Abduction and death of Rabe Abubakar: A country lacking shame and outrage – by Usman Sarki

“And as his genius was destitute of judgement, he attempted every art, except the important ones of war and government.” — Edward Gibbon on Emperor Gallienus

Edward Gibbon described Emperor Gallienus, son of the ill‑fated Emperor Valerian, as a most contemptible prince. Gallienus allegedly received his father’s defeat and captivity by the Persian King Shapur I with a cold shrug, lamenting the disgrace only briefly before retreating to a life of luxury, indolence and self‑absorption. He too was later consumed by the violence and turmoil of his own empire.

Violence and turmoil are unpredictable forces that can erupt anywhere, at any time, and affect anyone, regardless of preparation. The tragic death of Major‑General Rabe Abubakar, retired, should serve as a warning about the dangers of laxity, complacency and indifference in public duty, no matter who is involved or where they come from.

A dry, matter‑of‑fact press statement from the Katsina State Government announced the death of the retired general in captivity. Such an ignominious end to an illustrious life dedicated to national service should ordinarily have sparked indignation, outrage and a heightened sense of national shame. Yet, having normalized absurdity and accepted the curtailment of dignity as a condition of existence, many of us seem prepared to view the abduction and death of a retired general as just another unfortunate incident in an already troubled country.

This is perhaps the most troubling aspect of Nigeria’s current condition: not only do terrible events happen with alarming frequency, but they no longer shock us. Today it was General Rabe Abubakar; tomorrow it could be anyone else. There was a time when the abduction of a senior military officer, serving or retired, would have triggered a national emergency, dominated public discourse, provoked decisive official action and attracted the attention of every security agency.

The mere thought that a man who had spent decades defending the nation could become helpless before criminal gangs would have been seen as an intolerable affront to state authority. Today, such tragedies barely register beyond the immediate circle of family, friends and colleagues. We have become so habituated to stories of kidnappings, killings, disappearances and attacks that they now compete for attention with football scores, political defections and social media gossip. The extraordinary has become ordinary; the abnormal has become normal; the shameful has become casual.

The death of Major‑General Rabe Abubakar is therefore not merely an individual story. It is a mirror held up to the nation, forcing us to confront uncomfortable questions about our society’s condition, the capacity of our institutions and the state of our collective conscience. What does it say about a country when those who once commanded troops, planned military operations and contributed to national security can no longer feel safe within its borders?

What does it say about state authority when criminal elements can, with alarming impunity and audacity, abduct a retired general and hold him captive until death overtakes him? What confidence can ordinary citizens derive from the promise of protection when a man of such stature and his wife could not be rescued from weeks of captivity? These questions are not meant to diminish the sacrifices of our security agencies.

Nigerian soldiers, police officers, intelligence personnel, civil defence operatives, local government officials and traditional rulers continue to make enormous sacrifices under difficult conditions. Many have paid the supreme price in defense of the nation and their communities. The issue is whether the political and institutional framework in which they operate is adequate to the magnitude of the challenges confronting the country.

The tragedy also illustrates a wider crisis that extends beyond security: the crisis of national desensitization. A society gradually loses its vitality when it ceases to be outraged by wrongdoing. Outrage, when properly directed, is not a sign of instability; it is evidence of social vitality and moral health. It is society’s way of declaring that certain lines must not be crossed and certain standards must not fall. When outrage disappears, indifference takes its place, and when indifference becomes entrenched, decline and decay follow.

Many Nigerians have become mentally and emotionally exhausted by the relentless stream of bad news. Economic hardship, insecurity, unemployment, inflation and political uncertainty have combined to create a state of psychological fatigue and a siege mentality. Citizens increasingly conserve their emotional energy by lowering their expectations. They expect little from institutions and nothing from their leaders, and therefore express little surprise when institutions or leaders fail them.

