
OTHERS' VIEWS
One of the earliest University graduates to join the Nigerian Military and the first University Graduate to govern the old Western State, Brigadier-General Oluwole Rotimi turns 90 today.
A gentleman Officer and noiseless achiever General Christopher Oluwole Rotimi made remarkable achievements while he was at the helm of affairs in the Western State.
In addition to creating peaceful atmosphere in the state he devoted most of his energy on Agriculture and industrialization.
Born 20 February 1935, in Abeokuta, Rotimi attended Agooko Methodist School, Lisabi school, Olowogbowo Methodist School as well as Kings College Lagos, after which he earned a Bachelor of Arts degree at the University College Ibadan.
General Rotimi joined the Nigerian Army in 1960 and served as part of the United Nations Peacekeeping Force in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. He rose to become the first African Deputy Quartermaster General and the third non-white Quartermaster General of the Nigerian Army in 1966.
During the Nigerian Civil War Oluwole Rotimi provided logistics support for the Federal Government's war efforts. He became the commander of the Ibadan Garrison between 1969 and 1970.
After the war Oluwole Rotimi became the Military Governor of Western State in 1971, under General Yakubu Gowon in succession to Major General Adeyinka Adebayo.
The Cement Factory at Sagamu,
the Wire and Cable Factory in Ibadan,
the Ceramic Factory in Abeokuta,
the Wood Processing Factory in Ondo and the Palm oil Mill at Okitipupa.were some of the landmark projects established by his administration.
In 1975, Oluwole Rotimi was removed from office as governor of Western Nigeria after the 1975 coup d'état. The following administration led by General Murtala Mohammed, commissioned a panel to investigate corruption amongst the immediate past governors of the previous administration. Oluwole Rotimi, together with Mobolaji Johnson-Brigadier (Lagos State Governor) were the only two governors exonerated.
in retirement, General Rotimi was appointed Nigerian Ambassador to the United States by the Obasanjo administration in succession to Professor George Obiozor
Happy Birthday ? and many happy returns in robust health.
[OPINION] Leadership Crisis In Lagos Assembly: The Danger Of Speculative Journalism And The Need For Credible Reporting - Isaac Asabor
AdminIn an era where speed often takes precedence over accuracy, journalism is facing a credibility crisis. The recent speculative reports surrounding the alleged resignation of Lagos State House of Assembly Speaker, Mojisola Meranda, exemplify how misinformation can erode public trust in the media. This brand of speculative journalism, which thrives on unverified sources and sensationalism, is not only a disservice to the public but also a blemish on the ethics of the profession.
Without a doubt, the Meranda’s resignation rumor has become a case study in speculative reporting.
For instance, on February 19, 2025, today, being Wednesday, an online news platform reported that Speaker Mojisola Meranda had resigned from her position. This claim was based on an alleged circular dated February 17, 2025, which circulated widely on social media. However, closer examination revealed that the letter bore no signature, an immediate red flag indicating its dubious authenticity.
As gathered from a news report, specifically the Punch Newspaper of February 19, 2025, in its report headlined, “UPDATED: Lagos Speaker Meranda denies resignation rumour”, it can be opined that the swift response from Meranda’s Chief Press Secretary, Segun Ajiboye, debunking the rumor should have put the matter to rest. Ajiboye categorically stated, “I’m in the office. The speaker is in the office. I don’t know where that is coming from.” Yet, the damage had already been done. The misinformation had already spread, sowing confusion and fueling political speculations at a time when the Lagos Assembly was already grappling with a leadership crisis following the removal of former Speaker Mudashiru Obasa.
This incident underscores a growing trend in contemporary journalism where the rush to break news outweighs the responsibility to verify facts. The dissemination of such unverified information is not just reckless but has broader implications for governance, stability, and the media’s own credibility.
Without a doubt, there are inherent perils in speculative journalism. The foregoing can be buttressed from perspective of the fact that speculative journalism is not a new phenomenon, and its impact has worsened with the rise of digital media. In fact, the tendency to publish sensational and often misleading headlines to generate traffic and engagement is harming the integrity of the press. The Meranda case is a textbook example of how this approach can have negative consequences.
One of the consequences is that speculative journalism erodes public trust, particularly when viewed from the fact that the fundamental role of the press is to inform the public with accurate and verified information. In fact, when media outlets publish unverified reports, they risk misleading the public, who rely on journalists for factual news. Once trust is broken, it becomes difficult to restore, and people begin to dismiss even legitimate reports as “fake news.”
Looking at this contextual element of unprofessionalism in the field of journalism as been practiced in Nigeria today, it becomes clearer to understand the fact that speculative journalism causes political destabilization. This is as misinformation, especially in politically sensitive situations, can have severe consequences. In a state like Lagos, where politics is highly dynamic and competitive. This is as a false report about the resignation of a sitting Speaker could have triggered unnecessary panic, political maneuvering, and unrest. Not only that, it could have also emboldened certain political factions to exploit the misinformation for their own gain, exacerbating an already volatile situation.
From the perspective of professional misconduct in Journalism, it can be said that the ethics of journalism dictate that every story must be thoroughly vetted before publication. In fact, Journalists’ Code of Ethics clearly states that journalists must “seek truth and report it” while ensuring accuracy and fairness. Therefore, the decision to publish unverified claims about Meranda’s resignation violates this core principle and reflects poorly on the standards of the profession.
Without resort to pointing accusing fingers at certain genre of Journalism, there is no denying the fact that the rapid dissemination of the fake resignation letter is a stark reminder of the dangers posed by social media in the age of digital journalism. While social media platforms have democratized information-sharing, they have also become breeding grounds for misinformation. With no editorial gatekeeping, false narratives spread like wildfire, making damage control an arduous task for legitimate news organizations.
In fact, Journalists and media houses must take extra caution in verifying information before amplifying it on their platforms. While the competition for online relevance is fierce, credibility should never be sacrificed at the altar of speed and engagement.
The question now is “What needs to be done?” The answer cannot be farfetched as to curb the menace of speculative journalism, Nigerian media practitioners must adopt a more responsible approach to news reporting. Against the foregoing backdrop, there are a few critical steps that can be taken, and they cut across strengthening verification processes, promoting accountability among Journalists, encouraging fact-checking mechanisms, sensitizing the public and adoption of legislative and industry regulations.
Before publishing a report, journalists must ensure that they have cross-checked their sources and verified the authenticity of any documents they cite. In the Meranda case, a simple attempt to contact her office for clarification before running the story would have prevented the misinformation from spreading.
In fact, news outlets must hold their reporters accountable for the accuracy of their stories. Journalists who consistently engage in speculative reporting should be subjected to disciplinary measures, including retractions and public apologies when necessary.
Also, Independent fact-checking organizations should play a more active role in verifying political news before it gains traction. Media houses should also integrate fact-checking desks into their newsrooms to scrutinize sensitive reports before publication.
In a similar vein, Journalists must also educate their audiences on the importance of media literacy, and as well encouraging readers to verify news from credible sources before sharing can help stem the tide of misinformation.
In fact, while press freedom must be protected, there is a need for regulatory bodies such as the Nigerian Press Council (NPC) and the Broadcasting Organizations of Nigeria (BON) to set clear standards against speculative journalism. This is as stricter adherence to the Nigerian Code of Ethics for Journalism will help restore credibility to the profession.
Without a doubt, the Lagos House of Assembly leadership crisis is an unfolding story, and journalists must ensure that they report facts, not speculation. The false report on Meranda’s resignation is a cautionary tale of how the rush for sensational news can compromise journalistic integrity. The media must uphold its role as the fourth estate by prioritizing accuracy over clickbait headlines.
If the profession is to regain public trust, journalists must return to the fundamental principles of truth, fairness, and responsibility. Only by doing so can we safeguard the credibility of the media and ensure that it remains a reliable source of information for the public.
[OPINION] Overpowered, Left Struggling, and Forced Out: The DSS Officers Who Were Overrun and Shut Out at the Lagos Assembly, Barely Avoiding Tragedy—A Deeply Worrying Sight - John Egbeazien Oshodi
AdminThe events of February 17, 2025, at the Lagos State House of Assembly were not just another political dispute—they were a dangerous miscalculation that put lives at risk. The viral footage that has now been seen around the world tells a story far deeper than any political battle—it reveals a moment when the very enforcers of state power, the uniformed officers of the Department of State Services (DSS), found themselves suffocating, physically overwhelmed, and almost crushed against the very doors they were sent to secure.
As a psychologist and police/prison scientist, my focus is not on the political games at play—politicians will always have their battles, their schemes, their fights for power. My concern is for the human beings caught in the middle, those men in uniform who were put in an impossible position, left with no exit, no strategy, no backup, and ultimately no control. That day, DSS operatives were not just defending the doors of the Assembly—they were trapped against them. They were pressured into becoming human barriers, their bodies locked between the force of determined lawmakers and the heavy wooden doors that stood behind them.
The video evidence that has now traveled across the world is painful to watch. It showed force—relentless, unstoppable force—coming from men and women pushing, pressing, and cornering these officers against the door, their bodies crushed in the battle for space. The officers, clad in black jackets, their faces covered, helmets weighing heavy on their heads, stood their ground—but for how long? Seconds stretched into eternity as they struggled, gasping, unable to move, unable to retreat, unable to control what was unfolding before them.
And then, it happened.
One by one, the officers were pushed back. Pressed. Overwhelmed. The mass of bodies forced them to lose ground. The final officer, still clinging to his post, looked lost—isolated, surrounded, eyes darting in disbelief, his body caught in a human tide he could no longer resist. He was pushed out, swallowed by the overwhelming power of those determined to reclaim the chamber. And then, the doors closed.
Just like that.
Sealed shut.
A uniformed officer, once standing at the door as the last line of defense, now found himself on the outside, locked out, cast aside like a fallen pawn in a game he did not create. It was a moment of defeat, a moment of finality, a moment that should haunt the leadership of the DSS.
What if he had been injured? What if the weight of the crowd had suffocated him? What if his body had given out from the sheer pressure of the force against him? Would his name have been remembered? Would DSS leadership have mourned him—or simply replaced him with another uniformed man, another body sent into another unwinnable battle?
What happened that day should deeply trouble anyone who understands tactical enforcement, security risk, and human vulnerability in moments of crisis. These were not riot control officers, not a heavily armored military detachment—these were DSS operatives, an intelligence-based security force, suddenly caught in an escalating physical confrontation they were never trained or prepared for.
And so I ask: what if one of them had gone down?
What if, in the crush of bodies, one of those officers had lost his footing and been trampled under the weight of the lawmakers forcing their way forward?
What if, in the suffocating heat of the moment, an officer had collapsed from exhaustion, struggling for air under his helmet?
What if panic had set in, leading to a reactionary use of force—one wrong move that could have sparked uncontrollable violence?
What if, in that desperate, chaotic moment, the line between restraint and retaliation had been crossed?
Because let’s be clear—this was seconds away from becoming a deadly situation.
The official statement from the Lagos Assembly, signed by Ogundipe Olukayode, Chairman of the House Committee on Information, Strategy, and Security, laid out the undeniable facts:
Yes, the DSS was invited for security—but not to block lawmakers from their own chamber.
Yes, the Clerk requested their presence—but not to physically seal the Speaker’s office.
Yes, there were security concerns—but the DSS itself became the biggest security threat that day.
How did it come to this? How did a force as elite as the DSS find itself not as the controller of the situation, but as its victim? Who within DSS command authorized this engagement without fully assessing the risks? Who believed that a handful of officers could physically hold back an entire legislative body without confrontation? Who, in DSS leadership, failed to recognize that their operatives were walking into a situation where brute force would not be enough?
This is not just a question of tactics—it is a question of responsibility.
