The Concourse
Forgiving terrorists as suicide
By Soney Antai, serial awards-winning columnist
Nigerians rank among the most outwardly religious people on earth. According to 2025 data from the Pew Research Center, Nigeria stands as the third most prayerful nation, trailing only Indonesia and Kenya. Sadly, this outward religiosity rarely translates into true spirituality. The core tenets of faith—sincerely fearing God and loving one’s neighbour—remain shallow in practice.
The evidence is stark. In the latest Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) released by Transparency International in February 2026, Nigeria ranked 142nd out of 182 countries with a score of 26 out of 100. This two-point drop from the 2023 ranking signals a worsening crisis of integrity in the public sector.
The security situation is even more harrowing. Data from the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) Crime Experience and Security Perception Survey (CESPS) covering May 2023 to April 2024 records 2.2 million kidnap incidents and an estimated ₦2.2 trillion in ransom payments. Furthermore, in 2026, Nigeria slid from sixth to fourth place on the Global Terrorism Index (GTI), with attacks rising by 43 per cent.
While official estimates of terrorism-related deaths from UNODC and ACLEDrange from 40,000 to 50,000, it is apparent that the reality likely exceeds these figures. For instance, the BMJ Injury Prevention Journal documented over 50,000 insurgency-related deaths between 2006 and 2021 alone, while two million citizens have been displaced.
In response to this carnage, Nigeria enacted the Terrorism (Prevention) Act of 2011, amending it in 2013 and again in 2022. The current Act mandates severe penalties, including the death penalty for hostage-taking and attacks on national infrastructure, alongside lengthy prison terms for lesser offences.
Against this backdrop, it is both indecent and shameful that the central government—which maintains a monopoly on the armed forces—would prioritise “forgiveness” for terrorists caught in the act or who have confessed to their crimes. Worse, prominent figures such as National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu, the Sultan of Sokoto, and Sheikh Ahmed Gumi continue to advocate for dialogue with hardened criminals who have left a trail of widowhood, sexual slavery, and mass displacement in their wake.
The May 2026 report by the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom, entitled “Nonstate Violators of Religious Freedom in Nigeria: Fulani Militants,” provides critical context to these calls. The report estimates that 30,000 armed militants operate across Nigeria in groups ranging from 10 to 1,000 members, noting that they have become “some of the deadliest non-state actors driving religious freedom violations in Nigeria.” It is telling that an overwhelming majority of those calling for these militants to be pardoned share the same religious and ethnic identities.
The report further notes that while these attacks affect all communities, they are disproportionately directed at Christian populations. To forgive felons with innocent blood on their hands and to fund “rehabilitation and reintegration” programme under the guise of religious mercy, is to desecrate the graves of their victims and taunt the orphans they have created. It encourages a cycle of impunity that threatens the very foundation of our social order. It is suicidal and profoundly unjust. If the state rigorously prosecutes petty thieves and traffic offenders, why does it coddle mass murderers? The government’s obsession with rehabilitating those who have declared war on our people is antithetical to statecraft; it is an admission of impotence and irresponsibility. The comfort of the killer must not have precedence over the pain of the victim.
When the state shies away from promptly treating mass murder as a senseless crime, for whater reasons, it amputates and obliterates its right to be called a state at all and prepares a throne for anarchy to ascend.
