Plato, Hobbes, Locke, Collier and the Nigerian State

By Frank Ofili

More than two thousand years ago, Plato argued in The Republic that the foremost duty of the state is to create order, justice, and security for its citizens. The guardian class, in his conception of the ideal state, existed primarily to defend society from both internal disorder and external threats. A state that cannot maintain security inevitably drifts toward instability and injustice.

Centuries later, the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes advanced a similar argument in Leviathan. According to Hobbes, security is the very reason government exists. In the absence of a strong authority capable of protecting life and property, society descends into what he famously described as a condition where life becomes “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” Citizens surrender some of their freedoms to the state in exchange for protection and order. The social contract rests fundamentally on security.

John Locke refined this idea further. He argued that governments are established primarily to protect life, liberty, and property. When a government consistently fails in that obligation, it risks losing legitimacy in the eyes of those it governs.

These classical ideas remain remarkably relevant to contemporary Nigeria.

For well over a decade, Nigeria has grappled with multiple and overlapping security challenges: terrorism, banditry, kidnapping for ransom, communal conflicts, separatist violence, piracy, farmer-herder clashes, and organized criminal gangs operating across various regions. In many communities, citizens increasingly rely on vigilante groups, local security outfits, private guards, and self-help arrangements for protection.

Viewed through Hobbes’s lens, this development is deeply concerning. One of the defining characteristics of a functioning state is its monopoly over the legitimate use of force. When citizens increasingly seek security outside formal institutions, it suggests that the social contract is under strain and that confidence in state protection is weakening.

From Locke’s perspective, widespread insecurity raises serious questions about whether the state is adequately fulfilling its primary responsibility to protect lives and property. The frustration expressed daily by Nigerians is therefore understandable. Security is not merely one government responsibility among many; it is the foundation upon which all other responsibilities depend.

Plato’s argument leads to a similar conclusion. A government may record achievements in infrastructure, economic policy, diplomacy, or social programmes, but if citizens cannot travel safely, cultivate their farms, conduct business, or sleep peacefully in their homes, one of the state’s most fundamental obligations remains unfulfilled.

Perhaps nowhere is this failure more visible than in the persistence of mass kidnappings. Such operations often require extensive planning, intelligence gathering, transportation networks, safe locations, supplies, communications, and financial channels. The existence of a thriving kidnapping economy suggests criminal enterprises that are far more organized than isolated acts of opportunistic violence.

This reality raises difficult but necessary questions about intelligence gathering, law enforcement capacity, border control, local collaboration networks, and the effectiveness of existing security strategies. It also underscores the urgent need for a more proactive and coordinated national response.

Yet, despite these challenges, can Nigeria accurately be described as a failed state?

The answer is no.

A failed state is generally understood as one that has lost effective control over substantial portions of its territory, can no longer enforce laws, provide basic public services, maintain legitimate authority, or sustain functioning national institutions.

By that standard, Nigeria is not a failed state. The country continues to maintain functioning governmental institutions, security forces, courts, electoral processes, tax administration, a central bank, and internationally recognized political authority.

However, Nigeria exhibits several characteristics commonly associated with a fragile state. These include persistent insecurity, uneven state presence across parts of the country, difficulties in protecting citizens from non-state armed actors, declining public confidence in institutions, and an increasing reliance on informal security arrangements.

Like Chibok, Dapchi, Woro and others before it, the recent Ogbomosho, Oyo State, mass kidnapping incident underscores once again the woeful security situation in Nigeria.

This diagnosis aligns closely with the work of Paul Collier. In both The Bottom Billion and Wars, Guns, and Votes, Collier argues that state fragility is not simply the product of poverty, colonial history, or resource scarcity. Rather, it emerges when weak institutions, poor governance, insecurity, and distorted political incentives reinforce one another, trapping societies in cycles of violence and underdevelopment.

His analysis resonates strongly with the views of Francis Fukuyama, who contends that insecurity flourishes where states lack the capacity to enforce laws, control armed groups, administer justice effectively, combat corruption, and provide reliable public services.

These insights are particularly relevant to Nigeria today.

Like Chibok, Dapchi, Woro and others before it, the recent Ogbomosho, Oyo State, mass kidnapping incident underscores once again the woeful security situation in Nigeria. The persistence and geographic spread of insecurity should be viewed not merely as a law-enforcement challenge but as a warning sign about the health of the state itself. Plato, Hobbes, and Locke, despite writing centuries apart, arrive at the same fundamental conclusion – the first duty of government is the protection of its citizens.

Ultimately, the success of a state is not measured solely by economic statistics, political rhetoric, election victories, or international prestige. It is measured by whether ordinary people can live, work, travel, invest, raise families, and pursue their aspirations in reasonable safety.

To the extent that insecurity remains widespread across Nigeria, the state is falling short of that foundational obligation. While Nigeria has not crossed the threshold into outright state failure, the warning signs of state fragility are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.