By Adeolu Ojedokun

For many Nigerians, forests once symbolised wildlife, farming and conservation. Today, they increasingly serve as operational headquarters for kidnapping networks. From the forests of the Northwest to the reserves linking Oyo, Osun and Kwara States, criminal groups have discovered what the Nigerian state has been slow to confront: ungoverned forests provide ideal sanctuaries for organised crime.

The recent abduction of pupils and teachers in Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State is therefore more than another tragic kidnapping. It is another warning that Nigeria’s forest corridors are becoming the country’s newest security frontier.

As an indigene of Ogbomoso, I received the reports with deep anguish. According to security reports, the kidnappers retreated into forest corridors linking Oyo to Kwara and Osun States, with escape routes reportedly leading toward the Old Oyo National Park.That detail, where they ran to, matters more than we have acknowledged.

Public attention understandably focused on rescue. Governor Seyi Makinde met grieving families and the Soun of Ogbomoso, His Imperial Majesty Oba Ghandi Afolabi Olaoye, Orumogege III, who remained actively engaged with both state and federal authorities. President Bola Tinubu directed security agencies to intensify operations and approved the deployment of forest guards. Religious organisations mobilised in prayer, civil society groups protested, and parents demanded accountability. The immediate priority was rightly the safe return of every child and teacher.

Yet beyond the urgency of rescue lies a deeper structural problem: Nigeria’s forests are increasingly becoming the operational infrastructure of a sophisticated kidnapping economy. This economy is sustained by ransom payments, informant networks, arms suppliers, negotiators and safe havens that allow criminal enterprises to function much like illicit businesses.

In recent years, a disturbing pattern has emerged. Abductions in Ekiti disappear into forests bordering Osun.

Kidnappings along the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway lead security agencies into the Omo and Oluwa forest reserves in Ogun and Ondo States. Criminal groups operating in Kogi exploit forests stretching into Nasarawa, the Federal Capital Territory and Edo State. In Kaduna, Niger, Zamfara and Katsina, forests have evolved beyond temporary hideouts into operational bases where hostages are held, negotiations are conducted, and criminal logistics coordinated.

What we are witnessing is the emergence of a contiguous forest corridor of insecurity, vast, under-governed, poorly mapped and increasingly connected by criminal networks that understand Nigeria’s geography better than the institutions charged with securing it.

The archetype of this crisis is Sambisa.

Once a celebrated game reserve in Borno State, Sambisa became Boko Haram’s headquarters after the group lost control of Maiduguri in 2013. It offered dense vegetation, difficult terrain, proximity to vulnerable communities and, above all, an absence of effective state authority.

It subsequently evolved into a training ground, logistics hub and hostage-holding site, including for many of the Chibok schoolgirls. It took years of sustained military operations to weaken that control, at enormous human and financial cost.

Sambisa also represents one of Nigeria’s most significant early warning failures. Long before the insurgency reached its peak, hunters, traders and communities living around the forest reportedly observed armed camps, illegal taxation, restrictions on farming and unusual movements of armed men. These were classic indicators of territorial consolidation. Yet there was no trusted reporting mechanism, no coordinated verification system and no timely institutional response. By the time those warning signs translated into national action, the forest had already become an insurgent sanctuary.

That history matters for Ogbomoso. Old Oyo National Park is not Sambisa, nor should anyone suggest that identical conditions already exist. But history demonstrates how quickly ungoverned spaces can become operational centres for organised violence when warning signs are ignored. The lesson is not that another insurgency is inevitable; it is that prevention is always less costly than recovery.

Historically, Nigeria’s forests were conceived as national assets. Old Oyo National Park, covering more than 2,500 square kilometres, was established to preserve biodiversity, cultural heritage and rural livelihoods. Similar objectives informed the creation of Kainji Lake National Park, Kamuku National Park and numerous forest reserves across the country.

Today, however, many of these forests are gradually becoming governance vacuums that organised criminal networks increasingly exploit.

The National Park Service remains responsible for protecting national parks but is underfunded, understaffed and primarily designed for conservation rather than counter-kidnapping operations.

State forestry departments have similarly declined in capacity, while the police and military concentrate most of their resources on highways and urban centres. Sustained forest operations require specialised skills, local knowledge and long-term deployment that conventional security structures often struggle to provide.

Into this vacuum have stepped hunters, vigilantes and community-based security organisations such as Amotekun. They possess intimate knowledge of forest routes, water sources, caves and seasonal pathways that rarely appear on official maps. Yet this knowledge remains insufficiently integrated into Nigeria’s broader security architecture. Their contribution is often reactive rather than institutionalised.
The consequence is a governance vacuum that organisedkidnapping networks continue to exploit with remarkable adaptability.

To be continued tomorrow.

Ojedokun is a Ph.D candidate in International Conflict Management at Kennesaw State University, Georgia, USA.