DSS, you have the right to defend your institution. You can sue the media if you believe you were misrepresented. But while you do that, let’s not ignore the real question—why were your officers left gasping for air against those doors? The media did not press your officers against those doors.
The media did not send them into a mission without a strategy.
The journalists did not cause their distress, their exhaustion, their struggle to breathe.
This was a failure in planning.
And again, I ask—was it worth it?
Did the DSS succeed in stopping the legislative session? No.
Did the lawmakers back down? No.
Did the situation remain under DSS control? No.
Instead, the Speaker, Mojisola Meranda, still presided over the session.
The lawmakers still convened.
The Assembly still carried out its function.
And DSS? What did it gain?
Its operatives were humiliated in front of the nation.
It suffered reputational damage as an elite force caught in a political game.
It put its own officers in serious, life-threatening danger.
DSS is not a street enforcement unit. It is not a riot squad. It is not a tool to be thrown into political disputes. It is an intelligence-based security agency, built on precision, strategy, and operational foresight. But on this day, there was no strategy. There was no foresight. There was no precision. Instead, there were uniformed men, trapped at the doors of a legislative building, suffocating under the weight of a crisis they were never meant to fight.
If DSS does not reflect on what went wrong, the consequences next time will be irreversible.
Because next time, it may not just be distress on an officer’s face.
Next time, a uniformed man may not get back up.
Next time, there may be real casualties.
And who will take responsibility?
Not the politicians who orchestrated it.
Not the government officials who benefited from the chaos.
Not the power players who will move on to their next battle.
It will be the DSS operatives—the men in uniform—who will pay the price.
DSS must rethink its approach now. Not because of politics. Not because of media scrutiny. But because its own personnel are being placed in dangerous, unwinnable situations. No elite security force should find itself becoming the crisis instead of the solution.
DSS, the world saw what happened.
The risk to your officers was undeniable.
And this time, they survived it.
But next time?
Next time, the cost may be fatal.
Ignorance is not bliss; it is a burden. In a rapidly evolving world where knowledge and skills determine opportunities, those who choose to reject education, formal or informal, are at a severe disadvantage. In fact the dangers of embracing ignorance are unarguably numerous. Some of them cut across limited opportunities, social embarrassment, economic disadvantage coupled with manipulation and exploitation.
Explanatorily put, education provides individuals with the skills and knowledge needed to explore various career paths. Without it, one’s options shrink drastically, often leaving individuals at the mercy of menial jobs and exploitative labor.
In a similar vein, there is no denying the fact that language and comprehension are crucial in social interactions. As seen in the viral joke, being unable to understand or respond appropriately in basic communication can lead to humiliating situations. This not only affects one’s confidence but also limits access to networking opportunities, which are essential for personal and professional growth.
Also, in today’s economy, high-paying jobs and career advancements are mostly reserved for those who possess specialized knowledge and skills. While some individuals without formal education may succeed through entrepreneurial ventures, the majority remain trapped in poverty due to a lack of marketable skills.
Also in a similar vein, an uneducated mind is easily manipulated. People who lack basic critical thinking skills fall prey to scams, misinformation, and political propaganda. This is why education is essential, not just for economic success, but for personal independence and informed decision-making.
In fact, education is not just about certificates. Many who claim that education is a scam base their arguments on the fact that many university graduates remain unemployed. However, education is not merely about obtaining certificates; it is about acquiring knowledge, skills, and the ability to think critically. In today’s world, education has evolved beyond the four walls of a classroom. Self-education, vocational training, and skill acquisition all count as education. The most successful individuals are those who continuously learn, adapt, and improve themselves.
Beyond personal gain derivable from education, the role of education in National Development cannot be pooh-poohed with mere wave of the hands. This is as a nation’s growth is directly tied to the quality of education its citizens receive. Countries that prioritize education experience rapid development, technological advancements, and a higher standard of living. On the other hand, nations that neglect education suffer from underdevelopment, high crime rates, and poor governance. Nigeria, for instance, faces numerous challenges due to the lack of widespread quality education. The culture of mediocrity, corruption, and misplaced priorities can be traced to an insufficiently educated populace that fails to demand accountability from its leaders.
Without a doubt, the reality of life without education is unappealing. To those who believe education is a scam, it is important to examine the reality of life without it. Imagine navigating the world without the ability to read, write, or communicate effectively. Consider the difficulty of making financial decisions, signing contracts, or even using modern technology without basic literacy. Even the most menial jobs today require some level of education.
Furthermore, education extends beyond literacy; it includes problem-solving, adaptability, and innovation. Those who lack these skills are often the first to suffer when economic shifts occur. A factory worker without additional skills can be replaced by automation, while a literate and skilled worker can transition into a different career.
Give the foregoing arguments, it is germane to suggest in this context that the narrative that says education is a scam should be changed by those who have been mouthing it. At this juncture, it is expedient to ask, “How can the narrative be changed?”
The answer to the foregoing cannot be farfetched as there is an urgent need to redefine education. Instead of seeing education as just school and certificates, young people should be encouraged to pursue knowledge in any form, be it vocational skills, online courses, or apprenticeships.
In a similar vein, there is need for the improvement of the Education System: The government and private sector must work towards an education system that is practical and aligned with modern economic realities. Schools should incorporate skill-based learning, entrepreneurship, and digital literacy.
Again, there is the need to encourage self-education. This is as the internet has made learning more accessible than ever. From YouTube tutorials to online courses, there is no excuse for remaining ignorant. Anyone with a smartphone and internet access can acquire valuable knowledge and skills.
Not only that, there is also the need to change societal perception. This is as parents, educators, and policymakers must help reshape the mindset of young people. Instead of promoting the idea that only traditional white-collar jobs define success, alternative career paths such as vocational training, tech skills, and creative arts should be given equal respect.
The argument that education is a scam is deeply flawed. While the Nigerian educational system has its shortcomings, the solution is not to reject education entirely but to seek relevant and adaptable knowledge. Ignorance is far more costly than education. The viral joke about the young man at the embassy may have been meant for humor, but it serves as a cautionary tale for those who choose to remain uneducated. In the grand scheme of life, it is better to have education and struggle to succeed than to lack education and be left out of opportunities entirely.
If education is a scam, then ignorance is a disaster waiting to happen. Let us choose knowledge over ignorance, empowerment over embarrassment, and progress over stagnation.
In a shocking recent development, the Nigerian government has issued a stern warning that Colleges of Education with fewer than 1,000 students after three years of operation may lose their sponsorship from the Tertiary Education Trust Fund (TETFUND).
This new criterion for funding threatens to further exacerbate the deepening crisis in these institutions, which have long struggled with underfunding, societal neglect, and negative stereotypes.
While some may argue that the decision is a necessary one to ensure accountability, the truth is far more complicated – and tragic. These colleges are not the problem, but a symptom of a broader malaise in Nigeria’s educational system.
The struggle for prestige and recognition
From the very beginning, Colleges of Education have faced an uphill battle for recognition. While universities have long been seen as the pinnacle of academic achievement, Colleges of Education have not attracted the same level of interest or respect. Many secondary school leavers –who are capable of entering either a university or a college–are often driven by the pursuit of a university degree, believing that it holds the key to a secure and prosperous future. In many ways, a university degree is seen as the ticket to a stable career in Nigerian society, whether in the public or private sector.
The societal bias against teaching as a profession is as old as the Nigerian education system itself. It is often said that “the teacher’s reward is in heaven”–a notion that continues to persist even as other professions like medicine, law, and engineering enjoy higher levels of respect and financial security. If teaching were a more financially rewarding career, surely it would attract more talented young Nigerians. But as things stand, the narrative is clear: teaching is a fallback option, not a profession of choice.
Adding to the issue is the role played by the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB). The Board’s current allocation system disproportionately channels students who perform poorly in JAMB exams into Colleges of Education, further stigmatizing them. This practice reinforces the perception that Colleges of Education are a “dumping ground” for low-scoring candidates, rather than institutions dedicated to the serious training of educators.
In fact, according to a 2022 report by the National Universities Commission (NUC), a staggering 60% of applicants to Colleges of Education in Nigeria score below the minimum entry requirements for universities. This sends the signal to young Nigerians that the college route is for those who “didn’t make the cut,” further fuelling the perception that teaching is a less respectable career. As noted by an education expert, Professor Akintoye (2022), the lack of prestige associated with Colleges of Education is a critical issue that needs to be addressed, if we are to attract the best minds into the teaching profession. According to Akintoye, “A nation that does not prioritise the training of its educators will forever be shackled to mediocrity.”
A cultural shift: The need for change in perception
For any meaningful change to occur, there must be a cultural shift in how teaching and Colleges of Education are perceived. If teaching were to be elevated to the status of a prestigious and well-paid profession, more high-achieving students would choose to pursue education degrees. Teachers should be celebrated as the architects of the future, not relegated to the margins of society.
The reality in developed countries, where educators are some of the highest-paid professionals, starkly contrasts the situation in Nigeria. In countries like Finland, South Korea, and Singapore, teachers are highly respected and compensated for their pivotal role in shaping society. In Finland, for example, teachers are required to have Master’s degrees, and their salaries are among the highest in the public sector (Sahlberg, 2018). It is no wonder that these countries consistently top global education rankings. Nigeria, on the other hand, continues to view its teachers with disdain, offering them low wages, few incentives, and little recognition.
The lack of proper remuneration for Nigerian teachers is a grave injustice. While some may argue that increasing teachers’ salaries would be financially burdensome, it is important to recognise that investing in education is an investment in the future. Quality teaching yields better outcomes for students, which in turn leads to a more educated, productive workforce.
According to a 2020 report by the World Bank, countries that invest in education see long-term economic growth, increased innovation, and improved quality of life for their citizens. Thus, a commitment to better compensate teachers is not just an act of fairness – it is a strategic investment in the nation’s future.
The stark economic realities
At the heart of the issues bedevilling the teaching profession lies Nigeria’s economic reality. Teachers, despite their vital role, are often the most underpaid and overworked professionals in the country. The recent increase in the minimum wage has done little or nothing, to address the severe devaluation of the teacher’s purchasing power. With rising inflation, escalating cost of living, and stagnant wages, teachers’ salaries barely cover their basic needs. This grim situation has led many teachers to seek alternative means of supplementing their incomes, including unethical practices such as the sale of grades, commercialising project writing for students, general monetisation of students’ inadequacies in the course of pursuing their programmes, sexual exploitation, to mention but a few.
The government’s failure to address the root causes of teacher dissatisfaction and underfunding only compounds the issue. By placing the burden of low enrollment numbers in Colleges of Education squarely on the shoulders of the institutions themselves, the government is simply ignoring the systemic factors that contribute to this issue. The recent decision to withhold TETFUND sponsorship from Colleges of Education with fewer than 1,000 students is a misguided response that fails to address the structural and societal challenges facing these institutions.
The role of JAMB and the crisis of under-enrolment
The current crisis in Nigerian Colleges of Education is also deeply connected to JAMB’s admission policies. Despite its mandate to guide students into appropriate tertiary institutions, JAMB has largely ignored the needs of the Colleges of Education. In the current system, students who are unable to gain admission to universities are often funneled into these colleges, without consideration for the interests of the students or the colleges themselves.
JAMB’s distribution mechanism also fails to prioritise Colleges of Education, making it difficult for these institutions to attract the necessary number of students. Colleges of Education are left to contend with low enrolment numbers, despite their efforts to make education more accessible and relevant. The recent report from the Ministry of Education highlighted that several newly established Colleges of Education in remote areas, such as the Kogi State College of Education, have struggled with low enrolment due to regional security issues, ethnic clashes, and poor infrastructure (Federal Ministry of Education, 2023).
