Public Policy

In the course of delivering a lecture at Al-Hakim University in Ilorin, Kwara State, on Thursday, April 17, the Inspector General of Police, IGP Kayode Egbetokun, PhD, implored Nigerians to acquire Closed-Circuit Television (CCTV) cameras to be installed in their residences and places of work.

He argued that it is part of the much-vaunted, but yet-to-be-implemented, state/community policing initiative.

My immediate reaction as soon as I read the news in the mass media was: Good idea, but how feasible is it for the average Nigerian to procure CCTV at such prohibitive cost, and how can it be operated without a stable supply of electricity?

Has the idea been put through the crucible of critical thinking?

Shortly after the IGP’s proposal, on Saturday, April 19, a highly respected former Defence Minister and ex-Chief of Army Staff, T.Y. Danjuma, took an extreme position by proposing that civilians should defend themselves because the government has failed to do so — and that they will perish if they do not resort to self-help.

Addressing a large gathering, he reportedly told his people: “I once asked you to rise and defend yourselves. I am still repeating it today with more seriousness — rise and defend yourselves. The killers have obtained sophisticated arms; we don’t know where they got them. But you people should also ask to get arms wherever they got theirs. You must defend yourselves against the killers. You should know they are well-armed to kill you and ready to take your land. Be ready for them — they are also humans like you.”

Impliedly, the Army General is advocating that civilians should bear arms to protect themselves from the vicious invaders that appear hell-bent on killing them.

That is not the first time Gen. Danjuma has made such a call. Based on records, he has done so twice.

My immediate reaction when I read his advice was: Has this idea of fire-for-fire been thought through? While it may appear like a plausible short-term solution, in the long run, would mutual self-destruction be an efficacious response to the seemingly intractable internal insecurity challenge?

To me, it echoes the era of nuclear bomb proliferation — a reckless enterprise — and the current non-nuclear arms proliferation agreement, which was reached when it became apparent that a nuclear arms race would result in the mutual destruction of mankind.

Could the license to kill or be killed be a reasonable solution to the killings by outlaws engaging in the orgy of slaughter in Nigeria’s countryside? Would solving one security challenge in that manner not trigger another?

Very importantly, have we, as a nation, taken a critical look at the experience of the United States of America, where the system of civilians bearing arms has resulted in a gun epidemic? One so debilitating that it has defied solutions, even by the leaders of the most powerful and wealthiest nation in the world such the death tally may be comparable to that of nations at war? I think if we devote enough time to doing due diligence on the call for civilians to bear arms, more Nigerians will dread the prospect than those who desire it.

In any case, at least the IGP’s proposition on civilian CCTV ownership marks a shift in the position of the Police Force, which has long been opposed to the concept of state police. This is based on the presentation made by the IGP in the past. In making his case against the decentralization of the police force, the IGP had taken a position against the birthing of state police for the reasons of being prone to abuse by politicians amongst other factors.

However, in my view, the difference between the concept of state police and community police may lie in the fact that the former will be controlled by the respective state governors, while the latter will still be centrally controlled by the IGP in the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Abuja — at least there is a consensus that the current framework of policing in Nigeria is inadequate. As such, there is a need for a paradigm shift.

Since the return of multi-party democracy in Nigeria in 1999, I have consistently advocated for a state policing system. While President Olusegun Obasanjo (1999–2007) was the first to moot the idea — when criminality started rising around the country, a reflection of the freedom that came with nascent democratic rule after decades of military dictatorships — the idea has suffered a stillbirth, 25 years later. By the same token, I have often wondered aloud why the Police Force, which is constitutionally charged with the responsibility of maintaining internal law and order, has been emasculated within the country’s security architecture.

