Kaduna’s Church Kidnappings and the Chronic Insecurity in Nigeria

When Truth Becomes the First Casualty

On the morning of January 18, 2026, armed gunmen stormed three churches in Kurmin Wali, a rural community in Kajuru Local Government Area, Kaduna State  not in some distant past of lawlessness, but in the present moment of Nigeria’s ongoing security crisis. Worshippers gathered for Sunday service were rounded up and abducted at gunpoint; scores were whisked away into nearby forests, leaving behind traumatised families, abandoned homes, and a community gripped by terror.

Yet what made these attacks even more harrowing was not just the brutality of the act, it was the official denial that followed.

From Denial to Admission: A Government in Disbelief

When initial reports of the kidnappings started circulating, the Kaduna State Police Command publicly denied that any attack had taken place. In a statement issued days after the incident, the state’s police commissioner labelled the stories as “falsehoods spread by conflict entrepreneurs” and insisted there was no evidence of a mass abduction even challenging critics to produce names of victims.

That denial was starkly at odds with accounts from community leaders, church officials, and even independent lists of victims prepared by local associations. Eventually, faced with mounting evidence including names, testimonies, and reports from within the community, the police were forced into a reversal, confirming that dozens of worshippers had indeed been indeed kidnapped.

This sequence of attack, denial, reluctant admission  speaks volumes about the larger crisis Nigeria faces: not just the failure of security on the ground, but the failure of governance and truth itself.

The Deeper Problem: Insecurity As a Daily Reality

What happened in Kurmin Wali is not a one-off tragedy. It is a symptom of a decade-long slide into insecurity that has seen armed groups loosely branded as bandits, insurgents, or militants operate with near-impunity across large swaths of northern and central Nigeria. These armed gangs kidnap villagers, torch homes, and strike at religious centres with devastating regularity, often for ransom or to terrorise communities.

What makes the violence even more grievous is how disproportionately it affects remote, rural communities with limited access to security forces. These areas depend on irregular patrols, weak infrastructure, and a thin “presence” of law enforcement, the very absence that allows armed groups to act with confidence and cruelty.

Leadership Failures, Not Just Security Ones

Critics from civil society, political parties, and religious organisations have been unambiguous: this episode is not merely a miscommunication, but a failure of leadership.

Commentators and opposition figures argue that the initial denial reflects a broader pattern in which the executive and security apparatuses downplay insecurity to protect reputations rather than safeguard citizens. Such responses only embolden armed groups and deepen the sense of abandonment among vulnerable populations.

Calls for apologies, transparent investigations, and accountable leadership aren’t just political talking points, they are responses rooted in the stark human toll of insecurity: children taken from their families, parents haunted by uncertainty, and entire communities living in siege conditions.

Reports indicate that over 170 worshippers were abducted in the Kaduna attacks, with numbers varying slightly across sources but consistently indicating a large, coordinated assault on civilian life during church services, places of peace and communal belonging.

This isn’t just violence. It’s a breakdown of societal order where religious sanctuaries, spaces meant for worship and safety become targets of terror.

Whether it’s rural Kaduna or other hotspot areas across Nigeria, the message is the same: security cannot be compartmentalised or indefinitely deferred. Every denial chips away at the social contract between state and citizen.

Nigeria’s insecurity crisis is a complex web of armed groups, political challenges, resource limitations, and historical grievances. But at its core, it boils down to this: when truth is sidelined, violence is legitimised. And when citizens don’t trust the very institutions meant to protect them, the wounds of insecurity cut deeper than any gunshot.