Land abandonment and the security crisis in Yorubaland — by Gbenga Daramola

The growing incidence of banditry and kidnapping across Yoruba land has become one of the most disturbing security challenges of our time. While many analyses focus on the immediate criminal activities and the ethnic dimensions often associated with them, a deeper and more structural examination reveals that rural-urban migration, land abandonment, and the neglect of agricultural settlements have significantly contributed to this crisis.

What is happening today in the forests and farmlands of Oyo, Osun, and parts of Ekit/Kwara States is not merely a security problem; it is the cumulative result of decades of demographic shifts, economic neglect, and weakening rural presence.
I have had courses to travel across vast portions of Yoruba land, especially from Osogbo to Ogbomoso, Ibadan through Iseyin to Saki, from Ilorin through Igbeti, the Federal Reserve Forest to Igboho and Ogboro, and Ìgbómìnà-Ekiti Kwara in the present Osun and Kwara States, the story remains largely the same. It really presents a sobering reality. Large expanses of ancestral farmlands and forest settlements once actively occupied by Yoruba farmers have been totally deserted. What were once thriving agrarian communities have become shadows of their former selves.

The most striking aspect of this transformation is that the original owners of these lands are no longer physically present in large numbers.

Over the years, economic hardship, urbanisation, and the search for better opportunities have driven many rural dwellers, particularly the youth, to migrate to cities such as Ibadan, Lagos, Ilorin, Osogbo, Ogbomoso and Akure. The lure of urban life, access to education, modern jobs, and better infrastructure made city migration appear as the logical path for survival and advancement. However, this migration created a vacuum in the rural economy. Farms were abandoned, villages/farm settlements became sparsely populated, and forests that once had human surveillance became vulnerable spaces.

Nature abhors a vacuum, and so does human settlement. In the absence of the original landowners, migrant pastoralists and farming communities, particularly Fulani settlers, gradually occupied many of these lands. What may have begun as temporary grazing or farming arrangements evolved into permanent settlements. Over time, many of these settlers established roots, built houses, erected mosques, cultivated the land, and raised families. Today, a significant number of the younger generation among them were born in those settlements and know no other home. For them, these lands are not borrowed spaces; they are inherited realities.
This demographic transformation introduces a complicated dimension to the question of land ownership and reclamation. Legally and historically, the lands may belong to Yoruba families and communities. But socially and practically, reclaiming them has become increasingly difficult. It is not easy to displace populations who have lived there for decades, built livelihoods, and established communal structures. The challenge becomes even more delicate when these settlements continue to attract more migrants from their ethnic networks, thereby consolidating occupation and expanding territorial presence.

Unfortunately, this occupation has also intersected with the growing menace of kidnapping and banditry. Forests thrive as criminal hideouts largely because of their remoteness, weak state presence, and complex terrain. In many of these abandoned forests, the absence of indigenous population and effective policing has created ideal operational bases for kidnappers. Victims are often abducted on highways, farms, or villages and taken deep into these forests where security agencies struggle to penetrate. The forests between Iseyin, Saki, Igboho, Igbeti, Ogboro and parts of Kwara have increasingly become synonymous with such criminal activities.

It is important to note that not every settler in these areas is involved in criminality. However, the porous and loosely governed nature of these settlements creates opportunities for criminal elements to infiltrate, collaborate, or hide among legitimate occupants. This is one of the gravest consequences of land abandonment; the weakening of indigenous control over territory, which in turn weakens intelligence gathering and local security architecture.
Historically, Yoruba communities maintained strong territorial awareness. Farmers, hunters, and villagers knew the forests intimately and acted as informal custodians of their environments. Their constant presence served as a natural deterrent against criminal occupation. But with rural depopulation, this local security network has collapsed. The result is a security vacuum now being exploited by organised criminal groups.
The implications for the future are serious. If this trend continues unchecked, Yoruba land may witness not only increased insecurity but also a gradual and irreversible demographic shift in some rural areas. Land, after all, is more than an economic asset; it is a symbol of heritage, identity, and cultural continuity. Losing control of ancestral farmlands could have long-term social and political consequences.

Addressing this crisis requires more than military intervention. It demands a deliberate policy of rural revitalisation. Government must invest in rural infrastructure, agricultural incentives, schools, healthcare, and local industries to make village life economically attractive again. Young people must see a future in agriculture and rural enterprise, not only in urban migration. Traditional institutions must also strengthen local land governance to prevent indiscriminate occupation and abandonment.

Furthermore, there must be a robust framework for regulating settlement patterns in forest communities, improving forest surveillance, and strengthening collaboration between local vigilantes and formal security agencies. Without reclaiming rural spaces (both physically and economically), the fight against kidnapping and banditry may remain largely reactive.

In the final analysis, the security crisis in Yoruba land cannot be separated from the broader question of migration and land use. Rural-urban migration may have brought economic opportunities to many individuals, but it has also left behind abandoned lands, weakened communities, and vulnerable forests. The challenge before Yoruba society today is whether it can restore balance, by reconnecting people to the land, rebuilding rural economies, and reclaiming both security and heritage before the losses become permanent.

–Adaramola is a Professor at the Ekiti State University, Ado