During the public presentation of my new book, The Imperative of State Police in Nigeria, last Thursday, September 10, at the Abuja Continental Hotel, I was asked what motivated me to write the book at such an auspicious time—particularly when the executive and legislative arms of government, after prevaricating on the matter since 1999, when our country returned to multiparty democracy, have finally agreed to work harmoniously towards reforming Nigeria’s policing system from a centralised to a decentralised structure.
My response to that question was to repeat what the 35th President of the United States of America, John F. Kennedy, told Americans during his inauguration in 1961: “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”
Guided by Kennedy’s injunction, the book, The Imperative of State Police in Nigeria, is my humble contribution to my country. It written with the intention of helping fellow citizens better understand the evolving transition from centralised policing to a decentralised system, which I believe can facilitate a quicker and more effective response to the rising incidence of insecurity in Nigeria, particularly in the hinterlands, where acts of violence have resulted in massive loss of human lives of exceptional proportions.
In the book, I urge fellow citizens to move away from the mindset of “What can government do for me?” to the more patriotic question: “What can we do for our country?”
It is the pursuit of this ideal that culminated in the writing of The Imperative of State Police in Nigeria.
This is because, even before Nigeria’s return to multiparty democracy in 1999, I had been concerned about how the leaders of the then-impending democratic government would manage the dissent that was bound to emerge from Nigerians who, having been repressed for too long during the cumulative years of military rule through the force of the jackboot and dictat, were likely to become increasingly outspoken and forceful in challenging and opposing government in an era of democracy underpinned by freedom.
I was particularly concerned because, as a democratic government inheriting the structures of governance from the military, I was convinced that the use of brutal force to silence dissenters, as the military had done in the past—for instance, when Maitatsine rioters in 1980 where an estimated 4, 000 rioters (religious insurgents) were violently crushed—would not be tolerated in a democratic dispensation.
A verifiable example of the continuation of military-style suppression of dissent in a democratic setting was when President Olusegun Obasanjo (1999–2007) ordered a counter-operation against the people of Odi in Bayelsa State in 1999 after members of the community killed and abducted 12 policemen who were on active duty. Reportedly, the town of Odi was razed in the course of efforts to track down those responsible.
A similar military-style and brutal action was also taken against the people of Zaki Biam in Benue State ,in 2001 as a reprisal for the killing, in cold blood, of 21 soldiers who were on lawful duty.
Viewed through the prism of justice and human rights, those brutal actions authorised by the Obasanjo administration against the people of Odi and Zaki Biam could arguably have been classified as serious human rights abuses and, in a broader context, as crimes against humanity.
In light of the foregoing, I felt justified in beginning to advocate for the restoration of internal security responsibilities to the police force, which is better suited to applying non-kinetic approaches to managing internal security challenges than the military. I pursued this advocacy through opinion articles published in the mass media.
As we are all well aware, the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria assigns the police the responsibility for maintaining internal security. That responsibility had, however, increasingly been assumed by the military following the 1966 coup and its aftermath, which ushered in the centralisation of governance.
It was also suspected that the local police were used by the then-Eastern Region in the declaration of the State of Biafra, as the region sought to separate from Nigeria through secession.
Some of the articles I wrote before 1999, when the military finally quit centre stage as Nigeria’s political leadership, became source materials for this book. Since digital archiving of newspaper articles had not yet commenced in 1999, I was unable to reference many of those earlier publications directly. However, I was able to retrieve about 20 articles on the issue of reintroducing state policing, dating from 2002 to the present. These articles formed the nucleus of the book, which was publicly presented last Thursday, September 10.
At the event, the presidency was represented by Mr. Dumbem Moghalu, Senior Special Assistant on Planning and Research to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, who is also serving as Secretary to the Presidential Working Group on State Police in Nigeria. He presented a scorecard titled State Police: The Journey So Far.
The Vice President, Senator Kashim Shettima, was also represented by Dr. Iklaga, who unveiled the book.
Below is my welcome address at the event, presented for the benefit of those who were unable to attend the occasion or watch the live transmission on Africa Independent Television (AIT).