These challenges are compounded by the nationwide issue of underfunding, making it nearly impossible for these institutions to attract the desired number of students. However, the Federal College of Education (Technical), Ekiadolor, Benin, Edo State, Federal College of Education (FCE), Omu-Aran, Kwara State, Federal College of Education (FCE), Jalingo, Taraba State, Federal College of Education (FCE), Yola, Adamawa State, to mention but a few, are the real endangered species, more or less far below the 1,000 population threshold, on the brink of losing out on the beneficence of TETFUND sponsorship. Rather than penalising these institutions for factors beyond their control, the government should focus on finding solutions to address the systemic challenges that hinder enrolment. With the right support, these colleges can play a pivotal role in ensuring that Nigeria’s educational needs are met.
The call for reform and a vision for the future
In response to these challenges, the recent legalization of the status of the Colleges of Education to commence the Diploma and Degree programmes, popularly known as the Dual Mode, is a step in the right direction, to step up the game of these beleaguered colleges. Also, the ongoing discussions in the National Assembly, to transform Colleges of Education into Universities of Education, is another boost that may likely end the enrolment issue of the Colleges of Education, when the bill eventually becomes law. This move would help remove the stigma attached to these institutions and elevate their status in the eyes of prospective students.
Renaming these colleges as universities would symbolise a cultural shift in the way Nigerians perceive the profession of teaching, aligning it with other professions that are seen as prestigious and financially rewarding.
However, this rebranding alone will not be enough to solve the deeper issues plaguing these institutions. To truly revive Nigerian Colleges of Education, we must prioritise the following reforms:
(i) Increased funding and resources: Colleges of Education must be adequately funded to ensure that they have the resources necessary to deliver quality education. This includes better facilities, up-to-date curricula, and well-trained faculty members.
(ii) Teacher salaries: Teachers and teacher-lecturers must receive salaries that reflect their importance to society. Higher salaries will attract the best candidates into the profession and help retain experienced educators.
(iii) JAMB reform: JAMB must adjust its admission policies to ensure that Colleges of Education receive a fair share of applicants. Colleges should not be relegated to the sidelines but rather be given the resources and students they need to thrive.
(iv) Public awareness campaigns: The government and educational stakeholders should launch campaigns to raise awareness about the importance of the teaching profession. This could help change public attitudes towards teaching and inspire more students to pursue careers in education.
Conclusion: A national responsibility
As a nation, we must ask ourselves: do we truly value the educators who shape our future? The government’s decision to withdraw TETFUND support from Colleges of Education with fewer than 1,000 students is a devastating blow to an already struggling system. It is time for a fundamental shift in how we view the teaching profession and those who dedicate their lives to it. The Ministry of Education and TETFUND must reconsider their stance and offer the support that these colleges urgently need. This is not just a matter of funding – it is a matter of national survival.
Okom Emmanuel Njor (PhD) can be contacted via njorokom@fcetekiadolor.edu.ng
References
- Akintoye, O. (2022). Education in Nigeria: Rebuilding the foundation. Lagos: Nigerian Educational Publishers.
- Federal Ministry of Education. (2023). The status of teacher education in Nigeria: Challenges and prospects. Abuja: Government Press.
- National Universities Commission (NUC). (2023). Revised policies for the distribution of students across Nigerian tertiary institutions. Abuja: NUC.
- Sahlberg, P. (2018). Finnish lessons 2.0: What can the world learn from educational change in Finland? New York: Teachers College Press.
- World Bank. (2020). The importance of investing in education for economic growth. Washington, D.C.: World Bank Group.
Nigerians have been falling over themselves eulogising two of the country’s elder statesmen who died in the last one week. It is as if there is a national essay competition to determine who will pen the most moving panegyric. Citizens have been regaled with heartfelt tributes that share memories, stories and achievements of Chiefs Ayo Adebanjo and Edwin Clark.
To be sure, Adebanjo and Clark – two of a kind – were all that have been said about them, and even more. They were greatness, grace and patriotism personified. And their departure at such a critical time has created a gaping void because their big shoes will be difficult to fill.
But despite their incredible achievements, both men went to their graves with huge regrets at what Nigeria had become. As Chief Adebanjo told me on the eve of his 95th birthday: “I am still in the trenches because the country is not what I fought for.” What he and fellow compatriots fought for was a country that will work for all. That remains an illusion. If anything, the prospect of Nigeria becoming a country where equity, fairness and justice prevail is still far-fetched.
Both men were blessed with longevity. In a country where life expectancy hovers in the 50s, it takes the grace of God to become a nonagenarian. Born on April 10, 1928, Chief Adebanjo died on Friday, February 14, 2025, less than two months from his 97th birthday. Pa Clark, who also died at 97 was only eleven months older, having been born on May 25, 1927.
In the course of my journalistic odyssey, I encountered both men but I will talk about Pa Ayo Adebanjo here, while I leave the story of Chief Edwin Kiagbodo Clark, a man who saved my life in 1997, for another day.
Chief Adebanjo who was born barely six years after the Clifford Constitution and the first legislative elections in Nigeria, lived through the finest and ugliest moments of Nigeria’s history – the constitutional conferences, struggle for independence, party politics leading to independence, the civil war, military rule, return to democracy, the struggle for the protection of democracy, and the bigger struggle of ensuring the development of Nigeria. He joined the struggle early in 1943 as a Zikist, but in 1951, he became a member of the youth wing of the Action Group, and a mentee, political disciple of Chief Obafemi Awolowo. That became the defining moment of his life.
As a young journalist at the Independent Communications Network Limited, ICNL – publishers of TheNews/TEMPO magazine, AM News and PM News – in 1996, I could not but appreciate the significance of the Western House building on 8-10 Broad Street, Lagos. TheNews was embedded in the pro-democracy struggle and Western House was the de facto headquarters of the foremost pan-Yoruba socio-cultural group, Afenifere, and the National Democratic Coalition, NADECO.
Many of the chieftains of these two groups that were engaged in a mortal battle with the military junta of Sani Abacha, most of them lawyers, had their offices in that complex. It became a natural destination for journalists seeking for news. Chief Ayo Adebanjo’s office was on the third floor. When you start from there and climb up to the offices of Senator Kofoworola Bucknor-Akerele – a lawyer, who also acquired a diploma in journalism in 1962 and worked as a journalist for the BBC and VON Magazine, before becoming a deputy governor in Lagos State, and Chief Ganiyu Olawale Dawodu, popularly known as G.O.D. – your day would have been made.
In those days, I developed a strong liking for Adebanjo because he was an interviewer’s delight, shooting from the hip. I remember doing a story in the TEMPO tabloid titled, ‘June 12: The Saints and Villains’. He was one of the ‘saints’. Once when I went to his office, he gave me a ride back to Ogba.
When I left TheNews magazine for The Diet newspaper in 1997, I never met Chief Adebanjo again until February 9, 2022 when I sat down, once again, with the now 93-year-old man in his Lagos home for a two-hour interview. Of course, at 93, a lot had changed physically: he was slower, one step at a time; hard of hearing, but still had a razor-sharp mind. There was a whiff of frustration and he spoke about death in a way he didn’t even in those days of thunder and trepidation.
Chief Adebanjo insisted that Nigeria was at a crossroads and needed restructuring urgently. He dismissed the 1999 Constitution as a big fraud that is at the root of all the country’s woes. “Talk about any problem you can think of in this country today and you will find out that it has to do with this Constitution,” he intoned gravely.
Unless the Constitution was changed and the country restructured first, the 2023 election would be “an exercise in futility,” he said.
“Tell me that Ayo Adebanjo is talking nonsense, it does not concern me. When it will happen, I may have gone but you will be around and you will remember that I said it… I am pitying your generation because I am done. At 94, what I am expecting now is my funeral dirge. Baba rele! That is the song they sing for an old man they are going to bury.”
But when I sat down again with him one year after on February 13, 2023, a few days before the February 25, 2023 presidential election, Chief Adebanjo had slightly moderated his position.
Apparently, he was taken in by the dubious promises of the INEC chairman, Prof. Mahmoud Yakubu. “I am hopeful,” he said. “So far, so good. I am hopeful because of the electoral law. If they keep to it, implement it and execute it, the elections will be free, fair and credible.”
A credible election will bequeath the country with a Peter Obi presidency, he told me. And when that happens: “The first thing that Obi will do when he gets into office is to call all the ethnic groups together and agree on a Constitution. Any other thing to the contrary, there will be chaos. I have said it before and I am repeating it without any element of doubt in my mind. If for any reason, the election is scuttled or manipulated, and Obi doesn’t win, I say emphatically, that is the end of Nigeria. If we don’t enthrone fairness, equity and justice which the Obi presidency will represent, all our problems will continue.”
When I asked him if he was being harassed by the Nigerian state because of his very strong views, he smiled: “They know that I am ready for them. Most governments in this country imprisoned me. I am a jailbird. I was involved in the Awolowo treasonable felony trial. Abacha imprisoned and detained me. You remember they arrested me, they said we killed Abiola’s wife. And when we were holding a reception for Ambassador Walter Carrington in my house, they came there and broke the place… I think they have given up on me. They must be telling themselves, that old man, he will soon go.”
Besides, Adebanjo said if someone like him cannot talk about Nigeria, who else will? “I have every reason to be grateful to God. My leader – Awolowo – was only 78 years when he died. Ajasin who followed him was only 88, Adesanya who followed him was 88. My friend and colleague, Olanihun Ajayi, was 92. I will be 95 years in April 2023. Why should I not thank God? It is only the funeral dirge that I am waiting for now. If I die now and my children say, oh, the devil has done his worst, will you not laugh at them? So, anybody who is trying to attack or kill me is just wasting his time.”
Chief Adebanjo said if Nigerians failed to vote right on February 25, 2023, when the result would come, he would be enjoying himself in the grave. Those immortal words were uttered exactly two years to the day he died.
Since his death, Nigerians have been talking about how best to immortalise him. There are suggestions that national monuments be named after him. That will be great because he deserves every honour. But for a man who never aspired to any public office – elected or appointed – changing the name of ‘River Niger’ to ‘River Ayo Adebanjo’ or even ‘Aso Rock’ to ‘Ayo Adebanjo Villa’ is immaterial. The most enduring way to immortalise him is to enthrone equity, fairness and justice by restructuring Nigeria in a way that the country works for all. That is what he lived, fought and died for. That is what will make him happy wherever he is now.
Chief Ayo Adebanjo, progressive politician, elder statesman, patriot, and unarguably, a foremost nationalist regarded by many as voice of reason but no doubt a controversial politician died at 96 last Saturday. Adebanjo, who started as a Zikist in the years Dr Azikiwe ‘elezikify’ Nigerian press before embracing Awoism in 1951 ended as an enthusiast of Peter Obi, an equally gifted master of political intrigue and propaganda, lived a fulfilled life.
He was one of the last surviving nationalists. Although he might have not won all his battle for a more inclusive, fair, just and equitable Nigeria society, I am sure he will rest well realising he has been succeeded by his some of his equally talented sons including our current president who understands that the Afenifere philosophy is not about Yoruba irredentism but about how Nigeria can fulfil her destiny, by returning to the ‘path to Nigeria Progress’ never taken.
Awoism with its Afenifere-slogan (wanting the best for others as one wants for self) is an ideology propounded by Awolowo and his colleagues including Pa Adebanjo Chief Anthony Enahoro, Chief Bola Ige Chief Abraham Adesanya Sir Olaniwun Ajayi, Bishop Gbonigi, Reuben Fasoranti, Chief Alfred Rewane, etc. It celebrates public goods which find expression in free education, health, rural development welfarism and prosperity for all. Awoism, also celebrates values of federalism, regional autonomy and self-determination.
