“Killers Deserve Justice, Not Rehabilitation”: Yusuf Gagdi Demands End to Soft Treatment for Convicted Terrorists and Bandits

A Nigerian federal lawmaker has reopened one of the most uncomfortable questions surrounding the country’s fight against terrorism and banditry.

What should happen to a terrorist or bandit who has deliberately killed innocent people?

Should such a person be rehabilitated?

Deradicalised?

Reintegrated into society?

Or should justice come first?

For Hon. Yusuf Adamu Gagdi, the answer is clear.

The House of Representatives member representing Pankshin/Kanke/Kanam Federal Constituency of Plateau State has strongly opposed the rehabilitation of people convicted of deliberately killing innocent Nigerians through terrorism, banditry and other violent crimes.

His position is uncompromising.

Killers should face justice.

Victims should not be forgotten.

And rehabilitation should never become a shortcut that allows people responsible for murder and mass violence to escape accountability.

Gagdi has argued that rehabilitation may be appropriate in some cases involving lesser offenders or people who were manipulated or drawn into criminal networks under different circumstances.

But for people convicted by a competent court of deliberately killing innocent citizens, he believes the full consequences of the law should apply, including capital punishment where legally applicable.

His position is likely to divide opinion.

Supporters will see it as a long-overdue defence of victims.

Critics may argue that rehabilitation and deradicalisation can play important roles in ending insurgencies and encouraging defections.

But beneath the argument is a deeper question Nigeria has not adequately answered:

Why does the country often appear to discuss the future of violent offenders more loudly than the future of their victims?

Gagdi Draws a Line Between Rehabilitation and Accountability

Gagdi’s position is not simply that every person associated with an armed group should automatically receive the same punishment.

The distinction in his argument matters.

He has acknowledged that rehabilitation may be considered for people involved in lesser crimes or individuals who were drawn into violent networks under circumstances that could justify a different approach.

But he draws a hard line at murder.

For those convicted of deliberately taking innocent lives, Gagdi argues that rehabilitation should not replace punishment.

He has said that the Nigerian state must send a clear message that people who shed innocent blood cannot simply be rehabilitated and returned to society while victims’ families continue to live with pain, trauma and loss.

It is a powerful argument because it touches a nerve in Nigeria.

Across the country, communities have been attacked.

Villages have been destroyed.

Farmers have been killed.

Travellers have been kidnapped.

Worshippers have been attacked.

Children have been abducted.

Security personnel have died in the line of duty.

Some families have buried several relatives.

Others do not even know whether their kidnapped loved ones are alive.

Against this background, government discussions about rehabilitation can sound very different depending on where a person is standing.

From a counterterrorism office, rehabilitation may be discussed as strategy.

From a destroyed village, it may feel like betrayal.

The Victims’ Question Nigeria Cannot Ignore

Every discussion about rehabilitation should begin with the people who suffered.

That does not always happen.

Nigeria often talks about repentant terrorists.

Repentant insurgents.

Reformed bandits.

Deradicalised fighters.

Surrendered combatants.

But what about the widow?

What about the orphan?

What about the farmer whose land has been abandoned for years?

What about the family that sold everything it owned to pay a ransom?

What about the child who watched armed men kill a parent?

What about communities whose schools have closed because teachers are afraid to work there?

What rehabilitation programme exists for them?

What reintegration package do they receive?

Who rebuilds their homes?

Who restores their businesses?

Who treats their trauma?

Who pays for the education of children whose parents were killed?

These questions explain why Gagdi’s position is likely to resonate with many Nigerians.

The issue is not only punishment.

It is the perception of fairness.

A government cannot appear more organised in rehabilitating offenders than it is in restoring victims.

Justice Must Come Before Reintegration

One of the strongest elements of Gagdi’s position is the argument that justice must come before reintegration, particularly in cases involving murder, mass killings and destruction of communities.

That principle deserves serious consideration.

Rehabilitation and accountability do not necessarily have to be enemies.

A person can be prosecuted, convicted, punished and still receive rehabilitation aimed at preventing future violence.

The real controversy begins when rehabilitation appears to replace accountability.

That is where public confidence can collapse.

If someone has committed murder, Nigerians will naturally ask why that person should receive training, accommodation or reintegration assistance without first answering before the law.

The state must be able to explain the difference between surrender and innocence.

A person does not automatically become innocent because he drops his weapon.

Surrender can be valuable.

It can save lives.

It can provide intelligence.

It can weaken an armed group.

But surrender should not automatically erase responsibility for serious crimes.

If evidence shows that an individual participated in murder, kidnapping, rape, torture or other grave crimes, the justice system should address those allegations.

Otherwise, victims may reasonably conclude that the state has abandoned them.

Nigeria Must Distinguish Between Different Categories of Offenders

The debate often becomes too simple.

One side says: rehabilitate them.

The other says: punish them all.

Nigeria needs a more intelligent system than either slogan.

