forces us to confront a difficult truth: we have all failed them.
It is easy to blame the Presidency. It is convenient to criticize governors, security agencies, politicians, and community leaders. Certainly, those entrusted with protecting lives bear enormous responsibility and must be held accountable.
But beyond official institutions lies a broader national responsibility. A society that becomes accustomed to repeated kidnappings without sustained collective action risks losing not only its security but also its conscience.
Imagine, for a moment, that one of those abducted children was your only son.
Imagine she was the only daughter born after decades of waiting.
Imagine the abducted child was the heir to a business empire, the child of a governor, a senator, a billionaire, a traditional ruler, a military commander, a religious leader, or a celebrated activist.
Would the response have been different?
Would the search have become more urgent? Would every available resource have been mobilized? Would communities, security agencies, volunteers, and political leaders have united with uncommon determination?
These uncomfortable questions expose a painful reality: every child deserves the same urgency, regardless of family background or social status.
The abducted children are not statistics. They are dreams interrupted. They are future doctors, teachers, engineers, entrepreneurs, artists, scientists, and leaders whose lives now hang in the balance.
Beyond the physical danger lies the invisible trauma. Even if rescued alive, many may carry psychological scars that could remain with them for years. Their families will forever remember the uncertainty, fear, and emotional torture that accompanied every passing day.
The damage extends beyond individual families. Every successful school abduction weakens public confidence in education. Parents become afraid to send their children to school. Teachers become reluctant to serve in vulnerable communities. Investors lose confidence. Rural development suffers. National productivity declines.
Perhaps the greatest danger is that Nigerians are gradually becoming desensitized to tragedy.
Kidnappings that once shocked the nation now survive only briefly in public discourse before disappearing beneath the weight of fresh crises. The abnormal has become normal, and silence has become a dangerous accomplice.
This cycle must end.
Security is undoubtedly the constitutional responsibility of government, but national security also depends on community vigilance, credible intelligence, responsible citizenship, and collective action. Criminals often operate within environments where people know them, see them, or unknowingly support their activities through silence or fear.
Communities must reject every form of collaboration with criminal elements. Citizens must provide useful intelligence to security agencies. Traditional institutions, religious bodies, civil society organizations, youth groups, and local hunters must become active partners in protecting their communities.
The rescue of abducted children should never become the responsibility of government alone. It should become the collective mission of an entire nation determined to protect its future.
Activists like VeryDarkMan, Omoyele Sowore, and other public advocates can amplify the conversation, but they cannot rescue the children alone. Security agencies cannot succeed without community cooperation. Government cannot restore public confidence without measurable results.
Every stakeholder has a role to play.
Ironically, Nigerians have demonstrated remarkable unity before. During major football tournaments, religious, ethnic, and political differences disappear as millions rally behind one national cause. The green and white flag becomes a symbol of collective hope.
If football can unite us, surely the lives of innocent children deserve even greater solidarity.
This is not the time for endless blame games or political point-scoring. It is the time for coordinated action. It is the time to strengthen intelligence gathering, improve local security networks, support rescue operations, and ensure that those responsible face justice.
History will not judge us by the statements we issued or the hashtags we trended. It will judge us by whether the children returned home safely.
Effort alone is not enough. Good intentions are not enough. Speeches are not enough.
Results matter.
Until every abducted child is reunited with their family, until every classroom is once again a place of safety rather than fear, and until criminals no longer dictate the future of innocent Nigerians, we must all acknowledge a painful truth:
We failed the Oyo abductees.
But we must not fail them again.
Femi Oyewale is the publisher of Sahara Online and President of NASRE who
writes on national affairs, security, and social development.
