From Street to State: How Ibas Is Redefining Security and Youth Engagement in Rivers

By Iniye Sylva

Security is often the first casualty in a broken state. When politics turns bitter, the streets become a mirror of the chaos at the top. That was the reality in Rivers State prior to the declaration of emergency rule in March 2025.

The breakdown in governance created a security vacuum exploited by local gangs, extortionist task forces, and politically aligned thugs. What followed was a disturbing blend of lawlessness: motor parks became theatres of turf wars, night markets morphed into no-go zones, and youth restiveness surged in communities previously known for peace.
Into this cauldron stepped Vice Admiral Ibok-Ete Ibas (rtd), a man better known for naval discipline than political showmanship. Appointed Sole Administrator by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, his arrival was met with apprehension. Would he militarise the state? Would he turn the streets into a battlefield? Would he pick sides in a political conflict that had deeply polarised the youth population?
Four months later, the answers are becoming clear—and they defy expectations. Rather than impose top-down force, Ibas has opted for what can best be described as security by civic restoration. His strategy is not built on brute strength but on calming the storm. He has reoriented local taskforces, demobilised illegal toll collectors, and reset the tone of engagement between state authorities and grassroots communities.
A telling example of this came in April, when taskforce activities in Port Harcourt were suspended for a review. In many parts of Nigeria, these operations have become synonymous with harassment, extortion, and arbitrary arrests. Ibas did not just suspend them; he initiated a full audit, calling for citizen feedback and stakeholder consultations. It was a small act, but it sent a powerful message—security must serve the people, not prey on them.
Global best practice shows that where state security institutions fail to engage youth constructively, non-state actors fill the void. In Kenya, for instance, the 2008 post-election violence led to community policing models co-designed with youth. In Ghana, the Ministry of Youth and Sports works with metropolitan assemblies to offer employment alternatives in urban slums. Ibas’ evolving approach, while still modest, bears similar potential. He has resisted the temptation to criminalise youth restiveness. Instead, his administration has expanded access to microcredit, encouraged local apprenticeship initiatives, and reopened pathways for youth inclusion in sanitation, environmental, and community development tasks.
The recent relaunch of vocational skills acquisition schemes in local councils is another example. For years, these programmes were underfunded and politicised. Under Ibas, they are returning to their original purpose—providing young people with marketable skills, from welding and catering to digital enterprise. In Oyigbo and Gokana, youth cooperatives are already recording increased registration. This is how you move engagement from the street to the state—by offering youth a stake in society.
Security also means predictability in governance. Ibas’ decision to restore regular salary payments, especially to local government staff, has had an indirect stabilising effect. Many of those who turned to informal security jobs, including touting and political thuggery, did so out of economic desperation. Today, with salaries flowing again and council oversight strengthened, that pipeline is gradually drying up. Anecdotal reports from Rumukoro and Bori markets suggest a noticeable reduction in extortion-related violence.
What makes all this more remarkable is the quiet with which it has been achieved. No self-congratulatory parades. No media overkill. Just a steady return to order. It is a leadership style that contrasts sharply with the theatrics often seen in Nigerian politics. And it’s working.
But it is not enough to merely calm the streets. The next step is to institutionalise this new security ethos. Ibas must work with the Nigeria Police, Civil Defence Corps, and community leaders to establish a conflict early-warning system—a low-cost model already piloted in parts of Kaduna State, where youth hotlines, local surveillance teams, and school-based peace clubs work to defuse tensions before they escalate. Rivers, with its history of volatility, would benefit greatly from such preventative models.
Equally important is the need to involve female youth voices in peacebuilding. Research from the African Union’s Peace and Security Council shows that sustainable security outcomes improve significantly when women are involved in local decision-making. In Rivers, women have historically been sidelined in security conversations. Ibas has a chance to change that by mandating gender balance in taskforce reform committees and community safety programmes.
Ultimately, the restoration of security in Rivers is not about the presence of boots on the ground—it is about the presence of trust in the system. By prioritising calm over command, by inviting youth into governance rather than pushing them to the margins, and by delivering the basics—salary payments, civic order, skills support—Ibas is writing a new script for public safety in a deeply polarised state.
It may still be early days, but if the trajectory holds, Rivers could become a case study in how emergency governance can offer more than just fire-fighting—it can be a crucible for long-term peacebuilding. And Vice Admiral Ibas, the reluctant administrator, may go down as the man who tamed the storm, not by roaring louder than the thunder, but by giving the people reason to believe in sunshine again.

Iniye Sylva writes from Port-Harcourt