Again, based on former President Obasanjo’s military background as an ex-military Head of State, it was a natural course of action for him to resort to the use of military force instead of the police to curb internal insecurity. As such, the police—already defunded and hobbled by multiple military regimes to prevent it from posing a threat during Nigeria’s long period under military rule—had been rendered almost comatose. Somehow, that military kinetic approach to enforcing internal security, as opposed to the more appropriate, less militarized, and non-kinetic method in which the police are adept and more efficacious, has been sustained—with a consequential deterioration in the level of security and safety of lives and property in our country. We will delve into the apparent usurpation of the role of the police in internal security by the military, whose primary responsibility is to defend our country against external threats. Yet, the armed forces have taken over the role of the police and, in the process, based on available records, have expended more than an estimated $16 billion between 2012 and 2018 on security—even though Nigeria has not been at war with any other country.

Rather, our country has been faced with the menace of non-state actors: religious insurgents exhibiting extremism; bandits who initially engaged in cattle rustling but have scaled up to kidnapping for ransom; and the perennial clashes between farmers and herders, whose animals destroy crops. This has been worsened by land-grabbing schemes of nomadic herdsmen, compounded by a new strain of fortune seekers stirring up insecurity, especially in areas rich in solid minerals. The agenda of this last category of outlaws is to cause mayhem in specific locations so they can illegally extract our country’s natural resources—such as rare earth minerals—after rendering the targeted areas ungovernable.

While the reality is that it is the police who have the mandate—and are specifically trained—to deal with the type of criminal activities wrecking our country, as highlighted above, the military has been executing the task of trying to maintain peace, a task for which it is ill-equipped. In my view, that is one of the key reasons the marauders have been having the upper hand and why insecurity in Nigeria has been on an upward trend.

For instance, while N6.11 trillion has been allocated to the Ministry of Defence in the 2025 budget of N49.74 trillion, only N1.1 trillion was provided for the Ministry of Police Affairs. So, while the military is getting an elephant-sized allocation, the police have been given an ant-sized share of funds in the 2025 budget. This is even though ensuring the internal security of lives and property is the police’s constitutionally assigned responsibility. Be that as it may, one is not oblivious to the fact that the Ministry of Defence covers the Army, Air Force, and Navy, which explains its N6.11 trillion budget. Nevertheless, since internal security falls within the purview of the police, it should have received the lion’s share of the funds devoted to keeping Nigerians and their property safe and secure within the country.

Before delving further into the non-prioritization of police funding to take charge of internal security—while emphasis continues to be placed on funding the military, which has received the highest allocation in yearly budgets over the past 25 years—let us first examine the IGP’s proposition that Nigerians acquire CCTV as part of his concept of community policing and as a citizen contribution toward stemming the crisis of insecurity, which has reached alarming proportions in our beloved country. To be sure, the idea of Nigerians acquiring CCTV is quite laudable. In fact, the cities of London, Dubai, and New York are practically forests of CCTV cameras, which have proven efficacious in crime control. But from the point of view of affordability for Nigerians, it is very expensive to acquire and operate. As such, it may be an unrealistic expectation. The challenge is especially compounded by the lack of a steady electricity supply that continues to plague our country. Therefore, to make CCTV affordable for the average Nigerian—at least initially—the Federal Government of Nigeria (FGN) should remove the import duty on it.

Subsequently, the government should provide funding support for a few firms to begin assembling CCTV systems locally, thereby reducing costs. The selection of the firms to be supported should be done through an open and competitive bidding process. Imports should not be allowed to continue beyond 18–24 months, within which time the infrastructure and capacity to assemble the items locally would be expected to develop. To boost local assembly, there must be a government support scheme to empower the same firms assembling CCTV cameras to also assemble solar panels and drones, as part of a bundled package. They should likewise assemble electricity meters, Point-of-Sale (PoS) machines, and ATMs, using Completely Knocked Down (CKD) units imported and assembled by Nigerian workers.

