Mattress of Terror: Can Nigeria Ever Be Truly Secure? By Haroon Aremu Abiodun
“Any country where lawmaking is more lucrative than law enforcement, there must be insecurity.”
That was the piercing submission of veteran Nollywood actor, Kanayo O. Kanayo, in a podcast interview. The words linger like a haunting prophecy, and Nigeria, sadly, remains a textbook example of that paradox.
This raises a chilling question: Can we ever be safe in a nation where those who craft the laws live like kings, while those enforcing them die like pawns?
From Abuja to Zamfara, the creeks of the Delta to Anambra, and the rocky hills of Birnin Gwari, insecurity has become a national refrain. The roads tremble with fear, villages sleep with one eye open, and Nigerians whisper in conversations and trend hashtags that echo the same question: Will banditry, kidnapping, and terrorism ever end in Nigeria?
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu continues to pledge reforms. The National Security Adviser, Mallam Nuhu Ribadu, issues strategic statements. General Christopher Musa, the Chief of Defence Staff, leads an army of patriots. Yet, their valor is constantly undermined by a system where the pen is paid far more than the gun.
In early June, I attended a citizenship engagement forum hosted by the Voice of Nigeria (VON). Among the dignitaries were the Minister of Information, the NSA, and the Chief of Defence Staff. But one story shared by General Musa froze the air.
He recalled the case of a young bandit who surrendered. Rather than brutalize him, the military adopted a “soft approach”: they fed him, gave him a bath, and for the first time in his life, handed him a mattress.
It wasn’t just physical comfort. It was symbolic. The boy, barely old enough to vote, confessed he had never laid on a mattress before. His first taste of civilization did not come from a school or a community but from an army barracks. He had joined killers not out of hatred, but hopelessness.
That mattress became more than bedding—it became a metaphor for Nigeria’s rot.
From that story, one truth emerged: the roots of Nigeria’s insecurity lie in the absence of the 3Es—Education, Exposure, and Enlightenment.
These are not luxuries; they are necessities. Yet in Northern Nigeria, where banditry thrives most, their absence is glaring.
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It is time for Northern governors to rise beyond rhetoric. The federal government cannot win this war alone. State leaders must reform education, invest in enlightenment campaigns, and create programs that expose young people to life beyond bullets. Kano State has made commendable progress, but it is not enough. Efforts must be intensified across the entire region.
Nigeria cannot be saved through a centralized, top-down approach. What we need is collaborative security.
Community policing must be revived, with village chiefs and family heads forming the first line of surveillance. Security consciousness must be integrated into school curricula and national public messaging.
Employment generation must also move beyond empty campaign promises. An idle graduate is one WhatsApp message away from recruitment into darkness.
As one expert observed, “If community policing is fully implemented, it will become far easier to identify and expose those secretly sponsoring or benefiting from terrorism right from the grassroots.” Local vigilance and community-driven intelligence can unmask hidden collaborators who often hide behind political or economic influence.
This war will not be won by guns alone but by communities standing as the first line of defence.
The Ministry of Education and the National Orientation Agency (NOA) must take center stage. It is no longer enough to teach arithmetic and grammar—we must teach security literacy.
The youth must understand the real consequences of crime and be exposed to alternatives. This requires school tours, street theatre, online campaigns, community mentorship, and partnerships between public and private actors.
There is hope. There are patriots in uniform. There are children yet untouched by corruption. There are teachers still driven by conscience. But all of these efforts will mean nothing if lawmakers continue to earn more than those who risk their lives on the frontlines.
The EFCC may chase illicit funds across Iceland and Dubai. The DSS may foil terror plots in Lagos and Maiduguri. But until we address this imbalance—until we make justice more rewarding than crime—we will remain trapped in this deadly cycle.
Let us not wait until another child lies on a mattress in a military cell to realize what he has never had.
Let that mattress be our wake-up call.
So, to President Tinubu, NSA Ribadu, General Musa, and every governor who still believes in this country: the war will not be won on the battlefield alone. It will be won in the classroom, in the family compound, in the village square, and in the heart of every Nigerian.
Before we talk about weapons, let us talk about mattresses.
Haroon Aremu Abiodun
Author, Public Affairs Analyst, PRNigeria Fellow
Email: [email protected]
