*Photo: President Bola Tinubu (middle) at a meeting with Service Chiefs on Sunday *
Nigeria stands at a precipice, staring into an abyss that threatens to swallow its sovereignty, its economy, and its future. The events of the last few days have been nothing short of a national catastrophe, a rolling thunder of tragedy that has left citizens trembling and the government scrambling. In a span of merely seventy-two hours, the sanctity of our communities was violated with impunity: a church in Kwara State was stormed by gunmen, and three separate educational institutions in Kebbi, Niger, and Nasarawa states were besieged, resulting in the abduction of hundreds of innocent students. The government’s response, the temporary closure of all Federal Unity Colleges in the Federal Capital Territory, followed by similar shutdowns in Plateau, Yobe, and Katsina states, is a harrowing admission of vulnerability. When a nation is forced to shutter its schools to protect its children from being harvested as commodities by criminal gangs, it has effectively paused its development. Education is the bedrock of the future; closing schools is akin to surrendering that future to the whims of warlords.
This reality has sparked global concern, with the security situation in Nigeria becoming a topic of intense debate in the United States Congress and a focal point for the President. We are besieged by questions of genocide, failed statehood, and the necessity of intervention. Yet, as I argued in my previous treatise calling for a Government of National Competence and a National Security Summit, the solution cannot be imported. We cannot look to the Potomac for salvation that must be forged on the banks of the Niger and Benue. Furthermore, we must critically interrogate the knee-jerk suggestion of returning to the 2014/2015 playbook of importing foreign mercenaries. While the private military contractors utilised by the Goodluck Jonathan administration achieved tactical victories, they were a temporary, expensive, and ultimately unsustainable fix that did nothing to build domestic capacity or address the root causes of violence.
We need a permanent, indigenous solution. We need a paradigm shift that acknowledges a hard truth: the centralised state monopoly on violence, exercised through the Nigerian Police Force and the Military, has collapsed under the weight of asymmetric warfare. It is time to explore a radical yet proven alternative: the democratisation of security through a regulated, armed private sector modelled after South Africa’s robust framework.
The Collapse of the Centralised Policing Model
To understand why a private security revolution is necessary, we must first dissect the failure of the status quo. The Nigerian state operates on a centralised policing architecture that was designed for a different era. With a population pushing towards 220 million, a police force of approximately 370,000 personnel is woefully inadequate. The United Nations recommends a ratio of one police officer for every 450 citizens; in many rural parts of Nigeria, the ratio is closer to one officer for every several thousand.
This numerical deficit is compounded by a lack of motivation, poor equipment, and bureaucratic bottlenecks. I just read that the President has ordered the recruitment of an additional 30,000 police officers. That may be tough luck at this time of insecurity. Why can’t we recall retired personnel in the armed forces and the Police as a temporary measure? When a school in Kebbi is attacked, the distress call often goes to a police command that is miles away, under-equipped, and lacking the tactical mobility to engage heavily armed bandits. By the time the state security apparatus mobilises, the perpetrators have vanished into the forests. The terrorists know this. They exploit the lag time between the act of terror and the state’s response. They operate in the vacuum left by an absent state.
The current “temporary measures” of closing schools are not a strategy; they are a retreat. We are ceding territory, both physical and intellectual, to the enemy. We need a force multiplier. We need a system that places trained, armed, and technology-enabled protectors in every school, church, mosque, and community, not days away in a barracks, but right there at the gate, ready to respond in seconds, not hours.
The South African Model: A Blueprint for Resilience
In the search for a viable alternative, we need not look to the West but to the South, while we deny the need for State Police. South Africa offers a compelling case study in how a nation can leverage the private sector to fill the security gap. As noted by security analyst Charles Anwuzie, South Africa operates the world’s largest private security industry, a sector that is not a chaotic militia but a highly regulated, professional one.
There are over 2.4 million registered private security officers in South Africa. Could you let that number resonate? That is a force larger than the standing armies of most nations. These officers are employed by over 10,000 private security companies, all of which are strictly licensed and monitored by the Private Security Industry Regulatory Authority (PSIRA). This is the crux of the argument: these are not vigilantes. They are professionals.
In South Africa, these officers are armed and trained to tactical standards that often exceed those of the state police. They do not just man gates; they provide armed response services. When a sensor is tripped in a neighbourhood in Johannesburg or Pretoria, it is often a private security tactical team that arrives first, heavily armed and backed by a control room monitoring the situation via CCTV and other surveillance tech. They work in close coordination with the South African Police Service (SAPS), serving as the eyes, ears, and often the muscle of law enforcement.
This model has created a blanket of security that makes prolonged operations by bandits or terrorists extremely difficult in protected areas. The sheer density of armed personnel means that criminals face a high probability of immediate engagement. In Nigeria, bandits can operate in a school for hours because they know no one is coming. In a South African-style model, they would face armed resistance the moment they breached the perimeter. Methinks the time for this has come!
