STATE POLICE IN NIGERIA: FROM PREMIERS TO GOVERNORS — THE CYCLE OF FEAR
-~ Shae Bebeyi@ Curiously Yours Arena.
1963 gave the gun to the Premiers. 1999 took it away. 2026 seeks to return it to the States. Has Nigeria changed—or only its fears?
By every measure, Nigeria’s debate over state policing is not new. It is the latest chapter in a constitutional argument that has endured for more than a century: Who should control the legitimate use of force in a federal state?
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From colonial indirect rule through independence, military centralisation and today’s democratic federation, the answer has shifted repeatedly. Yet the underlying challenge has remained remarkably constant.
Yesterday, Nigerians feared politicians.
Today, Nigerians fear criminals.
Tomorrow, the country must decide which fear poses the greater danger.
That decision will determine not merely the future of policing but perhaps the future of Nigerian federalism itself.
A Century-Long Debate Over the Gun
For over 110 years, Nigeria has wrestled with the same constitutional question.
The British colonial administration entrusted local security largely to Native Authority Police under Emirs, Obas and traditional rulers.
The 1963 Republican Constitution expanded that philosophy by recognising regional autonomy.
Section 79(1) declared:
“There shall be a Police Force for each Region of the Federation.”
Each of the four regions—the Northern, Western, Eastern and Mid-Western Regions—maintained its own police force under the authority of the Regional Premier, while the Federal Government retained a separate federal police.
It was classic federalism.
Security decisions were local.
Intelligence was local.
Accountability was intended to be local.
For a brief period, the arrangement appeared compatible with Nigeria’s constitutional design.
Yet the system collapsed not because policing itself was inherently flawed, but because politics overwhelmed professionalism.
When Politics Captured the Police
The First Republic demonstrated both the promise and the peril of decentralised policing.
Regional police understood local languages, cultures and terrain far better than distant federal authorities.
However, during the intensely contested elections of 1964 and 1965, accusations multiplied that some regional governments deployed police as instruments of partisan power.
The Western Region crisis, remembered through the violence of “Operation Wetie,” became symbolic of the dangers of political control over armed institutions.
Elsewhere, disturbances including the Tiv uprisings reinforced fears that regional security institutions were increasingly serving political interests rather than constitutional order.
Public confidence deteriorated rapidly.
When the military intervened in January 1966, one of its first institutional reforms was to centralise policing.
General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi’s Decree No. 1 effectively abolished regional police alongside the federal structure itself.
Military centralisation became constitutional orthodoxy.
The 1999 Constitution later entrenched that philosophy.
Section 214(1) provides:
“There shall be a Police Force for Nigeria… and no other Police Force shall be established for the Federation or any part thereof.”
The lesson drawn from 1965 was straightforward:
Nigeria abolished state police because politicians abused them.
From Political Fear to Criminal Fear
History, however, has produced an unexpected irony.
The centralised police system was expected to eliminate political abuse.
Instead, Nigeria entered an era of increasingly complex insecurity.
Banditry.
Kidnapping.
Insurgency.
Terrorism.
Rural violence.
Organised criminal networks.
Across many parts of the federation, these threats have evolved faster than centralised policing has been able to respond.
The challenge is no longer simply constitutional.
It is operational.
Nigeria’s vast geography, growing population and expanding security threats have placed extraordinary pressure on a single national police organisation.
Communities frequently rely on locally organised security initiatives because they often become the first responders when federal resources are distant.
Across different regions, initiatives such as Amotekun, Ebubeagu, Hisbah and the Civilian Joint Task Force emerged largely to fill security gaps.
Although their legal powers differ significantly and many lack full policing authority, their existence reflects a practical reality:
Local communities increasingly seek local security solutions.
The central question therefore has changed.
In 1965, Nigeria feared politicians with guns.
In 2026, Nigeria fears criminals without restraint.
The dilemma is no longer whether security should be local.
It is whether local security can exist without repeating the mistakes of history.
The Constitutional Turning Point
The renewed campaign for state police represents one of the most consequential constitutional debates since Nigeria’s return to democracy.
Supporters argue that policing should reflect the logic of federalism.
Local governments understand local threats.
Governors are constitutionally designated as chief security officers in practice, yet they exercise limited operational control over the police deployed within their states.
Opponents respond that history offers a clear warning.
Nigeria has previously witnessed the misuse of decentralised policing.
