Opinion

A coup trial without precedent, By Farooq Kperogi

Published

3 months ago

April 25, 2026

Farooq Kperogi

A coup trial without precedent, By Farooq Kperogi

I came of age in Nigeria during absolutist, totalitarian military regimes and was shaped by the anti-military rhetoric and activism that surrounded me.

Although democracy hasn’t lived up to its promises, which has fueled what I consider misguided and amnesiac nostalgia for military rule, I would rather we fix our badly deformed civilian system through trial and protest than return to the dark days of brutal military monocracy.

That is why news of an alleged abortive coup plot last year unsettled me, particularly because many of those implicated are northern Muslims. In a country riven by deep primordial fissures, I doubt we can recover from the northern-led overthrow of a civilian government headed by a southerner.

The Defence Headquarters initially denied it. It described reports of a coup attempt as not just “false and misleading,” “entirely false,” and “malicious” but as deliberately fabricated to “cause unnecessary tension and distrust among the populace.”

The Director of Defence Information, Brigadier General Tukur Gusau, said what Sahara Reporters described as a coup was merely “indiscipline and breach of service regulations” by 16 officers who felt stymied by “perceived career stagnation caused by repeated failure in promotion examinations, among other issues.”

But news platforms such as Sahara Reporters, Premium Times, and Daily Trust quoted unnamed sources in the upper echelons of the military and the Tinubu administration who insisted the Defence Headquarters was being economical with the truth and that there had indeed been a real attempt to overthrow the government.

The confidence with which these reports were presented, despite the anonymity of the sources, led me to write my November 1, 2025, column titled “The Coup That Dare Not Speak Its Name,” in which I argued that the government owed the public transparency about what had happened.

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I wrote: “Secrecy accelerates suspicion. Nigeria’s citizens have matured politically; they can process national challenges without descending into chaos. Shielding the public from reality infantilizes the electorate and breeds cynicism.”

On January 26 this year, the Defence Headquarters, which had earlier dismissed the reports as “false and misleading,” made a dramatic reversal and acknowledged that there had indeed been a plan to violently overturn the Tinubu government. It also said the implicated officers would face military tribunals.

After multiple peaceful protests by the wives and relatives of the accused, formal charges were eventually filed. Six suspects, including a retired major general and a serving police inspector, were charged with terrorism and treason. In a 13-count charge sheet, the federal government alleged that they “conspired with one another to levy war against the state to overawe the president of the Federal Republic.”

Although respected analysts such as Chidi Odinkalu have questioned the plausibility of the evidence cited in media reports to substantiate the alleged coup, I do not have sufficient information to independently assess the credibility of the claim.

What is not in dispute, however, is that what we are witnessing is uncharted territory. Since Nigeria’s independence, there is no clear record of military officers being tried for an alleged coup attempt under a civilian administration.

The closest parallel is the 2004 episode during the Obasanjo presidency, when the government announced that it had uncovered and foiled a coup plot. The Guardian quoted presidential spokeswoman Remi Oyo as saying that Hamza al-Mustapha, then in prison in Lagos, was suspected of involvement.

From what I recall, that episode produced neither a formal court-martial proceeding nor a full civilian trial. Instead, scores of senior and mid-level officers were detained, questioned and then retired or dismissed. What is unfolding now is therefore without precedent.

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This is why the intervention of respected human rights lawyer Femi Falana deserves careful attention. In an April 23 statement, he called for the immediate suspension of the government’s secret court-martial of 36 soldiers accused of plotting a coup. He described the proceedings as unconstitutional, illegal and a violation of due process.

Falana argued that trying the soldiers behind closed doors undermines transparency and the right to a fair hearing, especially in light of the gravity of the charges against them. His central legal contention is that offences such as treason and terrorism fall within the jurisdiction of civilian courts, not military tribunals, even when the accused are soldiers.

He warned that subjecting some suspects to court martial while others implicated in the same alleged plot face civilian prosecution creates a two-track system of justice that affronts the principle of equality before the law.

He urged the Attorney-General to halt the military proceedings, transfer the case to the Federal High Court, and ensure that all suspects are tried openly and uniformly under civilian law.

Falana’s argument raises a deeper question that goes beyond this case. What does it mean to be governed by law in a democracy that still carries the institutional reflexes of military rule? A state that derives its legitimacy from and is bound by the constitution cannot choose opacity when transparency is inconvenient, nor can it apply different standards of justice to people accused of the same crime.

