Nigeria’s much-publicised release of 48 alleged terrorism financiers—mostly obscure, unrecognisable names published without photographs, accompanied by no arrests and no explanation for years of official silence—has deepened public scepticism rather than restored confidence in the government’s counterterrorism resolve.
by Nij Martin
When a government publishes a list of terrorism financiers, the minimum expectation is that the names mean something. Nigeria’s Nigeria Sanctions Committee released its most comprehensive terrorism financing list yet last Saturday — 48 individuals, 12 entities — and promptly left most Nigerians staring at a roll call of strangers. Beyond the already-convicted Simon Ekpa, jailed in Finland, and Tukur Mamu, whose trial resumes April 23, the remaining names are almost entirely unrecognisable to the public. No photographs were attached. No locations disclosed. No arrests announced. Just names — dozens of them — hanging in the air without consequence.
Nigerians noticed immediately. “These names should have faces attached to them,” one social media user wrote. “Why not show Nigerians who they are? So the entire country knows its own home-grown enemies.” Another was more blunt: “Names can be forged. We need their faces behind their names if they want us to believe these names are real.” A third dispensed with diplomacy entirely: “Don’t just post their names — arrest all of them, period.” Perhaps most damaging was the observation that no prominent politicians, particularly those from the ruling APC, appeared anywhere on the list, prompting one user to conclude: “This must be a fake list or it has been doctored.”
The timing itself invites suspicion. Boko Haram has terrorised Nigeria for over fifteen years. ISWAP has been designated a terrorist organisation for years. The Abuja-Kaduna train attack occurred in 2022. Tukur Mamu was arrested the same year. Simon Ekpa was convicted in Finland in September 2025. If the government possessed intelligence linking these 48 individuals to terrorism financing, what exactly took so long? Security expert Shola Muse offered an answer that doubles as an indictment: “If the government is sincere, it must convince the public that they are ready this time to act decisively. Otherwise, it becomes a media jamboree.” The choreography here — a mass conviction announcement one day, a sweeping terror list the next — feels less like a coordinated crackdown than a coordinated press cycle.
The government’s own record provides little reassurance. A similar list published in 2024 named nine individuals and six organisations. What became of them? No sustained prosecutions followed. No public updates were issued. The list quietly disappeared, as these things tend to do in Nigeria, absorbed into the bureaucratic silence that routinely swallows accountability. Attorney-General Lateef Fagbemi’s claim of 386 terrorism convictions from 508 cases sounds impressive until you examine who was convicted — overwhelmingly low-level operatives, foot soldiers and suppliers, not the financiers who bankroll the networks from comfortable distances. “It is not about releasing names,” Muse said plainly. “What is the judicial value? What is the executive value at the end of the day?”
The answer, based on available evidence, appears to be very little. Former federal security director Abdullahi Adeoye warned that “once names are out, suspects are alerted,” making immediate action essential. None came. Retired police chief Salami Abduraheem was equally direct: “If these individuals continue to move freely weeks or months after being named, it sends a dangerous signal that the system lacks the capacity or will to act.” Security analyst Musa Aliyu went further, arguing that “the Nigerian legal system is not adequately prepared to prosecute terror sponsors effectively.” A list without arrests is a press release. A press release without follow-through is theatre. And theatre, however elaborate, does not stop bombs from going off in Borno, Kebbi, Kwara, and Zamfara — where attacks continue regardless of whatever names appear on whatever list in Abuja.