The Economic Argument: Transforming Insecurity into Industry
One of the most profound aspects of the South African model is its economic impact. Nigeria is currently battling a dual crisis: insecurity and unemployment. These two are symbiotic: high unemployment creates a pool of desperate recruits for banditry, and insecurity destroys businesses that could create jobs.
Adopting the PSIRA model in Nigeria would be a massive economic stimulus. If we were to replicate South Africa’s private security density, we could immediately create an estimated 5 million jobs or more. This is not hyperbole; it reflects the sheer scale of the Nigerian market. Every school, every bank, every religious centre, every estate, and every corporate headquarters is a potential client.
Currently, the “bandits” terrorising our highways are often young men who have been excluded from the formal economy. They have acquired weapons and tactical skills because that is the only “job” available to them. By legitimising and professionalising the security industry, we can redirect this energy. A young man who is currently a potential recruit for a bandit kingpin could, with the proper training and background checks, become a gainfully employed protector of his community. We would take the insurgency’s labour force and hire them to destroy the insurgency. Conscripting so-called deradicalised bandits into the armed forces or police is not a wise decision, as the trend has shown; there are many informants now in our armed forces that are informing bandits on troop movement. Or else, how did the bandits get an encrypted WhatsApp message from Brigadier General Uba to his team about his rescue?
Furthermore, this democratisation of security would open the floodgates for investment. The Nigerian diaspora, which remits billions of dollars annually, is currently hesitant to invest in physical infrastructure due to insecurity. If a diaspora investor knew they could hire a licensed, insured, and armed private security firm to protect their farm or factory with state-of-the-art technology, the capital inflow would be immense. Security is a business, and insecurity is, too. Currently, the “business of insecurity” (kidnapping for ransom) is winning. We must make the “business of security” more profitable and robust.
The Technological Imperative: AI, Drones, and Surveillance
The state machinery is notoriously slow to adapt to technological change. Government procurement processes are riddled with red tape, corruption, and delays. By the time the government approves the purchase of surveillance drones, the technology is often obsolete. The private sector, driven by competition and the profit motive, suffers from no such lethargy.
In a privatised security environment, companies compete on efficiency. A private security firm knows that if its client is kidnapped, it loses its contract and its reputation. Therefore, it is incentivised to invest in the best available technology. This means deploying Artificial Intelligence-powered surveillance systems, facial recognition cameras, motion sensors, and rapid-response drones.
Imagine a scenario where a private security firm protecting a cluster of schools in Niger State uses geofencing technology. The moment an unauthorised group of motorcycles crosses a virtual perimeter five kilometres away, the AI alerts the control room. Drones are automatically deployed to verify the threat. Armed tactical teams are scrambled to intercept the convoy before it reaches the school. This is not science fiction; this is the standard of operation for top-tier private security in Johannesburg, London, and Tel Aviv. We can replicate the same here if the government shows leadership and political will to act in defence of our people.
Government bureaucracy cannot deliver this level of innovation at scale. But private capital can. If we allow private security companies to bear arms and operate tactically, they will raise the billions of naira needed to build this infrastructure. They will turn our neighbourhoods into “smart fortresses” where criminal behaviour is detected and neutralised in real-time.
The Legislative Hurdle: Creating a Nigerian PSIRA
The primary counter-argument to this proposal is the fear of the proliferation of arms. Critics will argue that allowing private companies to carry assault rifles will turn Nigeria into a militia state, reminiscent of Somalia. This is a valid fear, but it stems from a lack of imagination about regulation.
The current situation, where citizens are defenceless while criminals are armed with military-grade weapons, is already a state of anarchy. We are essentially preventing law-abiding institutions from defending themselves while leaving them at the mercy of lawless aggressors. That is not good governance, while the solution is not to ban guns, but to regulate them rigorously.
This requires the National Assembly to pass a “Private Security Industry Reform Act.” This legislation would establish a Nigerian equivalent of PSIRA, a regulatory body with teeth. This body would be responsible for:
- Strict Licensing: Not every Dick and Harry can open a security firm. The requirements for obtaining a license to bear arms must be stringent, involving background checks, financial audits, and leadership vetting. Our retinue of retired armed forces personnel is a great advantage, enabling professionals to lead the way.
- Training Standards: Private security operatives must undergo training that rivals or exceeds that of the police. This includes weapons handling, rules of engagement, human rights training, and conflict de-escalation.
- Biometric Database: Every single weapon issued to a private security firm must be biometrically linked to a specific officer. Every round of ammunition must be accounted for. If a private security gun is found at a crime scene, the company and the officer must face immediate and severe legal consequences.
- Psychological Evaluation: Regular psychological testing for all armed personnel to ensure mental fitness.