If the government is confident in the strength of its case, in the unimpeachability of its evidence against the accused, it should have no fear of public scrutiny. I know there is legitimate argument to be made about the risk of inspiring copycats if the trial is open, but coups are not crimes of imitation like bank robberies. They require coordination, access to arms, insider networks, and timing. Those conditions are not created by watching a public trial. If they exist, secrecy will not eliminate them.

Second, secrecy is more likely to breed suspicion than prevent instability. When the state hides proceedings, it invites rumors, conspiracy theories, and loss of trust, which can be more destabilizing than any supposed copycat risk.

Third, transparency is a deterrent. A public, evidence-based trial exposes the consequences of plotting against the state and demonstrates that institutions can respond lawfully. That is more likely to discourage would-be conspirators than embolden them.

Fourth, courts already have tools to protect genuinely sensitive information. Specific details can be redacted or heard in camera without turning the entire process into a secret proceeding.

But there is also a broader political risk. In a country with a long and traumatic history of coups, secrecy around allegations of military insurrection heightens suspicion. When the government first denied the existence of a coup and later admitted it, it created a credibility gap that only openness can close. Conducting trials behind closed doors only deepens that gap and invites speculation about what is being concealed.

If the accused are guilty, a transparent trial will expose their culpability and reinforce the legitimacy of the state. If they are not, secrecy will have compounded injustice. Either way, opacity serves no one except those who benefit from weakening public trust in institutions.

If the suspects are found guilty through a fair, transparent and evidence-based process, they should face the full consequences of their actions. I would never defend any attempt to seize power through violence. But guilt must be established beyond all shadows of doubt. It is not enough to allege; the government must prove its case in the open.

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism.

A coup trial without precedent, By Farooq Kperogi

Opinion

Osun election: Àtàọ́ja should stop running joro-jara-joro

Published

10 hours ago

July 24, 2026

Trends Admin

The Àtàọ́ja of Osogboland, Oba Jimoh Olanipekun

Osun election: Àtàọ́ja should stop running joro-jara-joro

Tunde Odesola

(Published in the PUNCH, on Friday, July 24, 2026)

It’s midmorning in Àtàọ́ja’s palace. The sun beamed a friendly smile, quite different from the furious furnace it was preparing for the afternoon. As gently as the breeze caressed the trees in the palace, two pigeons landed on silent feet in the courtyard. They were on a joint mission. To scavenge. Looking right and left, up and down, beaks at work, wings at the ready, the bouncy birds pecked food in the palace soil. For the male and female pigeons, danger lies not in flying; it lies in walking. Sycophancy walks naked on the palace grounds.

Even the king’s kààakí was caught unawares. It couldn’t herald what was about to happen because everything occurred at a dizzying speed. The Àtàọ́ja, Oba Jimoh Olanipekun, ran out from the inner recess of the palace, his agbada òfì billowing in the Osogbo wind; kira-kita, kira-kita, the king bolted like Usain Bolt. Where is the king running to?

In his breakneck flight, Àtàọ́ja Osogbo forgot to wear his neck beads! I-m-a-g-i-n-e! But he luckily remembered to wear his cap. I suspect it was ancestral forefathers known as ‘àwọn alálẹ̀’ who reminded him to wear his shoes. Otherwise, the king might have appeared out of sorts at the state government event he was fleeing to.

Thankfully, when Àtàọ́ja Olanipekun reached his destination, he still had some breath in his lungs. He sat down, resplendent in white and blue agbada, clenched the microphone and confessed in Yoruba, “Ẹ̀ ri pé ń ò kólẹ̀kẹ̀ ọ́rùn? Mo sáré dé hin ni. Tí a bà á wá, wọ́n á ní, ‘Háà, kò mọ̀ le bọ́ta mọ́!’ Gbogbo ohun tí wọ́n ń sọ là ń gbọ́.”

I’ll translate the king’s speech in English: “Can’t you see that I am not wearing my royal beads? (It is because) I ran to this event. Because if I did not come, they would say, ‘Ha! He cannot come out again!’ We hear everything that they (opposition) are saying. I will not stop eulogising Adeleke Jackson Nurudeen for his excellent performance in Osun State.”

