West Africa has pursued one of the world’s most ambitious border liberalisation schemes in the past four decades. The Ecowas Free Movement Protocol, signed in 1979, enables citizens of 16 member states to cross international borders with minimal documentation. The intention was to promote economic integration and prosperity across the region.
For instance, Nigeria’s open borders promise trade. Yet at Nigeria’s border posts, a troubling reality emerges. The open border system has become a vehicle for systematic exploitation of travellers.
My research towards my PhD at the University of Lincoln under the supervision of Dr Joshua Skoczylis focuses on west African migration and border governance. Together, we have examined how the region’s free movement protocol operates in practice at Nigeria’s frontiers.
Using the examples of two contrasting Nigerian border crossings – Idi-Iroko on the Benin border and Chikanda on the Niger border – I sought to understand the protocol’s impact on border security in Nigeria. Through qualitative interviews with policymakers, frontline security staff and community leaders, the research reveals how information gaps between officials and citizens transform an integration policy into an instrument of corruption.
While these sites cannot claim to represent all of Nigeria’s 84 manned official border posts, they illustrate the institutional dynamics reported across major crossing points in the region.
My findings show that the Ecowas Free Movement Protocol is an example of what policy scholars call an implementation gap: the chasm between what policies promise on paper and what happens on the ground. This protocol establishes free movement principles without prescribing mechanisms or standard practices. But Nigeria has failed to develop its own ways to manage its borders.
The current chaotic system is crying out for changes: these should include standardised operating procedures, proper remuneration for border personnel, accountability mechanisms and intelligence sharing.
When nobody knows the rules
The protocol’s basic requirement is straightforward: travellers need a valid travel document (a passport) and an international health certificate. Yet interviews with dozens of border community members revealed that most had never seen these requirements written down, let alone understood them.
“I think the protocol is good for trade between countries,” one Idi-Iroko resident told me, “but I don’t really know what it says.” Another community member was more direct: “International passports? Those are a waste of time and money. You don’t need them to cross the borders.”
When citizens remain uncertain about requirements, officials can demand payments for unknown violations, charge fees for services that should be free, and accept bribes to overlook supposed irregularities. What looks like bureaucratic failure becomes a feature of the system for those who benefit from it.
Multiple residents confirmed they crossed regularly without documents, recognised by officials who “know them” as locals.
Border residents understand that in practice, rules matter less than relationships with officials. Documentation requirements are negotiable, and informal payment often smooths passage more effectively than proper papers.
The strategic information gap
Security agencies claim they regularly conduct community information programmes. Immigration officials described visiting market squares and motor parks to distribute flyers about trafficking dangers and documentation requirements. “We do enlightenment campaigns constantly,” one senior officer insisted. Yet my requests for programme documentation, schedules, attendance records, or evaluation reports yielded nothing.
None of the community members interviewed across two border zones recalled such programmes. Most had gleaned their understanding of border operations from informal conversations and personal experience.
The real implementation gap
Free movement doesn’t mean unregulated movement. Even within a borderless zone, states retain legitimate security interests: preventing trafficking, controlling smuggled goods, monitoring public health threats, and maintaining basic records of cross-border flows. The protocol acknowledges this by allowing member states to refuse entry on grounds of security, public health, or public order. Rules are needed to distinguish between these legitimate security functions and arbitrary restrictions that undermine the integration agenda.
The protocol assumes member states will create necessary institutional capacity: motivated, well-resourced security forces working collaboratively. But in reality there are ten competing agencies at major Nigerian posts, earning vastly different salaries, following separate mandates, jealously guarding information. As one military officer explained: “One organisation tries to be smarter, working individualistically instead of in cooperation.”
Frontline officers exercise enormous discretion in this under-regulated environment. They become de facto policymakers. They don’t simply implement policy poorly, they effectively create policy through their daily choices about whom to stop, what to inspect, and which violations to overlook.
A customs official candidly admitted to me:
Many people don’t go there for patriotism or duty. They go for survival. Even if you have the numbers, they’ll always try to see where the honey tastes better.
In this context, systematic corruption isn’t aberrant behaviour – it’s a strategy within deficient systems that national governments have failed to develop.
Why technology won’t fix this
Security officials often cite lack of technology as their main challenge. They argue that scanners, biometric systems and digital monitoring could help verify travellers’ identities, flag security threats, and create audit trails of border transactions. In theory, that could reduce opportunities for officials to demand arbitrary payments or wave through prohibited goods.
But technology won’t solve the fundamental problem my research uncovered.
The issue isn’t capacity for enforcement. It’s the incentive for exploitation. Sophisticated surveillance equipment won’t prevent officials from accepting bribes if their salaries are inadequate and accountability mechanisms are absent.
Anyway, most border posts lack electricity infrastructure to power such technology. And equipment placed in remote areas becomes vulnerable to theft or vandalism. Investment in hardware simply creates more expensive ways to fail.
What needs to change
Forty-six years after the protocol’s enactment, Ecowas needs to confront uncomfortable realities. Real reform requires several interconnected changes:
- Genuine transparency about requirements: sustained, accessible public information about what documentation is legally required, what fees are legitimate, and how to report violations.
- Standardised operating procedures across member states.
- Adequate compensation for security personnel.
- Accountability mechanisms with genuine consequences for exploitative behaviour.
- Coordination frameworks that reduce inter-agency competition and enable intelligence sharing.
Until Ecowas confronts this reality, the free movement protocol will continue delivering the opposite of its promise: not integration and prosperity, but fragmentation and exploitation.
This article is based on doctoral fieldwork conducted in Nigeria between 5 June 2024 and 1 August 2024. Interview data and full findings will be available in the forthcoming PhD thesis at the University of Lincoln.
The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
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