The transformation of Western Region in the First Republic to one of the most educated part of Africa within 10 years was the reason for thinking that foisting it on the rest of the country would transform the nation especially the marginalised and exploited minorities in the north and the east. Sadly, they fought and defended it for over 50 years with only scars of war from Nigerian state to show for their pains.
With the conspiracy of dominant hegemonic power and dominant Igbo ethnic group during the 1958 independence constitutional debate, the coalition of the two after independence, and the destruction of Action Group and its leaders by the coalition partners shortly after independence, the minorities that saw hope for freedom in Awoism, decided it was in their best interest to find accommodation with their overlords.
The east and the north were opposed to federalism. The former wanted a unitary system where citizens of their landlocked country would be free to thrive in other people’s land, and the latter, the feudal leaders of the north didn’t want their sense of entitlement to power in Nigeria questioned.
The collapse of the First Republic and the civil war meant diminishing relevance of Awoism. The outcome of the 1979, 83, 93, and 99 elections saw the minorities massively voting for dominant ethnic groups in their respective geo-political zones. The military backers of the unitarists and confederalists only brought more confrontation between them and Awoist ideologues misrepresented as arrogant Yoruba trying to impose their culture on the rest of the country.
This misrepresentation was widely promoted by Igbo and their northern hegemonic ruling class counterparts to delegitimize MKO Abiola’s unprecedented landslide 1993 electoral victory leading to the annulment of the most credible election in the nation’s history, the justification for imposition of the contraption called Interim National government, and the unilateral imposition of Obasanjo as Yoruba candidate who, without support of his Yoruba base, literarily climbed the palm tree from the top by winning the election.
Of course, Obasanjo known for his vindictiveness ensured the Yoruba leading lights of Awoism were humiliated after the 2003 election when all the five governors of AD progressive states were overrun by PDP with exception of Lagos’ Tinubu.
Although Pa Ayo Adebanjo is on record for thanking Tinubu for liberating Yoruba from Obasanjo, he didn’t still believe Tinubu had done enough to earn the highly coveted position of Yoruba political leader. He therefore didn’t believe even with Tinubu’s achievement, there was a need for a change of strategy. Pa Ayo Adebanjo could not stand being told he was wrong when his children proved they could on their own win vote in Yoruba land after abandoning the carcass of his AD. For him, it only got worse when his children settled for Afenifere Renewal Group.
Pa Adebanjo forgot he was dealing with a highly discriminatory voters who Awo, the sage said would not vote for you because you are Yoruba if you have no agenda that will impact positively on his life. In 2015, he crossed the red line no Yoruba leader had ever done by decreeing Yoruba must not vote for Buhari but Atiku. His directive was of course ignored.
Although he correctly predicted that Buhari would betray Tinubu, but he underestimated Tinubu’s capacity for political intrigue that often put his political opponents in disarray, ahead of his political foes. Baba moved from blunder to blunder advising Yoruba who could make an informed choice between Obi candidacy with his uninspiring legacy in Anambra, his prostituting with PDP from where he crossed over to Labour Party to harvest undeserved 94-to 95% of Igbo votes and Tinubu and his legacies in Lagos, his silent persecution under Buhari government he helped to install and his betrayal by southwest governors he mentored and brought to national attention. Tinubu who managed to win four of the Yoruba sates was not expected to do more than that among his highly discriminatory Yoruba voters.
For the 2023 election, the Hausa Fulani hegemonic ruling class and their ever-willing Igbo brides were ready to forget their differences to fight Awoism, the perceived common threat.
The Igbo threat in the event that the presidential ticket of PDP, a party they faithfully served for 21 years was not ceded to the southeast, found expression in Igbo voting massively for Peter Obi, one of their own while call for justice and fairness counted for very little among the hegemonic power in the north who believe that democracy is about group interest and therefore had no problem rallying round Atiku Abubakar.
Pa Ayo Adebanjo along with Obasanjo joined forces with Igbo leaders and the Obidients in an effort to delegitimize Tinubu’s hard-earned victory by unpatriotically attacking the integrity of INEC and the Supreme Court, two institutions critical to survival of democracy in any society. They in addition openly called for military take-over. Atiku and his supporters headed for America in search of evidence to show Tinubu did not have a degree.
Unfortunately, Pa Adebanjo forgot his Yoruba people never had leaders they could not handle. If such leaders became too powerful and could not be controlled, they would adopt the help of the talking drum while such leaders danced until they discover they dance alone albeit naked.
Yoruba’s recent history is replete with examples. There was not too long ago Ogun Oba koso, the powerful and tyrannical Alaafin of Oyo who committed suicide when he discovered he was dancing naked. We had SLA Akintola, a foremost Yoruba irredentists, a terror to the colonial masters and their preferred northern hegemonic power. Yoruba culture detests biting the finger that once fed you. Following his legal removal from office, he was accused of seeking the help of northern hegemonic feudal lords to upstage Awolowo, his principal. He literarily committed suicide when he took up arms against trained soldiers during January 1966 military coup.
There was also Uncle Bola Ige, loved by the young and the old for being an unrepentant Yoruba irredentist whose major weapon against Yoruba detractors was his caustic tongue. His decision to spite his fellow Yoruba cult of elders to take up national appointment under Obasanjo against the warning of their late leader, Obafemi Awolowo attracted the anger of his fellow elders. He was believed to have been murdered by the state following his attempt to retrace his way back to fold.
Our consolation is that Pa Adebanjo, who like his leader believed that you can only be a good Nigerian if you were first a good representative of your people, will today be comparing note with his leader in the great beyond, a task he anxiously looked up to while with us here.
I have no doubt Awo would be pleased to let him know that he is pleased that Awoism has been repackaged by someone not on the succession line, in a new language now more pleasing to the ears of those who only yesterday complained Awoism jarred their ear lobes.
Awoism, beyond service and search for an egalitarian society, is true federalism, regional autonomy, fairness and distributive justice, virtues without which any nation can progress,
And lastly, Yoruba leadership often comes from behind and seldom from the aristocratic class. Awo the sage himself never had money to attend primary or secondary school at a time his age mates were securing six A1s from Government College, Ibadan Kings College Lagos and proceeding to London to study law. Tinubu is haunted by his poor background and derided by those who could not find his name in Government College Ibadan.
The recent arrest of an Ilorin-based cleric, Abdulrahman Bello, who allegedly murdered and dismembered Ms Yetunde Lawal, a final-year student at Kwara State College of Education, in the same town has seen us doing the same things we do virtually every time the situation arises. We point accusing fingers at religion and certain sectarian beliefs, culture, society, and one another while wheeling out the squeaky machines of ethical reforms in the bid to charge ourselves to good behaviour. Religious and traditional rulers have been making routine calls for moral reforms.
According to reports, Ilorin Emir Alhaji Ibrahim Sulu-Gambari not only condemned the killing but specifically directed Islamic leaders to ensure their sermons are more pointedly focused on moral values, ethics of hard work, and respect for humanity. Indeed, such moral charges are urgent in a society where the life of a whole human—if one goes by the amount of money Bello allegedly sold the young woman’s dismembered body parts—is far cheaper than that of goats and cows.
The fantastical imagination that money can be procured out of the air rules our society with a force that propels men to do some really terrible things. That is why one cannot entirely rule out the possibility that Bello was into the so-called money rituals even though he—like most who have been arrested for the same crime—looks seriously impoverished. Every single person who has been arrested due to their claims of possessing power to make money through supernatural means always looks like they would faint if they ever saw a million naira (just naira o!) in cash laid out at their feet.
When these things happen, we never get to know anything about the apprehended killer beyond labelling them as misguided youths looking for money. There is a serious shortage of knowledge about these individuals and their circumstances that leads us to assume that this is always what they say it is. But what if these guys are bipolar and have a history of delinquent behaviour or anti-social character? For instance, if it is true that Bello has a collection of women’s property stored in his bedroom as a trophy, that might be a pointer to the nature of his psychopathy. We might be dealing with an extreme case of misogyny, a man killing a woman (or women) just to feel like a man.
In Nigeria, once we diagnose “money ritual” as the standard explanatory paradigm for a type of homicide, all judgment on what else might be at play gets suspended. We turn to ourselves and begin to preach about our materialism and how we ought to shun the path of quick wealth, sermons that will find no feet to stand on the complex grounds of Nigerian reality. How do you sincerely preach the virtues of hard work to people who have seen industry systematically diminished by the socio-political and socio-economic processes? Even our religious and traditional leaders who make the call embody the same phenomenon of wealth without work. They are also the ones who legitimise the crooked people who have managed it to build wealth.
The truth is, you do not need to “work” in the traditional sense of being productive before you can be wealthy and celebrated in present-day Nigeria. You only need to be connected to a grid of individuals whose social network allows them to access the political power that allocates resources. Nigeria is that one place where you can sleep poor and wake up stupendously rich, and that is only because you managed to get into bed with the right person. Since such magical transformation is not seen to be produced by anything tangible other than mere social connections, it acquires a spiritual character.
The yawning gap in the reality of the route it takes to become wealthy is what the likes of Bello exploit by claiming they too have the power to connect others to the source of such wealth. Since you have a moneyed class who do not produce, pretenders of various hues also claim the expertise of the charms of creating something out of nothing. That is why our society is currently swarming with snake oil merchants, charlatans, crass illiterate and self-commissioned prophets, and simonist preachers, all of them promising to help us access magical prosperity.
In all the various calls for moral reforms, nobody seems to be asking professionally trained experts in the academy and elsewhere to divine the nature of the problem we are dealing with so we can accurately direct our moral reform efforts. What if the individuals amid the various instances of the killings for so-called money rituals are just people with varying levels of mental health issues? What if much of what we call “money rituals” are just psychopathic manifestations that very much interact with our larger cultural psychology?
From the reports, it seemed self-evident that this is another case of money ritual. But certainty can also be the enemy of truth. Is there a method to the killing that suggests that there are other psychological factors at play? This is not me asking to be perversely entertained with the lurid details of a homicide, but accounting for the underlying psychology of the alleged killer.
There have been different instances of women killings that were chalked down to ritual murder. At a time, women’s corpses would be found in hotel rooms where they had been killed by a supposed paramour who lured them into those places. Knowing how our morally pretentious society reacts to the news of a woman visiting places like a hotel, some of those murders merely became avenues for sermonising to women about their virtues and the companies they ought to keep. But what if some of those killers are merely hiding behind the popular narrative of ritual murder to perpetrate other sick fantasies? We should not foreclose the possibility that some of these people are sick men who found an outlet for their proclivities through spiritual work.
In Western societies, where serial killings also take place, and where they do not have terms like “money ritual” in their vocabulary to explain seemingly senseless killings, they are more prone to exploring such delinquency more objectively. Fans of crime documentaries will readily testify to the methodical ways they approach those killings to find the killer and understand their underlying motivations. For us, it is always just “money rituals”, as if society and its people cannot also be more complicated. Part of the problem is that the police do not report a forensic investigation into these crimes. Virtually everything we get to know comes from gossipy uninformed media networks more interested in catering to sensationalism than offering clarity. But what if, in our bid to provide a moral explanation for the murders and advocate for ethical reforms, we are lumping different things into the big basket called “money ritual”?
Let me make it clear that asking for some clarity into the nature of the malady that disturbs these killers is not a call for their exoneration. The point is not to give them an alibi that allows them to walk free but to arm the observing society to speak of these things beyond the standard (and superstitious) explanations.
A correct understanding of the substance of psychopathy will go a long way in addressing how, in diagnosing money rituals, we use official means to propagate what might be objectively untrue. The trouble with making money rituals the standard explanatory paradigm is that it becomes a self-reproducing truth. There are people out there who will think there might be some truth to the whole affair and indulge in it too. They will, of course, never make any money but will take lives testing the bunkum!
