Nigeria’s police power play and national security

By Rekpene Bassey

Nigeria’s Inspector General of Police, Kayode Egbetokun, appears firmly ensconced in office, with his tenure now projected to run until October 2027.

Yet behind this seeming permanence simmers a quiet storm, a mounting chorus of murmuring and discontent among senior officers, rank-and-file personnel, legal experts, and civil society.

At issue is not simply one man’s extended stay in office but what it portends for the rule of law, national security and the fragile institutional architecture of Nigeria’s democracy.

Egbetokun, appointed in June 2023, has reportedly surpassed the statutory retirement age of 60. Under Nigeria’s Constitution and the Police Act, that milestone should have triggered his exit from service. Instead, a controversial amendment to the Police Act passed with little public scrutiny has allowed the administration to retain him in defiance of long-standing norms governing age and tenure limits. Legal analysts warn this sets a troubling precedent: executive convenience overtaking constitutional order.

In a nation where public institutions routinely struggle under the weight of executive interference, the move has unnerved even seasoned observers. It raises urgent questions: Who interprets the law? And more critically, who is allowed to bend it?

The matter strikes at the heart of Nigeria’s ongoing tension between legality and power. The country’s 1999 Constitution, still regarded as the supreme law of the land, outlines clear procedures in Sections 215 and 216 for appointing and removing the Inspector General of Police. Any deviation, even under the guise of legislative reform, risks violating Section 1(3), which explicitly affirms constitutional supremacy over all other laws.

Supporters of Egbetokun’s extension argue that stability in police leadership is vital amid Nigeria’s worsening security crisis. With armed banditry, terrorism, and communal violence threatening lives across swathes of the country, they suggest that continuity at the top provides a steady hand in turbulent times.

However, critics see something more pernicious: a strategic bypassing of constitutional limits that, if left unchecked, could metastasise into a broader authoritarian drift. The extension of Egbetokun’s tenure is not occurring in a vacuum. The Comptroller General of the Nigerian Immigration Service has also reportedly had his tenure extended under similarly opaque circumstances. What begins in the police barracks can all too easily seep into the judiciary, the electoral commission, and the military, institutions meant to act as guardrails against executive excess.

The internal consequences for the Nigeria Police Force are equally significant. Morale among junior officers has reportedly declined as the perception grows that merit, professionalism, and tenure observance are no longer the lodestars of advancement.

Egbetokun, now more senior than the rest of the police leadership cadre, all of whom were previously his juniors, presides over an awkwardly inverted chain of command. Such a structure undermines discipline, encourages factionalism, and breeds resentment — vulnerabilities that adversaries, whether criminals or insurgents are quick to exploit, with dire consequences for national security.

Nigeria cannot afford a demoralised police force. Already reeling from public mistrust fueled by allegations of brutality, extortion, and inefficiency, the police must now contend with an internal legitimacy crisis.

The #EndSARS protests of 2020, led by Nigerian youth against police abuse and impunity, underscored how brittle the social contract between the state and citizens has become. This new development threatens to unravel it all.

Democracy is not simply the holding of elections; it is the commitment to procedures, rules, and institutional predictability. When those in power manipulate legal frameworks to suit political agendas, they erode public confidence not only in specific offices but in the very idea of a rules-based state.

As American jurist Learned Hand once warned, liberty does not live in the parchment of constitutions alone; it lives in the hearts of citizens. If Nigerians no longer believe that laws apply equally to all, democratic erosion becomes not a possibility but an inevitability.

The broader security implications are dire. A politicised or compromised police force lacks the credibility and cohesion necessary to confront the many-headed hydra of Nigeria’s insecurity – from kidnapping syndicates and separatist agitators to Islamist militants and armed bandits. National security cannot be guaranteed through institutional shortcuts. Instead, it rests on the legitimacy of those charged with its protection.

Nigeria stands at a crossroads. Will it remain tethered to the principles of legality, transparency, and meritocracy? Or will it continue down a path where executive expediency undermines democratic consolidation?

Corrective action is still possible. Civil society organisations, legal associations, and constitutional scholars must challenge the amendment in court, not out of vendetta, but in defence of the Constitution itself. Lawmakers of conscience must revisit the reform process to ensure that future appointments are governed by open debate and democratic oversight.

The position of Inspector General is not a personal fiefdom but a national trust. It should be governed not by the whims of incumbents but by the dictates of law and the demands of democratic accountability. Anything less compromises both the letter and spirit of the republic.

As John Locke cautioned centuries ago: “Where law ends, tyranny begins.” Suppose Nigeria hopes to chart a secure, democratic, and just future. In that case, it must reject the seductive logic of legal shortcuts and reaffirm its commitment to the rule of law and constitutional order.

*Rekpene Bassey is the President of the African Council on Narcotics (ACON) and a security and drug prevention expert.