The abduction of dozens of pupils and teachers in communities within Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State has reignited debate over community security, private security proliferation and the limits of the country’s legal framework. ROTIMI AGBOLUAJE examines the imperative of the proposed Iru Ekun network.
As parents wait anxiously for the release of the children and teachers in captivity, public attention quickly shifted from the immediate tragedy to a broader and recurring question: who protects citizens when the institutions constitutionally mandated to provide security appear overwhelmed?
The incident has revived intense conversations around community policing, state police, regional security networks and the legality of emerging security initiatives such as Iru Ekun, the outfit recently proposed by Yoruba Nation activist, Chief Sunday Adeyemo, popularly known as Sunday Igboho.
Beyond the controversy surrounding the proposed outfit itself, the debate reflects something much deeper, a growing public frustration with insecurity and an expanding gap between citizens’ expectations and the capacity of existing institutions to guarantee safety.
At its core, the Iru Ekun controversy is not merely about one security initiative. It is about the future of policing in Nigeria, the limits of the country’s legal framework and the increasing demand for localised responses to increasingly sophisticated security threats.
For decades, security concerns in much of the South-West were largely associated with armed robbery, cultism, political violence and occasional communal clashes. Those threats, while serious, were generally localised and manageable within conventional law enforcement structures.
However, recent developments suggest a significant shift. A former Nigerian Ambassador to the Philippines, Dr. Yemi Farounbi, believes the region is confronting a new and more dangerous security reality. According to Farounbi, the South-West is increasingly experiencing threats that resemble organised terrorism rather than ordinary criminality.
“The unexpected has happened. It’s no longer armed robbery. It’s no longer banditry. It is full-scale terrorism,” the elder statesman said.
Also, a lecturer at the Department of History, University of Ilesa, Dr. Adebukola Ayoola said rising insecurity and the perceived failure of conventional security agencies have made the emergence of community-based security outfits such as Iru Ekun inevitable.
Ayoola and Farounbi’s assessment mirrors concerns among many security analysts who believe criminal networks displaced from northern parts of the country are relocating to forests and rural communities across the South-West.
It must be stated that terrorism requires capabilities far beyond conventional policing. It demands intelligence gathering, surveillance technology, counter-insurgency operations, sophisticated communications systems and access to advanced weaponry.
These are functions traditionally concentrated within federal institutions such as the military, intelligence services and specialised police formations.
Yet for communities under attack, insecurity is experienced as a local problem requiring immediate local solutions.
This tension between a centralised security architecture and local security realities lies at the heart of Nigeria’s current dilemma.
Few issues illustrate Nigeria’s security paradox more clearly than the position of state governors.
Whenever insecurity escalates in any state, public anger is immediately directed at the governor. Citizens expect state governments to act, deploy resources and guarantee safety. However, governors have no direct constitutional authority over the police, military, Department of State Services (DSS) or other federal security agencies operating within their territories.
The Nigerian Constitution places policing under the Exclusive Legislative List, making the Nigeria Police Force a federal institution answerable to the President through the Inspector-General of Police.
As a result, governors often carry the political burden of insecurity without possessing the operational tools needed to address it.
This contradiction has fuelled persistent calls for decentralised policing and constitutional reform.
Supporters of state police argue that local authorities possess better knowledge of their environments and can respond more effectively to emerging threats.
However, opponents remain cautious.
They frequently point to Nigeria’s First Republic experience with Native Authority Police, which critics say were sometimes used to intimidate political opponents and suppress dissent. The fear is that state-controlled police formations could become instruments of political persecution.
Yet as insecurity continues to spread, the arguments in favour of decentralisation appear to be gaining momentum.
The Emergence of Alternative Security Structures
Long before the current debate over Iru Ekun, Nigerians had already begun creating alternatives to conventional security arrangements.
Across the country, neighbourhood watches, vigilante groups, hunters’ associations and community security networks have become largely visible.
The creation of Amotekun in the South-West represented perhaps the most significant institutional response to this trend.
Established through legislation enacted by state assemblies, Amotekun was designed to complement federal security agencies by providing local intelligence and rapid response capabilities. Despite initial resistance and constitutional controversies, the outfit has gradually become an accepted part of the region’s security landscape.
For many communities, Amotekun symbolises the possibility of local solutions to local security challenges.
The emergence of Iru Ekun represents the latest phase in this evolution.
However, unlike Amotekun, which enjoys legislative backing, Iru Ekun faces immediate questions regarding legality, regulation and oversight.
Understanding Iru Ekun
Sunday Igboho has described Iru Ekun as a security initiative intended to flush kidnappers, terrorists and bandits out of forests across the South-West.
Adeyemo said it had registered the outfit with appropriate government institutions.
He has also maintained that the proposed outfit seeks collaboration rather than confrontation with existing security agencies.
Yet critical questions remain unanswered.
As of now, there has been no official confirmation from the Presidency, Ministry of Interior, Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC) or any federal security institution regarding approval for the outfit to operate as an armed security organisation.
This distinction is crucial.
Registration does not automatically confer authority to conduct security operations or bear arms. Those powers are governed by constitutional and statutory provisions.
The controversy therefore extends beyond public declarations to the legal foundations upon which any security organisation must operate.
What the Law Allows
Nigeria’s legal framework governing security operations is relatively clear.
