The Nigerian Vigilante Dilemma: When Protectors Turn Executioners

Vigilante groups have long played a crucial role in enhancing community safety and reducing crime across various societies, including Nigeria. However, the recent lynching of 16 hunters in Uromi, Esan North-East Local Government Area of Edo State, has spotlighted one of the darker sides of their operations—extra-judicial killings. This incident has reignited debates about the legitimacy of arming such groups.

From the North to the South, Gbenga Akinfenwa and Michael Egbejule examine multiple cases where vigilante groups have taken the law into their own hands and offer insights on preventing a descent into lawlessness.

On March 28, the nation was shocked by the news that 16 hunters, en route to Kano State, were brutally killed by vigilantes in Edo State. The victims were allegedly mistaken for kidnappers due to the high rate of abductions in the region. The killings sparked national outrage and condemnation from security agencies, government officials, and civil society.

The Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) expressed deep concern over the incident. NBA President Afam Osigwe remarked:

“Allowing mob actions to persist undermines the very foundation of our criminal justice system and portrays Nigeria as a society where lawlessness prevails. Justice must be served, and perpetrators of mob violence must be held accountable to deter future occurrences.”

Despite government assurances, residents in Uromi remain gripped by fear of possible reprisal attacks, as tension continues to rise.

Vigilantism in Nigeria: A Historical Context

Vigilantism in Nigeria is not new. Its roots trace back to pre-colonial hunter guards, which were later legitimized during World War II by British colonial authorities. Post-independence, however, politicization led to official crackdowns. Yet, due to increasing crime rates and perceived failures of state security forces, vigilante groups re-emerged strongly in the 1990s.

One of the most notable of these is the Bakassi Boys, who originated as a self-formed patrol unit by shoe sellers in Aba’s Ariaria Market in 1998. Their swift success in crime prevention earned them state recognition and support in Abia, Anambra, and Imo States. Despite official oversight, these groups were often involved in extrajudicial killings, eventually prompting federal intervention that failed to dismantle them completely.

In the Southwest, the Oodua People’s Congress (OPC) emerged in the 1990s with cultural and political motives. Over time, they evolved into a vigilante group involved in both crime prevention and political activism. Though banned in 1999, the OPC continued operations, including guarding oil pipelines under a contract awarded by the Goodluck Jonathan administration—later revoked under President Buhari.

The Hisbah Corps, formed in northern states like Kano and Zamfara, also started in the early 2000s to enforce Sharia law, owing to dissatisfaction with federal policing. Despite state regulation, these groups became embroiled in controversies over extrajudicial punishments and frequent clashes with the police.

In the Niger Delta, vigilante groups emerged due to local grievances over resource control. Groups such as the Egbesu Boys and Niger Delta Vigilante operated under ethnic banners, often armed and occasionally enjoying state backing, which fueled the 2004 oil crisis.

Currently, the Vigilante Group of Nigeria (VGN) operates nationwide. Established in 1999 in Benue State, the group works in partnership with police and military units. Despite House of Representatives approval of a legal framework for the VGN, concerns over their unchecked power remain.

Across Nigeria, hundreds of unregistered vigilante outfits—some rooted in traditional hunting groups—now serve as de facto security in rural areas. While often effective due to their local knowledge, their operations increasingly raise human rights concerns.

Tensions Between Protection and Abuse

A photo of a group of traditional hunters in Maiduguri volunteering to fight Boko Haram illustrates both the desperation and the reliance on local actors in Nigeria’s security puzzle. These groups often receive minimal support—two meals a day, in some cases—yet shoulder immense responsibilities.

In recent years, Nigeria’s formal security agencies, including the military, DSS, and police, have struggled to provide adequate protection. This vacuum has led communities to form their own defense systems, with vigilantes sometimes filling in the gaps left by overstretched security forces.

In Plateau State’s Bokkos and Bassa LGAs, for example, vigilante support has been crucial amid violent attacks that have killed over 100 people in just two weeks. However, this reliance also highlights systemic failure.

A Dangerous Precedent

A deeper look reveals a disturbing trend: many vigilante groups operate without oversight, accountability, or adherence to the law. Though initially welcomed for reducing crime, their methods—often brutal and lawless—create long-term instability.

A Brookings Institution study by Vanda Felbab-Brown puts it starkly:

“The initial ability of vigilante groups and anti-crime militias to effectively suppress violent crime tends to involve intense brutality, including extrajudicial killings, torture, illegal detention, and sometimes public executions...State-level authorities seek to appropriate the militias and vigilantes for their purposes... What characterises the vigilantes is their profound lack of accountability.”

The report notes that even when incorporated into official systems, vigilantes rarely face consequences for abuses. This emboldens a culture of impunity and erodes trust in both the formal and informal justice systems.

Ignored Warnings and Rising Tensions

Despite mounting evidence of abuse, many Nigerians only began to grasp the scale of the threat after the Uromi killings. According to local observers, similar incidents have occurred but received little attention—buried by bureaucracy or silenced by fear.

Human rights lawyer Ademola Owolabi stressed:

“Life is sacrosanct and must not be taken in any way outside the provision of the law... Crime has no tribe and the government must ensure that crimes do not go unpunished. No lesson will be learnt without deterrence.”

Legal activist Adesina Ogunlana echoed this sentiment:

“Mob rule is not governance. It would only lead to retaliation and increase lawlessness.”

A Call for Regulation

Major Yinka Ogunsanya (Rtd.), a former U.S. Army officer, believes the answer lies in structure:

“At the state levels... there is need to spell out the do’s and don’ts of vigilantes in Nigeria... How are they interfacing with the police? What are the policies of the police when it comes to community policing?”

He argued that while bearing arms isn’t inherently wrong, due process must be followed to avoid chaos.

Conclusion

Vigilante groups may have started as community saviors, but many have become threats to the very people they vowed to protect. The Uromi incident is not an anomaly—it is a symptom of a broader institutional failure. Without clear legal frameworks, accountability measures, and federal oversight, Nigeria risks further bloodshed from those claiming to deliver justice outside the bounds of the law.

Original article on Guardian NG