OTHERS' VIEWS

OTHERS' VIEWS

In 1992, Kenneth Okonkwo became a household name in Nigeria when he starred in the iconic Nollywood film “Living in Bondage”. His role as Andy Okeke, a man ensnared by the dark grip of ritualistic wealth, mirrored the struggles of many who sought prosperity but found themselves shackled by forces beyond their control. Decades later, Okonkwo found himself caught in another kind of servitude, political bondage within Nigeria’s Labour Party (LP). His recent resignation from the party can be seen as his real-life liberation, echoing his on-screen redemption.

At this juncture, it is reasonable to peep into the original bondage, “Living in Bondage”. The film, Living in Bondage, was a defining moment in Nollywood history, a movie that laid the foundation for the industry’s growth. Okonkwo’s character, Andy Okeke, symbolized the desperation of many Nigerians who, in the quest for success, made perilous sacrifices. Andy’s story was one of entrapment, he was deceived into joining a cult that promised wealth in exchange for an ultimate sacrifice: his wife’s life. The price of his ambition was heavy, and his prosperity turned into torment.

However, the film’s climax offered a path to redemption. Andy, after much suffering, found salvation through divine intervention and the strength to break free from his bondage. This resolution resonated deeply with many Nigerians who saw in Andy’s struggles their own battles against societal pressures and the consequences of morally compromising choices.

 

Beyond its entertainment value, Living in Bondage served as a cautionary tale, warning against the consequences of unchecked ambition and moral compromise. It remains a reference point in Nigerian pop culture, underscoring how desperation can lead individuals into situations they later regret.

Years after Living in Bondage, Okonkwo made another fateful choice, this time, in the political arena. In the 2023 elections, he aligned himself with Peter Obi’s Labour Party, becoming a vocal advocate for the ‘Obidient’ movement. His eloquence and passion made him one of the most visible spokespersons of the party, and for a while, it seemed he had found a new purpose in fighting for a better Nigeria.

Okonkwo’s move to the Labour Party was seen as a bold statement, especially considering his previous alignment with the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC). He positioned himself as a champion of the common man, speaking out against corruption, bad governance, and systemic failures in Nigeria. Many saw his transition as a sign of political rebirth, a man finally aligning with a cause that resonated with his values and those of the Nigerian people.

 

However, as time passed, Okonkwo’s relationship with the Labour Party soured. The very ideals that attracted him to the movement began to wane as internal party politics took a turn for the worse. Labour Party, once seen as a beacon of hope for change, became embroiled in factional conflicts, corruption allegations, and ideological inconsistencies. Okonkwo, who had once fought against tyranny and oppression in his movie roles, found himself ensnared in a different kind of bondage, political servitude.

His situation mirrored Andy Okeke’s dilemma in Living in Bondage, an initial promise of prosperity and change turning into entrapment. Just as Andy realized that wealth gained through dubious means came with a price, Okonkwo came to see that the Labour Party was not the sanctuary of democratic principles he had hoped for. He became increasingly vocal about his concerns, warning of the dangers of internal discord and the betrayal of the movement’s ideals.

Just days ago, Okonkwo made a bold move, announcing his resignation from the Labour Party. In his statement, he cited a departure from the core principles that initially drew him to the movement. He declared that he was breaking free from the chains of political hypocrisy and manipulation, much like Andy Okeke did in Living in Bondage.

 

His resignation sent shockwaves through the political landscape, as he had been one of the party’s most ardent defenders. Many wondered if his departure signaled deeper problems within the Labour Party, raising questions about its ability to remain a credible alternative to the dominant political parties in Nigeria. Others saw his exit as an act of courage, a refusal to be complicit in a system that did not align with his values.

Okonkwo’s decision also sparked debate about the nature of Nigerian politics. Is true political freedom even possible in a system rife with corruption, tribalism, and self-interest? His resignation suggests that breaking free from one form of bondage often leads to another set of challenges. It remains to be seen whether he will seek another political platform or chart an entirely new course outside the party system.

Without a doubt, there are lessons from Okonkwo’s Odyssey.  The lessons can be found in his journey from theatric bondage to political bondage and now to self-declared liberation.

