There’s a thin line between order and oppression — and when power begins to arm itself against those it is meant to protect, that line dissolves into tyranny disguised as security.

The recent call by the Corps Marshal of the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC) for its officers to bear firearms is more than an administrative request; it is a revealing metaphor for a nation drifting steadily toward the intimidation of power — where authority seeks validation not from legitimacy, but from weaponry.

The Role They Were Given

The Federal Road Safety Commission was not created to police; it was created to protect. Established in 1988 and re-enacted under the FRSC (Establishment) Act, 2007, its core mandate is clear: to ensure safety on our roads, manage traffic, prevent accidents, and save lives. It was meant to be the calm in our chaos, the guardian angel in reflective vests, not the gunslinger on the highway.

This Act repealed earlier decrees, including the 1990 version, and modernized the FRSC’s role — granting it powers to arrest and prosecute traffic offenders, remove obstructions, and educate the motoring public. But nowhere in its foundational logic was the idea of arming its personnel a pillar of safety. That is a later invention — born not of necessity, but of fear.

The Scorecard So Far

To be fair, the FRSC has not been idle. It has reduced reported road crashes from an estimated 40,881 in 1976 (pre-FRSC) to under 10,000 in recent years — an achievement recognized by both local and international bodies. Nigeria even became the first African nation to join the International Traffic Safety Data and Analysis Group (IRTAD) under FRSC’s leadership. Its operational reach now extends across all 774 local government areas, and its public awareness campaigns have changed the driving culture of millions.

The Corps has also embraced technology — from the digitization of licensing and records to achieving ISO certification for quality management. It has improved emergency response time, created toll-free emergency numbers, and collaborated with global partners to align with UN road-safety conventions.

Yet, for all its strides, we still bleed daily on our highways. Nigeria records one of the highest road fatality rates in Africa, driven by decaying infrastructure, untrained drivers, and corruption that eats through every layer of enforcement. Behavioral indiscipline persists, data remains incomplete, and enforcement is uneven. These are the cancers that cripple safety — not the absence of guns.

A Familiar Drumbeat of Power

The clamor for FRSC to bear arms has echoed for decades. It first emerged in 1992 and resurfaced in 2018 under Corps Marshal Boboye Oyeyemi, who cited increased attacks on personnel. His successor, Dauda Biu, echoed the same in 2023.

By October 2024, a bill to amend the 2007 Act — co-sponsored by Abiodun Adesida (Ondo) and Olaide Lateef Mohammed (Oyo) — scaled second reading in the House of Representatives. The proposed law seeks to create a ‘Road Safety Special Armed Squad.’

Fast forward to September 2025, and Corps Marshal Shehu Mohammed, appearing on Arise News, confirmed the bill has passed the House and awaits Senate concurrence. He argued that firearms are essential for enforcement, especially against reckless truck drivers.

Even respected voices like Justice Monica Dongban-Mensem, President of the Court of Appeal, have voiced support, citing the need to protect FRSC officials on the highways. But one must ask — protect them from whom? The same citizens they are meant to protect?

The Crux: Will Guns Solve Indiscipline or Deepen It?

The FRSC’s rationale is built on fear: attacks on officers, unruly truck drivers, violent resistance. These are real. Yet the solution offered — arming road marshals — is dangerously misguided.

Because Nigeria’s history with armed enforcement is written in blood. Our police, constitutionally empowered to bear arms, have too often turned their guns on the very citizens they swore to defend. ‘Accidental discharge’ has become a national euphemism for avoidable death. The Civil Defence Corps, also armed by law, is restricted to protecting installations and critical assets — not policing civilians. Even they have had their share of weapon misuse.

Why, then, would we replicate the same culture of fear on our highways?

Traffic offenses are not violent crimes. Carrying expired documents, broken lights, or speeding beyond limit does not require the threat of bullets to correct. To arm FRSC officers is to turn every stop-and-check into a potential crossfire, every misunderstanding into a tragedy, every checkpoint into another site of intimidation.

The Smarter Weapon: Technology

The 21st century has given us better tools than rifles. Every vehicle in Nigeria carries a unique number plate. The FRSC owns that database. With the right integration — plate recognition cameras, electronic ticketing, and digital enforcement — traffic violations can be traced, billed, and penalized without a single roadside confrontation.

Lagos State has already demonstrated this through its traffic camera network. Violators are captured, identified, and fined — not chased down at gunpoint. A driver can be compelled to pay through systemic enforcement: license renewal freezes, digital penalty points, or collaboration with insurers. No one needs to die for a red-light offense.

If an arrest or impoundment becomes necessary, the FRSC can call on the police — whose legal mandate already covers such interventions. That’s what inter-agency collaboration means, not duplication of firepower.

The Real Question: Why the Lure of Arms?

Sometimes the seduction of power lies not in function, but in display. There’s a certain grandeur in the sight of uniformed men with rifles. It commands fear, it projects authority — and in a fragile state, fear often masquerades as order. But fear is a poor foundation for governance.

We already live in an over-militarized environment — from the Police to Civil Defence, to OP Mesa and state task forces. Adding another armed body to our daily commute will not make Nigerians feel safer; it will remind them how insecure power feels without its gun.

The Way Forward: Re-Imagining Road Safety

We don’t need bullets. We need brains. We need transparent data, modern equipment, safe infrastructure, and ethical enforcement. We need well-trained officers with body cameras, drones for surveillance, digital dashboards for coordination, and automated systems for penalties. We need cooperation between FRSC, the Police, and state governments — not competition in coercion.

Safety is not enforced by the barrel of a gun; it is built through the quiet power of trust and competence. It’s not a linear task; it’s a holistic system — one that connects roads, data, drivers, and discipline.

Conclusion: A Nation Obsessed with the Wrong Kind of Power

Arming the FRSC is not reform — it is regression. It is the state confessing that it has failed to earn obedience through respect, and must now demand it through intimidation.

We cannot shoot our way to civility. We cannot legislate peace through violence. We cannot continue to confuse the appearance of authority with the essence of governance.

Road safety does not require weapons; it requires wisdom. It requires a state that values order without oppression and discipline without dread. In the end, what keeps a man from running a red light is not the fear of bullets — it is the conviction that laws are just, fair, and enforced by a system that values his life.

If Nigeria must choose between a safe road and a fearful one, let her choose the former — and reclaim the moral courage to govern through justice, not intimidation.