Today in Abuja, ‘A Journey of Service: An Autobiography’, by General Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida, will be publicly presented. With the book coming 32 years after Babangida ‘stepped aside’ in August 1993, it means that more than 70 percent of Nigerians were not witnesses to the events in the narratives, given our young demographics. Like everything Babangida, as I wrote last August, after the publishers sent me a digital copy (planned pages) of the book while requesting for a blurb, “opinions are bound to be divided about his (Babangida’s) interpretations of some epochal events which discerning readers could argue leave more questions than answers.”
Divided into five parts and 13 chapters, the foreword by General Yakubu Gowon highlights why Babangida’s book is important. “Given the monumental and historical changes that General Babangida presided over, it is only natural that many Nigerians of different generations would be eager to learn first-hand the motivations…and the reasons behind these far-reaching decisions, and events, some of which shook the nation to its very foundation,” Gowon wrote. But the question remains: Will readers be satisfied with the explanations provided by Babangida for some of these ‘far-reaching decisions’? Perhaps the more pertinent question is: Why is Babangida publishing his memoirs now after admittedly rebuffing earlier entreaties from friends, associates and family members to ‘tell his story’? He provides an answer in the prologue. “We live in a country where primarily uninformed commentators are often the final judges of events (that) they know nothing about,” Babangida wrote. “But because I had the honour to lead a chapter in our national journey, my brief encounter with authority and responsibility may interest those with fair minds.”
The account of Babangida’s early years is quite fascinating as he weaves post-colonial political developments with historical and cultural events that shaped his growing up in what is now Niger State. He also explained why he had to change his surname from Badamosi to Babangida in January 1964 because almost everyone he encountered assumed him to be a Yoruba man! But none more revealing is the account of his life at Bida Provincial Secondary School where his classmates included Abdulsalami Abubakar, Sani Bello, Mohammed Mamman Magoro, Garba Duba, Sani Sami, Mohammed Gado Nasko and Mamman Jiya Vatsa—men who, like him, later joined the military and, at different times, held critical positions in Nigeria.
Interestingly, last Tuesday marked the 49th anniversary of the assassination of General Murtala Muhammed in the coup led by Lt Colonel Sukar Bukar Dimka. Drafted by General T.Y. Danjuma to foil Dimka’s coup, Babangida provides revealing insights on the conversation with Dimka, a friend and one of the groomsmen at his wedding (to the late Maryam) in 1969. Not only was Babangida listed among those to be killed that day but was in fact one of the reasons for the coup. Dimka reportedly told Babangida that he was a most hated military officer for being too favoured by their superiors, especially Danjuma. “How could you be a member of the Supreme Military Council?”, Babangida recounted Dimka asking him in those tense moments inside Radio Nigeria premises in Ikoyi, Lagos. But beyond the narrative of the coup, how it was foiled and the subsequent trial of culprits, Babangida also shared insights on how Danjuma (whom most officers preferred) insisted that Obasanjo, rather than him (Danjuma), should be Head of State in the meeting held to replace the assassinated Muhammed.
As an officer during the coup that toppled the First Republic, the countercoup that brought in General Gowon, the civil war that followed and the subsequent coups in which he was a direct participant, Babangida’s accounts of that era are quite profound. For instance, it was Danjuma who proposed the elevation of the late Shehu Musa Yar’Adua from the rank of Lt Colonel to Brigadier General (later, Major General) to become the Chief of Staff, Supreme Headquarters, apparently for ethno-religious balancing in the country. This speaks to the character of Danjuma who chose to be the number three man in Nigeria when he could easily have been number one. Meanwhile, six months earlier, following the overthrow of Gowon, when senior officers canvassed that Muhammed should head a collegiate leadership of himself, Obasanjo and Danjuma, he (Muhammed) rejected the idea at a meeting Babangida said lasted several hours, insisting that as Head of State, he (Muhammed) would not share power with anyone.
Expectedly, Babangida’s book details his rise to power in 1985 as a military president and the reform programmes initiated while in office. But the most consequential chapters are ‘The Challenges of Leadership’ and ‘Transition to Civil Rule and the June 12 Saga’. The issues addressed in the first (chapter ten) include the death of Dele Giwa, a personal friend with whom he spoke often on phone and met a few times; the Gideon Orkar coup that tried to divide the country; the OIC Palaver; the 1989 SAP (Structural Adjustment Programme) riots, the Nigeria Airforce C-130 plane crash involving 151 mid-career military officers and what he described as “a deep personal sense of betrayal”—the coup involving his friend, Mamman Vatsa whose execution he sanctioned.
Readers should find out his take on Dele Giwa’s assassination and other issues but on Vatsa, Babangida painted a picture of close friendship that started from childhood and how at some point in their lives they both shared a room. “We would reach out for whatever shirt was available, irrespective of whose it was, and just wear it and head out! We were that close,” Babangida wrote while explaining how he found out later that Vatsa was always jealous of his achievements. He also explained the encounters he had with Vatsa when there were rumours about the plot and the mediatory roles played by others before the coup unravelled. “Being intermediate and senior officers, they were fully aware of the consequences of planning a coup and failing,” Babangida wrote to explain why Vatsa had to die by firing squad. “That is one of the most elementary lessons every military officer knows by heart.”
Perhaps the account most Nigerians have been waiting for is that on June 12 and Babangida renders it in chapter 12. The central character in the narrative is General Sani Abacha. In fact, according to Babangida, Abacha annulled the June 12 (1993) presidential election! I leave readers to find out the details and reach their own conclusions.
From cover to cover, each page of Babangida’s memoir promised more and more insight into the military and the Nigerian state. He also highlights some of his foreign interventions, including initiating ECOMOG which helped to end the war in Liberia and Sierra Leone. And he sheds light on several domestic issues regarding his administration—convincingly in some, not so in others. He also lays the boot into a number of key players of that era, in a few cases, with innuendoes. But in a way, Babangida also knows that in the eyes of most Nigerians of a certain generation, his stewardship will forever be defined by ‘June 12’ on which he expressed regrets. “If I have to do it all over again,” he wrote, “I’d do it differently.” Sadly, in statecraft, rarely do leaders get a second chance to make a first impression.
Meanwhile, I wrote four books on that elastic transition to civil rule programme which ended with the death of Abacha. The first, ‘Fortress on Quicksand’ was on the futile efforts by 23 presidential aspirants in the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and National Republican Convention (NRC) before they were all disqualified and banned from contesting elections. The second, ‘POLITRICKS: National Assembly under Military Dictatorship’, detailed the intrigues of having a civilian legislature with Babangida as a military president. The third, ‘Abiola’s Travails’ was published to mark his (Abiola’s) 60th birthday at a period he was in detention. ‘The Last 100 Days of Abacha’ completed the series. I have combined (and edited) them into one book that will be released in June this year.
Writing a memoir—especially by those who have held leadership positions at the highest political levels—involves walking back through countless challenges and tough decisions. With his memoir, Babangida has shown proof of a retirement spent reflecting on a nation that gave him everything; and to which he gave his best, notwithstanding the ironies of history. Regardless of how some readers may perceive Babangida, his ‘Journey of Service’ provides historical context to some of the issues that dogged the administration he led. His recollections may not provide all the answers, and there are aspects many will dispute, but at least he has reopened the conversation about a troubled and troublesome era in Nigerian history.
Adebanjo’s Glorious Exit
I have had the privilege of close interactions with Afenifere leader, Chief Ayo Adebanjo for more than three decades and as I wrote in my tribute to him when he marked his 90th birthday in April 2018, he is a man of unbending conviction who neither sits on the fence nor tiptoes around issues. On Nigeria, he is a passionate advocate for restructuring the country along the federal arrangement we had in the First Republic before the military interruption. Last Saturday, we had our usual conversation in which I argued, as I always did, that as defective as the current structure may be, with good governance and a leadership that appreciates and properly manages our diversity, we can still attain peace and prosperity. But for the first time, and Adebanjo must have noticed, my argument lacked conviction so when he sounded off with his usual refrain, “Ọwọ́ yín ló dẹ̀ kù sí. Àwa ti se ti wá” (It’s now in the hands of your generation. Mine has done its best.) I had a troubling time processing our conversation thereafter…
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The foregoing is excerpted from my presentation at the annual conference of the Nigeria Union of Journalist (NUJ) Lagos Chapter where I was guest speaker on 20th October 2021. But in the weeks following that presentation, the late Adebanjo kept calling that he needed to see me. So, on 8th March 2022, I heeded that invitation by going to Lagos and returning to Abuja immediately after our session that lasted about three hours. Quite naturally, our discussion centred on the past, present and future of Nigeria. Although we kept exchanging calls until a few months ago, that happened to be the last time I saw the old man until I heard about his death last Friday. Adebanjo deserves a proper tribute from me and I will do that at the appropriate time. But for now, I join in extending my commiseration to his family. As I told his son, Segun Adebanjo, (a friend from our campus days at Ife in the late eighties) last Friday on phone, “Ẹ̀yìn bàbá ti dára.” May God comfort the family he left behind.
Between ARCON and Business Owners
Following my recent column, ‘Creating a Ganu-Si Economy’, which dwelt on how most government agencies serve as impediments to entrepreneurship, some supporters of the Advertising Regulatory Commission of Nigeria (ARCON) have written several articles in ‘response’. Although none has been sent to me, perhaps because ARCON is relying on third parties, I read them. And they all miss the point. By arguing that my friend who owns a restaurant attracted the hefty fine of N1 milion on two occasions because she circumvented the law that required payment of N15,000 fee and submission of the ‘promo’ for ARCON vetting, they make their case even worse.
In the ‘2024 Budget of Professional Bodies/Councils of Agencies Removed from the FGN Funding’, released by the Budget Office of the Federation, ARCON is number one on the list. While it projected a gross revenue of N1,096,166,050, the agency proposed a total expenditure of N3,716,582,290. With that humongous deficit of N2,620,416,240 between revenue and expenditure, one can only sympathise with ARCON for its increasing desperation. The agency has the second highest expenditure and the highest deficit of the 26 professional bodies on the list. While other professional bodies generate their revenues mainly through membership dues and align expenditure with their revenues, ARCON has had to resort to levying a tax, which it calls vetting fees, on whatever it defines as advertisement or exposure on any platform, including on the social media pages of individuals and small businesses, just to rake in money.
The fact that each message/post deemed as an advert by ARCON will attract a vetting fee says it all: this is more about revenue than about vetting. It is equally insightful that the punishment for not submitting even social media posts for clearance is 50 times the vetting fee. Equally interesting is that ARCON can threaten to arraign ‘defaulters’ before its own tribunal, which can impose fines and even jail terms. ARCON and its defenders are clearly not perturbed by the implication of such threats and taxes for big and small businesses operating in our tough environment.
The Chairman of the Presidential Committee on Fiscal Policy and Tax Reforms, Taiwo Oyedele, summed up my position last Thursday at the inaugural Economic Roundtable/2025 macroeconomic outlook event of rating firm Agusto & Co., held in Lagos. For the benefit of ARCON and its defenders, here is what Oyedele said: “Nigeria’s tax system is unconducive for growth. We are trying to grow, but we’re struggling, and the tax system is holding us down. It has plenty of taxes and taxing agencies everywhere you turn. It doesn’t matter whether you’re small or big, whether you are formal or informal; we tax anything and everything that moves. If it keeps moving, we tax it even again. We tax it even more. We’re speaking to small business owners, and one woman said something to me that I will not forget. She said that it feels like the Nigerian system and the government are feasting on businesses. And I challenge anyone who wants to do a social experiment. Just do a banner; anything that comes to mind will be tailoring. Just write it and place it by the road. Find a plastic chair, sit back about two meters away, and watch what will happen within two days. I promise you, at least five agencies will show up, from business premises to advert levy to permit. You have not even found one customer. One of my hopes and dreams for this country is that in my lifetime, you put up that banner and you receive calls from different government agencies, one asking you whether you know about credit facilities for your sector. ‘We have this capacity development for people doing your business. Would you be interested? Do you need any access to this and that?’ Let’s support ourselves to prosper…”
Those are not my words; they are the words of Oyedele who is one of the leading authorities on such matters today. And it could not have been an accident that he cited ‘advert levy’ as one of the examples of the ways government agencies make life difficult for owners of small businesses in Nigeria.