One of the several lessons learnt in his odyssey is that power structures are often restrictive. Whether in the world of Living in Bondage or the Nigerian political scene, those seeking power often find themselves entangled in unforeseen constraints. Okonkwo’s experience highlights the difficulty of maintaining independence within established systems.

Secondly, there is the lesson that liberation comes at a cost. In Living in Bondage, Andy Okeke had to endure suffering before finding redemption. In politics, breaking free from an oppressive system often means losing influence and platform. Okonkwo’s resignation from Labour Party is a sacrifice, but perhaps one necessary for his peace of mind.

Against the foregoing backdrop, one can opine that the Nigerian political landscape needs reform. This is as Okonkwo’s disillusionment with Labour Party is emblematic of a broader problem in Nigerian politics, parties that fail to uphold their own ideals. If a movement that prided itself on change and transparency could devolve into infighting and ideological drift, then the nation’s political structure is in dire need of reform.

 

In fact, Okonkwo’s resignation is a reminder that politicians should not cling to a party out of mere loyalty. When a party deviates from its values, individuals of integrity must make the hard choice to walk away.

At this juncture, the question begging for answer is “What’s next for Okonkwo?” The foregoing queston I no doubt pertinent as he steps away from Labour Party, and is at another crossroads. Will he join another political party, form a new movement, or focus on activism outside of traditional politics? Time will tell, but one thing is clear: he refuses to remain in bondage. His latest decision affirms that personal conviction should not be sacrificed on the altar of political loyalty.

For many Nigerians, Okonkwo’s journey is an allegory of their own struggles, aspiring for something greater but often finding themselves trapped in a system that demands compromise. Whether in politics, business, or personal pursuits, his story serves as a reminder that breaking free from any form of bondage requires courage, self-awareness, and a willingness to start anew.

 

In the end, just like Andy Okeke, Kenneth Okonkwo has declared, “I am free, I’m no more living in bondage”. 

Being the speech of His Excellency, Senator Kashim Shettima, GCON, Vice President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, at the Dr. Kayode Fayemi Commemorative Symposium and Launch of the Amandla Policy and Leadership Institute, with the theme “Renewing the Pan-African Ideal for the Changing Times: The Policy and Leadership Challenges and Opportunities,” at the Congress Hall, Transcorp Hilton Hotel, Abuja, Nigeria, on Thursday, February 6, 2025.

[Protocols]

The world has never suffered from a scarcity of ideas. Nations and civilisations have risen on the strength of visionaries, and they have also crumbled under the weight of ideas left in the dusty cupboard of time. But today, the world as we know it is bowing to a reality in which we cannot afford to be freeloading bystanders. This gathering is an acknowledgment of this dilemma, and I am honoured to join my brother and friend, a scholar-statesman of the finest breed, Dr J. Kayode Fayemi, in his mission to be an intellectual prototype for the continent.

The post-idea world is not a world without ideas—it is a world where the excuse of not knowing has expired. Emerging technologies like the Large Language Models of artificial intelligence and machine learning have shattered traditional barriers to knowledge. The answers to our most complex problems are no longer elusive; they exist at our fingertips, generated in mere seconds. The real question is no longer What should we do?—that has been answered a billion times over. The real question is Who will act? Who will rise above inertia and ensure that our ideas do not remain ink on paper, buried in symposiums and policy documents?

For centuries, Africa was plundered for its resources. For these centuries, we were mostly prophets of lamentation and despair. Today, we face an even worse risk, the risk of being plundered for our potential. This is so because the algorithms shaping global power, the AI rewriting economies, the policies dictating climate futures are being coded in distant capitals while we linger in debates over yesterdays. The post-idea world forgives no such hesitation. It rewards only those quick to translate their ideas into actions or compete with the best ideologues and scientists from other parts of the world.

Dr. Kayode and Mrs. Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi understood this, and that’s why we are here. Amandla Institute for Policy & Leadership Advancement would have been just another think-tank for empty theories and fancy talk shows if it were not the brainchild of minds that have had the privilege of fusing intellectual rigour with actionable courage. Dr. Fayemi’s legacy, from pro-democracy activism to public administration, teaches us that leadership in this era demands more than ideation. It requires the stamina to execute, the grit to dismantle barriers, and the wisdom to see the inventions of the current wave of the Industrial Revolution not as a threat, but as a tool to reclaim Africa’s agency.

