Jubril Abdullah
History often moves in paradoxes. The ideas that first provoke resistance frequently become the principles that later command consensus. The voices once dismissed as inconvenient or premature often return as prophetic echoes when reality catches up with vision. Across democracies and through the long arc of institutional evolution, transformative reforms have rarely emerged from convenience; they have emerged from persistence. Nigeria now stands at such a moment.
A profound political and constitutional threshold is being crossed. A longstanding jinx is being broken. Nigeria appears finally on the verge of embracing state policing and decentralising a security structure that for decades has struggled under the immense burden of securing a vast, complex and diverse federation. The significance of this moment cannot be overstated.
The Senate’s passage of the constitutional amendment bill establishing state police, following earlier approval by the House of Representatives, is not merely another legislative event in Abuja’s crowded political calendar. It represents one of the most consequential institutional reforms in Nigeria’s democratic history. But history demands honesty. Major national transformations do not emerge from nowhere. Behind every moment of arrival lie years of preparation, advocacy, intellectual labour and political courage.
If Nigeria is now approaching the destination of state policing, then Senator Uba Sani, the current Governor of Kaduna State, deserves recognition as one of the principal architects who first drew the map. Today perhaps constitutes the ultimate vindication of Governor Uba Sani.
Long before state police became fashionable; long before governors, policy experts and political leaders found common ground around the idea; long before consensus replaced suspicion, Uba Sani stood among a small but determined corps of reformers insisting that Nigeria’s security architecture had become dangerously disconnected from contemporary realities.
As senator in the 9th National Assembly, Uba Sani did not merely participate in debates surrounding state police. He moved beyond rhetoric into architecture. He recognised something fundamental: successful reforms are not built on slogans; they are built on systems.
Accordingly, he engineered a comprehensive legislative framework aimed at altering the 1999 Constitution and redesigning Nigeria’s policing structure to align with federal realities. The Constitution Alteration Bill (SB.592) sought to establish state police forces and State Police Service Commissions while redefining federal supervisory mechanisms. The Police Service Commission Act (Repeal and Re-Enactment) Bill (SB.594) clarified disciplinary jurisdictions and institutional mandates. The Nigerian Police Act (Amendment) Bill (SB.593) outlined operational structures for state policing, while the State Police Service Commission (Establishment) Bill (SB.595) established oversight and disciplinary frameworks.
Taken together, these were not isolated legislative curiosities floating independently through parliamentary procedure. They represented a coherent ecosystem. They anticipated criticism before criticism arrived, addressed practical questions before implementation challenges emerged, and recognised that decentralisation without regulation risks disorder while reform without accountability invites abuse.
The tragedy at the time was not that the ideas lacked merit. The tragedy was that political courage lagged behind legislative imagination. Though the bills progressed significantly, they eventually stalled at the Joint Committee on Constitutional Amendment. They became casualties not of conceptual weakness but of insufficient political will.
Yet history possesses a curious habit of returning to unfinished business. What once seemed controversial now appears increasingly inevitable. It got to a point when President Bola Ahmed Tinubu led the charge himself and openly urged constitutional amendments creating a legal framework for state police. The National Economic Council also, albeit shockingly, witnessed all thirty-six governors align behind the proposal. Both chambers of the National Assembly have now moved significantly toward institutionalising the idea.
Vindication rarely arrives with fanfare. Often, it arrives quietly through the adoption of yesterday’s unpopular truths.
Governor Sani’s advocacy has consistently rested on a simple but powerful proposition: a federated republic requires a federated security architecture. As he once argued with characteristic clarity: “Nigeria requires a security architecture that is more responsive, more rooted in communities, and better equipped to confront the complex realities of local threats with urgency and precision.”
That statement captures perhaps the central weakness of the current structure. Nigeria today remains one of the world’s largest federations, yet policing remains almost entirely centralised. Such an arrangement increasingly appears out of step with demographic realities and contemporary security threats.
Governor Sani repeatedly grounded his argument in practical realities rather than political sentiment. As he observed: “In Nigeria today, we have less than 250,000 military personnel and less than 400,000 police personnel in the whole country.”
The implication is obvious. Numbers matter. Geography matters. Capacity matters. He expanded the point with even greater urgency: “There are some parts of Nigeria you move about 100 kilometres, even 200 kilometres, without seeing security personnel, yet people live in those places.”
That observation strikes at the centre of Nigeria’s security dilemma. Who protects such communities? Who gathers intelligence there? Who responds when violence erupts?
For years, insecurity across various parts of the country has exposed the limits of over-centralisation. Terrorism, banditry, kidnapping, communal violence and organised criminality have repeatedly demonstrated that no single command structure, however well-intentioned, can effectively supervise every locality from distant administrative centres.
