For over 20 years, Nigeria has argued about state police while insecurity has grown. We worry that governors might abuse state forces, but we rarely ask who holds federal policing powers to account. As the National Assembly moves closer to a constitutional amendment for state police, the real question is no longer whether governors can be trusted. It is whether a country as vast and diverse as Nigeria can keep pretending that one police force in Abuja can protect every community. If security is about saving lives, then fear of decentralisation cannot be the reason we delay it.The National Assembly’s current proposal feels closer than past attempts. It would allow states to set up police services alongside the federal force, with safeguards to prevent governors from using them for partisan, ethnic or personal purposes. What is missing is the same scrutiny for federal policing power.That gap matters because our hesitation did not start today. It is rooted in history and in memory.Before 1966, Nigeria operated a more decentralised arrangement. Regional and local authorities maintained law and order through structures like the Native Authority Police, which worked alongside colonial and later national police. The idea was simple: people closest to the problem should help solve it. But in practice, some regional authorities were accused of using these forces against political opponents. That experience left a scar.After the military coup of 1966, Nigeria’s politics centralised rapidly. The military weakened regional autonomy and pulled key institutions, including security, under federal control. Policing followed that same path. When democracy returned in 1999, the centralised model stayed. Section 214(1) of the 1999 Constitution was clear: “There shall be a police force for Nigeria.” It barred any other police force for the federation or any part of it except through a constitutional amendment. That single provision has been the biggest legal wall against state police for 25 years.Successive civilian governments have felt the pressure of that wall. Under President Olusegun Obasanjo from 1999 to 2007, the focus was on reforming and equipping the Nigeria Police Force. The bigger question of devolution was discussed but not resolved.Under President Goodluck Jonathan, the issue came to the fore again. The 2014 National Conference he convened recommended state police as part of broader security reforms. The logic was straightforward: communities facing kidnapping, communal clashes and insurgency needed policing that understood their terrain. But the recommendation required constitutional amendment and political will, and it stalled.Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. The National Assembly’s current proposal feels closer than past attempts. It would allow states to set up police services alongside the federal force, with safeguards to prevent governors from using them for partisan, ethnic or personal purposes. What is missing is the same scrutiny for federal policing power.That gap matters because our hesitation did not start today. It is rooted in history and in memory.Before 1966, Nigeria operated a more decentralised arrangement. Regional and local authorities maintained law and order through structures like the Native Authority Police, which worked alongside colonial and later national police. The idea was simple: people closest to the problem should help solve it. But in practice, some regional authorities were accused of using these forces against political opponents. That experience left a scar.After the military coup of 1966, Nigeria’s politics centralised rapidly. The military weakened regional autonomy and pulled key institutions, including security, under federal control. Policing followed that same path. When democracy returned in 1999, the centralised model stayed. Section 214(1) of the 1999 Constitution was clear: “There shall be a police force for Nigeria.” It barred any other police force for the federation or any part of it except through a constitutional amendment. That single provision has been the biggest legal wall against state police for 25 years.Successive civilian governments have felt the pressure of that wall. Under President Olusegun Obasanjo from 1999 to 2007, the focus was on reforming and equipping the Nigeria Police Force. The bigger question of devolution was discussed but not resolved.Under President Goodluck Jonathan, the issue came to the fore again. The 2014 National Conference he convened recommended state police as part of broader security reforms. The logic was straightforward: communities facing kidnapping, communal clashes and insurgency needed policing that understood their terrain. But the recommendation required constitutional amendment and political will, and it stalled.Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. That gap matters because our hesitation did not start today. It is rooted in history and in memory.Before 1966, Nigeria operated a more decentralised arrangement. Regional and local authorities maintained law and order through structures like the Native Authority Police, which worked alongside colonial and later national police. The idea was simple: people closest to the problem should help solve it. But in practice, some regional authorities were accused of using these forces against political opponents. That experience left a scar.After the military coup of 1966, Nigeria’s politics centralised rapidly. The military weakened regional autonomy and pulled key institutions, including security, under federal control. Policing followed that same path. When democracy returned in 1999, the centralised model stayed. Section 214(1) of the 1999 Constitution was clear: “There shall be a police force for Nigeria.” It barred any other police force for the federation or any part of it except through a constitutional amendment. That single provision has been the biggest legal wall against state police for 25 years.Successive civilian governments have felt the pressure of that wall. Under President Olusegun Obasanjo from 1999 to 2007, the focus was on reforming and equipping the Nigeria Police Force. The bigger question of devolution was discussed but not resolved.Under President Goodluck Jonathan, the issue came to the fore again. The 2014 National Conference he convened recommended state police as part of broader security reforms. The logic was straightforward: communities facing kidnapping, communal clashes and insurgency needed policing that understood their terrain. But the recommendation required constitutional amendment and political will, and it stalled.Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Before 1966, Nigeria operated a more decentralised arrangement. Regional and local authorities maintained law and order through structures like the Native Authority Police, which worked alongside colonial and later national police. The idea was simple: people closest to the problem should help solve it. But in practice, some regional authorities were accused of using these forces against political opponents. That experience left a scar.After the military coup of 1966, Nigeria’s politics centralised rapidly. The military weakened regional autonomy and pulled key institutions, including security, under federal control. Policing followed that same path. When democracy returned in 1999, the centralised model stayed. Section 214(1) of the 1999 Constitution was clear: “There shall be a police force for Nigeria.” It barred any other police force for the federation or any part of it except through a constitutional amendment. That single provision has been the biggest legal wall against state police for 25 years.Successive civilian governments have felt the pressure of that wall. Under President Olusegun Obasanjo from 1999 to 2007, the focus was on reforming and equipping the Nigeria Police Force. The bigger question of devolution was discussed but not resolved.Under President Goodluck Jonathan, the issue came to the fore again. The 2014 National Conference he convened recommended state police as part of broader security reforms. The logic was straightforward: communities facing kidnapping, communal clashes and insurgency needed policing that understood their terrain. But the recommendation required constitutional amendment and political will, and it stalled.Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. After the military coup of 1966, Nigeria’s politics centralised rapidly. The military weakened regional autonomy and pulled key institutions, including security, under federal control. Policing followed that same path. When democracy returned in 1999, the centralised model stayed. Section 214(1) of the 1999 Constitution was clear: “There shall be a police force for Nigeria.” It barred any other police force for the federation or any part of it except through a constitutional amendment. That single provision has been the biggest legal wall against state police for 25 years.Successive civilian governments have felt the pressure of that wall. Under President Olusegun Obasanjo from 1999 to 2007, the focus was on reforming and equipping the Nigeria Police Force. The bigger question of devolution was discussed but not resolved.Under President Goodluck Jonathan, the issue came to the fore again. The 2014 National Conference he convened recommended state police as part of broader security reforms. The logic was straightforward: communities facing kidnapping, communal clashes and insurgency needed policing that understood their terrain. But the recommendation required constitutional amendment and political will, and it stalled.Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Successive civilian governments have felt the pressure of that wall. Under President Olusegun Obasanjo from 1999 to 2007, the focus was on reforming and equipping the Nigeria Police Force. The bigger question of devolution was discussed but not resolved.Under President Goodluck Jonathan, the issue came to the fore again. The 2014 National Conference he convened recommended state police as part of broader security reforms. The logic was straightforward: communities facing kidnapping, communal clashes and insurgency needed policing that understood their terrain. But the recommendation required constitutional amendment and political will, and it stalled.Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Under President Goodluck Jonathan, the issue came to the fore again. The 2014 National Conference he convened recommended state police as part of broader security reforms. The logic was straightforward: communities facing kidnapping, communal clashes and insurgency needed policing that understood their terrain. But the recommendation required constitutional amendment and political will, and it stalled.Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Under President Muhammadu Buhari from 2015 to 2023, insecurity deepened. Terrorism, banditry and kidnapping spread. The response was the Police Act of 2020 and a push for community policing, but still within the single national structure. The idea of independent state police was not adopted.Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Even within the ruling party, the case for devolution was made. In 2017, the APC set up a Committee on True Federalism, chaired by then Kaduna Governor Nasir El-Rufai. Its January 2018 report recommended devolving more powers to states, including policing. It proposed a three-tier structure: federal, state and community police, with clear responsibilities. The report was submitted and then shelved.Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Now under President Bola Tinubu, the debate has returned with more urgency. In 2024, the Federal Government, governors and other stakeholders began serious talks on state police as one response to Nigeria’s security crisis. The constitutional amendment currently before the National Assembly is the most advanced attempt yet.But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. But we are repeating a pattern. Every few years, we admit that centralisation is not delivering, then we stop because we fear what governors might do with guns.Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Those fears are not imaginary. If armed power is devolved without strong guardrails, governors could use state police to intimidate opponents, rig elections, or settle scores. Beyond that, there is a deeper anxiety: that giving states more control over security could weaken national cohesion, or embolden regions to challenge Abuja. That fear has shaped resistance to decentralisation for decades.That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. That is why the current proposal tries to build in safeguards. Senate Leader Opeyemi Bamidele has said the measures are designed to prevent partisan, ethnic, religious or personal use of state police. The framework allows states to “choose” to establish their own services, while the Nigeria Police Force retains federal duties: counterterrorism, organised crime, cybercrime, border security, arms trafficking and interstate crime. It also gives the Federal Government power to intervene in a state police service in cases of breakdown of public order, inability to function, serious rights violations, electoral intimidation, or threats to national security.All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. All of that is necessary. But the word “choose” exposes the contradiction. If states can only operate inside a framework where Abuja retains the biggest powers and the final say, are we truly creating state police? Or are we just adding another layer to a centralised system and calling it reform?Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Here is where The Bottom Line must be honest. We cannot ignore the possibility of abuse at any level. Our history demands oversight wherever coercive power sits. But the debate cannot end with governors. A federal system must also ask: who checks the President and the Inspector-General when federal policing powers are misused?Related NewsCleric decries failed campaign promises in NigeriaConstituency projects: Alleged funding suspension throws Reps into rowdy sessionThe unfiltered mind of Abimbola AdelakunFor years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. For years, we have focused only on one side of the equation. That imbalance is dangerous.The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. The cost of this imbalance is already visible. The Boko Haram insurgency, which grew into a national crisis from the late 2000s, showed how difficult it is for a single command structure in Abuja to respond quickly across different regions with different languages, terrains and threats.The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. The 2020 #EndSARS protests showed something else: a deep trust deficit. Years of complaints about SARS — harassment, extortion, brutality — boiled over. The government dissolved SARS and promised reform, but the protests were not just about one unit. They were about accountability, and about who controls the police that citizens meet every day.The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. The practical problem also shows up in real time, during emergencies. Governors are the first people citizens hold responsible when there is insecurity in their state. Yet most do not command the police who are supposed to respond.We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. We saw this in May after the abduction of schoolchildren and teachers in Oyo State. Following protests led by Martins Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan, over the victims’ continued captivity, Governor Seyi Makinde explained publicly that he could not simply order the Commissioner of Police to act. He needed approval from the Inspector-General of Police. To a parent whose child is missing, that chain of command sounds like bureaucracy, not security.This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. This is the strongest case for decentralisation. Nigeria is too large, too diverse, and too complex for every security decision to start and end in Abuja. Criminal networks operate in communities. They move through local roads, hide in local forests, and recruit from local populations. Residents often know who the suspects are, where they move, and how they operate. A police officer posted from 800 kilometres away will always be at a disadvantage compared to one who grew up in that LGA.Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Local officers understand difficult terrains. They understand community relationships, traditional rulers, vigilantes, and the informal networks that intelligence depends on. That does not mean federal officers are incapable. It means our architecture must fit our reality.My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. My argument for state police, therefore, is not an argument against the Nigeria Police Force. It is an argument for a security structure that matches the size of the country and the nature of the threats.And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. And that brings me back to the proposal before the National Assembly. If the safeguards are real, they must apply both ways. We need independent oversight for state police, and we need independent oversight for federal police. We need clear rules for intervention, and we need consequences when any level of government abuses its power.Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Without that balance, we risk creating a system where responsibility is local, but authority remains federal. Governors will continue to be blamed for failures they cannot control, while citizens continue to wait for decisions that must travel to Abuja and back.So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. So, I ask again, as I have in The Bottom Line before: why call it state police if states cannot exercise meaningful authority over it?A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. A democracy cannot protect citizens by concentrating all coercive power in one place and then hoping for the best. Fear of governors abusing state police cannot be the reason we keep everything at the centre. That fear is valid, but it must be managed with law, oversight, and consequences — not by denying states the tools they need.Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. Citizens’ welfare must be the priority. Not politics. Not a political party. Not the comfort of old structures.If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. If, at the end of this amendment process, states cannot recruit, train, fund and deploy their police with real operational independence, then let us be honest about what we have done. We will not have created state police. We will have repackaged federal policing under a new name.And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe. And that will not be enough to keep Nigerians safe.