The cost of not knowing: How intelligence failure fuels insecurity

When twelve Thai schoolboys and their coach became trapped inside the flooded Tham Luang cave in 2018, the world witnessed one of the most remarkable rescue operations in modern history. The outcome was not the product of luck or miracles. It was the result of preparation, coordination, intelligence, technology, and a state apparatus capable of mobilising resources toward a single objective: finding people and bringing them home.

When Nigerians disappear, the story is often very different. Over the past decade, mass abductions have become one of the country’s most disturbing security realities.

From Chibok to Kankara, from Kaduna to Niger State, entire communities have watched schoolchildren, travellers, farmers, and villagers vanish into forests and remote hideouts. Each incident follows a familiar script: panic, public outrage, official statements, negotiations, and prolonged uncertainty. Some victims return. Others do not. The deeper tragedy is that many families have little confidence that the state possesses the capability to locate and rescue their loved ones swiftly.

This exposes a fundamental weakness in Nigeria’s security architecture. The country has invested heavily in personnel, agencies, and equipment yet remains largely reactive. Security is too often measured by the number of troops deployed rather than by the quality of intelligence gathered and the speed with which information is converted into action.

The first responsibility of any state is not merely to respond to threats but to see them coming. Before people can be rescued, they must be located. Before criminals can be disrupted, they must be tracked. Security begins with visibility.

Nigeria once recognised this reality. The establishment of the National Space Research and Development Agency in 1999 and the subsequent launch of Earth observation satellites signalled an ambition to build indigenous capabilities in mapping, environmental monitoring, disaster management, and strategic intelligence.

These investments were important not because satellites alone could solve security challenges, but because they formed part of a broader vision of a modern state capable of understanding its territory and responding to emerging threats.

That vision has never been fully realised. The challenge facing Nigeria today is not the absence of technology. It is the absence of integration. Information exists across multiple agencies. Intelligence is gathered by security services. Satellite imagery, aerial surveillance, telecommunications data, and field reports are often available in fragmented forms. These assets rarely converge into a unified system capable of producing rapid operational outcomes.

As a result, kidnappers frequently enjoy an advantage that should never belong to criminal networks. They move through forests, exploit ungoverned spaces, communicate across jurisdictions, and adapt faster than the institutions pursuing them. The issue is not simply one of manpower. It is a failure of coordination, intelligence fusion, and strategic capability.

This failure carries consequences far beyond security statistics. It erodes public trust in government. Communities begin to rely on self-help measures. Families lose faith in institutions. Criminal groups become emboldened by the perception that the state’s reach is limited. Over time, insecurity ceases to be an emergency and becomes a condition of daily life.

The solution is not another cycle of reactive deployments or temporary crackdowns. Nigeria requires a national capability for search, surveillance, intelligence, and rescue. Such a system must combine satellite imagery, drone surveillance, geospatial analysis, telecommunications intelligence, community-based information networks, and rapid-response units operating under a unified command structure. Information must move seamlessly from detection to decision and from decision to action.

Equally important is the governance framework that sustains these capabilities. Technology without institutional discipline quickly becomes expensive symbolism. Investments in surveillance systems, intelligence platforms, and security infrastructure must be accompanied by professional coordination, adequate funding, clear accountability, and continuity across political administrations. Security cannot depend on improvisation.

The debate is therefore larger than kidnapping. It concerns the very capacity of the Nigerian state. Effective governments are distinguished not by the number of agencies they create but by their ability to connect information, institutions, and action. They know what is happening within their borders, identify risks before they escalate, and respond with speed and precision when crises emerge.

Nigeria’s challenge is not that it lacks agencies, personnel, or even technology. Its challenge is that these assets too often operate in isolation. A state may possess satellites in orbit, intelligence reports on desks, and security forces on the ground, yet remain functionally blind if those capabilities are not connected.

The lesson is straightforward. Security is no longer defined solely by weapons or troop numbers. In the modern world, it is increasingly defined by situational awareness, the ability to know, in real time, what is happening within a nation’s territory and to act decisively on that knowledge.

A state that cannot see clearly will always struggle to protect its citizens. And a state that struggles to protect its citizens will inevitably struggle to earn their trust.
Nigeria does not need miracles. It needs capability. The difference between the two is preparation. And until the country builds institutions capable of turning information into rescue, too many families will continue waiting for answers that arrive far too late.