The production of these items is not rocket science, and private firms can establish joint ventures (JVs) with European, North and South American, or Asian companies—including Chinese, Korean, and Indian manufacturers. It may recalled that back in the day, Adebowale Industries, a local entrepreneur was assembling radio, television sets, and other electronic gadgets here in Nigeria. Government support—through subsidies, equity investments via the Ministry of Finance Incorporated (MOFI), tax holidays, and customs duty exemptions—must be guaranteed. In the same vein, the newly established CreditCorp should be mandated to provide Nigerians with credit facilities to acquire CCTVs and solar panels assembled locally. This would not only enhance security but also create jobs and increase the country’s productivity quotient.

With a population of over 220 million, Nigeria has a sufficiently large market to justify local production. I am convinced that this proposition is a win-win: security will be improved through widespread CCTV coverage, people will feel safe enough to return to farms and factories, job creation will rise, and, by extension, the economy will grow—ultimately boosting our GDP. That is not all. There’s also the added value of technology transfer, as Nigerians working in these assembly plants will learn to build these gadgets through collaboration with foreign technical partners.

That said, one fact that must not be ignored is that with the IGP’s proposition for citizens to acquire CCTV, the responsibility for monitoring crime—to proactively prevent it or to track and apprehend criminals—is being shifted from the government to the people. But perhaps this shift is justified, as it has been proven that public funds invested directly in citizens tend to yield better returns than those funneled through government contractors, which often fall victim to corruption.

As may be recalled, in 2012 or thereabouts, a contract was awarded to ZTE Corporation of China for $470 million to install 2,000 solar-powered CCTV cameras across Nigeria. According to a House of Representatives ad hoc committee that investigated the deal, ZTE collected a $100 million upfront payment but only installed 40 cameras—most of which remain non-functional. The committee described the project as a monumental failure, attributing the outcome to corruption and mismanagement. The goal of the initiative had been to monitor and deter crime in Lagos, the commercial nerve center, and Abuja, the nation’s capital. Therefore, it’s perhaps a credit to the creative ingenuity of the current IGP that he is seeking to circumvent the well-known corruption associated with government contracts by pivoting CCTV ownership to citizens. I would add that such acquisition should be supported by the government. Just imagine if the $470 million earmarked for ZTE in 2012 had instead been used to subsidize individual CCTV ownership under a model like the one now proposed by IGP Egbetokun and expanded upon here. Had that approach been adopted back then, perhaps today’s alarming insecurity levels would either not exist or would be drastically reduced, as criminals would have had no hiding places.

Incidentally, the same scourge of corruption that scuttled the deployment of CCTV cameras in Abuja and Lagos has characterized the military’s kinetic approach to combating insecurity in Nigeria—a crisis now in its 25th year, having started during Obasanjo’s administration in 1999. In the 2014 national budget, about $2.5 billion was allocated to security agencies under the supervision of then National Security Adviser, Col. Sambo Dasuki. Following the defeat of President Goodluck Jonathan and the PDP in 2015 and the takeover by Muhammadu Buhari and the APC, allegations surfaced that the security funds had been misappropriated and diverted to fund the 2015 elections. At this point, it is important to examine how insecurity started and degenerated to the current dire state. It began as a form of religious insurgency, following the adoption of Sharia law (a legal and moral code based on Islamic principles) in Zamfara State during Obasanjo’s presidency in 1999. The religious extremism that accompanied the law was soon hijacked and transformed into a front for political thuggery and criminality. Curiously, since that time, mineral-rich Zamfara has consistently been a hotspot for insecurity in Nigeria.

Arising from this, I believe that religion is another factor fueling insecurity in the country. Some of the perpetrators of heinous crimes have used the pretense of jihad—a claim that many Islamic clerics have rightly denounced—to commit atrocities. These criminals have killed both Christians and Muslims indiscriminately. Once those hiding under the guise of religion to perpetrate crimes bordering on genocide and ethnic cleansing are exposed and apprehended, our security agencies will be in a stronger position to restore peace.