To demonstrate that ARCON has mutated into a revenue-generating agency, below are the vetting rates advertised by the agency effective 1 January 2024. It was segmented into seven categories. Under ‘Career Matters’, Exam Registration Fee will attract N10,000; Examination Late Registration Fee, N20,000; Examination Subject Fee, N15,000; Exemption Fee, N15,000; EMR, N350,000; EMR (Non-Nigerian), N1,000,000; Accreditation Fee (Higher Institution), N1,000,000. For ‘Annual Practice Fee’, Associate Member will pay, N20,000; Full Member, N30,000; Fellowship Member, N50,000 and Membership Certificate Re-Issuance, N50,000. For ‘Corporate License’, Application will attract N100,000; Fee for three years, N450,000; Consultancy, N225,000; Inspection Fee (Lagos), N200,000; Accelerated Inspection Fee (Lagos), N300,000; Inspection Fee (Outside Lagos), N300,000; Accelerated Inspection Fee (Outside Lagos), N500,000; Corporate License Re-Issuance, N100,000.
But it is clear that ARCON targets businesses to fund the bulk of its hefty budget, since advertising professionals are not that many and since it secured legislative backing to vet and tax anything featured anywhere that it describes as advertisement. For ‘Advertisement Vetting (Traditional Media)’, Regular—Brands, Political, Cause, Ideation will attract payment of N35,000. Meanwhile for Accelerated, 4 Hours, N600,000; 8 hours, N400,000 and 16 hours, N250,000. For ‘Advertisement Vetting (Online Platform)’, Regular—Brands, Political, Cause, Ideation goes for N20,000 while for Accelerated, 4 hours attracts N250,000, 8 hours, N150,000 and 16 hours, N100,000. For the ‘Vetting (SME Category)’, Regular (Brands, Political, Cause, Ideation) goes for N20,000; 8 Working Hours, N150,000; and 16 Working Hours Acceleration, N100,000. Membership of NASME certification by SMEDAN is also required. For ‘Special Category’, the rate is N1,000,000 each for Lottery, Lotto, Game; Betting, Gambling, Wager and Promotion, Raffles, Draws, with the last two subject to a 16 hours vetting window. Meanwhile, Variation (Foreign Talent) will attract N2,500,000 while Variation (Foreign Production) goes for N3,000,000.
With these steep rates, which are per advert, it is very clear that revenue generation has now become the main objective of ARCON. Regulation is just a convenient cover. By the way, I have no problem with the need for regulation in certain critical and sensitive areas of national life. But I have problems with the sweeping powers granted to an organisation like ARCON, and the danger their operations pose to entrepreneurship, economic growth and even constitutionally-guaranteed free speech in Nigeria.
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After completing my Senior Academic Fellowship at the African Studies Centre at the University of Oxford in 2023, I decided to pursue a one-year postgraduate program in Artificial Intelligence for Business at the Saïd Business School of the University of Oxford. This decision has significantly intensified my interest in AI, prompting me to author several articles on the subject.
In my piece titled "The Race for AI Supremacy," published in Thisday newspapers on May 2, 2024, I noted, “AI has emerged as a transformative force in the modern world, revolutionizing industries and reshaping economies. In the rapidly evolving AI landscape, leading nations such as the USA, China, the UK, India, the EU, and Israel have made substantial advancements in AI development. Consequently, the regulation of AI has become essential to ensure its responsible and ethical application...”.
The launch of ChatGPT by OpenAI in November 2022 positioned the USA as a clear frontrunner in the AI arena, especially alongside the major chip manufacturer, Nvidia. The foremost AI companies are primarily based in the USA. However, this status quo seems poised for a shift beginning in January 2025, when the AI community was taken by surprise with the introduction of DeepSeek, an obscure and hitherto unknown Chinese firm, and its R1 model, an Open Source platform. On the debut of DeepSeek R1 model, Nvidia lost about $500billion of its stock valuation, while the NYSE lost over 17% of its share value, ever one-day loss in the history of the Stock Market.
In the February 1st-7th 2025 edition of The Economist, it was reported that: “….DeepSeek’s origins lie in an effort to improve High-Flyer’s algorithms. In 2019 the firm invested 200million Yuan to set up a separate unit to develop its own deep-learning platform, called “High-Flyer 1”. The fund poured 1billion Yuan into the effort in 2021 in order to launch a second iteration armed with 10,000 of Nvidia’s A100 graphics- processing units. This made High-Flyer an outlier: at the time just four other firms in China held such large arsenals of powerful chips, all of which were tech giants such as Alibaba. DeepSeek was made a standalone company in 2023.
It delivered its first jolt to the market in May last year, when it released an ultra cheap chatbot based on its V2 model”.
“…DeepSeek’s new R1 model, which has shocked the West, suggests it is making progress. The company says it cost less than $6 million to train a tiny fraction of comparable models from firms such as OpenAI, maker of ChatGPT. Sam Altman, OpenAI’s boss, has called R1 “impressive”. There is also speculation that DeepSeek has trained its models by studying the results of American ones, a process known as “distillation”. OpenAI has said it has evidence that point to DeepSeek distilling its models, in violation of its terms of service”.
Such claims have been dismissed by some AI analysts, as a case of sour grapes.
I will not join that school of thoughts of those who quickly dismiss the accusations of OpenAI, neither would I lend credence to the accusations, I will rather opine that if OpenAI has any substantial evidence or proof to that effect, it should seek redress in a court of competent jurisdiction.
Now a number of non-AI people may be wondering what distillation is all about.
Let me try to explain what it is in as simplest of terms that one could.
Distillation is a powerful technique in AI design and development that allows practitioners to leverage the strengths of large models while creating more efficient alternatives. By understanding and effectively implementing the distillation process, developers can build models that maintain high accuracy while being suitable for real-world applications where computational and financial resources are a concern.
Distillation in AI design and development can be likened to a process where a smaller, more efficient model (often called a "student" model) is trained to replicate the performance of a larger, more complex model (known as the "teacher" model). This technique is especially useful in scenarios where deploying large models is impractical due to resource constraints, such as memory, computation power, or latency requirements.
Below is a detailed description of the distillation process and its various aspects:
• Understanding the Models
- Teacher Model: This is typically a large, high-capacity model (like a deep neural network) that has been trained on a specific task and achieves high performance metrics. It captures complex patterns and relationships in the data.
- Student Model: This is a smaller, more efficient model that aims to approximate the performance of the teacher model while being less resource-intensive. The student model can be a smaller neural network or a different architecture altogether.
• Data Preparation
- Dataset Selection: The dataset used for distillation should ideally be the same or similar to the one used to train the teacher model. This ensures that the student model learns from the same data distribution.
- Input Processing: Data preprocessing steps (normalization, augmentation, etc.) are applied to the input data to maintain consistency between the teacher and student models.
• Output Generation from the Teacher Model
- Soft Targets: Instead of using the hard labels (e.g., class labels) from the original dataset for training the student, the outputs (predictions) of the teacher model are used. These outputs often include probabilities for each class, which provide more nuanced information about the data distribution.
- Logits Extraction: The logits (raw output scores before applying softmax) from the teacher model can be used to generate soft targets, which provide richer information about class relationships and can help the student model generalize better.
• Training the Student Model
- Loss Function: The training process typically involves a modified loss function. A common approach is to use a combination of two losses:
- Distillation Loss: This measures how closely the student model's output matches the teacher model's soft targets. It often uses Kullback-Leibler (KL) divergence or cross-entropy loss.
- Hard Target Loss: This measures how well the student model predicts the true labels from the dataset. This is typically a standard cross-entropy loss.
- Temperature Scaling: A temperature parameter is used during the softmax computation of the teacher model's outputs. Higher temperatures soften the probability distribution, allowing the student model to learn from the relative differences between classes rather than absolute probabilities.
- Training Procedure: The student model is trained using the combined loss function, iteratively updating its weights to minimize this loss. The training process may involve techniques such as backpropagation and gradient descent.
• Evaluation and Fine-tuning
- Performance Evaluation: After training, the student model is evaluated on a validation dataset to assess its performance. Key metrics might include accuracy, precision, recall, and F1 score.
- Hyperparameter Tuning: Based on evaluation results, hyperparameters (like learning rate, batch size, etc.) can be adjusted to improve the student's performance.
- Fine-Tuning: In some cases, additional fine-tuning of the student model may be performed to further enhance its performance on specific tasks or datasets.
• Deployment
- Model Compression: The trained student model is often more compact and faster to execute than the teacher model, making it suitable for deployment in environments with limited resources, such as mobile devices or edge computing.
- Inference Optimization: Techniques like quantization and pruning can be applied to further optimize the student model for inference, reducing memory footprint and increasing speed.
• Monitoring and Iteration
- Real-World Performance Monitoring: Once deployed, the performance of the student model should be monitored in real-world applications. Any drift in data distribution or performance can necessitate re-training or further distillation.
- Iterative Improvement: The distillation process can be iteratively refined by using feedback from real-world performance, adjusting the architecture of the student model, or retraining with updated datasets.
Having briefly highlighted the AI supremacy race between the USA and China, it will be interesting to focus attention on AI development in Africa by looking the state of the subject matter in the context of Africa.
The State of AI Preparedness and Development in Africa: Challenges and Opportunities
The potential of Artificial Intelligence (AI) to transform economies and countries is immense, yet many African nations, particularly the leading economies on the continent such as Nigeria, South Africa, Morocco, Egypt, Algeria, Kenya, Ethiopia, Ivory Coast, and Rwanda, face significant challenges in their preparedness and adaptation of AI. The extreme lack of resources, infrastructural deficits, unreliable data, and inadequate computational power severely hinder the development and adoption of AI technologies on the continent. Let me delve into some of these challenges, highlights the current state of AI capabilities in these countries, and suggests how African nations can leverage their limited pool of trained professionals to drive an AI revolution. A few of the African countries, Egypt, Morocco, and Algeria may be better equipped than the others for an AI revolution, but their inputs in world AI technologies have been negligible, to say the least.
Theses are some of the Challenges to AI Development in Africa.
First; Lack of Resources:
Many African countries struggle with limited financial resources that can be allocated to AI research and development. This lack of funding affects various levels of AI initiatives, from academic research to the establishment of startups focused on AI solutions. Governments often prioritize immediate socio-economic challenges—such as healthcare, education, and infrastructure—over long-term investments in technology. As a result, AI initiatives often lack the necessary financial backing to thrive.
Secondly, Inadequate Infrastructure:
The infrastructural deficit in many African countries poses a significant barrier to AI development. Reliable electricity, high-speed internet, and modern computing facilities are prerequisites for AI research and deployment. Unfortunately, many regions still experience frequent power outages and have limited access to the internet, which hampers the ability to conduct data-intensive AI research or run complex algorithms effectively. Without a robust infrastructure, the potential for leveraging AI to address local challenges is severely diminished.
Thirdly; Data Reliability and Availability:
High-quality, reliable data is the lifeblood of AI systems. However, many African countries suffer from a lack of comprehensive data collection mechanisms, resulting in poor data quality and availability. Government databases may be underdeveloped, and private sector data collection may not be standardized or systematically managed. This lack of reliable data significantly hampers the training of AI models, which require vast amounts of high-quality data to function effectively.