By creating this framework, the government shifts its role from being the sole provider of security (which it is failing at presently) to being the regulator of security (which it can succeed at if done correctly). The government retains the regulatory monopoly, while the private sector provides protection.
Objectivity: Addressing the Risks and Inequalities
As a consultant committed to objective analysis, I must address the potential downsides of this model. The most glaring risk is the commodification of safety, where the rich live in private fortresses while the poor are left to the mercy of a depleted public police force.
This inequality exists today, but in a worse form. Currently, the rich hire mobile police officers (MOPOL) for personal protection, further depleting the public police force. We see politicians and VIPs with convoys of police officers, while entire villages are left with one constable.
By legalising private armed security, we actually free up the police. Suppose banks, schools, estates, and corporations hire private armed guards. In that case, the thousands of police officers currently assigned to these VIPs can be recalled and redeployed to public duties, patrolling streets and rural areas, and protecting the vulnerable who cannot afford private security. The private sector manages private assets, allowing the public sector to focus on the public good.
Furthermore, communities can pool resources. A village in Zamfara may not be able to afford a security firm on its own. Still, as a community cooperative or with the support of the Local Government Council, it can contract a licensed firm to patrol its farming corridors. This is a more formalised and accountable version of the “Amotekun” or “Civilian JTF” model, but with better training, better weapons, and strict federal oversight. With this in place, any bandits will think twice before launching an attack, while its operation will make banditry less lucrative than it is today.
Why Not Mercenaries? The Sovereignty Argument
We must return to the question of mercenaries. Why not just hire Executive Outcomes or STTEP International again? The answer lies in sustainability and sovereignty. Mercenaries are a rental service. When the money runs out, they leave. They do not build institutions; they do not transfer skills permanently; and they do not contribute to the local economy.
Moreover, relying on foreign mercenaries is a humiliation for a nation with Nigeria’s pedigree. We have a history of peacekeeping operations in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Sudan. We have a vibrant, brave, and resilient population. Why should we pay foreigners to do what Nigerians can do if given the legal backing and the right equipment?
Building a domestic private security industry is an investment in national power. It creates a reserve force of trained personnel that can be called upon during national emergencies. It keeps the capital within the Nigerian economy. It fosters technological transfer. Importing mercenaries is an admission of defeat; building a private security industry is an act of nation-building.
The Role of the National Consensus
This proposal should be the centrepiece of the National Security Summit I advocated for in my previous writings. This is not a policy that can be implemented solely by executive order. It requires a national consensus. It requires the buy-in of the ruling party, the opposition, the traditional rulers, and civil society.
The President must bring the opposition leaders, Atiku Abubakar, Peter Obi, Rabiu Kwankwaso and others, to the table to discuss this specific legislation. Why? Because amending the Firearms Act and the Constitution to allow this requires bipartisan support in the National Assembly. It requires the Governors to agree on the operational modalities in their states.
We need the traditional rulers to vet the local security companies operating in their domains. We need the CSOs to help draft the human rights protocols that these private firms must adhere to. This is the “All Hands on Deck” approach in action. It moves the conversation from “who is to blame for the killings” to “how do we collectively legislate a solution.”
The Courage to Evolve
Nigeria is fighting a 21st-century war with a 20th-century policing model. The result is the tragedy we see in our news feeds every day, the abduction of our future, the burning of our worship centres, and the terrifying silence of a state overwhelmed.
The temporary closure of schools is a stopgap, not a solution. We cannot hide our children forever, for we must make the schools safe. The government has tried, and failed, to do this alone. It is time to admit that the task of securing 200 million people and a landmass of 923,768 square kilometres is too great for a single, centralised police force.
We must have the courage to evolve. We must have the courage to trust our citizens, under strict regulation, to protect themselves. The South African model proves that it is possible to have a massive, armed private security industry that works in tandem with the police to suppress crime.
It is time to democratize security. It is time to unleash the power of the private sector against the forces of darkness. It is time to turn security into an industry that employs our youth rather than leaving them to be recruited by terror.
This is the call to our lawmakers: Be bold. Emulate the initiative of licensed, regulated private security. Let us arm the guards, equip them with technology, and place them at the gates of our schools. Let us send a message to the kidnappers that the days of soft targets are over. Nigeria must not perish because we were too afraid to try something new. The alternative, a slow descent into state failure, is unacceptable, and the time to act is now. Prof. Sarumi is the Chief Strategic Officer, LMS DT Consulting, Faculty, Prowess University, US, and ICLED Business School, and writes from Lagos, Nigeria. He is also a consultant in TVET and indigenous education systems, affiliated with the Global Adaptive Apprenticeship Model (GAAM) research consortium. Tel. 234 803 304 1421, Email: leadershipmgtservice@gmail.com.