In addition to religion, another major factor driving insecurity is external influence. There are foreign interests behind the chaos in states rich in rare earth minerals. These actors fund criminal activities to make such areas ungovernable, thus enabling illegal mining and exploitation of resources. They began in Zamfara and have now shifted their attention to Plateau State, which is rich in lithium and other valuable minerals. One clear thing is that the same playbook criminals have been using in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) for about 100 years is now being deployed in Nigeria.
Strikingly, what is happening in Darfur, South Sudan—defined by armed conflicts driven by external interests in fossil fuel resources over the past five decades—is not dissimilar. Due to a gap in policing in our country, foreigners are roaming freely in our hinterlands, mapping out resources.

In some cases, we’ve even seen trending videos of foreigners handing out cash to our police officers—presumably as compensation for favors. In more security-conscious climes, foreigners are not allowed to travel into the hinterlands, let alone contest for resources with locals without proper licensing. But in Nigeria, foreigners are present in our forests and solid mineral sites, extracting and carting away natural resources under the radar. At one point, small propeller airplanes were landing on narrow paths in Zamfara State, carting away precious stones to unknown destinations for processing—allegedly in connivance with security forces.

Aside from their official duties of protecting public officers and Very Important Personalities (VIPs), some police personnel have been seen offering protection to individuals of questionable character—people they ought to be apprehending. These individuals then move around intimidating ordinary Nigerians with loud sirens and vehicle convoys while citizens go about their daily struggle to eke out a living. With a paltry police strength of about 400,000 officers in a country with an estimated population of 220 million—and many of them engaged in VIP protection—there are not enough personnel to respond adequately where marauders strike. As a result, there have been multiple instances where bandits return to previously attacked locations within days or weeks to wreak more havoc on unprotected victims.

One cannot fathom why the operationalization of state or community policing remains in abeyance and why the police force continues to be underfunded. We have a youth bulge in this country. I do not understand why the authorities have not embarked on a massive recruitment drive to enlist and train young Nigerians into the police force to secure the hinterlands and repel marauders. We also need a dedicated forest police unit—an idea previously proposed by the Minister of Solid Minerals, Dr. Dele Alake. This specialized force would patrol forests and protect our natural resources, which are the primary targets of criminal syndicates fomenting violence in resource-rich areas.

In addition to the regular police force, I would argue that it is time to reintroduce the National Guard—originally established by General Ibrahim Babangida—as an elite police unit to tackle the evolving security threats across the country. The recent tragic events in Plateau and Benue States, where numerous lives have been lost, highlight the urgency of adopting extraordinary measures to combat insecurity. Commendably, in his Easter message, President Tinubu, while felicitating with Christians, also commiserated with those who lost loved ones in the attacks, stating:

“Just as Christ triumphed over death, so too shall our country triumph over every challenge we face.”

He went further to reassure Nigerians:

“I have given clear directives to the Armed Forces and all relevant security agencies to end insecurity decisively and without delay.”

Given President Tinubu’s record of thinking outside the box, we can hope that his directive to the National Security Adviser, Nuhu Ribadu—himself a retired Assistant Inspector General of Police—will yield positive results. That said, one pressing question remains: Will putting the police at the center of the renewed effort to restore peace lead to a lasting solution to the resurgent insecurity?

Well, we won’t know until we try. Also, is this resurgence in violence connected to the politics of 2027, when the next electoral cycle begins?
Time will reveal the truth as the situation unfolds.

My argument for a more central role for the police in internal security is based on the fact that they are better trained in managing civil conflicts. How could the military have been involved in the infamous Lekki, Lagos toll gate killing of protesters in 2020 during the Endsars riots, if it was not involved in internal security? Some pundits argue that insecurity has persisted because the military—whose expertise is in kinetic warfare—has been overwhelmed, as what is truly needed are policing skills to handle banditry, inter-communal conflicts, and various criminal activities. Even the military has admitted that non-kinetic approaches might yield better results than the military tactics they’ve traditionally relied on. In fact, they have begun shifting toward non-kinetic strategies. So why is the police—naturally more adept at non-kinetic methods—not being empowered to take the lead in a combined military-police strategy?

