The Growing Threat of ISWAP and the Need for Urgent Action
The recent security alert from the Department of State Services (DSS) regarding potential attacks by the Islamic State of West Africa Province (ISWAP) in Kogi and Ondo states should be a wake-up call for every Nigerian. This is not just another routine warning to be ignored or forgotten. It is a serious warning that highlights two alarming realities: the expanding reach of a ruthless terrorist organization and the persistent weaknesses in Nigeria’s security framework.
In response, both Kogi and Ondo state governments have issued statements that are expected but lack substance. The Kogi government praised the DSS for its “proactive” intelligence work, while Ondo officials downplayed the memo as part of “regular intelligence-sharing.” These reactions are designed to reassure the public and prevent panic, but they fail to address the gravity of the situation. The intelligence itself suggests that ISWAP is not just planning an attack—it is advancing a broader territorial project.
A recent investigation by The New Humanitarian reveals the scale of this project. ISWAP, once seen as a splinter group of Boko Haram, has evolved into something far more dangerous: a proto-state with administrative systems, tax structures, and a war economy that surpasses those of several Nigerian states. With an estimated annual revenue of $191 million, ISWAP now has resources ten times greater than the official tax income of Borno State. The group operates a bureaucratic taxation regime, collecting Zakat, Haraji, and Darayib through receipts and inspectors, which funds its fighters, purchases weapons, and even provides basic public services. This is jihadist governance, alive and thriving on Nigerian soil.
Against such financial power and organizational discipline, Nigeria’s conventional security response appears inadequate. That is why the DSS alert cannot be dismissed as just another report. It is a strategic distress signal. When a terror group with state-level resources targets new territories, it indicates a deliberate expansion, not random violence. The specific communities mentioned in Ondo—Eriti Akoko, Oyin Akoko, and Owo—and the entire state of Kogi are not random choices. Kogi is located at Nigeria’s geographical crossroads, linking the North to the South and the East to the West. A successful attack there would not only cause casualties but also symbolically and physically sever the country’s arteries. It would show that no part of Nigeria is beyond ISWAP’s reach.
The Ondo government’s attempt to normalize the intelligence as “routine” is dangerously complacent. The DSS memo clearly states that terrorists have “commenced surveillance on soft targets.” This is not bureaucratic jargon; it is the language of imminent action. We have seen this sequence before: warnings ignored, attacks executed, condolences offered, and the cycle repeated. The recent violence in parts of Kwara State, just north of Kogi, already shows the signs of ISWAP’s creeping southern advance. The pattern is clear, but what is missing is a decisive response.
This brings us to the central question: beyond the rhetoric of vigilance, what exactly are the governments of Kogi and Ondo doing to protect their citizens? The recurring appeal for citizens to “remain vigilant” is a hollow substitute for real security. Farmers in Owo and traders in Lokoja cannot defend themselves against trained militants armed with rocket-propelled grenades. Vigilance is not a strategy; it is an act of desperation in the absence of credible protection. Nigeria’s persistent vulnerability reflects a deeper structural failure: its centralized, outdated policing model.
The Nigeria Police Force, overstretched and under-resourced, is ill-equipped to handle the fluid and localized nature of modern terrorism. A threat targeting specific communities in Akoko cannot be effectively countered by a command structure controlled from Abuja. What is needed is a policing system that is locally rooted, responsive, and accountable to the people it serves. The case for decentralized police has never been more urgent. Critics argue that governors might abuse such forces for political gain. While this concern is valid, it pales in comparison to the daily abuse of life and security that terrorists already inflict. A well-structured, constitutionally safeguarded state police system, integrated with local intelligence and community cooperation, is not a political luxury—it is a national necessity.
The DSS has done its part by raising the alarm. The onus now lies on the federal and state governments to transform that intelligence into action. This means visible, overwhelming, and coordinated security operations across Kogi, Ondo, and their border regions. It means pre-emptive strikes on identified cells, not reactive condolences after attacks. It also means addressing the economic dimension of insurgency, cutting off the funding streams that sustain ISWAP’s war machine.
With a $191 million treasury, ISWAP is waging an asymmetric warfare that Nigeria cannot win with business-as-usual tactics. The DSS alert should therefore be seen not as an isolated warning, but as a defining moment in Nigeria’s counterterrorism trajectory. The alternative, continued complacency, is unthinkable. If Kogi falls, the South becomes vulnerable. If Ondo is infiltrated, the myth of regional safety will collapse. The terrorists understand the symbolism of geography; so must we. The defense of Nigeria’s heartland cannot be left to calm statements and empty assurances. It requires urgency, coordination, and reform.