What is really the cost of being a corper these days? For many Nigerian graduates, the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) is supposed to mark the beginning of a new chapter.
After years of lectures, examinations, sleepless nights and the financial burden of obtaining a degree, graduates are expected to put on their khaki uniforms, travel to unfamiliar states sometimes, and dedicate a year to serving the country.
It is a tradition that has existed for decades, built around the promise of national unity, integration and development. But for a growing number of young Nigerians, the excitement of completing university is being replaced by anxiety about what comes next.
Will they be posted to a state hundreds of kilometres away from home? Will they be able to afford the journey? Will they find accommodation they can pay for with their allowance? And, increasingly, will they arrive at their destination alive?
Recent incidents involving the kidnapping of prospective and serving corps members, alongside the death of a young graduate at an NYSC orientation camp, have raised uncomfortable questions about the safety and purpose of compulsory national service.
What exactly is Nigeria asking its young graduates to sacrifice in the name of national unity? And when the cost of that sacrifice includes the possibility of losing their freedom or their lives, is the NYSC scheme still worth defending in its current form?
Kidnapped on the way to serve Nigeria
On October 1, prospective corps members travelling from Ibadan, Oyo State, to orientation camps in Abia and Akwa Ibom states were attacked by gunmen along the Owerri-Onitsha Road near Umunoha in Imo State.
Twenty prospective corps members and another passenger were abducted. Their journey towards the compulsory national service programme became a week-long ordeal that left their families anxiously waiting for news of their whereabouts.
The victims regained their freedom on October 7 following a coordinated operation involving security agencies. They were subsequently taken to a Department of State Services medical facility in Owerri for medical attention. On October 16, security operatives announced the arrest of five suspects allegedly linked to the abduction.
Their release was welcome news, but it does not erase the circumstances that made their ordeal possible in the first place. These were young graduates travelling to fulfil a national obligation. They were not embarking on an unnecessary adventure. They were responding to a system that requires them to attend orientation camp before beginning their service year.
In August 2026, 15 corps members were reportedly abducted by gunmen along a route in Ofu Local Government Area of Kogi State while travelling from the NYSC orientation camp in Bayelsa State towards Abuja. Police subsequently reported the rescue of several victims, and later reports described the rescue of additional abductees.
Within weeks, another group of young Nigerians found themselves in the hands of kidnappers while travelling to begin their service year.
For families preparing their children for NYSC, these incidents make an already expensive transition into adulthood even more frightening. Parents who have spent years paying school fees and supporting their children through university are now confronted with the possibility that sending them to serve the country could expose them to kidnappers and ransom demands.
The question is not whether security agencies deserve credit for rescuing abductees. They do. The question is why young graduates should repeatedly find themselves in such vulnerable situations while fulfilling a government-mandated obligation.
When the danger follows you into camp
If travelling to orientation camp is dangerous, what happens when a graduate finally arrives?
On October 11, reports emerged that Etimbuk Daniel, the immediate past Students’ Union Government president of Akwa Ibom State University, had died while undergoing the three-week NYSC orientation programme in Enugu State.
According to information shared by the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS), Daniel reportedly complained of a headache and was given medication at the camp. His condition allegedly worsened afterwards. He reportedly requested to be taken to a hospital, but the approval to transfer him was said to have come too late.
NANS also alleged that a doctor subsequently identified the medication as fake. These claims had not been independently verified by Premium Times when it reported the incident, and the circumstances surrounding Daniel’s death require a thorough investigation.
The Nigerian Senate has since ordered an investigation into his death and the state of medical facilities and emergency healthcare services at NYSC orientation camps nationwide.
Daniel’s death is particularly distressing because he was not simply another name on a mobilisation list. He had previously served as a student union president, a position that placed him in a leadership role within his university community. Like thousands of other graduates, he had completed his studies and was preparing for the next stage of his life.
Instead, his service year ended before it properly began.
It would be premature to declare precisely what caused his death before the investigation establishes the facts. But the allegations surrounding the medication and the reported delay in obtaining hospital care are serious enough to demand answers.
How are medicines sourced and checked at orientation camps? Are camp medical facilities adequately equipped to handle emergencies? Who has the authority to approve an urgent hospital transfer, and what happens when that approval is delayed?
These are not unreasonable questions. They are basic questions about the safety of young people placed under the care of a national institution.
No graduate should have to worry that a routine headache could become a life-threatening emergency because of questionable medication or delayed medical attention.
What exactly are corps members gaining?
Defenders of the NYSC scheme often point to its original objectives: promoting national unity, encouraging interaction among Nigerians from different backgrounds and providing graduates with opportunities to contribute to their communities.
These are worthwhile goals. A country as diverse as Nigeria can benefit from programmes that encourage young people to live, work and build relationships beyond the communities in which they grew up.
But good intentions are not enough to justify a system indefinitely. An institution must be judged by how well it delivers on its promises, how it treats the people subject to it and whether its benefits justify its costs.
For many corps members, the practical experience can be far removed from the ideal.
Some are posted to places where their academic training has little relevance to their assigned duties. Others struggle to find suitable accommodation, cover transportation costs or survive on their monthly allowance. Many spend the service year looking for better employment opportunities while attempting to meet NYSC requirements.
