From Igangan in Oyo State to Benue, Plateau, Edo, and Ondo, rural Nigeria is under relentless siege. In June 2021, the Igangan community suffered a horrific midnight invasion by suspected herdsmen, resulting in the deaths of at least 20 residents and the razing of homes, cars, and even the traditional ruler’s palace. Fast forward to early 2025, and the violence continues unabated: Yelwata in Benue State became the site of another bloodbath, with gunmen killing between 100 and 150 people, torching markets and farmlands, and displacing thousands. In April 2025, Plateau State lost no fewer than 52 lives to fresh clashes that also uprooted 2,000 people. These recurring attacks reflect a grim national emergency—rural Nigeria is hemorrhaging, and the central state is nowhere near effective in its duty to protect lives and property.
This rural violence carries more than just emotional and human tolls, it threatens the economic foundation of the country. According to the UNHCR, over 3.6 million Nigerians, predominantly in rural areas, have been displaced by conflict. A large portion of these are subsistence farmers whose dislocation has severely reduced agricultural production across major regions. As a result, food inflation continues to climb, reaching 21.79% year-on-year by March 2025 (National Bureau of Statistics), with basic staples now out of reach for millions of Nigerians. These cascading effects—lost livelihoods, food shortages, inflation—compound human rights violations, particularly the rights to food, work, and dignity. A state that cannot guarantee these has failed its citizens in both constitutional and moral terms.
The recurring attacks have exposed the limitations of Nigeria’s conventional security apparatus. The Nigerian Police Force remains underfunded, overstretched, and often unable to respond promptly to rural threats. Many times, residents report attacks hours, or even days after they occur, only to receive little or no follow-up. Rural communities are left to fend for themselves, while blame games between security agencies, local leaders, and politicians only deepen mistrust and delay action. In areas like Benue and Plateau, where ethnic and religious tensions fuel unrest, the absence of credible security presence only magnifies the chaos.
To effectively counter this, Nigeria must embrace a hybrid, community-first approach to rural security. Central security agencies, though essential, cannot efficiently operate in all corners of a vast and diverse country. One proven solution lies in the legalization and expansion of localized security outfits like the Southwest’s Amotekun Corps. In states like Oyo, Ondo, and Ekiti, Amotekun has demonstrated operational effectiveness by recruiting community-based actors—hunters, vigilantes, and traditional leaders—who understand local terrain and context. In Ibadan North, for instance, Amotekun’s 24-hour patrols, culturally sensitive methods, and collaboration with residents have led to a notable drop in crime. To maximize its potential, this model must be legally supported at the federal level, adequately funded by state budgets, and integrated into the national security architecture. Local communities, not distant command centers, should be the first line of defense.
However, security effectiveness is not just about boots on the ground but also about legitimacy and trust. Many high-tech surveillance options remain alien in rural Nigeria, where communities value face-to-face interaction over drones and facial recognition tools. What rural security requires is not Western-style technology, but context-aware solutions. Existing traditional systems—such as palace guards, hunter groups, and community vigilantes—should be equipped with radios, solar-powered GPS trackers, and first-response kits. These tools are affordable, easy to use, and, when placed in trusted hands, can significantly reduce response time to threats. In parts of Ondo and Osun States, hunter-vigilante groups already work seamlessly with Amotekun, showcasing how tradition and innovation can merge to form effective grassroots security.
Another glaring gap is the lack of a national conversation centered on rural victims. Nigeria has never convened a national peace and security summit that prioritizes those most affected by violence—rural farmers, displaced families, and traditional leaders. While Nigeria’s Southern governors issued the Asaba Declaration in 2021, calling for bans on open grazing and highlighting rural security challenges, there has been no comprehensive national security summit prioritizing displaced rural populations. As the country prepares its 2026 federal budget, the government should organize a National Rural Security and Reconciliation Summit. This gathering should bring together state governments, local security actors, traditional rulers, and federal agencies. It must result in binding agreements on rebuilding destroyed infrastructure, compensating victims, and formalizing local security partnerships. Rwanda’s post-conflict community peacebuilding model stands as a testament to the power of inclusive, localized conflict resolution. After the devastating 1994 genocide in Rwanda, the Rwanda government implemented the Gacaca court system, a community-based tribunals where neighbors participated in truth-telling, justice, and reconciliation efforts. Rather than relying solely on formal institutions, these grassroots mechanisms allowed victims and perpetrators to engage directly, fostering accountability, healing, and long-term peace. This approach helped rebuild trust in communities, reintegrate ex-combatants, and prevent future cycles of violence. For rural Nigeria, where social bonds and traditional leadership still hold influence, adopting similar localized justice and reconciliation structures could pave the way for sustainable security.
The solution to Nigeria’s security challenges is not a binary choice between central police forces and community actors, but a fusion of both, tailored to Nigeria’s distinct sociocultural landscape. Legalizing hunter-led security, training them in human rights and response protocols, and integrating them with existing institutions is both feasible and pragmatic. Unlike externally imposed models, this hybrid system evolves from Nigeria’s lived realities and carries the cultural legitimacy necessary for success.
Rural Nigeria is the backbone of the nation, feeding its cities, preserving its heritage, and sustaining its economy. Yet today, it is bleeding under the weight of violence and abandonment. From Igangan to Yelwata, the cries for justice are loud and clear. The country must listen. Security reform must not begin in Abuja and trickle down. It must start at the village square and work its way up.
Now is the time to act. Legalize and expand community-based security outfits. Equip traditional security actors with practical tools. And, most importantly, center rural voices in national security dialogues. Nigeria cannot feed, grow, or govern itself effectively if it leaves its villages in fear. A secure nation starts with its farmers, and protecting them must become our collective priority.
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