There are moments when a country loses more than a person; it loses a compass. The passing of Dr Solomon E. Arase on August 31, 2025, felt like that—an abrupt dimming of a steady light that had, for years, shown what policing in Nigeria could be if guided by principle, civility, and courage. He did not simply occupy offices; he dignified them. From the Force Criminal Intelligence and Investigations Department to his years as Principal Staff Officer to IGP Sunday Ehindero, to his own tenure as Inspector-General of Police and later as Chairman of the Police Service Commission, the constant was a quiet insistence that policing is a public trust and that trust is earned by fairness practised, not proclaimed.
What distinguished Arase was not the rhetoric of reform but its architecture. He believed the presumption of innocence is not a legal ornament; it is the backbone of public legitimacy. He understood intelligence-led policing as more than a slogan: prevention over spectacle, early warning over belated force, careful listening and documentation so that outcomes can command respect because the process did.
Despite our strong friendship, after his appointment in 2015, we engaged on several political issues during the numerous post-2015 by-elections in Rivers State, which tragically saw over 500 lives lost in the 2015 governorship elections. Although we often disagreed on approaches, he remained steadfast in his convictions and principles. He never yielded to my requests, despite the government’s support at the time.
He understood that standing by one’s convictions was more critical than seeking convenience. While we held differing viewpoints, we always respected each other’s beliefs. When convinced about a cause, he committed to its execution wholeheartedly. Above all, he was a patriot par excellence—Nigeria was his primary constituency, not just Edo State or the South-South region. His personal integrity and unwavering commitment to justice were the cornerstones of his leadership.
His fingerprints are on reforms you can touch. The Police Duty Solicitors Scheme, which began as a 2006 Memorandum of Understanding, matured—through his persistence—into Force Order 20 in 2017. This scheme, which ensures that individuals in police custody have access to legal representation, is a tangible example of his commitment to fairness and justice. Although his successor signed the order, Arase ensured that the ground was prepared, drafts were complete, procedures were scoped, and intentions were clear. If, today, fewer people are held arbitrarily, if interviews are more frequently cautioned, if detention registers can be audited rather than imagined, it is partly because he refused to let fairness depend on personalities.
Dr. Arase’s unwavering commitment to transparency and accountability was a cornerstone of his leadership. He understood that these principles are not just ideals, but the very foundation of a just and fair society. His push to digitise critical parts of FCID’s work was a testament to this. He knew that transparency is not a press release; it is a trail. Case-tracking, record integrity, custody logs—the dull, essential infrastructure that makes it harder to disappear a file, to misplace a suspect, to bleach the chain of evidence—were, to him, acts of justice. He cared deeply about reducing rights violations to the barest minimum and was willing to invest his energy in building systems that would check impunity and protect human dignity. It was impossible to miss the fact that his leadership was rooted in principle, and his heart was firmly anchored in justice.
As PSC chairman, he carried the same light into a different room. Recruitment and promotion should be based on merit; discipline should mean predictable standards. He narrowed the gap between rule and practice, inviting civil society and the human rights community to be partners rather than adversaries. Reformers who barricade themselves behind rank rarely outlast a news cycle; reformers who build coalitions, however, tend to outlast the news. Dr. Arase’s leadership was not about dictating from the top, but about fostering collaboration and shared responsibility for reform.
Dr Arase’s impact was not limited to his professional roles. He was more than his offices; he was a warm and caring individual in a world of cold institutions. He notably established the Police Complaints Response Unit (CRU) to provide citizens with a formal channel for reporting police misconduct and advanced community policing to foster trust between law enforcement and the public. He favoured intelligence-led policing over illegal police roadblocks, which often lead to extortion.
