ANALYSIS: Intelligence and the Cost of Slow Security Response in Nigeria
By Kabir Abdulsalam,
Sometimes, in parts of northern Nigeria, violence does not arrive unannounced. It comes as a message a warning before the gunfire. That pattern has increasingly defined the insecurity ravaging parts of the country.
During the March 2017 attack in Magumeri, Borno State, security operatives later said troops had received early warning before Boko Haram terrorists struck, killing soldiers and police personnel. At the time, the military suggested residents may have cooperated with insurgents — a claim that drew sharp reaction from the state government. A stakeholders’ meeting, convened by then Governor Kashim Shettima, was held to examine what went wrong.
Mr. Shettima publicly expressed displeasure over comments attributed to the army spokesman, Sani Usman, who had stated that credible intelligence suggested the attack was made possible because residents cooperated with Boko Haram.
In November 2025, Kebbi State Governor Nasir Idris raised similar concerns after soldiers reportedly withdrew from a secondary school in Maga shortly before attackers struck and abducted students. The governor said prior intelligence had been communicated. Military authorities have not publicly detailed the operational decisions surrounding that withdrawal.
Again, in Yelewata community in Benue State in June 2025, more than 100 residents were killed in an attack that some reports linked to an earlier intelligence memo. The military denied receiving such a document. Meanwhile, according to media reports the then Chief of Defence Staff, Gen Christopher Musa, later explained that troops had been diverted by a false alarm elsewhere l a tactical decoy that left the actual target exposed.
In Zamfara, Governor Dauda Lawal recently told journalists that his administration tracks armed groups using technology and satellite tools and shares movement patterns with security agencies. The recurring question, however, is what happens after such intelligence is communicated.
In Woro village, Kaiama Local Government Area of Kwara State, the warning came in the form of a letter. The village head, Umar Salih, said it was delivered through a neighbouring traditional ruler who had been abducted and forced to carry it. The message was brief and unsettling. The attackers said they were “coming to preach.” There was no date. No time. Just that sentence.
Salih said he immediately reported the letter to the DSS at the local government headquarters. The following day, he took it to the Emirate Council, which forwarded it to the appropriate authorities.
Weeks later, gunmen came. And they did not preach.
The story from Woro is not isolated. Across several states in recent years, attacks have been preceded by whispers, tips, intercepted movements, intelligence briefings or formal alerts. Yet when tragedy strikes, communities often insist that the warning signs were there.
These episodes have fueled a difficult national conversation: Is Nigeria suffering from a lack of intelligence, or from gaps in acting on intelligence?
Security professionals often argue sometimes correctly that intelligence is rarely as clear as it appears in hindsight. A letter saying attackers are “coming to preach” does not indicate when or where. A report of suspicious movement in a forest corridor may not specify a target. In conflict zones, commanders must weigh credibility, urgency and available manpower before committing troops.
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Nigeria’s military and security agencies operate across vast terrain with stretched resources. Troops are deployed simultaneously against insurgents in the Northeast, bandits in the Northwest, violent criminal networks in the North Central and other emerging threats nationwide. Rapid response is not always logistically straightforward.
There is also the complication of deception. Armed groups frequently use misinformation to stretch security resources. In Yelewata, the reported diversion caused by a fake attack illustrates how insurgents exploit response patterns. Moving troops toward one perceived threat can leave another location vulnerable.
None of this diminishes the grief of communities that feel exposed. When residents report threats and an attack still occurs, perception quickly hardens into belief that someone failed. Trust erodes not only because lives were lost, but because communities feel they did their part.
In Woro, Salih said soldiers had earlier engaged bandits in the area but were later withdrawn. “That place remained open,” he recalled. “There was no security present.” From the villagers’ perspective, the sequence appears straightforward.
From the standpoint of a field commander, the situation may be more complex redeployment to another hotspot, reassessment of threat credibility, manpower constraints or shifting operational priorities.
The reality likely lies somewhere in between: intelligence exists, but the system that processes and acts on it is under strain.
Modern counterinsurgency depends on speed. Information gathered at night must translate into coordinated field action by dawn. That requires seamless inter-agency coordination among the DSS, police, military commands and state authorities. It requires clear communication channels, institutional trust and rapid decision-making without bureaucratic delay.
It also requires disciplined information management. Leaks and infiltration remain long-standing concerns in Nigeria’s security environment. If intelligence is compromised, attackers can adjust their plans in real time.
For many Nigerians, however, these structural explanations offer limited comfort. What they see is a pattern: warnings surface, attackers arrive, explanations follow.
It is important to acknowledge that many attacks are foiled quietly, arrests made before violence erupts, raids conducted before villages are struck. Those successes rarely make headlines. Prevented tragedies do not trend.
Yet the recurring reports of advance warnings suggest an area that demands continuous improvement. Intelligence must not only be gathered; it must be prioritised, verified and converted into timely action. In a country as large and complex as Nigeria, that task is difficult but essential.
The path forward may lie less in blame and more in refinement: clearer response protocols, faster verification systems, better integration of community intelligence and stronger technological surveillance to reduce reliance on reactive deployment.
Security in Nigeria today is a race against time. Armed groups move quickly and unpredictably. Communities depend on state protection. Between warning and response lies a narrow window where intelligence either prevents bloodshed or becomes a post-incident explanation.
In villages like Woro, one memory remains vivid: the letter came first.
The enduring question is not whether warnings exist. It is how swiftly and effectively they can be turned into protection.
Because in fragile communities, the space between a whisper and gunfire is often all that matters.
Kabir Abdulsalam writes from Abuja, can be reached via [email protected]