Unfortunately, Olanipekun thinks that by singing himself hoarse on the praise of ebullient Governor Ademola Adeleke, he is giving the re-election bid of the Asiwaju of Ede a boost. No, he is not. If he was, the apex socio-cultural association of Osogbo sons and daughters, the Osogbo Progressive Union, would not openly criticise him for publicly canvassing support for Adeleke and attacking the opposition on many occasions.

The penis of the bird does not dangle outside; it is tucked inside the bird, says a Yoruba proverb. This proverb preaches decorum. If the king had been decorous like other Osun kings, who, though, have their favourites among the governorship candidates, but who have kept their support within the ambit of decency, the OPU wouldn’t have embarrassed him with a public disclaimer.

The Timi of Ede, Oba Muniru Adesola Lawal, had been an exemplar in his support for Adeleke, who hails from his domain. The Timi had been regal: zero aggression, zero hate words, zero campaign against other parties. Oba Timi has shown emotional intelligence while fully supporting Adeleke, his son. That is how to be a father to all subjects. Of course, if Timi was blindfolded at the polling booth on election day, his royal thumb would still locate Accord Party on the ballot, whereas some carricachop from another land is claiming to know Ọ̀ṣọ́ more than Ọ̀ṣọ́’s mother.

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It’s undignifying for the elderly to run helter-skelter, says a Yoruba proverb distilled in these words, “Gbàmí, gbàmí ò ye àgbà.” Another proverb that cautions against kùrùkẹrẹ movement says, “Ẹní wọ bàtà ẹsẹ̀ òsì méjì, ó níbití ó ń lọ.”

The importance of royal objects such as crown, beads and staff is interrogated in the seminal work, “Yoruba: Nine Centuries of African Art and Thought,” written by Henry J. Drewal et al, and published by The Centre for African Art, New York, in 1989. Similarly, the royal totems – crown, beads and staff – are also a subject of scholarship in Rowland Abiodun’s “Yoruba Art and Language: Seeking the African in African Art,” published by Cambridge University Press in 2014.

Drewal and Abiodun aver that in Yoruba thought, the crown, beads and staff are sacred totems that signify divine authority, spiritual protection, leadership, ancestral continuity, and the king’s covenant with the people and the gods.

In both books, the crown is regarded as a sacred emblem containing the spiritual essence that connects the present with the past. Royal beads signify dignity and prestige, abundance and prosperity, and spiritual energy. The staff is an instrument of authority, justice, fairness, and protection.

Joro-jara-joro is an onomatopoeic word that means helter-skelter. Onomatopoeic words are words that sound like their meanings. Examples: buzz, hiss, slap, sleep, twinkle, jab, splash, tear, bang, etc. Joro-jara-joro was amplified by Afrobeat creator Fela Anikulapo-Kuti in his 1976 song, “Zombie”, which mocks Nigerian soldiers’ blind allegiance to dictatorship.

In “Zombie”, Fela caricatures Nigerian soldiers as unthinking brutes whose sole skill is to chaotically rove joro-jara-joro against the masses, like zombies on the mission to “go and kill, go and quench, go and die”. Fela sings, “Zombie way na one way; joro-jara-joro/No break no jam, no sense; Na joro-jara-joro….”

There would have been no reason to write this article because I had made my intention clear enough in an earlier article entitled, “Governor Adeleke and a tale of three Àtàọ́jas,” published in The PUNCH on Friday, July 17, 2026. My preoccupation in the article was to call the attention of the monarch to some of his unkingly utterances. My intention wasn’t political. But an insinuation, especially from some irritating ‘e-rats’ and ‘data boys’, who attempted to paint my intervention in political colours, made this sequel inevitable.

In line with their zombie mentality, a particular ‘e-rat’ along with his fellow ‘data boys’ accused me of meddlesomeness and maintained that it lies within the rights of the Àtàọ́ja to express support for any candidate of his choice.

Clearly, the accusation of meddlesomeness was borne out of dripping ignorance. If not, an enlightened mind would see that the actions of the Àtàọ́ja diminish his traditional stool that represents the Yoruba worldview of unity, morality, justice, fairness and equity. The allegation that the Àtàọ́ja had the right to support any candidate of his choice is valid to the extent that such a right must not violate the principles of fair play, rule of law and decency.

By openly calling the opposition names in a viral video, did the Àtàọ́ja adhere to the principles of fairness and tolerance? By his vitriolic speeches, was he not stoking the embers of strife? If I could be provided with the evidence of one Osun traditional ruler who had been as politically intolerant as the Àtàọ́ja, against the ruling party, I shall tender an apology in my next article.

