Today, our country is both a theatre of the unimaginable and a living crime scene, where anything that can be stolen is inevitably stolen. Theft is not just an occurrence but a pattern woven into the very fabric of our daily existence. 

The search for what is stolen becomes an exercise in futility—one that begins with tracing footprints and fingerprints, only for the trail to grow cold before the search even truly begins. Isn’t it fascinating that anything stolen – experienced as a loss – imprints a memory of absence on those who once relied on its usefulness, leaving them to grapple with what is no longer with them? Yet, even more telling is that the loss register is personal and collective, filled with missing treasures and stolen wealth of citizens’ shared ownership. 

Here are just a few entries in our country’s ever-growing register of loss. A few years ago, 282 oil vessels vanished while under the custody of the Nigerian Ports Authority. You’ll also find the entry on the eight million barrels of oil aboard MT Vanessa, which mysteriously disappeared. Years earlier, MT African Pride, a ship held in the custody of the Navy, slipped away from our country’s high waters without a trace. 

Even more absurd are the 107 million barrels of crude oil, pumped between two oil depots, that seemingly grew wings and vanished into thin air. But, perhaps, the most baffling entry of all: over 40 Chinese doctors, invited at the onset of COVID-19 to aid in the fight against the pandemic, disappeared somewhere between Murtala Muhammed Airport and Aso Rock—never to be seen again.

Last week, a scarier happenstance writ large in the ever-pervasive register of loss, reaffirmed the certainty of the recurrence of loss as a constant. This unyielding cycle sets its terms, leaving us with wows and a poignant reminder that nothing remains untouched by the relentless tide of absence. The revelation by the Public Accounts Committee of the Senate that over 178,000 firearms have disappeared from the armoury of the Nigeria Police Force (NPF) is not just a shocking statistic. It is a damning indictment of our country’s foremost law enforcement institution.

Based on the 2022 report of the auditor-general of the federation, the revelation raises urgent concerns about the security of police firearms, the integrity of law enforcement agencies, and the broader implications for national security.

At a time when our country grapples with escalating violence, banditry, and terrorism, the news that such a vast arsenal is unaccounted for should rightly alarm every citizen. The possibilities exist that these missing firearms could be fueling criminal activities, exacerbating insecurity, and rendering our communities defenceless. There is, however, an undeniable truth about our communities—many of which remain under relentless sieges by bandits, terrorists, and kidnappers. With each attack, lives are shattered, families are torn apart, and entire geopolitical regions are plunged into fear and uncertainty. 

Meanwhile, across the vast, ungoverned spaces of our country, where state policing is little more than a fanciful notion, criminals armed with stolen firearms reign unchecked, turning these lawless territories into their strongholds.

Firearms disappearing from official armouries is not a new phenomenon in Nigeria, but the scale of this loss is unprecedented. If over 178,000 firearms—comprising 88,000 AK-47 rifles- have gone missing, it raises several serious questions. How did such a massive cache go missing without immediate detection? Who is responsible for the safekeeping of the firearms? Have these firearms ended up in the hands of criminal groups, insurgents, or rogue elements within the police force? 

The spokesperson of the Nigeria Police Force provided an answer to the latter when he said last week that criminal elements of the dark underworld stole the firearms. How ironic that firearms meant for the protection of our citizens are in the hands of criminals who are intent on harming them. 

Our country faces unprecedented security challenges. From the Boko Haram insurgency in the North-East, banditry and kidnappings in the North-West and North-Central geopolitical regions, massive oil thefts in the Niger Delta, skull-mining and ritual killings in the South West, to the violent separatist attacks in the South East, our country is in dire need of effective policing. The revelation that tens of thousands of police-issued firearms are unaccounted for suggests that officers of the police force may themselves be unwitting suppliers of firearms to the very criminals they are meant to combat. 