Without strong constitutional safeguards, today’s reforms could recreate yesterday’s abuses.
The debate therefore extends far beyond security.
It concerns the distribution of power within the federation.
It asks whether Nigeria trusts its governors enough to entrust them with armed institutions.
The Politics Behind the Reform
Every constitutional reform has political consequences.
State police is no exception.
If successfully implemented, the reform could fundamentally redefine Nigerian federalism.
Supporters believe it would strengthen internal security, improve intelligence gathering and allow the armed forces to concentrate more effectively on external threats and major national emergencies.
Critics fear an opposite outcome.
Without effective oversight, state police could become instruments of political intimidation during elections, deepen regional inequalities, and create uneven standards of law enforcement across the federation.
The debate is therefore not simply about crime.
It is about coercive power.
Who controls it?
Who supervises it?
Who restrains it?
These questions lie at the heart of constitutional democracy.
Three Possible Futures
Nigeria now stands before three plausible futures.
First: Professional Federalism
The most optimistic outcome would combine state policing with strong national standards.
Recruitment, training, discipline, technology and operational procedures would be regulated nationally, while states would exercise operational control within clearly defined constitutional limits.
Independent oversight institutions would investigate abuses.
Inter-state cooperation would be mandatory.
Professionalism would outweigh politics.
This would represent mature federalism.
Second: Competitive Militarisation
The pessimistic scenario is equally imaginable.
Governors could convert state police into political instruments.
Opposition parties might face intimidation.
Election periods could become increasingly securitised.
Federal and state authorities might clash over operational control.
Instead of strengthening democracy, policing could weaken it.
History would repeat itself.
Third: Uneven Federalism
Perhaps the most realistic outcome lies somewhere between success and failure.
Economically stronger states could build professional police institutions.
Financially weaker states might struggle to pay salaries, invest in training or maintain equipment.
The result would be a federation with unequal policing capacity.
The Federal Government would likely remain the ultimate guarantor of internal security.
The Manual Matters More Than the Gun
The constitutional amendment itself is only the beginning.
Passing a law is easier than building institutions.
The crucial question is not whether Nigeria should establish state police.
The real question is whether Nigeria possesses the institutional safeguards necessary to prevent abuse.
Several safeguards appear indispensable:
A National Police Standards Commission responsible for recruitment, training and certification.
Constitutionally guaranteed operational independence for professional police leadership.
Independent civilian complaints and disciplinary commissions.
Uniform national standards on human rights and use of force.
Clear legal provisions permitting cross-border pursuit of criminals.
Transparent funding mechanisms.
Strict judicial oversight.
Federal emergency intervention where constitutional order collapses.
Without these safeguards, decentralisation risks reproducing old failures.
With them, Nigeria could finally reconcile federalism with accountability.
The Constitutional Journey
The constitutional transition illustrates the country’s evolving philosophy.
The 1963 Constitution permitted regional police under Section 79.
The 1999 Constitution prohibited any police force other than the Nigeria Police Force under Section 214.
Today’s constitutional proposals seek neither a complete return to 1963 nor the preservation of absolute centralisation.
Instead, they attempt to construct a hybrid model responsive to twenty-first century security realities.
Whether that balance succeeds remains uncertain.
The Ultimate Question
State police is neither a miracle solution nor an inevitable disaster.
It is a constitutional instrument.
Like every instrument of state power, its value depends upon the integrity of those who wield it and the institutions that restrain them.
Nigeria abolished regional police because political abuse threatened democracy.
It centralised policing to strengthen national unity.
Yet centralisation has not eliminated insecurity.
The nation therefore confronts a difficult constitutional paradox.
In 1963, Nigeria gave the gun to the Premiers and eventually lost democratic stability.
In 1999, Nigeria removed the gun from the states and gradually lost significant elements of public security.
The challenge before today’s lawmakers is to ensure that Nigeria does not lose both democracy and security simultaneously.
Ultimately, state police is not the answer.
It is the question.
Can Nigeria build institutions stronger than individual ambition?
Can constitutional safeguards restrain political power?
Can federalism mature without repeating history?
The answers will shape the country’s security architecture for generations.
As an old African proverb reminds us, “The tree of federalism grows only where the soil is nourished by trust.”
Nigeria’s soil has been watered by too much blood and too much fear.
The next constitutional step must therefore be taken with courage—but also with caution.
(DEMOCRACY NEWSLINE NEWSPAPER, JUNE 28TH 2026)
