State police: A risky leap into a familiar trap

The growing clamour for the establishment of state police in Nigeria is rooted in a genuine and understandable anxiety. Across the country, insecurity has assumed alarming proportions—banditry in the Northwest, insurgency in the Northeast, kidnapping across the Middle Belt, and violent crime in urban centres. Faced with these realities, many now see state police as […]

The growing clamour for the establishment of state police in Nigeria is rooted in a genuine and understandable anxiety. Across the country, insecurity has assumed alarming proportions—banditry in the Northwest, insurgency in the Northeast, kidnapping across the Middle Belt, and violent crime in urban centres. Faced with these realities, many now see state police as the long-awaited solution. Yet, in our urgency to act, we must be careful not to embrace a remedy that could prove more dangerous than the disease itself.

At the heart of this agitation are two compelling concerns. First is the frustration of state governors who, despite being designated as Chief Security Officers of their states, lack effective control over the Nigeria Police Force operating within their jurisdictions. Second is the growing perception that the federal government has become overstretched, struggling to respond decisively to a wide array of security threats across a vast and complex country. These concerns are legitimate. However, they do not, in themselves, justify a wholesale restructuring of Nigeria’s policing architecture.

For many Nigerians—particularly younger citizens and even some policymakers—the current debate is unfolding without the benefit of historical perspective. Nigeria has experimented with decentralised policing before, and the outcome was deeply troubling. During the First Republic, regional and Native Authority police forces existed alongside federal structures. Rather than serving as neutral instruments of law enforcement, they were frequently deployed by political leaders to suppress opposition, intimidate dissenters, and consolidate power.

This misuse of coercive authority contributed significantly to the political crisis in the Western Region in 1965, a breakdown that ultimately culminated in the 1966 Nigerian coup d’état. In response, Nigeria made a deliberate decision to abolish regional police systems and centralise policing under federal control, precisely to prevent the abuse of force for political ends. To revisit that model today, under conditions that remain politically competitive and institutionally fragile, is to risk repeating a costly chapter of our history.

The dangers are not theoretical. In a system where political power is fiercely contested, a state-controlled police force could easily become an instrument of political expediency. Governors, armed with such authority, may be tempted—whether overtly or subtly—to deploy the force against political opponents, dissenting voices, or minority groups. Beyond politics, there is also the risk of ethnic or religious bias in policing, particularly in a country as diverse as Nigeria. The consequences of such perceptions alone could deepen mistrust and fuel further instability.

Recent experiences with subnational security outfits offer a cautionary glimpse into what could lie ahead. Initiatives such as Operation Rainbow and Amotekun Corps were established to complement federal efforts and address local security concerns. While they have recorded some successes, they have also been dogged by concerns over recruitment standards, training, accountability, and susceptibility to political or ethnic influence. Scaling such arrangements into full-fledged police forces without first addressing these structural weaknesses would be a risky proposition.

Equally important is the question of financial sustainability. Establishing and maintaining state police across all 36 states would require enormous and continuous funding—resources that many states are currently struggling to provide even for basic governance. The likely outcome is a system where some states maintain relatively functional forces, while others operate underfunded and ineffective units. Such disparities would not only undermine national cohesion but could also create new security vulnerabilities.

More fundamentally, the current debate risks misdiagnosing the problem. Nigeria’s insecurity is not simply a policing failure; it is deeply rooted in socio-economic realities. Nowhere is this more evident than in Northern Nigeria, where, according to UNICEF, over 20 million children are out of school. This staggering number represents a vast pool of disaffected and vulnerable youths—many of whom are easily recruited by criminal networks, insurgent groups, and other actors who exploit their circumstances.

Addressing this challenge is central to any meaningful security strategy. Expanding access to education, investing in skills development, and creating economic opportunities are not peripheral concerns—they are essential to reducing the supply of recruits for violent groups. Without tackling these root causes, the creation of additional policing structures will amount to treating symptoms while ignoring the disease.

It is also important to recognise that the existing challenges within Nigeria’s security institutions—corruption, poor welfare, inadequate training, and the diversion of personnel to VIP protection—will not disappear with the creation of state police. If anything, these problems risk being replicated across multiple jurisdictions. The issue of informants aiding criminal activities, for instance, is driven by socio-economic conditions and community dynamics that no amount of structural reorganisation alone can resolve.

At this critical juncture, Nigeria must resist the temptation of what appears to be a quick fix. There is a real danger that we may be, in effect, riding on the lion’s back—embracing a policy direction that seems expedient in the short term but carries profound long-term risks. Once established, state police would be difficult to reverse, even if the consequences prove damaging. The country could find itself trapped in a fragmented and politically charged security architecture.

This is why the current administration under Bola Ahmed Tinubu and the National Assembly must proceed with caution. Decisions of this magnitude should not be driven by immediate pressures or political calculations, but by careful analysis, broad consultation, and a clear understanding of long-term implications. The stability of the nation must take precedence over short-term expediency.

A more prudent and sustainable approach lies in reforming the existing system. A decentralised command structure within a unified national framework would allow for greater responsiveness to local security challenges while preserving the safeguards of federal oversight. Such a model would give states a meaningful role in shaping security strategies without exposing the system to the risks of political capture and fragmentation.

Nigeria is not lacking in capacity. The country possesses trained security personnel, established institutions, and the experience necessary to address its challenges. What is required is not the multiplication of structures, but the effective utilisation and reform of those already in place, alongside a serious commitment to addressing the socio-economic conditions that fuel insecurity.

The debate over state police must therefore be approached with a clear sense of history and a firm commitment to the future. The lessons of the past are too significant to ignore, and the risks of miscalculation are too great to dismiss. If we are not careful, we may find ourselves returning to a system we once abandoned for good reason—only to discover, too late, that the cost of reversal is far greater than the cost of restraint.

Nigeria must choose wisely.

 

Hussaini, mni resides in Jos