Governor Sani repeatedly argued that effective policing depends upon proximity and local understanding. As he explained: “You take a police personnel from Akwa Ibom and take him to Birnin Gwari in Kaduna; it will take him a lot of time to understand the terrain.”
This is not an argument against national unity. It is an argument for operational efficiency. Security is often deeply local before it becomes national. Language, culture, geography and social relationships frequently determine the quality of intelligence and speed of response.
Critics of state police have long raised concerns about abuse by State Governors. Many feared that state police would become instruments of political intimidation. Yet Senator Uba Sani confronted such anxieties directly and repeatedly.
As he insisted, “Most of the people peddling the falsehood have not read the clause in the bill.” He further explained: “Every clause in this bill has a safeguard.”
Indeed, the approved constitutional alterations appear remarkably responsive to these concerns. Under the emerging framework, State Governors may appoint Commissioners of Police, but removal procedures remain insulated through institutional safeguards. State police cannot lawfully be deployed against critics, opposition parties or groups merely because they disagree with government. Federal intervention mechanisms remain available where abuse occurs.
While leaving the hallowed Chambers of the Senate where he had personally observed the voting by Senators for the establishment of State Police Services, Gov. Uba Sani explained the philosophy behind these protections succinctly. “People should endevour to read the law, the clauses in the Bill have made provisions for safeguards. A Governor can appoint the Commissioner of Police, but he cannot sack him,” he said in a media chat.
Those words reveal the sophistication of the legislative thinking behind the initiative. The debate was never between centralisation and chaos. The debate was always between smart decentralisation and inefficient over-centralisation.
Nigeria itself already demonstrates this contradiction. Across the South-West exists Amotekun. Across the South-East emerged Ebube Agu. Various forms of local security arrangements operate across Northern Nigeria. Necessity itself forced decentralisation long ago.
Yet Gov. Uba Sani identified a crucial weakness within these informal structures. As he noted that, “Vigilance services cannot do much in the dangerous and sophisticated war against bandits and terrorists.” He added with characteristic bluntness: “You are just pushing them to death sentence.”
The point was difficult to dispute. Asking lightly equipped community groups to confront heavily armed insurgents often amounts to deploying courage against superior firepower. Hence his insistence that constitutional reform must replace improvisation.
The significance of this moment for Governor Uba Sani extends beyond legislative foresight because his advocacy did not remain confined to Senate chambers. Upon assuming office as Governor of Kaduna State, he sought to operationalise many of the principles he had long championed.
Security meetings became institutionalised. Intelligence collaboration deepened. Community leaders, religious authorities, youth organisations and traditional institutions became active participants in conflict management and peace-building. The broader philosophy linked security with development.
Schools previously shut by insecurity reopened. Rural economic activities gradually returned. Community trust improved. Social inclusion became a strategic tool of stability rather than merely a political slogan.
Importantly, Uba Sani has repeatedly argued that security cannot be understood simply as the absence of violence. He insists that peace without opportunity remains fragile; security without inclusion remains temporary and that stability without development remains vulnerable.
Perhaps this explains why he described the current constitutional reform in deeply national terms when he recently returned to the Senate Chamber to witness deliberations on state police. “There is a deep sense of fulfilment in seeing a reform that many of us championed with conviction now gathering meaningful momentum.”
He continued: “This proposed reform represents more than a constitutional adjustment; it is an important step towards building a safer and more secure nation.”
Those words carry unusual significance because they come from someone who pursued the cause long before political winds shifted in its favour.
There is also a lesson here for public life. Too often, politics rewards immediate applause over long-term thinking. Too often, difficult reforms are postponed because consensus appears inconvenient. Yet enduring institutional change frequently begins with individuals willing to defend ideas before those ideas become popular.
Years ago, when Uba Sani sponsored these proposals in the Senate, he did not know he would become Governor of Kaduna State. He pursued them because he believed Nigeria’s future security depended upon them.
Today many who once questioned the idea now stand among its advocates. History often rewards those willing to see tomorrow before others can.
Nigeria appears finally ready to embrace an idea whose time has come. And when future generations write the story of how the nation transformed its security architecture, they may conclude that the movement toward state policing did not truly begin in 2026.
It began years earlier, when a senator named Uba Sani saw a future many had not yet imagined, and possessed the courage, conviction and legislative craftsmanship to begin building it. Today, that future appears closer than ever.
And in that unfolding national story lies perhaps the ultimate vindication of Governor Sani.
• Jubril Abdullah, a Freelance Journalist, resides in Kawo, Kaduna.