Not everyone associated with an armed group necessarily has the same history.

There may be people who were abducted and forced into armed groups.

There may be minors recruited or coerced.

There may be support personnel who never directly participated in violence.

There may be people who joined willingly but committed lesser offences.

There may be informants.

There may be financiers.

There may be commanders who planned massacres.

There may be gunmen directly responsible for killings and kidnappings.

Treating every category exactly the same would be poor justice.

But treating all of them as harmless repentant individuals would also be dangerous.

Nigeria needs proper screening.

Investigation.

Evidence gathering.

Prosecution.

Risk assessment.

And transparent criteria.

The country should know who is being rehabilitated and why.

The public does not necessarily need sensitive operational details, but there must be confidence that dangerous offenders are not simply passing through programmes and returning to communities without proper accountability.

Surrender Is Useful, but It Cannot Erase Murder

There is a legitimate security argument for creating pathways through which fighters can leave terrorist organisations.

If every fighter believes surrender will inevitably mean death, armed groups may fight longer.

Defection programmes can weaken insurgencies.

Former fighters can provide intelligence.

They can explain command structures.

They can reveal supply routes.

They can identify camps.

They can provide information about recruitment and financing.

These are genuine security benefits.

But the existence of a surrender programme does not mean every person who surrenders must receive immunity from serious crimes.

Nigeria can encourage defections while maintaining accountability.

The two objectives are not mutually exclusive.

A low-level recruit coerced into joining an armed group should not necessarily be treated the same way as a commander responsible for ordering a massacre.

A person who surrendered before participating in violence may require a different response from someone credibly linked to mass murder.

Gagdi’s intervention is valuable because it forces the country to confront the line between reconciliation and impunity.

Can Someone Be “Repentant” Without Facing the People They Harmed?

The word “repentant” is frequently used in Nigeria’s security debate.

But what does it mean?

Who determines repentance?

Is it based on surrendering?

Completing a programme?

Answering questions correctly?

Renouncing an ideology?

Or genuinely accepting responsibility for harm?

Repentance is a moral concept.

Justice is a legal process.

The two should not be confused.

A person may genuinely regret his crimes.

That may be relevant to rehabilitation and future risk.

But remorse does not automatically erase criminal responsibility.

If a man murders several people and later regrets it, the families of his victims still deserve justice.

This is the heart of Gagdi’s argument.

Rehabilitation should not become a word used to make accountability disappear.

The State Must Be Tough on Financiers Too

There is another danger in the public debate.

Nigeria can focus so heavily on the fighters carrying weapons that it ignores the people who make violent networks possible.

Terrorism and banditry require systems.

Weapons must be purchased.

Ammunition must move.

Food reaches camps.

Information is exchanged.

Ransom money is collected and transferred.

Stolen goods are sold.

Informants warn criminals about security operations.

Somebody benefits financially.

Somebody provides logistics.

Somebody helps violent groups survive.

If Nigeria punishes only the gunman but ignores the financier, facilitator, weapons supplier and insider who leaks information, the network can rebuild itself.

Gagdi has also called for stronger investigations and prosecutions so that violent offenders are properly identified, tried and punished according to law.

That is crucial.

Justice must be based on evidence.

Not rumour.

Not ethnicity.

Not geography.

Not collective punishment.

The state must identify individuals and establish responsibility.

Communities Should Not Be Forced to Accept People They Fear

Reintegration also creates difficult questions at community level.

Imagine a village that was attacked.

People were killed.

Homes were burned.

Families fled.

Years later, individuals associated with the violent group are returned to the area after rehabilitation.

How should residents respond?

Can the government simply tell them to accept the process?

Trust cannot be ordered.

Reconciliation cannot be imposed by press release.

Communities need information.

Victims need support.

Security concerns need to be assessed.

There must be mechanisms for reporting threats.

There must be monitoring.

And where serious crimes are alleged, there must be investigations.

Reintegration that ignores the fears of affected communities can create new tensions.

The government cannot build peace by asking victims to remain silent.

Gagdi’s Position Reflects Growing Public Anger

The lawmaker’s intervention is arriving at a time when frustration over insecurity remains high.

Many Nigerians feel that violent groups have become too bold.

Communities have watched criminals attack, kidnap and disappear.

Families have paid ransoms.

Farmers have abandoned land.

Security forces have lost personnel.

Against that background, any policy perceived as soft treatment for violent offenders is likely to generate anger.

Gagdi has argued that Nigerians who lost loved ones to terrorism, kidnapping and banditry should not be expected to accept a system in which killers are rehabilitated or reintegrated without first facing trial and punishment.

That argument goes beyond party politics.

It is about the legitimacy of the state.

Citizens obey laws partly because they believe the state will protect them and punish serious wrongdoing through due process.

When that confidence disappears, communities may turn to vigilantism or revenge.

That creates another security problem.

Justice is therefore not separate from peace.

Fair justice can help create peace.