Here’s one piece of evidence as reported by Channels TV a few years ago: “An armourer and two gun runners have been arrested by the Kaduna State Police Command during an alleged attempt to steal firearms from the command’s armoury. Parading the arrested persons at the command’s headquarters in Kaduna on Monday, the state commissioner of police, Umar Shehu, said that at about 11:30 p.m. local time on October 20, the command’s chief armourer, Nanbol Audu, a deputy superintendent of police, came to the armoury with two unknown persons in a private vehicle to steal arms and ammunition. The car was discreetly parked behind the armoury as the officer and the two other suspects loaded arms into it. The Commissioner said police officers on guard suspected foul play and immediately stopped the vehicle from leaving the premises while both chief armourer and his two accomplices were arrested. Eleven G3 Rifles already concealed under the seat of the Mercedes Benz car and a cash sum of N400,000 were recovered from the suspects,” he said. The police officials serving at the Kaduna Police Command and residents were left in shock after discovering that the man saddled with the responsibility of protecting lives and property of the police, eventually turned out to be a traitor, by supplying police firearms to criminals”. 

The evidence above, which sticks out like a sore thumb,  raises concerns about police corruption and collusion. The question left to be answered is how widespread the dirty practice is within the police force. An order for the audit of police armouries made by the inspector-general police in late 2014 suggested at the time that it was widespread. The disappearance of such a large cache today suggests that the dirty practice of firearms racketeering is still prevalent in the police force. An effective police force depends on discipline, accountability, and responsibility. 

The police hierarchy must treat this scandal as a moment of crisis and an opportunity for meaningful internal reforms, particularly in firearms management. A well-regulated arms control system is integral to effective policing and enthroning public trust in the police force. Internal policing lapses in firearms management create loopholes that can be exploited by rogues within the Force.

This moment calls for a decisive response that transcends routine investigations whose outcomes are never made known to our citizens. Credible reform processes must begin with a thorough audit of police weaponry, ensuring that every firearm is accounted for and properly documented. Strengthening internal oversight mechanisms, leveraging technology for tracking and inventory control, and enforcing stricter disciplinary measures against misconduct will reinforce accountability.

Beyond internal controls, fostering a culture of responsibility among officers through enhanced training and ethical orientation will ensure that reforms are not just procedural but deeply ingrained in the institution’s operational ethos. The test of leadership lies in turning adversity into progress. The police must seize this opportunity to restore public confidence by demonstrating a commitment to transparency and accountability. 

Reforming firearms management is about preventing future scandals and fortifying the institution against systemic failures. A responsible police force does not measure its integrity by the timeline of a failure but by its response to it. The preposterous defence put forth by the police force spokesperson—that the disappearance of firearms occurred before the tenure of the current Inspector General of Police- misses the point entirely. 

The issue is not merely when these weapons went missing but that they did at all, under an institution tasked with upholding law and order. Leadership is not about evading responsibility but confronting systemic failures head-on, regardless of when they occurred. The duty of the present leadership is to acknowledge the gravity of the situation and take decisive steps to rectify it rather than attempting to absolve itself with lie-telling. 

That such a breach ever happened is a scandalous shame, one that raises troubling questions about the integrity of police firearms management. AK-47 rifles are not misplaced office supplies. They are deadly weapons that can exacerbate crime, endanger lives, and undermine national security – when they go into the wrong hands. The public deserves more than deflection; it demands accountability, transparency, and a commitment to ensuring such a failure is never repeated. Anything short of that diminishes the credibility of the Force and erodes the trust essential to effective policing.

This scandal is a litmus test for our country’s political leadership. The president and the National Assembly must treat this issue as a national emergency. The loss of over 178,000 firearms is not just a policing failure. It is a direct threat to every Nigerian. Criminals are now potentially better armed than the men and women of the police force meant to combat them. 

This is not just about missing firearms; it is about the effectiveness of our police force and the safety of our citizens. If this issue is not addressed, the consequences will be dire. History has shown that countries that fail to control the flow of arms within their borders eventually lose control over their security. While our country strives not to become one of them, it must find a way to close the register of loss and end the relentless disappearances of things capable of being stolen and vanishing without a trace.

Abdul Mahmud is a human rights attorney in Abuja