By Ebuka Ukoh
A nation does not prove its strength in speeches. But the safety it guarantees to its children speaks volumes. As I struggled to come to terms with the news of the abduction of students travelling to sit the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) examination in Benue State, I watched interviews of survivors. The weight of what had happened became even harder to bear.
This is not an isolated tragedy. It is evidence of a deeper failure. A failure of strategy, intelligence, and political will. Some will argue that plans exist. But governance is not measured by plans. It is measured by implementation.
Year in, year out, the JAMB examination exposes something troubling about the Nigerian state…not just about education, but about our priorities.
It reveals unpreparedness. It reveals insecurity. It reveals disorder. It reveals indifference. This is not a failure of capacity. It is a failure of priority.
These are children moving towards opportunities through education. Their effort is not for themselves alone; it is for their families, communities, and the future of Nigeria. When children succeed, societies advance. When they are obstructed, societies regress.
When a child is harmed, the damage does not end with that child. It spreads outward. Into families. Into communities. Into the future.
Not admin but moral problem
Across Nigeria, schools, roads, and communities have repeatedly been exposed to abductions and attacks, making even routine activities a calculated risk. This is often framed as an “exam issue.” It is not.
It is a question of whether a country can organise a basic national process without chaos. Whether it can guarantee fairness. Whether it can ensure safety.
If a nation cannot conduct a transitional examination without fear, delay, or disruption, then the problem is not logistical. It is structural.
What followed the reports of abduction added another layer of concern. JAMB moved quickly to issue a denial, suggesting that the incident did not occur as reported. That response may have been intended to calm public anxiety, but its speed, in the absence of clear verification, raised more questions than it answered. In moments like this, institutions are tested not only by events but by how they respond to them.
A hasty denial in the face of emerging reports often signals deeper internal uncertainty. It suggests a system reacting to pressure rather than operating with clarity. When communication shifts rapidly or appears disconnected from facts on the ground, public confidence suffers. At a time when reassurance should come from transparency, contradiction only deepens distrust.
Reports indicate that at least 14 students were abducted in connection with this examination process in Benue State. Among them were siblings from the same family. Because of that incident, they were unable to sit the examination.
This is not an inconvenience. It is a denial. Must a child survive a journey before earning the right to be examined? So, the question must be asked clearly. Must the future of children be suspended because the state cannot provide safe conditions for an examination? Must their trajectory depend on whether they can survive the journey to a test centre?
Who Pays the Price?
The burden of this failure is not evenly shared. It does not fall on the children of the powerful. It does not fall on those with access to private alternatives, secure transport, or influence. It falls on ordinary families.
The burden is on parents who save for years to pay examination fees. It falls on children who prepare with discipline, hoping education will offer a path forward. It falls on those who have no option but to rely on public systems. These are the children who carry the cost of state failure.
Even when they are rescued, the damage does not disappear. Fear leaves a mark. For many of these children, the memory of that fear will outlast the examination itself. Disruption alters outcomes. Opportunity, once delayed, is not always recovered.
Enough of Routine Responses
The pattern is familiar. An incident occurs. There is outrage. There are statements of sympathy. There are assurances. Then attention shifts. This cycle is no longer acceptable.
Expressions of concern are no substitutes for prevention. Pledges of support after harm do not replace the duty to prevent it from occurring. A state that reacts without preparing is not governing effectively.
What Must Change
In functioning systems, national examinations are treated as high-priority events, with coordinated security, logistics, and contingency planning to ensure access and safety. This moment demands more than commentary. It also raises a more difficult question about whether the continued existence of a centralised examination system like the JAMB still serves its intended purpose. Over the years, the process has been marked by recurring technical failures, scheduling disruptions, long travel distances for candidates, and widespread complaints about access and fairness. According to JAMB’s own released figures, over 1.6 million candidates sit the examination annually, many travelling across states under conditions that expose them to risk and logistical strain.
A system designed to standardise access should not become a barrier to access. When students must navigate insecurity, infrastructure gaps, and administrative uncertainty simply to take an examination, the system demands reconsideration. Reform may be possible, but where reform repeatedly falls short, structural change must be placed on the table. A decentralised, institution-driven admission model, supported by transparent standards, may better serve a country of Nigeria’s size and complexity.
The ideal model demands a set of actions grounded in responsibility.
First, examination logistics must be redesigned with security at the centre. Travel to test centres should not expose students to risk. Decentralisation of centres, secure transportation corridors, and coordination with security agencies are basic requirements, not luxuries.
Second, intelligence must move from reactive to preventive. If patterns of vulnerability exist around examination periods, they must be identified and addressed before students begin their journeys.
Third, accountability must be clear. When failures occur, responsibility should not dissolve into general statements. Institutions and officials must answer for gaps in planning and execution.
Fourth, contingency systems must be built. No child should lose an academic year because of insecurity beyond their control. Alternative examination arrangements must be guaranteed in advance.
Finally, a system that cannot protect its children on the highway to opportunities is a system that has lost sight of its purpose. The standard a nation must meet in the 21st- century is not perfection. It is a measurable seriousness. A country must be able to educate its children. It must be able to protect them while they pursue that education. It must be able to conduct examinations fairly and safely.
These are not advanced benchmarks. They are basic functions.
The abduction in Benue State should force a national reckoning. Not about one incident, but about a pattern that continues to repeat. Because when children cannot sit an examination in safety, the issue is no longer about education. It is about the character of the state.
A country that cannot protect its children on the way to an examination is not merely failing in education. It is failing the idea of a future.
*Ukoh, who writes from New York, United States, is a coauthor of Built By The Ancestors, an alumnus of the American University of Nigeria, Yola, and a PhD student at Columbia University, New York