Happy reading.
Distinguished guests,
I am delighted to welcome you to the public presentation of my new book, The Imperative of State Police in Nigeria. I feel highly honored that you have sacrificed your valuable time to be here in response to my invitation.
Your participation in this important national discourse, particularly through the panel discussion involving stakeholders who will help shed light on some of the grey areas surrounding the ongoing reform of the policing system in Nigeria, will, I believe, give all of us a greater sense of belonging and ownership of this critical national conversation.
It is particularly significant that the public presentation of this timely book, which focuses on the need to decentralise policing in Nigeria, is taking place at a moment when the State Houses of Assembly are in the process of concurring with the amendments made by the National Assembly, ahead of the final passage of the bill into law.
Having said that, I would like to crave your indulgence to briefly explain the motivation behind writing this book, particularly as both the Federal and State Governments have now agreed to proceed with the long-debated initiative of decentralising the Nigerian policing system.
Nigeria today stands at one of the most consequential moments in its post-independence history.
Across every geopolitical zone, insecurity has become one of the defining realities of national life. Terrorism, banditry, kidnapping, farmer-herder clashes, communal violence, separatist agitation, piracy, oil theft, and organised criminal networks have stretched the nation’s security institutions to unprecedented levels.
Communities that once regarded violent crime as a distant problem now live with it as an everyday possibility.
Farmers are increasingly abandoning their farmlands. Businesses factor in insecurity into the cost of investment. Parents worry about the safety of their children. Travelers think twice before embarking on journeys. Countless communities have organised various forms of self-help because they fear that official protection may not arrive in time.
This situation raises a difficult but unavoidable question:
Can Nigeria continue to rely on a policing structure designed under circumstances that no longer exist to confront security challenges that have fundamentally changed?
This book is my attempt to answer that question.
For several years, I have written extensively on governance, public policy, economic reform, constitutional development, and national security. Among the many issues I have examined, few have generated as much sustained public interest—or as much passionate disagreement—as the debate over state police.
Almost every major security incident rekindles the conversation.
Over time, some governors have demanded greater authority over policing. Security experts argue that local intelligence has become indispensable. Civil society organisations have called for constitutional reform. Meanwhile, opponents warn that decentralisation could expose the country to political abuse reminiscent of the First Republic.
The debate has, therefore, become deeply polarised.
Unfortunately, much of the discussion has also become narrowly framed.
Supporters often emphasise the operational advantages of state police without fully engaging with legitimate concerns about political misuse. Opponents, on the other hand, frequently focus on historical abuses while paying comparatively little attention to the mounting costs of preserving an increasingly centralised system in a country confronting twenty-first-century security realities.
This book seeks to move the conversation beyond that impasse.
It does not begin with the assumption that state police is a perfect solution, nor does it proceed from the belief that Nigeria’s current policing architecture is beyond reform.
Instead, it starts from a simpler proposition:
Institutions should be judged by their ability to solve the problems they were created to address.
When circumstances change fundamentally, responsible societies must periodically re-examine their institutions to determine whether they remain fit for purpose.
That, in essence, is what this book attempts to do.
One of the central arguments advanced in this book is that the present structure of policing in Nigeria did not emerge because it represented the only possible model for a federal republic. Rather, it evolved largely from extraordinary historical circumstances.
Following the military coups of 1966, the fear of national disintegration and the outbreak of the Civil War, successive military governments centralised authority in pursuit of national survival. Within that context, concentrating policing under federal control appeared logical and, perhaps, necessary.
History, however, presents us with another question:
Should institutional arrangements adopted during an existential national emergency automatically become permanent features of democratic governance decades after the circumstances that justified them have passed?
That question lies at the heart of this book.
Many Nigerians are unaware that decentralised policing is not foreign to our constitutional experience.
Before military rule, Nigeria operated a federal policing arrangement that combined a national police force with regional and local police organisations. The current proposal for state police is, therefore, not an attempt to import an unfamiliar institution into Nigeria.
