The tragic death of Major General Abubakar Rabe in the hands of bandits is not merely another security incident. It is a mirror held up to northern Nigeria, reflecting a painful reality that many would rather avoid confronting. After thirty-five years of service in the Nigerian Army, a man who dedicated the prime of his life to defending the territorial integrity of the nation ended his days at the mercy of criminal gangs. Before him, Brigadier General Maharazu Tsiga endured weeks in captivity after being abducted from his home. Before them, another retired senior military officer, Major General Alkali, was brutally murdered in Plateau State shortly after retirement, his body dumped in a water reservoir, with justice never served.
These are not ordinary victims. They are men who occupied some of the highest positions within the country’s security architecture. If retired generals can be kidnapped, humiliated, ransomed, and killed with such ease, what hope remains for the farmer in Batsari or Guyaku, the trader on the Birnin Gwari highway, the school child in Zamfara, or the herder in parts of the North-East and North-West? Yet perhaps the most disturbing aspect of these tragedies is not the brutality of the criminals but the reaction – or rather the lack of reaction – from society itself.
The North appears to have reached a stage where insecurity has become normalized. Death has become routine. Abduction has become ordinary. Entire communities live under the permanent shadow of violence, yet outrage rarely rises beyond private conversations and social media lamentations. Mass kidnappings occur, villages are sacked, farmers are prevented from cultivating their lands, travelers are abducted on highways, and school children disappear into forests. The stories generate momentary attention before being absorbed into the daily statistics of tragedy. A society that becomes accustomed to violence gradually loses its capacity for outrage.
Compare this with reactions elsewhere in the country. When school children are abducted in parts of southern Nigeria, civil society organizations mobilize. Labour unions issue statements. Professional associations organize protests. The media sustains pressure. Political leaders are compelled to respond. When the sister of a former minister was kidnapped in Ibadan alongside her children, public condemnation was swift and widespread. The murder of a teacher in the Oyo school abduction episode provoked organized action from the Nigerian Union of Teachers.
In contrast, the North often responds to far larger tragedies with resignation. Communities mourn. Religious leaders pray. Traditional rulers appeal for calm. Politicians issue routine condolences. Then life moves on until the next massacre, the next kidnapping, or the next attack. This raises a difficult but necessary question: why has the region become so politically passive in the face of a threat that endangers its very existence?
The answer lies partly in the political culture that has evolved over decades. Northern political discourse has become excessively elite-driven. Citizens are conditioned to look upward for solutions while rarely organizing independently to demand accountability. The result is a population that often behaves more like subjects than citizens.
Throughout history, meaningful change has rarely come from the benevolence of rulers. It has emerged when citizens organize, mobilize, and compel institutions to act. Governments become responsive when they face sustained pressure. Leaders become accountable when they know there are political consequences for failure.
Unfortunately, insecurity in the North has not generated that level of civic resistance. Communities that should be demanding explanations from governors, legislators, local government chairmen, and federal authorities frequently settle for expressions of sympathy. Public anger dissipates before it can crystallize into organized political action.
This passivity has produced a dangerous equilibrium. Political leaders know that insecurity, however severe, is unlikely to provoke a sustained challenge to their authority. Elections continue. Political rallies continue. Endorsements continue. The victims bury their dead and return to their daily struggles while the political establishment carries on as usual.
Even more troubling is the fact that many northern political elites appear more invested in national power calculations than in confronting the existential crisis unfolding within their own communities. Discussions about future elections, political alignments, and presidential succession often dominate the agenda while villages are emptied by violence and thousands of citizens remain displaced. A society cannot indefinitely survive such contradictions.
The North today faces not merely a security crisis but a crisis of citizenship. The real challenge is not only the bandit in the forest, the kidnapper on the highway, or the terrorist in a remote settlement. The deeper challenge is the collective acceptance of conditions that should be unacceptable. No region can develop under permanent insecurity. No economy can flourish when farmers abandon their fields. No educational system can thrive when parents fear sending their children to school. No community can prosper when violence becomes the defining feature of everyday life.
The question, therefore, is not who cursed the North. The more important question is why the North has not yet found the collective courage to reject the conditions under which it is currently living. History teaches that societies decline not only because of the actions of those who oppress them but also because of the silence of those who endure oppression. Violence flourishes when it encounters resignation. Injustice grows when it meets passivity. Failure becomes permanent when citizens stop demanding better.
The deaths of men like General Rabe should not simply provoke grief. They should provoke reflection. If retired generals are not safe, then nobody is safe. If communities continue to absorb such tragedies without demanding fundamental change, then insecurity will remain not an emergency but a way of life. The North’s greatest challenge may no longer be the criminals who terrorize its people. It may be the culture of helplessness that has allowed terror to become normal.
Until that changes, the question “Who cursed the North?” will continue to echo across the region. The uncomfortable answer may be that no curse exists at all. What exists is a profound failure of political leadership, civic organization, and collective resistance to a reality that should never have been accepted in the first place.