Let me be clear: I have nothing against our brave military men and women. I greatly admire them. My father, David Ebiye-Onyibe, was a soldier who fought in World War II and the Nigerian Civil War as a medic. He died in active service on December 28, 1970, when I was a toddler. After his passing, I was taken to Benin City from Agbor to sit for the entrance exam into the Nigerian Military School, but I was underage and couldn’t be admitted. Because of that history, I have an eternal admiration for the military, and I always feel a sense of pride when, at airports abroad, uniformed service members receive special recognition through public announcements and are offered privileges and perks.

That said, beyond the inability of the military to play the role of internal security agent effectively, another major reason insecurity persists in Nigeria is religion. Some of the criminals behind these atrocities are deceived into believing they are engaging in jihad, not realizing they are pawns feeding the greed of a few powerful kingpins. Fortunately, some traditional rulers and Islamic clerics in the North have taken a stand, distancing themselves from the terrorists and condemning the senseless violence that has devastated lives and properties in the hinterlands. Once these impostors—those hiding under the cloak of religion—are exposed and held accountable, our security agencies will be better positioned to restore peace and harmony among Nigeria’s many ethnic groups.

More importantly, we must confront the external factors in the rising insecurity. There are foreign elements funding criminality in areas rich in rare earth minerals—especially in Plateau State—so they can operate in lawless conditions. This same method was used in Zamfara, and now the focus has shifted to Plateau, largely because of its lithium deposits. It’s the same strategy that has been in use in the DRC for over a century. And just as external powers once armed the Janjaweed militia in Darfur, South Sudan, similar external forces are at play here. Although the Nigerian military has made gains—repelling some attacks and neutralizing notorious gang leaders—millions still live in fear, especially in remote areas where the government seems distant and unresponsive.

Clearly, there’s a gaping hole in our policing architecture. I cannot fathom why the implementation of state or community policing is still pending, or why the police remain poorly funded. We have a youth bulge and a high unemployment rate.
Why aren’t our leaders seizing this opportunity to train and engage young people in law enforcement, transforming them into productive contributors to national security? I do not understand why a massive recruitment drive into the police force has not been initiated—complete with cutting-edge training, equipment, and high-tech tools to secure our forests and hinterlands. We also urgently need the forest police unit that Dr. Dele Alake proposed—dedicated to protecting our natural resources and fending off criminal syndicates.

Furthermore, I believe it’s time to reintroduce the National Guard, created under Babangida, to serve as an elite security force capable of handling the evolving security challenges. General T.Y. Danjuma’s extreme position—encouraging self-defense among his people—may have stemmed from a deep sense of helplessness and frustration. His home state, Taraba, as well as Benue and Plateau, has seen consistent attacks and loss of lives. While not disputing anything Gen. Danjuma said, a resort to self-help in the form of widespread armament among civilians may have unintended consequences.
If inter-communal conflicts arise, will these weapons not be turned against fellow Nigerians over land disputes or cultural disagreements?

This is why we must take seriously the IGP’s call for citizens to own CCTV systems, and Gen. Danjuma’s warning, both of which highlight the rising wave of killings in recent weeks. If the situation improves through a new paradigm shift in security—placing the police at the forefront, bolstered by strategic military support—then perhaps the urgency for civilians to arm themselves will diminish. Before then Nigerians can not wait to exhale by having the yoke of insecurity removed as part of the existential challenge hindering them from being productive to self and society.

ONYIBE, an entrepreneur, public policy analyst, democracy advocate, author, development strategist, an alumnus of Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, Massachusetts, USA, and a former commissioner in Delta state government, sent this piece from Lagos.