In many respects, it is an invitation to reconsider an important feature of the federal system that existed before military centralisation fundamentally altered the country’s constitutional architecture.
Understanding that history is essential because history provides context.
However, history alone can not determine contemporary policy. The Nigeria of today bears little resemblance to the Nigeria of 1966.
At independence, the country’s population was about 45 million people. Today, it exceeds 230 million. Urbanisation has transformed society. Criminal organisations have become more sophisticated. Technology has changed both crime and law enforcement. Security threats that scarcely existed six decades ago now dominate the national landscape.
Yet, the fundamental structure of policing has remained substantially unchanged.
This mismatch between changing realities and institutional continuity deserves careful examination. That examination is undertaken throughout this book.
The discussion extends beyond policing alone because security can not be isolated from governance, federalism, constitutional design, economic development, and public confidence in state institutions.
Effective policing depends not merely on personnel, equipment, or funding, but also on whether institutional responsibilities are organised in ways that allow those resources to be deployed efficiently and responsively.
Accordingly, this book asks several interconnected questions:
- How did Nigeria move from decentralised policing to an exclusively federal police system?
- Why has that arrangement survived successive constitutional transitions?
- What strengths has it provided?
- What limitations have become increasingly apparent?
- Have Nigeria’s security challenges outgrown the institutional assumptions that shaped the present system?
- If reform becomes necessary, what safeguards must accompany it to prevent political abuse while preserving national coordination and constitutional accountability?
These questions are examined through historical analysis, constitutional inquiry, comparative federal practice, policy evaluation, and practical institutional design.
The objective is neither to romanticise the past nor to advocate change for its own sake. Rather, it is to evaluate whether Nigeria’s security architecture remains aligned with contemporary realities.
Readers will, therefore, discover that this is not merely a book arguing for state police. It is a broader study of institutional adaptation.
Throughout history, nations have periodically redesigned public institutions whenever existing structures could no longer meet emerging realities. Constitutions have been amended. Economic policies have evolved. Electoral systems have been reformed. Judicial institutions have been strengthened.
Security institutions should not be exempt from the same process of thoughtful reassessment.
Indeed, refusing to review institutions simply because they have existed for a long time is itself a risk.
Stability should never be confused with permanence, or continuity with effectiveness.
At the same time, reform must be approached with caution, wisdom, and constitutional discipline.
Creating state police without adequate safeguards could merely relocate existing problems from the federal level to the states.
For that reason, this book devotes considerable attention to oversight mechanisms, accountability structures, constitutional protections, intergovernmental coordination, and the role of technology, traditional institutions, and community participation in building a policing system capable of balancing local responsiveness with national cohesion.
Ultimately, this is not a book about politics.
It is a book about the security of Nigerians.
It is about the farmer who fears returning to his fields; the trader uncertain about travelling to the next town; the student whose education is disrupted by insecurity; the investor reluctant to commit capital; the police officer working under immense pressure; and the countless citizens who simply desire what every society owes its people—the ability to live, work, and pursue their aspirations in safety.
The future of Nigeria depends not only on economic growth or political stability, but also on the capacity of the state to guarantee security under the rule of law.
Whether state police becomes part of that future is ultimately a decision for Nigerians, acting through their democratic institutions.
My purpose is not to prescribe an out come, but to contribute evidence, history, constitutional analysis, and practical policy thinking that may help inform that decision.
If this book encourages readers to look beyond entrenched positions, examine the evidence with intellectual honesty, and reconsider inherited assumptions in the light of present realities, then it will have achieved its purpose.
The conversation about state police should not be driven by fear, ideology, or political convenience.
It should be guided by one overriding consideration:
What institutional arrangement is most likely to provide the security that Nigerians deserve in the twenty-first century?
It is to that conversation that I now invite the reader.
Magnus Onyibe, an entrepreneur, public policy analyst, author, democracy advocate, development strategist, an alumnus of the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, Massachusetts, USA, a Commonwealth Institute scholar, and a former commissioner in the Delta State government, sent this piece from Lagos.
