Modupe Olalere
In Nigeria, a burgeoning security crisis has been thrust onto the national agenda, and as a result, self-defence as a concept comes to the fore. The issue of rising kidnappings, armed robberies, and communal violence has led many Nigerians to feel abandoned by their government, which has simply not been able to provide adequate protection or impose the rule of law.
This violation of democracy and civil rights provoked heated debates over the capacity of citizens to defend themselves beyond the constraints of self-defence legally, and whether the limits of self-defence should be more expansive. This quarrel sits at the tenuous intersection of legally defending oneself and risking a descent into violence and vigilantism.
The Constitution of Nigeria recognises the right to self-defence. Section 33(2)(a) of the 1999 Constitution reads: “Everyone has a right to life, and no one shall be deprived intentionally of his life save in execution of the sentence of a court in respect of a criminal offence.” The right to life includes the right to defend oneself, family, and property from unlawful assaults. The Criminal Code (which applies mainly in Southern Nigeria) and the Penal Code (mainly in the North) expound on self-defence by stating that any force exercised in self-defence must be reasonable and necessary.
Nonetheless, the contours of the legal limits of self-defence remain unclear and debated. Nigerian case law stresses that self-defence must be tested at the time, including how, what, and to whom the attack was directed, and then, whether the defending actions were commensurate with the circumstances. There must also be consideration of how the complainant was attacked and whether the defender was ever the aggressor. The Court of Appeal, in the landmark case of EKPOUDO v. STATE, described self-defence as “the use of force to protect oneself, one’s family, or one’s property from a real or imminent attack.” The court emphasised that the force must not exceed what is necessary to repel the attack.
Even with these protections in place, the courts in Nigeria have generally held a strict position, placing the onus on defendants to demonstrate that their conduct was necessary and reasonable in the circumstances. For example, this rigorous application of defence is illustrated in the Supreme Court’s ruling in the case of Sunday Jackson, where he was sentenced to death for killing an attacker, albeit he claimed self-defence. The court concluded that Jackson’s use of force was unreasonable, igniting public debate nationwide.
Legal academics have also pointed out that Nigerian self-defence rules do not take into account the inherent unpredictability of violent confrontations in which individuals often react involuntarily to the threat. Justice Ogunwumiju, dissenting in the Sunday Jackson case, criticised the majority for ignoring “the psychological and emotional state of a person under attack.” He called for reforms to make self-defence laws more practical and humane, recognising that victims may not always be able to measure their response in life-threatening situations carefully.
The self-defence issue in Nigeria is part of a much bigger web of government security failures. Over the last decade, Nigeria has experienced a rapid rise in violent crimes, including kidnapping for ransom, robbery, banditry, and communal violence. Despite growing security agency funding, there is a worry among many Nigerians that police and military agencies are either inept, corrupt, or incapable of carrying out their mandate.
A recent report from the Nigerian Bar Association stated, “Citizens have increasingly been left with no option but to rely on their efforts for their protection in light of the absence of an effective state response to their concerns and insufficient reliance on government security agencies.” This lack of faith and trust in the state security agencies leads to an uptick in community-initiated vigilante groups and informal neighbourhood watches that are lawful but also unlawful. Although a few vigilante groups are credited with reducing crime in their neighbourhoods, there have also been allegations of human rights abuses and extrajudicial killings among other vigilante groups. The question then becomes what the implications of unregulated self-defence actions are.
Public dissatisfaction is palpable. On March 2, 2025, a Lagos addressee told a media reporter, “When the police don’t come after you call, what else can you do but defend yourself? But then you risk being arrested or worse.” This sentiment captures many Nigerians’ dilemma: the right to self-defence exists on paper, but exercising it can lead to legal trouble.
The government’s failure to ensure safety has magnified demands for legal changes that broaden self-defence rights. Many advocacy groups say there should be no limits on citizens’ ability to use force in response to threats whenever there is a delay or limited police response. Others worry that expanding self-defence laws could formally endorse vigilantes and worsen lawlessness.
The policy debate in Nigeria regarding self-defence centres around the challenge of effectively balancing citizens’ rights to defend themselves with preventing violence and abuse. The law states that self-defense must be necessary and proportional, but this is difficult during a sudden attack.
Legal experts caution that expanding self-defence rights without clear guidelines risks creating a “wild west” scenario where people take justice into their own hands. In a recent interview, Professor Amina Bello, a constitutional law expert at the University of Lagos, explained, “We must ensure that self-defence laws do not become a license for revenge or extrajudicial killings. The rule of law must prevail.”
Meanwhile, the government is also under pressure to rebuild public trust, promote reform of security organisations, and reduce response times. Without anything more than ineffective policing, many Nigerians will continue to be compelled to protect and defend themselves in disregard of legalities.
The controversy has also provoked political discussions. Some legislators have drafted bills to clarify the definition of self-defence and shield citizens from prosecution should they act in good faith to defend themselves or their possessions. Inevitably, these measures have provoked strong opposition from human rights organisations apprehensive about possible abuse.
Social media has also been swamped with personal stories and opinions. The hashtags #RightToDefend and #JusticeForVictims are often trending, attesting to the anxiety the populace feels surrounding personal security. Many Nigerians have shared personal accounts of attacks and expressed deep discontent with a seemingly slow and biased justice system.
Meanwhile, security experts emphasise the need for comprehensive solutions. Dr. Emeka Okafor, a security analyst, noted, “Legal reform is important, but it must be accompanied by better policing, community engagement, and social programs to address the root causes of violence.”
The self-defence debate in Nigeria depicts the realities of a country facing insecurity and weak institutions as it seeks ways to empower citizens to defend themselves where government protection has become increasingly unlikely. Lawmakers and the judiciary are left navigating a complex landscape of legality and morality. This debate is ongoing and is indeed a reflection of Nigeria’s immediate need for legal clarity, safety and security, and a justice system that manages the restraints of individual rights against public safety.