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That lesson will not be forgotten when, or if, the kidnappings eventually end. For millions of Nigerians, insecurity has become more than a policy failure; it has become a daily reality shaping how they live, travel and work. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that a national consensus is beginning to emerge around an idea that was once considered politically dangerous: state police.
The federal government now appears firmly committed to that direction. According to the Presidency, discussions have moved beyond the question of whether Nigeria should establish state police to the more practical challenge of constructing the constitutional and legal framework required to make it work. The message from Abuja is unmistakable: the debate has entered its implementation phase, even if constitutional amendments remain a significant hurdle.
This represents a remarkable shift in Nigerian political thinking. For decades, state police occupied the realm of constitutional heresy, rejected by successive administrations fearful of regional fragmentation and political abuse. Today, worsening insecurity, the overstretching of federal law enforcement and the rise of regional security outfits have altered the political calculation. What was once an argument about federalism has become an argument about public safety.
Yet history counsels caution. Nigeria has travelled this road before. The challenge before President Bola Tinubu is therefore not merely to create state police, but to ensure that a solution designed to protect citizens does not become a tool for undermining democracy. The success of this reform will depend less on the principle of decentralised policing than on the safeguards built around it.
To understand why state police remains one of the most consequential constitutional questions facing Nigeria, it is necessary to revisit the country’s long and complicated history with decentralised law enforcement.
Long before independence, policing in Nigeria was largely decentralised. Under British colonial rule, the central administration maintained a colony-wide police force, but local governance depended heavily on Native Authority police structures that reported to regional authorities. As constitutional negotiations intensified during the 1950s, many regional leaders argued that policing should mirror the federal character of the emerging Nigerian state.
That vision survived independence. Under the 1960 Independence Constitution and the 1963 Republican Constitution, Nigeria operated a hybrid arrangement in which the Nigeria Police Force coexisted with local and regional police formations. It did not last. In the intense political rivalries of the First Republic, regional authorities frequently deployed local police structures against political opponents. The abuses associated with the Western Region crisis and the wider political turbulence of the era became powerful arguments against decentralised policing.
The military governments that followed responded with centralisation. Beginning with the 1966 coup and continuing through successive military administrations, local police structures were dismantled and authority concentrated in the federal government. The arrangement was eventually entrenched in the Constitution. Section 214(1) of the 1999 Constitution leaves little room for ambiguity: “There shall be a police force for Nigeria, which shall be known as the Nigeria Police Force, and subject to the provisions of this section no other police force shall be established for the Federation or any part thereof.”
For more than two decades, that provision has served as both a legal barrier and a political shield against calls for state policing. The argument was simple: a single police force would preserve national unity and prevent the abuses of the First Republic from re-emerging.
The problem is that reality has overtaken constitutional theory.
Nigeria today faces security threats of a scale and complexity unimaginable when the current constitutional arrangement was conceived. Banditry, kidnapping, communal violence, farmer-herder conflicts, organised crime and separatist agitation have stretched federal policing beyond its practical limits. With roughly 400,000 police officers serving a population exceeding 220 million people, the challenge is not merely one of organisation but of capacity.
The consequence has been predictable. Across the federation, states have sought alternative arrangements. The South-West established Amotekun. The South-East experimented with Ebube Agu. Various vigilante formations and community security structures have emerged elsewhere. Although these initiatives differ in effectiveness and legitimacy, they reflect the same reality: citizens and state governments are attempting to fill gaps left by an overstretched federal system. It reflects a broader pattern of institutional substitution, much like the widespread reliance on generators and boreholes in response to failures in public utilities.
That is why the recent statement from the Presidency matters. Chief of Staff Femi Gbajabiamila’s disclosure that the constitutional framework for state police is nearing completion marks a significant departure from decades of official resistance. Equally important was the acknowledgement that a transformation of this magnitude cannot be implemented hastily. That caution is welcome.
The case for state police has become increasingly persuasive. Crime is local. Intelligence is local. Trust is local. A police officer recruited from a community is often better positioned to understand its language, culture, geography and emerging security threats than an officer deployed from hundreds of kilometres away. Effective policing depends not only on force projection but also on familiarity and relationships.
But the opponents of state police are not wrong to be worried.
The ghosts of the First Republic remain relevant. In a political culture where institutions are often weaker than personalities, the possibility that governors could convert state police into instruments of intimidation cannot be dismissed. A poorly designed state police system could deepen political repression, aggravate ethnic tensions and weaken civil liberties.
The answer, however, cannot be to preserve a security architecture that is visibly struggling to meet contemporary realities. Historical fears should inform reform, not prevent it.
The real question is therefore not whether Nigeria should establish state police. It is how.
First, recruitment, promotion and disciplinary control should not rest exclusively with governors. Every state police service should be overseen by an independent State Police Service Commission comprising representatives of the judiciary, civil society, professional bodies and traditional institutions. Governors may provide policy direction, but they should not possess unchecked operational control.
Second, the federal government must establish uniform national standards covering recruitment, training, equipment, intelligence handling, use of force and human rights compliance. State police should be decentralised in authority but not in professionalism. Nigerians must enjoy the same policing standards whether they live in Lagos, Kano, Enugu or Bayelsa.
Third, financing must be transparent. One of the least discussed dangers of state policing lies in the opaque system of security votes already operated by many states. If state police are funded through discretionary spending arrangements with little oversight, they could become vehicles for patronage and abuse. Too often, these funds have served political and personal interests rather than their intended security purpose. Their budgets must be subject to legislative scrutiny, independent auditing and public accountability.
Fourth, jurisdictions must be clearly separated. Federal police should retain responsibility for terrorism, interstate crime, border security, organised criminal networks, cybercrime and the protection of federal assets. State police should focus on local crime prevention, community policing, municipal security and grassroots intelligence gathering. Confusion of responsibilities would undermine both institutions.
Finally, recruitment must reflect the diversity of each state. In a country where ethnic and religious identities remain politically significant, state police forces must be visibly inclusive. The law should prohibit discrimination and require recruitment practices that strengthen public confidence across communities.
President Tinubu deserves credit for moving a conversation that previous administrations avoided. In truth, the country may have reached a point where maintaining the existing structure carries greater risks than reforming it. The constitutional amendment process now underway is therefore not merely a legal exercise; it is an opportunity to redesign one of the most important institutions of the Nigerian state.
The temptation will be to focus on speed. That would be a mistake.
Nigeria is not simply creating another police force. It is attempting to resolve a decades-old tension between federal authority and local security. If done correctly, state police could become one of the most consequential governance reforms since the return to democracy in 1999. If done poorly, it could recreate some of the very problems that centralisation was originally designed to prevent.
The Presidency is right that this cannot happen with the snap of a finger. The revolution in public safety may indeed be underway. But its success will depend not on how quickly state police is established, but on how carefully it is built.
Sir Mark Rowley, Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Service in London, recently made a point that deserves wider attention in Nigeria’s debate. Policing, he argued, is measurable. Success is not determined by the number of officers deployed or the complexity of institutional structures but by tangible outcomes: lower crime, faster response times, and stronger community trust and the confidence of citizens that the state can protect them.
Adeola Akinremi, a public policy strategist and risk intelligence analyst specializing in emerging market regulation, is the founder and Chief Executive Officer of Hintells, a cross-corridor, AI-powered enterprise risk intelligence infrastructure for businesses and African diplomatic missions in Washington, D.C. He can be reached via email: adeola@hintells.com
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