In one of the bad-taste videos, the Àtàọ́ja arrogantly disclosed how he rejected wise counsel by a concerned citizen, who told him the danger in his public support for Adeleke over other candidates. His words, “One of my people asked me why I am so audacious to the extent of overly supporting one candidate (Adeleke) over others; what if he doesn’t win?”

The king answered the worried citizen. Àtàọ́ja opened his mouth and played god, declaring with finality: “He will win.” Olanipekun’s divisive posture is most unbecoming of an ọba, whose palace should be an abode to seek conflict resolution by his subjects, including politicians. Àtàọ́ja should not be the epicentre of conflict.

In the recent past, I have ventilated my views on the actions of the Ooni of Ife, Oba of Lagos, Apetu of Ipetumodu, Alapomu of Apomu, Oluwo of Iwo, and Emir of Ilorin, among other traditional rulers. I strongly believe that it behoves the citizen to hold traditional rulers to the highest standards because the traditional institution embodies the ethos and pathos of a race.

For ‘e-rats’ and ‘data boys’, whose stock-in-trade is abuse, there is a lesson in the conduct of a member of the House of Representatives, Bamidele Salam. Salam is my friend of over 20 years. Though we have had moments of sharp disagreement, emotions never boiled over to name-calling.

One day, BS, that’s Salam’s nickname, saw my Facebook post on Governor Adeleke. In the post, I advised the governor against excessive dancing and to shear off some personalities who were following him about like houseflies following the wound on a dog’s ears. In the Facebook post about three years ago, I cautioned that the image of the governor dancing to the faintest of drumbeats amid a retinue of hangers-on was not good.

As soon as BS saw the post, he reached out to me on the phone and said, “Ọ̀rẹ́, ọ̀rọ̀ ò rí bẹ́yẹn o. Your post does not reflect the great work Adeleke is doing in Osun…” I smiled from the other end of the phone because Bamidele was pushing Adeleke’s narrative while ignoring the kernel of my Facebook post. When I insisted on the need for the governor to do better in regard to dancing, Bamidele said every man was a work in progress, including me. Bamidele’s example is how to engage intelligently; a lesson government and opposition ‘e-rats’ and ‘data boys’ should learn.

The demarcation between a ruling party and an opposition party is nebulous. Practically speaking, ideological philosophies among Nigeria’s political parties are nonexistent. This is why Àtàọ́ja should be careful in his untraditional support for Adeleke. The Adeleke he sees in the Accord Party today could be in the All Progressives Congress tomorrow. Olanipekun should not burn the bridge of friendship today because he might need to use the bridge tomorrow.

This is the lesson Àtàọ́ja Olanipekun should see in his recent visit to President Bola Tinubu in Abuja. When politicians do their thing, a respectable ọba should maintain a dignified distance. He should not be in the fray.

Are you shocked that Kabiyesi Olanipekun was in Aso Rock a few days ago? Yes, he was. As a guest of President Bola Tinubu. This is the story of how the monarch used one stone to kill two birds. Àtàọ́ja’s daughter was graduating from the Law School in Abuja. An influential Osun State indigene, worried by the king’s intolerant posture against the Osun All Progressives Congress, had arranged for the king to meet with the President. It took some time for the king to meet the President.

During their meeting, the President expressed worry over Àtàọ́ja’s political remarks against the APC in Osun, urging him to allow for a level playing field. I gathered that Àtàọ́ja told the President that he was sold on the Adeleke ticket. Personally, I do not fault Àtàọ́ja’s position – supporting a candidate of his choice; it’s his brickbat approach that is reproachable.

If Tinubu could open his doors to Olanipekun and sit down to dialogue with him, who says there cannot be a dialogue between Tinubu and Adeleke? And if a dialogue occurs between the two and an agreement is struck, would the king not feel uneasy relating with his ‘enemies’ in the APC? The king should always spare a thought for the flip side of things. That is what the wise do.

“Àgbàlagbà kìí ṣe lángbá, lángbá,” is a cautionary proverb for reckless elders. The pit of animosity must not be dug too deep because the digger might fall into it. A word is enough for the wise.

Kabiyesi Àtàọ́ja, kara o le o.