It was unsurprising that when the world converged on Davos-Klosters, Switzerland, last month, for the 55th Annual Meeting of the World Economic Forum, the focus was on how we could collaborate for the intelligent age. Their 2025 Global Risks Report is a call to each policymaker to pay attention to the gathering storm about to disrupt the fragility of the world, particularly our security, climate, and economic stability. It was not alarmism to point out that Africa has the gloomiest profile. This is because, while terrorism and insurgency destabilise fragile states, global geopolitical tensions are diverting international attention and resources away from our security needs.

The reflection of Africa in the mirror is not one of hopelessness. There are a million and one ideas for every problem we see. We know what to do as climate change threatens our continent, and when extreme weather events like droughts and floods disrupt agriculture and livelihoods. We know the policy choices to prioritise to mitigate our economic instability, driven by inflation and debt crises, and we also know the historical greed and grievances that have brought us to where we are. We also know the devastation of the rise of misinformation and cyber threats, and what would happen if we don’t build public trust and the institutions to convert our hysteria about the digital age into fuel for innovative thinking.

Whatever our differences across the continent, one fact that can’t be eroded by our infighting is that we are in the age of machines, and we can’t fight our development dilemma with spears and arrows while the rest of the world is fighting the same battle with missiles and tanks. The world is not waiting for Africa to catch up. While we parse political rivalries, others parse datasets. While we litigate history, others engineer futures. The train of progress accelerates, yet too many of our leaders cling to old carriages. These are our client-state mentalities, our dependency on foreign blueprints, and our governance by hashtag activism. This is the tragedy of our time.

The founding of Amandla Institute emerges as an antidote to this paralysis. We are here not only to generate more ideas but to create executors. We need leaders who wield policy as a scalpel, not a slogan. We need visionaries who see AI as a collaborator, not a competitor. We need a generation of Africans who recognise that Pan-Africanism, renewed for this age, must be rooted in actionable sovereignty.

Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, the renaissance of this continent will not be gifted. It must be built. For too long, we’ve outsourced our thinking. For too long, we have relied on institutions and ideologies that treat us as consumers, not creators. But the post-idea world dissolves excuses. With the democratisation of knowledge, we must empower our youth to innovate in tech hubs across the continent, from Cairo, down through Nairobi, to Lagos, building unicorns without the permission of any gatekeepers. What they lack is not ideas but ecosystems—systems where policy, funding, and political will converge to scale their genius.

This is where leadership matters. Leaders must evolve from custodians of power to architects of platforms. Our imagination of Africa must be one where every government ministry houses AI strategists, where continental trade policies are drafted by homegrown think tanks like Amandla Institute, not foreign consultants, and where “Made in Africa” signifies not raw materials but algorithms, green tech, and cultural capital.

We are not here to be spectators in the post-idea world. The pace of change will not pause for Africa’s historical grievances or applaud our elegies for lost time. Regret, as the opening stanza warns, writes history in the ink of “what if.” The Amandla Institute must be a furnace where regret is melted into resolve; it must be a place that trains leaders to ask, “What will I break, build, or bet my legacy on today?” And I have no doubt that the founders are prepared for this revolution.

My candid advice for the African youth is that you are the first generation with tools to leapfrog colonial legacies. For those of us privileged to lead you through this interesting time, we must never forget that our legacy can only be sustained by the systems we institutionalise. Africa seeks collaboration, not patronage. This is the vision I expect Amandla to convey to the world. We are not a testing ground for experiments but equals in co-creating solutions.

As we honour the Fayemis, let us channel their restlessness. Let this symposium be remembered not for its eloquence but for its ignition. It’s time for Africa to stop debating ideas and start deploying them. The Amandla Institute must become a command centre for the continent, turning thinkers into doers, policies into progress, and Pan-African ideals into lived realities.

The post-idea world belongs to those who act. Africa must not see prosperity as a gift. It is a prize to be won. And to win, we must embrace the responsibility of leadership—not just in politics, but in policy, in business, in technology, in governance, and in shaping the narratives that define our place in the world.