This adaptation may be understandable, but it is dangerous and unhealthy. The acceptance of unacceptable conditions is one of the most powerful enablers of national decline and disgrace. History is replete with examples of societies that slowly adjusted themselves to worsening circumstances until dysfunction became permanent. What begins as temporary accommodation often evolves into permanent resignation. It is this resignation that should worry us as much as the insecurity itself.

The bandits who abducted Major‑General Rabe Abubakar undoubtedly bear direct responsibility for their criminal actions. But there is a broader responsibility that belongs to society and government alike. For years, communities in Katsina State and other parts of the country have been subjected to attacks, villages have been displaced, highways have become perilous, and citizens have been compelled to alter their lives around the activities of criminal gangs.

Each incident has been met with expressions of concern, promises of action, assurances of improvement and flowery press statements. Yet the phenomenon persists. The result is the gradual erosion of public confidence in the state’s most fundamental obligation, which is the protection of life and property. Political philosophers from Thomas Hobbes onwards have argued that the primary justification for the existence of the state is security.

Our own national constitution affirms this duty of the state as the highest goal. Citizens surrender certain freedoms and submit to lawful authority in exchange for protection. When that protection becomes uncertain or desultory, the social contract itself comes under strain. The death of the retired general should therefore not be viewed merely as a personal tragedy. It should be understood as a failure and challenge to the credibility of governance and the effectiveness of state authority.

There is also a deeper human dimension to the matter. Behind every headline lies a family. Behind every statistic lies a life. Behind every contrived press statement lies grief. Major‑General Rabe Abubakar was not simply a retired officer. He was a husband, father, colleague, friend and compatriot. He represented decades of loyal service, experience, sacrifice and commitment. To reduce such a life to a brief announcement of death in captivity is itself a reminder of how routine tragedy has become in our public affairs.

Nations reveal their character not only by how they celebrate their heroes, but also by how they respond when those heroes fall. The appropriate response is not hysteria or partisan blame. It is sober reflection accompanied by determined action. It is the recognition that every citizen matters, whether general or farmer, governor or labourer, prince or pauper. The death of any Nigerian at the hands of criminals undoubtedly diminishes the entire nation.

The lesson of Emperor Gallienus remains relevant today after nearly two thousand years. His indifference to the humiliation of his father did not shield him from the turbulence that engulfed Rome. On the contrary, the violence he ignored eventually consumed him and, in time, his empire. The same principle applies to all societies. No group can permanently isolate itself from insecurity. No community can assume that violence will remain confined to distant locations. No citizen can safely conclude that today’s victim has no connection to tomorrow’s existential danger.

The insecurity that claims a farmer in Zamfara, a trader in Katsina, a traveller in Kaduna or a retired general in his home is ultimately part of the same national challenge. To ignore it because it affects someone else is to misunderstand the nature of the threat. The death of Major‑General Rabe Abubakar should therefore awaken us from our collective lethargy and apathy. It should remind us that security is not merely a government responsibility but a national imperative.

It should compel leaders to show more empathy, review existing strategies, strengthen institutions and restore public confidence. It should encourage citizens to reject the normalisation of violence and refuse the temptation of resignation. Most importantly, it should restore to us something we appear to have lost, which is our capacity for outrage. Perhaps the greatest danger confronting Nigeria today is not insecurity itself, grave and overwhelming as it is, but our growing accommodation with insecurity. For the day a people cease to be shocked by injustice, violence and humiliation is the day they begin to surrender their future to them and lose their souls.

For when a nation ceases to be outraged by the humiliation of its people, the desecration of its laws and the erosion of its authority, it loses not only its security but also its soul. The death of Major‑General Rabe Abubakar is a tragedy. But an even greater tragedy would be if Nigeria learns nothing from it and simply moves on, like Gallienus, awaiting the next victim, the next kidnapping and the next dry press statement announcing another preventable loss. That would truly be the conduct of a nation without a sense of outrage or shame. May General Abubakar’s soul repose in peace.

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