LAGOS, Nigeria — When the news broke in January 2026 that the Katsina State Government had quietly released 70 suspected bandits and terror suspects, officials framed it as a necessary gamble for peace. The justification was swift and emotive: more than 1,000 abducted victims had regained their freedom; farmers were returning to their fields; markets, long silenced by fear, were stirring back to life.
For communities battered by years of bloodshed, the promise of calm — however fragile — felt like relief. Yet beneath the surface of this apparent success lies a deeper national unease. Is Nigeria buying peace at too high a price? And in negotiating with those accused of mass violence, is the state undermining justice, deterrence, and its own moral authority?
In this report, Juliet Jacob examines Nigeria’s enduring reliance on amnesty as a conflict-resolution tool, drawing on field observations, survivor testimonies, historical precedents and expert security analysis. What emerges is a troubling pattern: short-term quiet that masks long-term instability, and concessions that risk entrenching impunity rather than ending violence.
Short-Term Calm, Long-Term Costs
Data reviewed by Africa Health Report indicates that over the past five years, banditry has claimed more than 1,500 civilian lives in Katsina State alone. Entire villages have been emptied, livelihoods destroyed, and generations traumatised. Against this backdrop, the release of suspects already undergoing prosecution has reignited debate over whether peace built on negotiation with violent actors can ever be durable.
In villages around Jibia and Batsari, residents describe a tense calm — the kind that comes not from confidence in security forces, but from the temporary withdrawal of armed men. “We are farming again,” one local farmer said quietly, “but we do not know for how long. We have seen peace before, and then the guns return.”
It is this cycle — violence, negotiation, relapse — that critics say defines Nigeria’s amnesty approach.
A Familiar Strategy
Nigeria’s flirtation with amnesty is not new. In 2009, the federal government under President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua launched the Niger Delta Amnesty Programme. More than 30,000 militants laid down arms, and oil production rebounded almost immediately. Internationally, the programme was hailed as a pragmatic success.
But the calm proved deceptive. Environmental degradation, unemployment and governance failures persisted. Militancy mutated into oil theft, piracy and organised crime. “The guns went silent,” one analyst later observed, “but the incentives for violence never disappeared.”
A similar logic guided deradicalisation efforts in the North-East. Programmes such as Operation Safe Corridor encouraged Boko Haram fighters to surrender and reintegrate. While thousands reportedly disengaged, victims complained bitterly of neglect. Many received neither compensation nor justice, while reports of relapse and sleeper cells exposed weaknesses in monitoring and accountability.
By the time North-Western states turned to localised amnesty deals around 2016, the warning signs were already visible.
The North-West Experiment
Zamfara, Katsina and Sokoto states pursued negotiations as banditry spiralled out of control. Deals were brokered through traditional rulers; arms were surrendered; hostages freed. Each time, hope flickered.
Each time, it faded.
Even former Katsina State Governor Aminu Masari later acknowledged that many bandits never truly abandoned crime. Violence spread from a handful of local government areas in 2011 to more than 25 by 2023, according to security assessments.
The January 2026 Katsina release represents the most controversial iteration yet.
The Katsina Case
State officials confirmed that the 70 suspects were freed after consultations with traditional leaders as part of peace accords covering 15 local government areas. In the immediate aftermath, officials pointed to reopened markets and improved mobility as proof of success.
But civil society groups were unconvinced. The Coalition of Northern Groups warned that the move “undermines justice, security, and the authority of the state,” arguing that it sends a clear signal: mass violence is negotiable.
Online, public anger erupted. Many Nigerians questioned why suspected perpetrators were receiving concessions while victims remained invisible.
Victims Left Behind
Across the North-West, displacement camps tell a quieter, harsher story. Families who lost relatives, homes and livelihoods watch as former fighters access rehabilitation packages, while survivors struggle to secure compensation or psychosocial support.
A widow in a displacement camp outside Katsina town summed up the sentiment bluntly: “They say it is peace, but whose peace? Not for those of us who buried our husbands.”
This imbalance, analysts warn, corrodes trust in the state and fuels resentment that can itself become a security risk.
Expert Verdict: A Security Failure
In an exclusive interview with Africa Health Report, (AHR), a military and intelligence affairs commentator and OSINT expert, Mr. Deji Adesogan,offered a stark assessment.
“From a security and intelligence perspective, Nigeria’s repeated use of amnesty represents a dangerous erosion of deterrence,” he said. “Maximum use of kinetic approaches, alongside the creation of special courts for terrorism, is the best option.”
On the Katsina release specifically, Adesogan warned: “Releasing suspected bandits encourages other terrorists to believe that amnesty awaits them after committing atrocities. This weakens the rule of law and emboldens criminal networks.”
While acknowledging the emotional appeal of hostage releases, he cautioned against strategic blindness. “Hostage releases are important, but they do not outweigh the long-term strategic damage. The full force of kinetic action remains the most effective national security option.”
On accountability, his verdict was unequivocal: “Peace negotiations must not erase justice. Strong political will and a functioning justice system are essential if victims are to see accountability.”
Addressing relapse among so-called repentant fighters, Adesogan added: “Without strong political will and credible justice mechanisms, deradicalisation frameworks will continue to fail. That is why relapse and sleeper cells persist.”
His conclusion was blunt: “Amnesty cannot work in the North-West. Banditry here is tied to organised crime and jihadist networks.”
Peace or Perpetual Impunity?
Evidence increasingly supports this scepticism. Despite repeated negotiations, violence has expanded geographically and grown more complex. Analysts argue that amnesty, when untethered from accountability, does more than fail — it teaches armed groups that violence is a viable bargaining chip.
The consequences extend beyond security. As justice is sidelined, public confidence in institutions erodes. Communities turn to vigilantism; self-help militias emerge; the social contract frays.
At the national level, security policy risks normalising violence as negotiation rather than treating it as a crime against the state.
Beyond the Bargain
Nigeria’s amnesty gamble continues to deliver fragile calm at a steep cost. The Katsina episode encapsulates a dilemma the country has yet to resolve negotiate with violence or confront it through law, justice and decisive security action.
This investigation finds that without firm political will, credible courts, victim reparations and intelligence-led operations, amnesty risks perpetuating — rather than resolving — insecurity.
For peace to endure, Nigeria must move beyond concessions. It must centre victims, restore deterrence, and reaffirm that mass violence is neither a strategy nor a bargaining tool — but a crime that demands accountability.
