State Police in Nigeria: Promise, Pitfalls, and the Path Ahead

Nigeria’s deepening security crisis is no longer an abstract debate or a statistic to be brushed aside; it is a daily reality of terrorism, insurgency, kidnappings, ethno-religious conflict, resource-driven clashes, and violent crimes that cut across every state of the federation. The Nigeria Police Force, tasked with keeping the peace, has struggled under the weight of these challenges. With a workforce too small for a country of over 200 million people, inadequate equipment and infrastructure, low morale, poor remuneration, and systemic corruption, the Force has lost much of the credibility and effectiveness required of a national institution. What makes the problem worse is that state governors — often described as the “chief security officers” of their states — find themselves unable to respond effectively to these crises because the Police Commands in their states answer only to the Inspector General of Police, who in turn is only accountable to the President.

This sense of paralysis has fed mounting calls for the establishment of state police, a demand that has grown steadily louder over the past two decades but has now reached fever pitch. 

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu first floated the idea of state police in February 2024 at a meeting with the country’s 36 governors. He then brought the conversation back to the centre of national politics this year, stating that the question was no longer whether the country needed state police but how quickly the National Assembly could make it happen. His comments came at a time when insecurity had forced communities to rely increasingly on vigilante groups such as Amotekun in the South-West, which, though informal, have become essential stopgaps in the absence of effective federal policing.

The push for state police has not been confined to the Tinubu presidency. In 2023, former president Olusegun Obasanjo declared bluntly that the existing structure does not work, and that the concerns about possible abuse of state police are not persuasive when the same risk already exists under the federal model. Other former leaders, including Goodluck Jonathan, Kashim Shettima, and Abdulsalami Abubakar, have echoed the call, with Jonathan stressing that the real priority is not necessarily giving state police heavy weaponry but ensuring they are properly equipped to carry out their responsibilities effectively. Retired police chiefs and public policy experts have made the same point: Nigeria’s size, its complex security threats, and the glaring gap between police numbers and population make a strong case for devolving policing powers.

Proponents of state police argue that the current model is over-centralised, excessively bureaucratic, and incapable of responding with the speed and sensitivity that different states require. Security challenges in Benue are not the same as those in Bayelsa, and those in Zamfara differ again from Lagos or Rivers. A centrally controlled system cannot adapt quickly enough to the particularities of each state. Supporters also note that decentralised policing is standard practice in federal systems around the world, from the United States and South Africa to Switzerland and India. If Nigerian federalism is to mean more than rhetoric, they argue, then policing powers must reflect the autonomy that states are supposed to enjoy under the Constitution.

The proposed constitutional alteration contained in the Constitution Of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (Alteration) Bill, 2023 (Establishment of State Police) (HB. 617) represents the most serious attempt yet to turn these arguments into reality. By seeking to amend sections 197, 214, and 215 of the Constitution and move policing from the Exclusive to the Concurrent Legislative List, the bill would give both the federal and state legislatures jurisdiction to make laws for police forces. This shift would empower states to establish their own police structures, develop strategies tailored to their unique security needs, and exercise authority that better reflects their responsibilities. It would also diversify Nigeria’s policing landscape, reducing reliance on a single overstretched federal institution.

But the prospect of state police is not without its risks, and opponents of the bill have not been shy about voicing them. The most prominent fear is political abuse. Critics worry that governors will wield state police as private militias, harassing opponents, silencing dissent, and rigging elections —  a valid concern, as governors already showcase terrifyingly low tolerance for dissenting opinions. Just this week, a journalist in Kebbi State, Hassan Mai-Waya Kangiwa, was detained by the state government after releasing a video showing the poor conditions at Kangiwa General Hospital. This gross infringement on free speech was successfully carried out even in the absence of any state police force.

There is also anxiety about the potential for state-controlled forces to exacerbate ethnic or regional tensions, or even to advance secessionist agendas under the cover of local autonomy. The issue of funding is equally troubling. Many states already struggle to meet basic salary obligations and manage recurring expenses. Building and sustaining a police force requires substantial and continuous investment in personnel, training, logistics, and equipment. Without adequate financial planning, state police units could end up under-resourced, vulnerable to corruption, or simply ineffective.

Jurisdictional clashes pose another threat. If both federal and state police exist side by side without clear delineation of responsibilities, confusion could undermine the very purpose of the reform. A kidnapping that crosses state borders, for example, or a riot that spills over multiple jurisdictions could easily descend into turf wars between different commands, weakening rather than strengthening security. Human rights groups add yet another layer of concern, pointing out that Nigeria has yet to come to terms with the legacy of police brutality exposed during the EndSARS protests. The Police Act 2020 was hailed as reform, but in practice it has done little to enforce accountability or alter entrenched patterns of misconduct. Creating 36 new state police commands without meaningful reform would simply multiply existing police brutality.

Even beyond these structural and financial issues, there is a broader concern about cohesion. Critics argue that decentralising policing risks fragmenting the security architecture and weakening national unity. With multiple centres of armed authority, the balance between local responsiveness and national solidarity becomes harder to maintain. For a country already under strain from separatist movements and ethno-political divisions, this risk cannot be dismissed.

The legislative process for HB 617 is deliberately rigorous, requiring passage through committee, approval by two-thirds of both chambers of the National Assembly, endorsement from two-thirds of the state legislatures, and ultimately the President’s assent. This slow grind reflects both the importance of the reform and the weight of the concerns surrounding it. If state police are to become reality, the framework must include robust safeguards: strong legislative oversight, sustainable financing, clear chains of command, and professional training rooted in human rights. The process must be transparent, inclusive, and subject to public scrutiny so that it is not simply imposed from above but shaped by the communities it is meant to serve.

Nigeria stands at a crossroads. The present federal policing model is broken, leaving citizens vulnerable, governors hamstrung, and the nation’s most basic promise of safety unfulfilled. But rushing to embrace state police without the necessary foresight would be just as dangerous as doing nothing at all. If the reform is to succeed, it must go beyond altering constitutional clauses or creating new commands; it must build institutions capable of resisting political capture, establish standards that guarantee professionalism, and foster a policing culture that places public trust and human rights at its core.