Mahmuda, Lakurawa and the Urgency of Securitisation

By Abdul Mahmud

Terrorism is changing in the northern region of our country. The faces are new. Some are old. The methods are familiar. The threat is growing. Two new groups have emerged. One is Mahmuda. The other is Lakurawa. Add the familiar curmudgeons: ISWAP, Boko Haram and Ansaru and you will have a clearer glimpse of the deadly compositions and boundaries of the ill-tempered cauldrons they have established in the north – from Kwara State to the fringes of Zamfara State. Their names are now etched into the long, tragic history of terror in our country.

One Sunday night last month, suspected members of Mahmuda struck. They attacked Ilesha Baruba and Kemaanji. These are peaceful towns in Kwara State. The attacks stretched across Baruten and Kaiama local governments. Lives were lost. Families were displaced. Silence descended after violence. Mahmuda is a new name. But the pattern is old. Sudden strikes. Coordinated assaults on vulnerable citizens in remote villages. The terrorist group is expanding. It has now entered Niger State. This is dangerous.

Lakurawa is another new group which operates largely in the northwest. Its ideology is extreme. Its actions are brutal. The terrorists who people the group flog citizens for listening to music. Music. An act of joy. An act of identity.The federal government has declared Lakurawa a terrorist group. This is a step in the right direction. But it came late. Lakurawa has been active for years. It crossed into our country from Niger. Its members settled in border communities. They married local women. They recruited local youths. They became part of the social fabric. Then, they turned it into a web of violence. Lakurawa is not alone. It has ties to jihadist factions in Mali and Niger. The Sahel is burning. The fire is spreading south. Our country’s borders are porous. And terror and terrorists move freely. Our country is now the fertile ground for terrorism. A cradle for a new kind of war. A war without honour. Without fronts. Without rules. It is the war Professor Richard English, one of the world’s foremost scholars on terrorism, calls a distinct form of warfare. One that feeds on fear. Thrives in broken states. Spreads in the cracks of our silence. It is not fought on battlefields, but in markets, mosques, and schools. It creeps into daily life. It redraws the map of safety. This is the war our citizens now face. The war our country allowed to take root.

The emergence of these new groups poses deep threats to national security. To public order and safety. To our collective peace. These are not isolated criminals. They are ideologically driven. They have military training. They have weapons. They have intent. Their goal is domination. Not just of space, but of minds. They do not only kill. They control. They dictate how people live. What they hear. What they wear. What they believe. This is not just crime. This is terrorism. And terrorism is war. It is a war without fronts. A war without uniforms. A war against the state. Yet, our country is slow. It is uncoordinated. Its responses are reactive, not preventive. It cannot continue like this.

This is where securitisation becomes relevant.

Ole Waever and Barry Buzan, two scholars in international relations, introduced this concept. It is simple, yet powerful.

Securitisation means turning a political issue into a security issue. It means naming it as an existential threat. It means treating it urgently. Like a war. Like a pandemic. I must place a caveat here: not every issue should be securitised. But some must. Terrorism is one of them. Waever argues correctly that securitisation begins with a speech act. A leader says: “This is dangerous.” That speech changes everything. It moves the issue from routine politics to emergency politics. Once securitised, the issue gets priority. Resources flow. Action follows. Our country must securitise Mahmuda and Lakurawa. These are not bandits. These are terrorists. These are ogres. Call them that. Treat them as such- the enemies of the state. But, it goes beyond treating terrorists as enemies, our leaders must act. Not just talk. They must frame the threats in clear, urgent terms. They must explain it to the citizens. They must build support for tough measures. And they must implement those measures.

Securitisation helps build consensus around emergent threats. It unites security agencies. It gives the military a clear mandate. It galvanises public awareness. But securitisation also comes with responsibility. It must not be abused. It must not target political opponents. It must not trample on rights. It must be precise. It must be justified.

Mahmuda and Lakurawa justify it.

There is also the need for intelligence reforms. These terrorist groups did not appear overnight. They grew under the radar. They expanded in plain sight. They took root in the vast forgotten and ungoverned spaces of our country. They fed on religious extremism, raw, rigid, and restless. A pervasive restlessness so often twisted into a cry for blood. The North, long burdened by fragile fault lines, became the staging ground of terrorists. It offered not just land, but history. A history where belief has too often flirted with brutality. Where fervour, when unmoored from reason, spills easily into violence. In this space, ideology became a weapon. And faith, once sacred, was repurposed into fire. If intelligence had worked, Mahmuda would not have expanded. If intelligence had worked, Lakurawa would not have merged into our border towns, establishing its own geography of bloody orgies.

Our country needs human intelligence. Not just drones. Our country needs locals to trust it. Not fear it. Our country needs early warning systems. Community policing. Local vigilance.

Securitisation must begin at the community level. Imams. Teachers. Farmers. Traders. They know what happens before Abuja does. They must be part of the solution. Our country must also fix its borders. The Nigeria-Niger border is not a line. It is a zone. A corridor of trade, migration and, now, terror. Lakurawa uses it. So do others. Our country needs joint patrols. Cross-border cooperations. Shared intelligence. A regional counter-terrorism strategy. West Africa must work together. Terror is regional. Our country’s responses must be the same.

And yet, while we act, let it be remembered: force alone does not end terrorism. Ideas must be fought with better ideas.

Why do young men join Mahmuda? Why do they flock to Lakurawa? Why is Ansaru establishing terrorists’ cells in Kogi State? It is because they seek power. Because they seek purpose. Because they feel abandoned.

Our country must not abandon its citizens. Development is prevention. Schools. Jobs. Healthcare. Roads. These are weapons against terror. When citizens have hope, they resist terror. When they feel safe, they report threats. When they trust the state, they defend it.

Securitisation must go hand in hand with human security. Not just military security. The North is bleeding. But it is not yet lost. Our country can still act. The north can still be saved. Our country must first call things by their names. Mahmuda is a terrorist group. Lakurawa is a terrorist group. Their ideologies are violent. Their actions are evil.

Our country and its rulers must respond decisively. Today. Not tomorrow. This is not just a northern problem. It is a national one. What starts in Kwara spreads to Abuja. What burns in Niger may soon reach Lagos. The sum of the part is connected to the whole. Not greater.

National security is not a slogan. It is a duty. Public safety is not a luxury. It is a right. Waever and Buzan teach us to listen to danger. To recognise when politics becomes war. To know when to shift gears. Our country must shift gears. It must treat Mahmuda and Lakurawa as the threats they are. Existential threats. Securitised threats.

Our country cannot normalise terror. Our citizens cannot live with it. Citizens must end it.

And to end it, we must first name it.

That is the beginning.