Fourthly; Limited Compute Power:
AI development relies heavily on advanced computational power, often provided through powerful GPUs and cloud computing resources. Many African countries lack access to these essential technologies, limiting their ability to develop sophisticated AI algorithms and conduct meaningful research. The high costs associated with acquiring cutting-edge computing infrastructure further exacerbate these challenges, making it difficult for local researchers and startups to compete on a global scale.
Fifthly; Insufficient Support for AI Research:
The absence of a supportive ecosystem for AI research—comprising funding, mentorship, and collaboration opportunities—hinders the growth of AI capabilities. Research institutions often lack the necessary frameworks to attract and retain talent, resulting in brain drain as trained professionals migrate to countries with better opportunities. This issue is particularly pronounced in leading economies like Nigeria and South Africa, where despite having a pool of talent, the environment for research and innovation can be stifling.
How can Africa scale its AI involvement?
Leveraging Trained Professionals
Despite these challenges, Africa has a unique opportunity to capitalize on its growing number of citizens who have been trained in reputable AI research institutions and universities worldwide, such as the University of Oxford, MIT, Imperial College, Cambridge, and the University of Toronto, just to name a few. These individuals possess the skills and knowledge necessary to drive the continent's AI initiatives forward. Here are ways to leverage this talent pool:
Encouraging Return Migration:
African governments can create attractive conditions for trained professionals to return and contribute to local AI ecosystems. This could involve offering competitive salaries, research grants, and tax incentives for those who establish AI startups or collaborate with local universities and research institutes.
Building Academic Partnerships:
Collaboration between local universities and top-tier institutions abroad can facilitate knowledge transfer and create research opportunities. Programs that allow for exchange visits, joint research projects, and workshops can enhance the skill sets of local researchers and elevate the quality of AI research conducted in Africa.
Establishing AI Incubators and Hubs:
Creating innovation hubs and incubators that specifically focus on AI can foster collaboration among researchers, startups, and government agencies. These hubs can provide the necessary resources, mentorship, and networking opportunities to accelerate AI development and support the commercialization of innovative solutions.
Government Support and Policy Frameworks:
The governments of leading economies like Nigeria, South Africa, Morocco, Algeria, Kenya, and Ivory Coast must develop comprehensive policies that prioritize AI development. This includes investing in research funding, establishing regulatory frameworks that encourage innovation, and creating public-private partnerships to facilitate AI projects.
Focusing on Local Challenges:
By directing AI research towards solving local challenges—such as healthcare delivery, agriculture, security, banking & financial services, and urban planning—African nations can ensure that AI technologies are relevant and beneficial to their populations. This localized approach can also attract funding and support from international organizations and investors interested in impactful projects.
The state of AI preparedness in many African countries, particularly among the leading economies in the region is characterized by significant challenges stemming from inadequate resources, infrastructure deficits, unreliable data, and limited computational power. However, by leveraging the skills of trained professionals and fostering an environment conducive to AI research and development, these nations can position themselves at the forefront of the AI revolution. With strategic investments, supportive policies, and a focus on local challenges, Africa can harness AI to drive economic growth, enhance public services, and improve the quality of life for millions. The potential is vast, but realizing it will require concerted efforts and collaboration between governments, academia, and the private sector.
Sonny Iroche is a Senior Academic Fellow, African Studies Centre 2022-2023 and Post Graduate AI for Business Saïd Business School. University of Oxford. UK
[OPINION] Unlike Kate Henshaw, Some Nigerian Celebrities Mistake Controversy For Achievement - Isaac Asabor
AdminIn the contemporary Nigerian entertainment industry, an unsettling trend has emerged: the glorification of controversy as a means of remaining relevant. Some celebrities, either ignorantly or deliberately, believe that being constantly embroiled in controversy equates to success. This misguided ideology is fueled by the unquenchable thirst for public attention, social media engagement, and brand endorsement deals. However, the reality is that controversy, when not carefully managed, often leads to a damaging reputation, career stagnation, and, in some cases, irreparable downfall.
Given the allure of controversy, it is little wonder that the Nigerian entertainment industry is replete with celebrities who thrive on controversy. From musicians to actors, influencers, and reality TV stars, many have mastered the art of staying in the headlines through scandalous actions and statements. The rise of social media platforms such as Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok has further enabled this trend, allowing celebrities to instantly engage millions with provocative content.
Some celebrities see controversy as a surefire way to remain relevant, especially in an industry where public attention is fleeting. They stir public emotions by engaging in online feuds, making outrageous statements, or displaying socially unacceptable behavior. The resultant buzz generates clicks, shares, and comments, creating the illusion of fame and influence. In reality, this notoriety often comes at a great cost.
Unfortunately, there is a price of controversial fame, and which is damagingly costly. While controversy might bring temporary fame, it seldom leads to lasting success. In Nigeria, we have seen celebrities who were once household names fade into obscurity due to their inability to transition from scandal-driven popularity to substance-driven success. A case in point is some musicians who gained fame through provocative lyrics and gimmicks but struggled to maintain relevance when public interest shifted.
Brands and corporate organizations, which play a crucial role in the financial sustenance of celebrities, are cautious about associating with individuals who thrive on controversy. While some may leverage scandalous moments for short-term marketing, they often distance themselves when the public backlash becomes intense. The result is that these celebrities, despite their online fame, struggle to secure long-term deals and endorsements.
At the core of this issue is ignorance. Many of these celebrities do not understand that being relevant in entertainment goes beyond social media outrage. They lack the awareness that true success comes from talent, consistency, and personal brand management. A musician who invests in controversy rather than refining their artistry will soon be overtaken by those who focus on their craft. An actor who engages in endless social media drama rather than improving their skills will be left behind when the industry evolves.
Unfortunately, some of these celebrities do not realize the negative impact of their actions until it is too late. Many fail to build a solid legacy and eventually find themselves sidelined when public sentiment turns against them. Some even resort to desperate measures, such as fake scandals and publicity stunts, just to remain in the limelight.
Looking at the issue from the perspective of the role of social media and the press, it is germane to opine that social media has played a significant role in fostering this culture of controversy. With the increasing demand for content and entertainment, many blogs and media outlets thrive on sensational stories. This has created an ecosystem where celebrities feel pressured to stay relevant by any means necessary.
Moreover, the rise of clickbait journalism has further worsened the situation. Many online platforms prioritize engagement over credibility, publishing stories that sensationalize controversies involving celebrities. This cycle of controversy and media exploitation fuels the perception that remaining in the public eye, regardless of the circumstances, is a sign of success.
Rather than relying on controversy, Nigerian celebrities should focus on building lasting careers rooted in talent, discipline, and strategic brand management. There are numerous examples of Nigerian entertainers who have remained relevant for decades without resorting to controversy. These individuals have consistently delivered quality work, maintained professionalism, and cultivated strong relationships within the industry.
A prime example is Kate Henshaw, an actress who has remained relevant in Nollywood not through controversy but through talent, hard work, and professionalism. Kate Henshaw has built an enviable career by focusing on her craft, making strategic career moves, and maintaining a scandal-free public image. Her ability to reinvent herself over the years and stay at the top of her game without indulging in unnecessary drama is a testament to the fact that talent and integrity are the true determinants of success.
Similarly, Nigerian comedians such as Basketmouth and Ali Baba have stayed relevant without unnecessary drama. Their ability to evolve, create meaningful content, and maintain professionalism has ensured their continued success in an industry where many have come and gone.
It is imperative to educate upcoming entertainers on the dangers of building a career on controversy. Entertainment academies, mentorship programs, and industry stakeholders must emphasize the importance of personal branding, ethics, and professionalism. Young talents should understand that while controversy may offer temporary fame, it is not a sustainable strategy for success.
Furthermore, the media has a responsibility to promote stories that celebrate talent, innovation, and hard work rather than solely focusing on controversies. By shifting the narrative, the industry can encourage celebrities to prioritize substance over scandal.
While controversy may provide short-term attention, it is not an achievement. The ignorance of some Nigerian celebrities in mistaking controversy for success is a dangerous trend that must be addressed. True success in the entertainment industry is built on talent, consistency, and professionalism. Until celebrities begin to prioritize these values over cheap publicity, the industry will continue to witness a cycle of fleeting fame and regretful downfalls.
The time has come for Nigerian celebrities to rise above controversy and embrace meaningful engagement with their audience. In the end, history remembers those who leave a legacy of impact, not those who merely trended for the wrong reasons. Kate Henshaw remains a shining example of a celebrity who has built a lasting and respectable career through dedication, talent, and integrity, proving that real success transcends the fleeting nature of controversy.
[OPINION] Shame To Death: Ayo Adebanjo And Edwin Clarke’s Words On The Marble Will Never Be Silenced - Isaac Asabor
AdminDeath may have stolen the mortal presence of Ayo Adebanjo and Edwin Clarke, but it has failed woefully to silence their voices. These two towering figures, who dedicated their lives to speaking truth to power, left behind words that remain inscribed on the marble of Nigeria’s conscience. Their unwavering advocacy for justice, equity, and good governance continues to resonate, serving as a moral compass in a nation riddled with corruption, ethnic strife, and leadership failure. With their departure, a gaping void has been created in sincere and fearless advocacy, leaving Nigeria bereft of two of its most courageous voices.
The demise of these legendary nationalists is not just a loss to their families or political affiliates; it is a grievous wound inflicted upon the very soul of Nigeria. For decades, Adebanjo and Clarke stood firm, unyielding in their quest for a better Nigeria. Their words, bold and piercing, unsettled the corrupt and comforted the oppressed. In a country where sycophancy has become a thriving industry and many so-called activists have succumbed to the seductive embrace of power, these two men remained unbought and unbowed. Their advocacy was neither for self-enrichment nor for the fleeting applause of the public but for the collective good of all Nigerians.
To start with, the indelible mark of Ayo Adebanjo would always be remembered by posterity. Pa Adebanjo, a staunch Awoist, was a man of impeccable integrity. Throughout his political career and his time as a leader of Afenifere, the Yoruba socio-political group, he consistently stood on the side of justice. He was unapologetic in his criticism of bad governance, regardless of who was in power. His fearless denunciation of the misrule of successive governments was legendary. From the military era to the civilian dispensation, Adebanjo never wavered in calling out injustices, be it electoral fraud, economic mismanagement, or constitutional imbalance.
He advocated for true federalism, knowing that the lopsided structure of Nigeria was a recipe for perpetual discontent. He often argued that without restructuring, Nigeria would continue to grope in darkness, hamstrung by an over-centralized system that stifles progress and breeds marginalization. Unlike many of his contemporaries who compromised their principles for political expediency, Adebanjo remained steadfast, rejecting any form of inducement that could silence his voice.
With his passing, the Nigerian political landscape has lost a moral conscience. His absence is already being felt as the Lagos House of Assembly (LAHA) grapples with a leadership crisis that lacks direction, accountability, and sincerity. Who will now speak with his level of courage, experience, and moral authority? Ayo Adebanjo’s death is not just an end; it is a painful punctuation in Nigeria’s history of fearless advocacy.
Regarding Edwin Clarke, he was unarguably the Voice of the Niger Delta and Nigeria’s Conscience. If Adebanjo was the voice of the Yoruba, Edwin Clarke was the indomitable lion of the Niger Delta. A man whose life was devoted to the pursuit of justice for his people, Clarke embodied the struggle for resource control, equity, and fairness. He was a formidable critic of successive governments that exploited the Niger Delta while leaving its people in abject poverty.
For decades, Clarke raised his voice against the environmental degradation, economic deprivation, and political marginalization of the Niger Delta. He did not hesitate to confront presidents, governors, and international oil companies over their injustices. His advocacy led to several policy changes, including increased derivation funds and the creation of interventionist agencies, even though corruption later crippled many of these initiatives.