///

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

X: @Tunde_Odesola

Osun election: Àtàọ́ja should stop running joro-jara-joro

Opinion

UI, UCH and the Question of Inclusive Leadership

Published

1 day ago

July 23, 2026

Trends Admin

Saudi-based Nigerian Islamic scholar, Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade

UI, UCH and the Question of Inclusive Leadership

By Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade
agunbiadeib@gmail.com

July 23, 2026

The appointment of Professor Peter Olamakinde Olapegba as the 14th substantive Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ibadan (UI), effective November 1, 2026, is deserving of congratulations. I wish him a successful tenure as he takes on the responsibility of leading Nigeria’s premier university.

The reported competitive process through which he emerged—following the assessment of eight candidates and the shortlisting of five for the final stage—is commendable, provided it was conducted transparently and strictly on merit.

However, this development also raises an important question that deserves honest and constructive discussion: When will a qualified Muslim have the opportunity to emerge as Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ibadan?

This question is not directed at Professor Olapegba or his Christian faith. If he emerged as the best candidate through a fair and transparent process, then he deserves the support of all Nigerians. My concern is whether qualified Nigerians of different faiths enjoy equal opportunities to compete for the highest leadership positions in our national institutions.

The same question applies to the University College Hospital (UCH), Ibadan, where a change in leadership is expected in the coming months. It is therefore time for stakeholders to begin constructive conversations about the appointment of the next Chief Medical Director (CMD).

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I believe that qualified and competent Muslim professionals should be encouraged and given a fair opportunity to compete for the position. If the best candidate happens to be a Muslim, there should be no hesitation in appointing that individual. Equally, if the best candidate is a Christian or belongs to another faith, the same principle of merit should apply.

This is not a call for religious quotas or preferential treatment. Rather, it is a call for a level playing field.

A Muslim should not be appointed simply because he is a Muslim, just as a Christian should not be appointed simply because he is a Christian. Leadership must be based on competence, integrity, experience, and the capacity to deliver.

However, merit can only be meaningful when every qualified candidate has a genuine opportunity to compete without bias or discrimination.

The University of Ibadan and UCH are national institutions that belong to all Nigerians. Their leadership should therefore reflect the principles of fairness, inclusiveness, equal opportunity, and merit.

As Professor Olapegba prepares to assume office, I congratulate him once again and wish him a successful tenure. At the same time, I believe this is the right moment to ask whether our leadership selection processes truly provide equal opportunities for all qualified Nigerians.

As the succession process at UCH approaches, I urge stakeholders to ensure that no qualified candidate is excluded—consciously or unconsciously—because of religious identity. Let the process be transparent, competitive, and firmly anchored on merit.

I am not asking for a Muslim to be appointed simply because he is a Muslim. I am asking that no qualified Muslim should be denied the opportunity to lead simply because of his religious identity.

The same principle should apply to every Nigerian, regardless of faith or background.

Let merit prevail. Let competence prevail. Let fairness prevail.

UI, UCH and the Question of Inclusive Leadership

Opinion

Case for replicating the Oyo kidnap-rescue template nationwide, By Farooq Kperogi

Published

6 days ago

July 18, 2026

Trends Admin

Farooq Kperogi

Case for replicating the Oyo kidnap-rescue template nationwide, By Farooq Kperogi

Because human beings are prone to perceive nonexistent patterns, connections and intentional design even in random or unrelated events, a cognitive tendency called apophenia, and because Nigerians have an enduring and justified mistrust of government, I have seen many people question whether the abduction and rescue of pupils and teachers from three schools in the Yawota and Ahoro-Esinele communities of Oriire Local Government Area in Oyo State really happened.

The mistrust is legitimate, but I find the apophenic leap from mistrust to the conclusion that the entire episode was staged a little unsettling.

I am convinced by the available evidence that pupils and teachers were indeed abducted by despicably homicidal terrorists. I have seen no credible evidence that any government paid criminals to stage the spectacle of an abduction and rescue.

Contemporary reporting documented the May 15 attacks, identified abducted children and teachers, interviewed their relatives and recorded the killing of two teachers before the surviving captives regained their freedom.

Terrorist groups have been abducting and killing innocent students for more than a decade and have never needed prompting from politicians to do so. Attributing their heinous crimes to sponsorship by rival factions within the Nigerian political class unintentionally exculpates these scoundrels and converts murderers into mere instruments of political intrigue.

That said, there is no complete clarity about how the pupils and teachers regained their freedom. Government critics have alleged, without evidence, that a huge ransom was paid as a precondition for their release. As I will show later, I doubt this.