Thank you.

•Kashim Shettima. GCON, is the vice president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria

ECOWAS is struggling to whip its wayward member States into line, but the list of leaders undermining the principles and objectives of the 15-nation West African regional economic bloc is growing.

Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger, which proclaimed themselves the Alliance of Sahel States, AES, are making every effort to quit, while Guinea, a fourth military-ruled Member State, is enduring a tardy transition programme.

While much attention is focused on these four countries, political tension is building up in at least four other ECOWAS Member States.

In Cote d’Ivoire, the next presidential election is scheduled for October this year but as happened in the run-up to the last election in 2020, there is so much uncertainty in the air. Sitting President Alassane Ouattara, 83, says he would like to continue serving his country as president, although his party has not yet decided its candidate.

With tenure elongation as a political tinderbox, Ouattara had previously said he would like to step down to give the young ones a chance but only if his old rivals would quit politics too.

If he runs in October, opponents and critics would consider it Ouattara’s fourth term bid in the ECOWAS region where third-term syndrome is a major source of political instability.

The Gambia is another ticking bomb, linked with the political ambition of President Adama Borrow, who appears laser-focused on the 2026 presidential election.

ECOWAS had to mobilise human and material resources including military assets to end the 22-year brutal dictatorship of Yahya Jammeh in January 2017 in the Gambia.

But instead of concentrating on governance or real change, President Barrow, who was inaugurated as Jammeh’s successor in Senegal because of instability in the Gambia, is still operating the same 1997 Jammeh era Constitution and pressuring ECOWAS to endorse his establishment of a Special Tribunal to try crimes committed under the Jammeh dictatorship after co-opting some of the old regime prominent figures to win re-election.

Barrow set up a Constitutional Review Commission (CRC) in 2017, which submitted a draft Constitution to him in September 2020. His government, however, jettisoned that draft document produced at great financial cost, to concentrate on his re-election in 2021.

A 2024 draft Constitution, which his opponents call the “Barrow Draft Constitution” was only presented to the Gambian Parliament in December 2024. It is expected to pass through a national referendum before another presidential election in 2026, and Barrow has already declared he would run.

This month (February 2025) is critical in the political history of two other ECOWAS member States - Guinea Bissau and Togo.
While the world's attention is focused elsewhere, Togo will hold a dubious Senatorial election on 15 February 2025.

The President of the Independent National Electoral Commission, CENI, had extended the date for the submission of candidates to 7 January 2025, in line with a government decree dated 26 December 2024, which set the senatorial elections for February 15, 2025.

Analysts have dubbed the vote Perpetuating Gnassingbé Dynasty 2025 Elections a reference to President Faure Gnassingbé’s succession of his father Gnassingbé Eyadema in 2005.

In March 2024, Togo’s parliament dominated by Faure’s ruling UNIR party, voted 87-0 to adopt a constitutional change decreed by the President that eliminates citizens’ right to vote directly for the country’s leader.

That change to a parliamentary system of government, in violation of ECOWAS protocols, also established a new powerful executive President of the Council of Ministers (PCM), to be elected by members of Parliament, and will function as a prime minister with sweeping powers.

Since the political party or coalition with the most seats in Parliament will produce the PCM, Faure is guaranteed that role going by the results of the sham legislative elections hurriedly held in April 2024 after the controversial constitutional review that gave the UNIR 108 of the 113 Parliamentary seats.

The February 15 Senatorial elections will create a new upper chamber of Togo’s legislature, with 75% of the seats elected by local authority representatives and the remainder appointed directly by the PCM.

In addition, the PCM will serve a six-year term, against the five years of the current presidency, and is renewable indefinitely.

These changes are against the spirit and letters of the ECOWAS protocols and instruments, but the Faure regime has gone unchallenged.

Little wonder Togo’s Foreign Minister Robert Dussey recently declared that his country could join the AES countries, even though President Gnassingbé, is one of the leaders mandated by ECOWAS to negotiate rapprochement with the alliance States. The suggestion could be a ploy to pre-empt any move by ECOWAS to chastise the Lome government.

As if these were not enough troubles, the President of Guinea Bissau Umaro Embalo has complicated matters for the regional organisation.