Clarke was also a nationalist in every sense of the word. While fighting for his region, he never lost sight of the broader Nigerian question. He championed the cause of true federalism, national unity, and good governance. His pen and voice never ceased to challenge impunity, corruption, and the lack of accountability among Nigeria’s leaders. His words were powerful, reverberating across ethnic and political divides, forcing the powerful to listen, even when they pretended not to.
His death has created a vacuum that is difficult to fill. The Niger Delta, and indeed Nigeria, has lost a fearless advocate, a man who could speak truth to power without fear of retribution. In an era where many voices of opposition have been co-opted, silenced, or drowned in the sea of compromise, Clarke’s unwavering stance was a beacon of hope. Without him, who will confront the exploitation of the Niger Delta? Who will remind the government of its failures in governance, resource management, and national unity?
Without a doubt, their absence since the last few days can best be described to be a tragedy. Their exit is a tragedy not just because of their mortality, but because of the widening gap in sincere advocacy they have left behind. Their passing has exposed a disturbing reality: the absence of a new generation of leaders willing to speak truth to power without fear or personal gain.
In today’s Nigeria, many self-acclaimed activists and social commentators have compromised their integrity. Some have been silenced with political appointments, others have been bought over with financial inducements, and many have been cowed by threats and intimidation. The result is a society where sycophants and opportunists dominate public discourse while genuine voices of reason are increasingly scarce.
Yet, their words remain. They may be gone, but their voices are immortal. Their speeches, interviews, and writings continue to serve as a reminder of what true advocacy looks like. Their legacies remain a template for future generations who dare to challenge power and demand accountability.
Despite their exit from the world stage, death should be ashamed because their voices speak still. Death, you have failed! You may have taken their bodies, but you have not silenced their words. Shame on you, for the words of Ayo Adebanjo and Edwin Clarke remain on the marble of Nigeria’s history, eternally speaking truth to power. Every time a leader acts against the interest of the people, their voices will rise in condemnation. Every time injustice rears its ugly head, their words will echo as a rebuke. Every time Nigeria drifts into the abyss of misrule, their legacy will serve as a reminder that some men dared to stand, speak, and fight.
The challenge now falls upon us, the living, to pick up the mantle they have left behind. We must not allow their voices to fade into oblivion. The struggle for a better Nigeria is far from over, and the battle for justice, equity, and good governance must continue. If we let fear or personal comfort silence us, we betray not only their memory but also the future of Nigeria.
As we mourn the passing of these two titans, let us not just eulogize them in words but in action. Let us embody the principles they stood for. Let us reject injustice, corruption, and the tyranny of bad leadership. Let us demand accountability and refuse to be cowed into submission.
For as long as Nigeria remains, the words of Ayo Adebanjo and Edwin Clarke will remain etched in history, speaking truth to power. And to death, we say: shame on you!
Professionally, tomes have been written or said about his significant contributions to Nigerian letters, as a consistent public intellectual of more than three decades standing. For this particular purpose, I choose to bear testimony of a slightly different dimension of the Azu enigma: a deep commitment to family values. His professional accomplishments are arguably matched by the equal success in building an adorable home, with his kids turning out excellently well.
In conversation around African culture, the art of giving is often characterised as binary. The material and the immaterial. Whereas the former consists of gifting, say, gold and silver; the latter involves the intimacy of donating, say, time.
Without denying the value of a material gift, there can, of course, be no disputing the nobility in devoting time to the pursuit of the interests of others. For, in the materialist world, we are classified either as billionaire, millionaire, simply comfortable or poor. Which means that our ability to give is contingent upon what providence has endowed us with.
But while the size of our wealth may vary individually, time is definitely a leveller of all. So, it can be seen that to give of one’s time — a resource universally fixed for everyone — is to truly give more indeed.
This is how I choose to define the essence of Azubuike Ishiekwene, a friend who sticks closer than a brother. Journalism had introduced us more than three decades ago in Lagos; first, as acquaintances, and, despite a wide age gap, we became buddies, then brothers, and collaborators. I count him among that special tribe instinctively wired and eager to volunteer of their allotted daily 24 hours often in the service of those not in the position to give anything in return.
It is often said that the factor of woman or money is the bane of friendship between two males. But for more than a quarter of a century that Azu and I became what the Yoruba classify as “kori kosun” (intimate friends), we have never quarrelled for one day. Which is a reflection of his temperance and tolerance.
I, therefore, count myself among the countless beneficiaries of his generosity of spirit, which is quite ecumenical in texture. You only need to hint Azu of a difficulty — whether professional or personal — and, in the next moment, he has everything already worked out clinically, like an oracle in terms of solution options.
Indeed, his spare frame belies an immense capacity for hard work and laser focus. Not until a dire medical warning came a few years ago did Azu, for instance, finally agree to accept a major lifestyle change: muting his phone after 10 p.m. Over the years, he had become addicted to an editor’s hazardous routine – working for 24 hours.
But regardless, with the furious force of a soldier ant, Azu still juggles a lot of things at once: business manager, columnist, writer, reporter, speaker, mentor, etc. The amazing thing is the adroitness he brings to bear on each of these responsibilities.
Even at that, he yet has this uncanny way of inserting himself into other people’s world and inheriting their battles or yokes, so to speak.
That same spirit undoubtedly led him into countless volunteer organisations like the Open Fees NGO, which is committed to putting underprivileged children through school. One of its beneficiaries happens to be Azu’s own former gateman, now in medical school. When we started National Life newspapers in 2008, I drew immeasurably from Azu’s hands-on experience as Controller at THE PUNCH.
It was in the course of similarly pushing the boundaries of “community service” that he, for instance, had met his “missing rib” in the 80s. Then, Azu was roving around the idyllic campus of UNILAG, following the proverbial “October Rush,” when he bumped onto a needy JAMBITE trying to sort out her registration. Characteristically, the “Good Samaritan” took over her burden. Thereafter, one thing led to another, and he and Rume became an item on the Akoka campus.

The rest is now history.
That same spirit undoubtedly led him into countless volunteer organisations like the Open Fees NGO, which is committed to putting underprivileged children through school. One of its beneficiaries happens to be Azu’s own former gateman, now in medical school. When we started National Life newspapers in 2008, I drew immeasurably from Azu’s hands-on experience as Controller at THE PUNCH. And for the years that I served as Information Commissioner in Edo State and had to cope with the choking pressure of office, he was my backroom booster, who would help deliver excellent papers rapidly, at no cost. I also did not have to worry much about any backstabbers in the often-treacherous media space. Azu had my back fully covered.
Maybe that has to do with his growing up in the rough and tumble of what used to be Lagos’ most iconic ghetto in the ‘70s and ‘80s — Ajegunle, where the sense of community was strong and loyalty was a religion. No wonder, one of Azu’s favourite songs is Akon’s folksy “Ghetto.”
Professionally, tomes have been written or said about his significant contributions to Nigerian letters, as a consistent public intellectual of more than three decades standing. For this particular purpose, I choose to bear testimony of a slightly different dimension of the Azu enigma: a deep commitment to family values. His professional accomplishments are arguably matched by the equal success in building an adorable home, with his kids turning out excellently well.
Suffice to add that as our friendship deepened over the years, so did our individual families become integrated. Before my own kids left home for university, “Big Mummy” (Rume) made it a point of duty to host them on weekends, from time to time, at their Magodo, Lagos, home.
By mid-2000s, frustration with ASUU’s prolonged strike eventually pushed the Ishiekwenes into pulling their first daughter, Ashioma, from University of Lagos (UNILAG) and enrolling her in a top university in the US, putting them under financial pressure. I should know. Azu and I have been involved in a lot of collaborations — both intellectual and entrepreneurial — yielding some money. Since I hadn’t started paying “serious school fees” as my kids were still in primary school in the 2000s, I invested mostly in properties. Azu’s share of whatever we made went almost entirely offshore into school fees and upkeep allowances in hard currencies. In fact, I used to tease him then as being Nigeria’s unacknowledged best authority on the black market, in terms of ascertaining the prevailing exchange rate of either the US dollar or British pound to the naira.
Happily, Ashioma earned both her first and second degrees in flying colour in Chemical Engineering. The second child, Meke, the chubbier version of the dad, studied Law in the UK, while Nkechi earned her PhD from New York university in 2024.
Before Ewan, Ese and Joshua too departed home for the university, the transition rite was never complete without a pep talk from Uncle Azu. Often mixing humour with a certain patriarchal sagacity, Azu would first praise them for excelling in their WAEC examinations and then admonish them to, when weary or tempted, always remember our sacrifices as parents and, above all, forever uphold the family’s good name, which we laboured hard to build.
From time to time, Azu never forgets to wire them money in continued expression of a shared commitment and affection. So much that his courier in the US inadvertently almost fell into bankruptcy on one occasion. The guy had mistakenly added an extra “0” to the dollar figure he sent my first son. Almost immediately, the poor guy dialled Ese’s number frantically, to no avail. Soon, I was contacted to quickly alert the boy not to assume that he had hit a jackpot.
While exchanging banters on the sidelines of the occasion that fateful day, the often-magisterial Chief Anenih chose to first blanch Azu literally, by giving him a condescending look from head to toe, before remarking with sardonic humour: “You already look so lean. By the time you people at PUNCH cough out damages to me at the court, I wonder if you’d have any flesh remaining on your bones.”
Curiously, after repeated dialling, I too could not reach Ese.
Which kind wahala be dis?!
Suspense.
It was not until after what seemed like an eternity that Azu eventually called back to announce that Ese had refunded the excess. The momentary “digital disappearance” was because Ese’s phone battery had gone flat.

God forbid thing!
That said, let it also be noted that Azu’s trademark smile however hides one thing: an immense capacity for mischief. Such that when victims of his caustic pen finally meet him in flesh, they are often left wondering if there is any pound of flesh to be exacted from him. I recall vividly a rather hilarious encounter we had with Chief Tony Anenih (of blessed memory) over two decades ago at a social event. The putative “Mr Fix It” of PDP had prior slammed a multi-billion naira libel suit on THE PUNCH over an unflattering news story. To worsen matters, all that while Azu never stopped peppering the PDP supremo in his column in SATURDAY PUNCH.
While exchanging banters on the sidelines of the occasion that fateful day, the often-magisterial Chief Anenih chose to first blanch Azu literally, by giving him a condescending look from head to toe, before remarking with sardonic humour: “You already look so lean. By the time you people at PUNCH cough out damages to me at the court, I wonder if you’d have any flesh remaining on your bones.”
We all laughed deliriously.
With Azu, it is always “yabis” unlimited, with him giving as much as he takes. In fact, he has a unique gift to make others laugh at his expense. A classic example is the recall, several years ago, of his experience during a trip to Thailand. On hearing Azu bemoan having severe body aches after a tortuous flight from Africa to Asia, his empathetic host (a fellow Nigerian) had recommended that he went for a body massage. Pronto, Azu jumped into a pair of jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, and headed for the parlour down the street.
Not until he was ushered into a dimly-lit room and a barely clothed damsel sashayed in, did Azu become conscious of the actual implication of a full body massage “with a happy ending.”
Of course, Thailand is notorious for sex tourism, which is insidiously executed through the ubiquity of “innocuous” massage parlours.
As a “Pastor”, Azu quickly did a cross sign for divine fortification against temptation on a foreign soil. Then, the young lady, scared of the prospect of losing revenue and a certain backlash from her Madam, broke down in tears.
Not to worry, Azu agreed to pay for services not rendered as a compromise that fateful night in Bangkok.
I laughed when he narrated this story to me, unwilling to be drawn into a debate as to my own possible response in the same circumstance.
Happy 60th birthday! Azu.
Louis Odion is a Fellow of the Nigerian Guild of Editors