There are corps members who have meaningful experiences, learn new skills, support local communities and secure jobs through their placements. Their experiences matter, and the scheme should not be dismissed as entirely useless.
However, these benefits are not guaranteed, and they vary considerably from one posting to another. A graduate can spend an entire year performing tasks unrelated to their qualifications without gaining meaningful professional experience.
Meanwhile, the financial burden of travelling to camp, relocating to an unfamiliar state, securing accommodation and maintaining a basic standard of living remains real.
For young people already struggling with unemployment and the high cost of living, an additional year of compulsory service can delay their entry into the workforce and impose costs they are not financially prepared to bear.
If the scheme cannot consistently provide relevant placements, adequate welfare and a reasonable level of security, Nigerians are entitled to question whether its present structure remains fit for purpose.
National service should not become a personal risk
There is an important distinction between asking young people to contribute to their country and requiring them to expose themselves to avoidable danger.
National service is not supposed to be a punishment for obtaining a degree. It should be an opportunity for graduates to contribute to society while gaining useful experience and developing their skills.
Yet the burden of making the system work often falls disproportionately on the corps members themselves. They must find money for travel, navigate unfamiliar environments, adjust to new living conditions and comply with the demands of their postings.
When something goes wrong, their families are left to worry, raise money, demand answers and hope for the best.
The recent kidnappings illustrate the vulnerability of graduates travelling long distances to fulfil their obligations. Daniel’s death, and the allegations surrounding the medical response at camp, raise a separate but equally important concern about whether the institution can adequately protect corps members once they arrive.
These incidents are different, and they should not be carelessly treated as though they share one cause. But together, they expose a larger question about responsibility.
If the government requires a graduate to travel to a designated state for national service, what concrete measures are in place to make that journey reasonably safe? If the government requires graduates to spend three weeks at an orientation camp, what guarantees exist that they will receive timely, competent medical care?
The state cannot demand compliance while treating the welfare of the people complying as an afterthought.
Of course, no institution can guarantee that every journey will be free from danger or that every medical emergency will have a favourable outcome. But there is a difference between acknowledging that risk exists and failing to take reasonable steps to reduce it.
Safe travel arrangements, better security coordination, properly stocked medical facilities, verified medicines and clear emergency referral procedures are not extravagant demands. They are basic responsibilities.
Is it time to scrap NYSC?
Perhaps the most uncomfortable question is also the most necessary: does Nigeria still need a compulsory NYSC scheme in its current form?
Established in 1973 after the civil war, the scheme was designed to encourage national reconciliation and unity. More than five decades later, Nigeria is a very different country. The economic realities facing young graduates have changed, and the security challenges confronting the country have become increasingly difficult to ignore.
The argument for national integration remains relevant. But national integration should not be used to shield a programme from scrutiny simply because it has existed for generations.
If the NYSC scheme is to continue, it must demonstrate that its benefits outweigh the financial, professional and personal costs imposed on young Nigerians.
One option is to make national service voluntary, allowing graduates to choose whether they want to participate. Another is to retain the scheme but introduce substantial reforms, including better security arrangements for travel to camps, stronger healthcare standards, more relevant professional placements and improved welfare.
The government could also explore alternatives that allow graduates to contribute to their communities without requiring everyone to relocate across the country. Structured volunteering, paid graduate placements and skills-based community programmes could provide opportunities for national contribution without making participation compulsory for every eligible graduate.
Such alternatives would require careful planning, funding and oversight. They are not effortless solutions. But neither is preserving the existing arrangement simply because it is familiar.
Supporters of compulsory service must also answer a difficult question: if national unity is the objective, why must every graduate be compelled to participate in the same programme, regardless of personal circumstances, financial capacity or the risks associated with their posting?
A policy that was created to unite a country should not become a source of fear and resentment among the young people expected to sustain it.
The cost of being a corper is becoming too high
The kidnapping victims in Imo and Kogi are reminders that the journey to national service can expose young Nigerians to frightening dangers. The death of Etimbuk Daniel raises urgent questions about medical safety and accountability within orientation camps.
These incidents should not be reduced to unfortunate headlines that dominate the news for a few days before the next mobilisation exercise begins. They should prompt a serious review of the system and the obligations the government owes the people it requires to participate.
The fact that the abducted graduates were eventually rescued is a relief, not proof that the system is safe. The fact that an investigation has been ordered into Daniel’s death is an important step, not a substitute for answers, accountability and lasting improvements.
Young Nigerians have already invested years of their lives in education. They deserve opportunities to build careers, support their families and contribute to the development of their country. They should not have to enter a compulsory service programme wondering whether they will return home safely.
There is nothing wrong with asking graduates to serve their country. The problem begins when the country appears unable to offer them adequate protection in return.
If NYSC is to remain compulsory, the government must do more than mobilise graduates, assign them states and expect them to report to camp. It must provide a credible system of safety, healthcare, welfare and meaningful service.
Otherwise, Nigeria must be willing to consider whether the programme should be made voluntary or replaced with a more practical alternative.
National unity is important. Community development is important. But the lives of young Nigerians are important, too.
How many more graduates must face danger before Nigeria seriously reconsiders the cost of being a corper?