Punishment Alone Will Not End Terrorism

Gagdi’s position deserves serious attention, but punishment alone will not solve Nigeria’s security crisis.

A country can execute convicted terrorists and still produce new recruits if the conditions sustaining violent organisations remain untouched.

Nigeria also needs intelligence.

Border security.

Weapons control.

Professional policing.

Functional courts.

Faster investigations.

Economic opportunities.

Education.

Community trust.

Financial tracking.

Protection for informants.

And better coordination among security agencies.

The country must understand why armed groups recruit successfully in certain areas.

It must understand how they finance themselves.

It must understand why weapons continue to circulate.

It must understand how criminal groups receive information about security operations.

A justice system can punish offenders.

A security strategy must also prevent new ones from emerging.

Nigeria needs both.

The Death Penalty Part of the Debate Will Be Controversial

Gagdi has argued that people convicted of murder should face the full weight of the law, including the death penalty where applicable under Nigerian law.

That position will generate debate.

Supporters will argue that people responsible for deliberate killings and mass atrocities deserve the strongest punishment available.

Opponents of capital punishment will raise concerns about wrongful convictions, weaknesses in criminal investigations and the irreversible nature of execution.

Those concerns matter in any justice system, particularly where investigations can be slow and access to quality legal representation is unequal.

The central point, however, is broader than the death-penalty debate.

Gagdi is demanding accountability.

Even Nigerians who disagree with capital punishment may still agree that serious violent crimes should be investigated, prosecuted and punished rather than quietly absorbed into rehabilitation programmes.

That distinction should not be lost.

Nigeria Needs Transparency Around Rehabilitation

One reason the rehabilitation debate creates suspicion is a lack of public understanding.

Who qualifies?

How are participants screened?

What crimes are investigated before admission?

How are high-risk individuals separated from lower-risk participants?

What happens after release?

Who monitors reintegrated individuals?

What role do communities play?

What happens if new evidence links a programme participant to a serious crime?

These are legitimate questions.

Security programmes naturally involve confidential information.

But confidentiality should not mean total absence of accountability.

Nigeria needs public confidence that rehabilitation is a carefully controlled security tool, not a political slogan or an escape route from justice.

The government should explain the principles governing these programmes.

Clear rules can reduce rumours.

Secrecy creates suspicion.

Victims Need Their Own National Programme

Perhaps the most important policy lesson from this debate is that Nigeria needs to place victims at the centre of its security response.

If the state can organise rehabilitation for former fighters, it should be capable of organising serious support for survivors.

Affected families may need trauma care.

Children may need education support.

Displaced families may need help returning home.

Farmers may need assistance restoring production.

Destroyed communities may need reconstruction.

Widows and orphans may need sustained support.

Victims may need legal assistance.

Communities may need memorialisation and truth-telling processes.

A security strategy that deals only with combatants is incomplete.

Peace is not simply the absence of gunfire.

It is the rebuilding of lives destroyed by violence.

The Government Must Answer a Simple Question

Yusuf Gagdi’s position has forced an important question into the national conversation.

What comes first: justice or rehabilitation?

The answer should not have to be one or the other in every case.

For some people drawn into violent networks, rehabilitation may be necessary.

For coerced recruits and appropriately screened lower-risk participants, carefully designed deradicalisation and reintegration programmes can be part of a wider security strategy.

But for people credibly accused of serious crimes, there must be investigation.

For those against whom sufficient evidence exists, there must be prosecution.

And for those convicted, there must be lawful punishment.

Rehabilitation should not erase responsibility.

Surrender should not automatically become immunity.

And repentance should not be a substitute for justice.

Nigeria Cannot Build Peace by Forgetting the Dead

The debate about bandits and terrorists is often framed around what Nigeria should do with the living.

But the country must also remember the dead.

The farmers who never returned home.

The worshippers killed during attacks.

The soldiers and police officers who died confronting armed groups.

The travellers murdered on roads.

The villagers killed in their homes.

The children who lost parents.

The families that will never be complete again.

They cannot speak in Parliament.

They cannot trend on social media forever.

They cannot negotiate rehabilitation programmes.

The responsibility of the state is to remember them through justice.

Yusuf Adamu Gagdi’s message is controversial because it is uncompromising.

He believes people convicted of deliberately killing innocent Nigerians should face punishment, not be allowed to escape accountability through rehabilitation.

Nigeria can debate the appropriate punishment.

It can debate the death penalty.

It can debate the design of deradicalisation programmes.

It can debate how to encourage fighters to surrender.

But one principle should not disappear inside those arguments:

Victims matter.

Justice matters.

Evidence matters.

And a country fighting terrorism must be careful that its search for peace does not create the impression that those who destroyed lives receive more attention than the people whose lives they destroyed.

Rehabilitation may be part of the answer to insecurity.

But it cannot be the whole answer.

Nigeria needs peace.

It also needs justice.

And if the country wants the public to trust its security strategy, it must prove that the two can exist together.