But the government’s version of how the pupils and teachers were rescued is not entirely coherent, either.

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The Presidency initially described the rescue as the outcome of a successful joint military, police and intelligence operation. It said eight suspected kidnappers were arrested, other members of the group were killed and neither ransom nor a prisoner exchange was involved. The abductors had allegedly demanded the release of a detained terrorist leader, but the government said he remained in custody and was being prosecuted.

The Army’s subsequent account was less dramatic than the Presidency’s early language suggested. It did not say troops stormed the camp and physically extracted the hostages during a firefight. Instead, it said a month-long intelligence operation identified the group’s leaders, informants, logistical networks and hideouts. According to the Army, arrests disrupted the group and exerted pressure that “ultimately led the terrorist group to unconditionally release the pupils and teachers.”

In a July 10 interview with Tinubu-owned TVC News, former DSS operative Seyi Adetayo offered a more specific but as yet uncorroborated explanation of the operational modalities of the rescue. He claimed that government security operatives identified and detained some kidnappers’ mothers, wives, children and other associates, sent recordings of those arrests to the abductors and combined coercive pressure with intelligence operations. He also claimed that the terrorists were warned that harm to their captives would bring harm to their relatives.

Based on the available evidence, the most defensible interpretation of what happened is that this was an unusually collaborative, intelligence-driven and coercively negotiated release. It was probably not a conventional battlefield rescue. Nor does it appear to have been a ransom-propelled release.

This actually fills me with hope. It means the government may have found a potentially effective template for disrupting terrorist networks and rescuing their victims without exposing abductees to the indiscriminate violence of a frontal military assault.

But the part of the template worth replicating is its lawful core: interagency cooperation, careful intelligence gathering, the identification of terrorist networks, the disruption of their supply routes and the arrest of culpable collaborators.

There would be no greater evidence for the truth of the government’s account of the Oriire rescue than the successful replication of its methods in unresolved mass-abduction cases nationwide.

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The February 3-4 terrorist assault on Woro and neighboring Nuku communities in Kaiama Local Government Area of Kwara State not only killed scores of people but also led to a mass abduction. UNICEF reported that around 176 women, including pregnant women, and children were kidnapped from Woro.

More than five months later, the victims have not been released, according to the latest public reports. The terrorists have released videos showing women and small children appealing desperately for intervention. They, too, need the collaborative intelligence-gathering energies that security agencies deployed in Oyo.

On May 15, suspected militants abducted 42 children from Mussa Primary and Junior Secondary School and surrounding homes in Askira-Uba Local Government Area of Borno State. Some of the abductees were extremely young. According to the latest available reporting, all 42 remain missing.

There was a separate school attack in Lassa town in the same local government area in Borno on June 29. Gunmen attacked Government Day Secondary School while students were taking examinations. Eight people were rescued, but 36 students and one staff member remain captive. The students comprised 25 girls and 11 boys.

On June 7, in Magamin Diddi village in Maradun Local Government Area of Zamfara State, bandits reportedly invited villagers to what was presented as a peace meeting and then abducted them. The police confirmed that 39 people were taken, although community estimates were as high as 50. The kidnappers reportedly demanded ₦125 million and released some captives to communicate the demand. There has been no authoritative public account of the remaining captives’ release.

Nor should the passage of time cause older victims to disappear from the national conscience. Eighty-nine of the Chibok schoolgirls abducted in 2014 remain officially unaccounted for. Their families have endured more than a decade of promises, occasional discoveries and prolonged uncertainty.

There are many more cases than I have the space to chronicle in this column. Security forces presumably have records of mass abductions, including many that never made the national news. Yet Nigeria has developed a disturbing ritual in which outrage follows an abduction, officials promise decisive action and public attention eventually moves elsewhere while families remain imprisoned in terrifyingly crippling uncertainty.

The true test of the Oyo operation is not the applause it generated after one dramatic success but the number of forgotten captives its methods can bring home. If its intelligence model worked as the government says it did, it should become a national operational doctrine rather than a self-contained public-relations trophy.

Replicating it in Woro, Mussa, Lassa, Magamin Diddi and other communities would simultaneously rescue imperiled citizens, restore public faith in the capacity of the government to perform its primary duty and begin to extirpate a kidnapping economy that has destroyed communal peace and individual peace of mind across Nigeria. Until that happens, Oyo remains an encouraging breakthrough, but not yet a proven national template.