Sections 3, 4, 5 and 6 of the Firearms Act vest authority to regulate and license firearms primarily in the President and the Inspector-General of Police. The law prohibits possession of prohibited firearms without appropriate authorisation. Military-grade weapons, including automatic rifles, fall under categories requiring special approval. Consequently, any organisation seeking access to such weapons must obtain authorisation through legally recognised channels.
The Private Guard Companies Act adds another layer of regulation.
Under the Act, private security companies must obtain licences through the Ministry of Interior and operate under NSCDC supervision.
More importantly, private security personnel are generally prohibited from carrying firearms. They may deploy communication devices, surveillance equipment, guard dogs and other approved tools, but armed protection remains largely reserved for state security institutions.
A communication scholar, Mr. Angel Folorunso argues that the outfit can only operate lawfully if it functions as an unarmed, licensed private security company, adding that: “Any attempt to operate as an armed regional force would contravene existing laws”.
This legal reality lies at the centre of the controversy surrounding Iru Ekun.
Why the Arms Question Matters
The debate over weapons is not merely a legal technicality. It touches on fundamental questions of state authority and public safety. A Senior Advocate of Nigeria, Yomi Aliyu, said the government should not allow a private individual to have a militia organisation unless the government wants that individual for a specific purpose like Tompolo.
Also weighing in, a former Commissioner of Police and criminologist, Dr. Sybil Olufunmilayo Akinfenwa, believes caution is necessary. According to the Security Studies lecturer, unrestricted access to firearms could create consequences far beyond the intentions of those seeking greater security.
Akinfenwa argues that once multiple private actors begin carrying weapons, distinguishing legitimate security personnel from criminal elements becomes increasingly difficult.
Her concern reflects broader fears among security experts.
History shows that armed groups created for noble purposes can evolve into threats if oversight weakens or political interests intervene.
A National Leader of the Oodua People’s Congress (OPC), Abdulkabir Adesina Akinpelu, adopts a similar position. According to Akinpelu, no private security company is legally permitted to bear arms under existing laws. Private firms may partner with armed government agencies, he noted, but cannot independently deploy weapons. Legally speaking, that interpretation aligns with the current regulatory framework.
Why Citizens Continue to Demand Alternatives
Despite these restrictions, public demand for local security initiatives continues to grow. Professor Oyesoji Aremu, a security scholar at the University of Ibadan said the explanation lies in the perceived inadequacy of conventional security institutions. According to the professor , citizens increasingly seek alternative protection because existing structures often appear unable to provide sufficient security.
He identifies several factors driving the expansion of private security services, including rising insecurity, unemployment, urbanisation, operational limitations within public agencies and the emergence of non-state actors.
In simple terms, where public security appears insufficient, alternative providers inevitably emerge.
The phenomenon is not unique to Nigeria.
Across many countries, private security industries have expanded dramatically over the last three decades. In some jurisdictions, private security personnel now outnumber public law enforcement officers.
The difference is that such systems typically operate within clearly defined regulatory frameworks.
The Amotekun Experience
The South-West’s experience with Amotekun provides valuable lessons.
Although the outfit enjoys considerable public support, it continues to face significant operational constraints. Farounbi identifies inadequate funding as one major challenge.
Another is limited access to sophisticated weaponry.
A third is restricted access to advanced surveillance technology such as drones, satellite systems and intelligence platforms. There is also the challenge of securing vast forest reserves that remain under federal jurisdiction.
These limitations reveal a broader structural problem.
Even where regional security initiatives exist, their effectiveness remains heavily dependent on federal cooperation.
This raises a critical question.
If Amotekun already exists, what additional role would Iru Ekun perform?
Supporters argue that every available resource should be mobilised against escalating insecurity. Critics worry about duplication, overlapping responsibilities and potential jurisdictional conflicts.
The Larger State Police Debate
On the whole, the conversation returns to state police. For many analysts, state police represents a more sustainable long-term solution than the proliferation of private or quasi-private security outfits.
A constitutional framework for state policing would provide clearer authority, accountability and oversight mechanisms.
It could also eliminate much of the ambiguity surrounding regional security initiatives.
Yet political consensus remains elusive.
Fears of abuse, ethnic tensions and political manipulation continue to slow reform efforts.
Nevertheless, every major security crisis strengthens public calls for decentralisation. The Oriire abductions have only amplified those demands.
Beyond Iru Ekun
The debate over Iru Ekun ultimately reflects a deeper crisis of confidence in Nigeria’s security architecture. Every new vigilante group, every regional security initiative and every renewed call for state police points to the same reality.
Many Nigerians increasingly believe that security must become more local, more responsive and more accountable. The challenge for policymakers is ensuring that this demand does not undermine the rule of law.
Security vacuums rarely remain empty.
Where citizens perceive that the state cannot adequately protect them, alternative structures inevitably emerge. The real policy question is not whether such alternatives will emerge. They already have.
The question is whether Nigeria’s legal and constitutional frameworks can evolve quickly enough to regulate, supervise and integrate these initiatives without compromising democratic governance.
The controversy over Iru Ekun therefore raises a question Nigeria can no longer postpone.
Should the law evolve to accommodate new security realities, or should government first strengthen existing institutions sufficiently to restore public confidence?
Until that question is answered, initiatives such as Iru Ekun will continue to emerge at the intersection of public fear, constitutional limitations and the enduring human search for safety.
And therein lies the central challenge confronting Nigeria today: how to satisfy the growing demand for localised security while preserving the state’s monopoly over the legitimate use of force. The answer may well determine the future of policing, governance and public trust in Africa’s most populous nation.
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