He was not one to shy away from the truth, even when it was about the institution he loved. At the Institute of Security Studies seminar in 2017, he lamented the absence of a shared national threat analysis to guide proactive policing, warned that budgets balloon at headquarters while stations starve, and argued that the IGP should set standards and ensure quality control, while operations devolve and are resourced at the level where crimes occur. He named the cannibalisation of investigative capacity for what it was and refused to accept the drift from prevention to post-mortem. He spoke about the distortions of VIP guard duties and the corrosive arithmetic by which money buys safety for a few while subtracting it from everyone else. His frankness about these challenges underscored the urgency of his reform efforts.
What he left us is not a cult of memory but a blueprint. We know its contours because he drew them patiently. Codify what works and measure it openly—PDSS compliance, custody dashboards, complaint resolution times that citizens can see and compare. Clarify the clear lines of demarcation between the Police Service Commission and the Nigeria Police Force so that recruitment, promotion, and discipline are transparent rather than transactional. Rebuild the investigative spine of the CID—ring-fence station budgets so that the basic work of policing is not a monthly improvisation. Reduce VIP deployments and redeploy talent to community policing and investigations. Complete the digitisation he began: real-time detention registers, case management with enforced timelines, chain-of-evidence systems that make good practice the path of least resistance. And above all, reshape culture through scenario-based training that centres civility and procedural justice, matched with leadership pipelines that reward restraint as much as arrests.
Dr. Arase’s efforts have already brought about significant changes. PDSS is not merely a programme; it is a rule with metrics. Digitisation pilots mean some files now carry the scars of scrutiny—harder to vanish, easier to audit. The habit of inviting civil society into the room has more defenders than detractors. These are foundations, not finishes, but foundations are not failures because rooftops are missing. They are invitations—and warnings. If we build on them, we save time, treasure, and lives. If we ignore them, we will start again, poorer and more cynical. Dr. Arase’s reforms have set a promising path for the future of Nigerian policing, offering hope and optimism for a more just and fair society.
Legacy is often mistaken for headlines. Arase measured his by standards adopted, procedures normalised, and people he pushed gently but firmly toward better practice. When praise did not come, he kept working; when it finally did, he shared it. Perhaps this is why his death feels larger than the page can hold: the work was never about him, which means the story is now about us. Will we institutionalise what he began or return to the wasteful habit of treating reform as a personality project? Honouring him demands choices, not eulogies.
The Presidency and National Assembly must provide the statutes and appropriations that enable station-level excellence. The PSC and NPF must live under the bright lines he advocated. Governors must move from ad-hoc patronage to compacts that fund prevention, not merely response. The Bar and civil society must keep the doors open and the data honest. Officers—from recruits to commissioners—must rediscover the quiet pride of doing things by the book because the book protects both the public and the police.
This is our farewell, and it is also a charge. A good man has gone, but the good he outlined is not beyond us. He listened more than he spoke; when he said, it was to clarify. He preferred practice to performance and asked difficult, practical questions that stripped policies of their vanity. If leadership is the lives we touch and the legacies we leave, then Dr Solomon Arase led well. And may we find, in the steadiness of his example, the courage to finish the work—to build a police service that treats Nigerians not as subjects to be managed but as citizens to be protected, and to keep lit, in our own time and place, the small lamps he set along the way.
Solomon Arase’s contributions to police reform are immeasurable, yet he rarely receives the credit he deserves for laying the foundation for the change the country urgently needs but often lacks the courage and leadership to implement. Unfortunately, the country lost one of its finest police officers and a former Inspector General in August of this year. IGP Arase’s most significant contribution was his unwavering focus on crafting a fresh vision for the Nigerian Police—one centred on restoring public trust and ensuring law enforcement conducted its duties with the highest standards of civility.
I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to have met, worked with, and learned from him. His life and service remain an inspiration, a reminder that leadership is not about position, but about the lives we touch and the legacies we leave behind. My heartfelt condolences go to his family. May God grant them the comfort and strength they need at this time and grant the soul of Dr Arase eternal rest.”
NB: Dakuku Peterside, PhD,a public sector turnaround expert, public policy analyst and leadership coach, is the author of the forthcoming book, “Leading in a Storm”, a book on crisis leadership.
