The truth is that these governors do not appear willing to invest the necessary resources to fortify schools against terrorists and bandits. What would meaningful protection require? Upgrading physical infrastructure; secure fencing, safe dormitories, good lighting; creating early-warning systems; community-based intelligence and rapid response; and robust funding for safe-school standards. Look at the crumbling infrastructure in these schools. That itself is an indictment.
In the wake of the renewed mass abductions of schoolchildren across Nigeria’s northern precincts, the governors of states within these high-risk zones have responded, not really through decisive protection measures, but through buck-passing, blame games, or the outright closure of all schools under their jurisdiction.
This response, far from being protective, sends alarming signals about the future of education for young people in the North. There is no rational justification for closing schools; it is synonymous with capitulation. Yet, there are best practices everywhere to draw inferences from. It is not only an admission of failure; it amounts to a surrender to terrorist propaganda and to the malevolent ambitions of criminal groups like Boko Haram to erase education from the lives of children. What this portends is a future of entrenched illiteracy, widespread poverty, and attendant social ills.
|
|
With these closures, the terrorists have already won a psychological war. Terror has triumphed over common sense. Safeguarding children, guaranteeing their education, and ensuring their safety should be non-negotiable responsibilities of the leadership. But for many governors, these responsibilities appear optional. Leadership demands taking tough decisions and confronting crises head-on. To throw in the towel at the first sign of danger speaks volumes about their lack of commitment to any noble cause.
Agreed, the security architecture is centralised, going by Nigeria’s skewed form of federal structure. However, if governors can make security funds available to themselves, it behooves them to do the same thing for citizens, especially for the protection of children whose lives and future plans are being threatened.
|
|
|
|---|
We would be toying with more chilling challenges in the future, if we duck and dodge responsibilities now, which is what schools closure represents. Not that current statistics are not bad enough. According to UNICEF, Nigeria currently has about 18.3 million out-of-school children. That figure comprises roughly 10.2 million children of primary school age.
Even within that bleak nationwide figure, the burden falls disproportionately on the North, particularly the North-West and North-East. This year, UNICEF has disclosed that three states alone – Kano, Katsina and Jigawa – account for 16 per cent of those 10.2 million out-of-school children, with nearly 900,000 in Kano, over 300,000 in Jigawa and about 300,000 in Katsina.
If the statistics today are this abysmal, one shudders to imagine the situation in another 10 or 20 years. The foundation for a generation of illiterates is already being laid – one that began crumbling in 2014 with the abduction of 276 girls from a girls’ secondary school in Chibok, and which has been repeatedly shaken by kidnappings in Borno, Buni Yadi, Kaduna, Niger, and other attacks on institutions, whether Islamic schools, public or private schools.
Gender inequality deepens the crisis. UNICEF has pointed out that out-of-school children are more likely to be girls, and more than half of Nigeria’s out-of-school children are female. The North remains the region where school attendance and retention for girls are the worst. That same North harbours governors without foresight – whose only interest is to engage in intrigues for the purpose of retaining power.
If the statistics today are this abysmal, one shudders to imagine the situation in another 10 or 20 years. The foundation for a generation of illiterates is already being laid – one that began crumbling in 2014 with the abduction of 276 girls from a girls’ secondary school in Chibok, and which has been repeatedly shaken by kidnappings in Borno, Buni Yadi, Kaduna, Niger, and other attacks on institutions, whether Islamic schools, public or private schools.
In the face of this existential crisis, are our governors truly concerned about these long-term consequences? Instead of rising to the challenge, they have resorted to compounding an already dire situation, effectively turning criminals into heroes, while making victims of children.
The truth is that these governors do not appear willing to invest the necessary resources to fortify schools against terrorists and bandits. What would meaningful protection require? Upgrading physical infrastructure; secure fencing, safe dormitories, good lighting; creating early-warning systems; community-based intelligence and rapid response; and robust funding for safe-school standards. Look at the crumbling infrastructure in these schools. That itself is an indictment.
All these may be expensive, but they are surely less costly in human potential than the long-term consequences of a whole generation being denied schooling. Besides, these are not as expensive as the lavish lifestyles of these governors. Instead, we see misplaced priorities in the form of generous security votes used to safeguard the political elites and their families, while children in public schools are left vulnerable. Many of these same elites send their own children to schools abroad or “safer” schools in major cities, while forsaking public schools under their control.
Their argument that security is not in their hands, also rings hollow in the light of their political dominance. These governors control state assemblies, oversee local governments, and have repeatedly stymied reforms that would devolve power or deliver resources directly to local councils. If governors truly prioritise children’s welfare and education, they would mobilise resources to secure schools.
Consider what responsible leadership might have looked like. In previous years, even at the height of insurgency in some northern areas, education was sustained. Where rural or village-level schools were rendered unsafe, children could have been relocated to safer “mega schools” in secure zones, with adequate facilities and staff. When Vice President Kashim Shettima was operating under Boko Haram challenges, he built mega schools for kids.
With the closing of schools, they handle the symptom poorly, but fail to address the root causes. Closing down schools because of fear is not leadership. It is shirking responsibility and discarding accountability. It is a vanity of power without purpose.
Consider what responsible leadership might have looked like. In previous years, even at the height of insurgency in some northern areas, education was sustained. Where rural or village-level schools were rendered unsafe, children could have been relocated to safer “mega schools” in secure zones, with adequate facilities and staff. When Vice President Kashim Shettima was operating under Boko Haram challenges, he built mega schools for kids.
The governors we have today would rather opt for knee-jerk, fire brigade reactions that sacrifice the futures of children for temporary calm.
Education is liberating, without which many would not be where they are today. For many children in the North, especially from poor families, internally displaced households, or those affected by violence, it may be their only ticket out of poverty, marginalisation or exploitation. Denying them that opportunity is not only cowardly, it is unconscionable.
Governors who choose closures over courage are not simply surrendering to terror; they are surrendering the future. They are depriving innocent children of hope. They are making victims of generations yet to come. If our forebears gave up at the first sign of adversity, many of us would not be where we are today.
Zainab Suleiman Okino (FNGE) chairs the Blueprint Editorial Board. She is a syndicated columnist and can be reached via [email protected]
