In the heart of Kogi State, fear no longer whispers. It commands. Markets close early. Schools shut without notice. Churches, once sanctuaries of peace, now tremble under the shadow of armed men. This is not mere crime. This is governance by bullets and ransom. The people pay with money, property, and peace of mind, while the official state machinery watches, often impotent, sometimes absent.
Over the last months, kidnapping has moved beyond sporadic attacks into a structured economy. Kidnappers demand millions from families, businesses, and community leaders. Entire villages have been forced to pay to survive. These criminal networks function as parallel authorities, deciding who lives, who pays, and who suffers.
They collect taxes in the form of fear, yet the state often fails to respond with adequate force.
This economy thrives on the silence of the powerful. Politicians speak in vague condemnations while their constituencies tremble. Security agencies are stretched thin. Patrols are reactive not preventive. Citizens adapt, learning which roads to avoid, which prayers to recite, and which gatherings to skip. Every ransom paid, every attack unpunished, deepens the sense that criminals now hold the reins of authority.
Kogi is not alone, yet its situation is stark. Families grieve in silence. Schools, markets, and religious spaces adapt to schedules dictated by threats rather than purpose. Local governments promise action, yet most measures are temporary and symbolic. The reality is that a parallel system has emerged where lawlessness dictates rules and fear dictates behaviour.
What happens when society begins to negotiate with terror as a normal part of life? The moral fabric frays. Trust in government erodes. Citizens no longer see the state as a protector but as an observer of their pain. If the people continue to pay for their survival, if kidnappers continue to collect their taxes in fear, then the government of Kogi risks becoming irrelevant to its own citizens.
The people of Kogi deserve better. They deserve a state that acts before tragedy, that enforces law without hesitation, and that restores peace without delay. Until then, the parallel government of insecurity will write the rules, collect the toll, and govern the lives of those who should be protected.
In this quiet tyranny of fear, Kogi is learning a harsh truth. Governance is not just about offices and laws. It is about the power to protect. And when the official rulers falter, others rise to fill the vacuum, wielding violence as their authority and fear as their currency.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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