Brutal and emboldened: how Nigeria’s bandit crisis spun out of control
Beneath the shade of the wide-spreading branches of a neem tree, five young gang members wearing camouflage and beanies and cradling AK47 rifles took refuge from the harsh midday sun. They passed around cold bottles of water and a popular energy drink called Fearless. To their left, a dreadlocked teenager with his own rifle rested on one of three motorcycles parked on the sparse grass. To their right, another teenager sat with his back to the others, rolling a spliff. The rendezvous of some of the most dreaded men in Nigeria took place near Batsari, a settlement in the north-western state of Katsina. The settlement lies within the Rugu forest reserve, which covers much of the state and stretches across the border into Niger’s Maradi region. Local people would describe these men as terrorists or bandits – a reference to armed criminal groups who kidnap for ransom, killing those who resist, and engage in cattle rustling. But Abu “Abu Radde” Bello, the 32-year-old gang leader, said he rejects those terms.
Abu ‘Abu Radde’ Bello, the leader of a gang in Katsina state “We are not happy that people call us criminals and terrorists,” he said after midday prayers. “We are just trying to fend for our families. In the process, people are disturbing us – and that brings conflicts.” *** Bello’s denials – expressed in neutral language – belie the brutal nature of Nigeria’s banditry crisis. Hundreds of gangs like his have roamed across vast swathes of un-policed land in northern Nigeria since 2011, razing villages to the ground and maiming, torturing, raping and killing with unrestrained ruthlessness.
A young boy in the mining town of Nahuta, which has been targeted by armed gangs The recruits, mostly ethnic Fulani herders, are the most prominent non-state actors in this part of Africa’s most-populous country. Between 2010 and 2023, there were 13,485 deaths linked to banditry in the seven states that comprise Nigeria’s north-west region, according to the conflict monitor Acled.
The crisis has its roots in conflicts between farmers and nomadic herders over land and resources that have become more intense because of the climate crisis, deforestation and rapid population growth. Some herders formed vigilante groups, which morphed into criminal gangs. Fulanis, who are almost entirely Muslims, are present in more than 20 countries in Africa. Though Bello was born in Nigeria, and has a national ID card, he remembers playing shadi – a ritual game of endurance where young suitors take turns whipping each other to impress potential brides – with Fulani from elsewhere, and some of his kinsmen know motorcycle routes all the way to Mali.
Bello’s gang gathered under a tree To the south, in the north-central region, similar factors are driving conflicts between Fulani militia and vigilante groups that have sprung up in largely Christian farming settlements. Analysts say Donald Trump’s otherwise debunked claims of a “Christian genocide” in Nigeria are closest to being true here. In the north-west however, where farmers are of Hausa ethnicity, the violence pits Muslim against Muslim. The crisis stems in part from a lack of state presence in large parts of the country. Huge areas have been abandoned by the state, including territory designated by the federal government as nature reserves. In the Batsari local government area, for example, several settlements, including the rendezvous point chosen by Bello’s gang, are not even on the map.
In the absence of law enforcement, non-state actors have moved in and become the law themselves. Across the country, various groupings, such as the militants of the Niger delta, secessionists in the south-east, jihadists in the north-east and bandits in the north-west, use these ungoverned spaces to hide out, keep abductees, and wage war against security personnel with less knowledge of the terrain.
A customs authority building on the Nigeria-Niger border Successive administrations have struggled to contain these interlinked security issues and previous gains have been erased in recent years. In 2022, terrorism-related deaths in Nigeria dropped to 392, the lowest level since 2011, according to the Global Terrorism Index. In 2025, that number soared to 750, the largest increase globally.
Bandit leaders have pointed accusing fingers at authorities, saying government corruption is a bigger sin than abduction. Porous borders and an underfunded security architecture have also contributed to a feeling of insecurity. In Batsari, Bello recited longstanding grievances against the state government. “They promised to build hospital, school, dam and [give us] tap water,” he said. As the crisis festers, some say the lines are blurring between opportunistic banditry and ideological jihadism, with consequences for a common enemy – the state and its citizens. The rise of Lakurawa, a hybrid insurgency that has emerged in the last decade in the north-central region, has become cause for concern in particular. It started as a vigilante group fighting bandits but morphed into a terrorist outfit levying a religious tax on communities in return for protection. *** The bandits’ success has given them an air of impunity. Younger gang members show off their loot on TikTok, while older ones have become influential in political circles. In November, 25 schoolgirls were abducted from a Kebbi school by the notorious bandit leader Ado Aleru. Two sources working in intelligence and the presidency told the Guardian anonymously that the abduction was carried out to pressure the government to release Aleru’s nephew and some of his men, who had been arrested on their return from hajj in Saudi Arabia. The schoolgirls were released within a week. Sources with knowledge of the operation said the same to Malik Samuel, an Abuja-based senior researcher at the Good Governance Africa thinktank.
Clockwise from top left: gang members rest with their motorcycles; a bubble-wrapped motorcycle; a gang member straddles his motorcycle while a man prays next to him; one of the gang members “He [Ado Aleru] pressed all the buttons within the government that he could [to secure the release of his nephew],” Samuel said. “I think he didn’t make headway. So he masterminded the abduction of those 25 girls … the bottom line is that not only was ransom paid for the release of the girls but 11 people, all the people that these guys demanded, were released.” There are mounting concerns that the Kebbi case could embolden other bandit groups to use similar tactics to secure concessions.
A young refugee in Nahuta. She and her family have been unable to go back to their farms due to bandit attacks Meanwhile, communities tired of ineffective government intervention have tried to negotiate truces with the gangs. One such deal was struck in late 2025 between Bello’s gang and the nearby gold mining town of Nahuta. Under the terms of the deal, gang members have freedom of movement and access to the local market as long as they stop their attacks and do not bring guns into populated areas. Gang members work side-by-side with local people in mining pits, and use the same food vendors and sex workers. Gangs that have struck deals say they are keeping their guns for protection from rivals and security agencies.
*** In Batsari, Bello declined to answer questions about why his gang had abducted people. “Things happen,” he said. Inquiries about the source of their weapons were met with laughter. But Bello was prepared to discuss why he had picked up guns rather than go to court to settle disputes over cattle or land. “We are not educated,” he said. “We are not lawyers or judges. We don’t know how to start and where to go to.”
A community near Batsari Another gang member, Haruna, interjected: “What has been happening is a calamity … us Muslims fighting each other is a loss, not gain. We want the government to help us so that when we go for grazing no one will oppress us and we will not oppress anyone.”