Embalo’s presidential mandate expires on 27 February 2025, but only a miracle can stop him from continuing in office beyond that date, since he has dissolved the country’s parliament for more than a year now, with the electoral commission and the Supreme Court also in comatose.

Like Faure, Embalo’s moves have also gone unchallenged by other ECOWAS leaders.

ECOWAS leaders, who undermine the organisation’s objectives and regional integration agenda without consequence are emboldened by their colleagues who fail to call them out.

This has been on for over a decade in the organisation which marks its 50th anniversary in May this year.

Given its achievements as a foremost Regional Economic Community in Africa, the authoritarian tendencies and disregard for rules by the ECOWAS black sheep, have caused more than enough damage to demand introspection and reflection on the consequences/implications of a West Africa without ECOWAS as a stabilising force.

How can the “ECOWAS of States” be transformed into an “ECOWAS of People”?

Ghana’s new President John Mahama has started well by naming a Special Envoy to the AES countries. His initiative should fit into an integrated ECOWAS effort to arrest the drift.

The Faure Gnassingbe-Senegalese President Diomaye Faye pair as ECOWAS mediators with the AES countries is not working and should be reviewed for effective results.

Before convening another emergency summit, the ongoing African Union Summit in Addis Ababa presents a cost-effective opportunity for ECOWAS leaders to put heads together on the sidelines of the continental gathering to discuss the region’s myriad security, economic and governance challenges.

The re-election of Nigeria’s Ambassador Bankole Adeoye as the AU Commissioner of Political Affairs, Peace and Security and the election of Ghana’s Ambassador Amma Twum-Amoah as Commissioner of Health, Humanitarian Affairs and Social Development, (both from West Africa), is another good development that ECOWAS can leverage on.

Also, citizens and civil society organisations in the ECOWAS region should live up to their fundamental civic responsibilities by holding rulers/leaders to account.

The axiom that power belongs to the people is not an alien concept.

For instance, without the use of kinetics or military incursion, the people of Burkina Faso ousted President Blaise Compaoré and forced him into exile in 2014.

Recently the electorates in Liberia, Senegal and Ghana also changed the governments of their countries through the ballot box and by protecting their votes.

Voters who sell their votes, or vote along primordial ethnic, tribal or religious lines, and citizens who fail to participate in politics, expecting others to pick their chestnuts from the fire only have themselves to blame.
Every country deserves the type of government it deserves.

Citizens are indispensable repositories of power in political governance. If ECOWAS leaders want ECOWAS and their countries to work, they can do so. Every country gets the type of government or leaders it deserves.

Lastly, while ECOWAS must intentionally tackle its existential challenges, the AES junta leaders should not create the impression that ECOWAS is responsible for the leadership, security and colonial problems in their countries.

Ejime is a Global Affairs Analyst and Consultant on Peace & Security, and Governance Communications

For months now, Nigerians have been groaning under the weight of relentless price hikes across essential services. From electricity tariffs to DSTV subscription fees, and now the looming 50% increase in telecom tariffs, the average citizen is being stretched beyond breaking point. This is happening in a country where fuel prices have skyrocketed due to subsidy removal, leading to increased transportation costs, which in turn have worsened food inflation. The question on everyone’s lips is: How much more can Nigerians endure?

The telecommunications industry is the latest in line to propose an upward review of service charges, citing inflation, forex scarcity, and rising operational costs. While these justifications may hold some validity, the average Nigerian consumer is not enjoying improved service quality in proportion to these increases. Call drops, network disruptions, slow internet speeds, and exorbitant data depletion remain persistent complaints among telecom users.

Similarly, the electricity sector has continued to frustrate consumers. Tariffs have increased multiple times in the past few years, yet power supply remains erratic at best. Nigerians are paying more for less, often resorting to expensive alternatives like generators to compensate for the failing grid. The recent announcement that power distribution companies (DisCos) might increase tariffs again, despite the existing inefficiencies, is a slap in the face of millions of Nigerians already grappling with economic hardship.

 

The same goes for pay-TV services like DSTV, which have revised their pricing structure upwards multiple times. Customers are now paying more, yet there is no significant improvement in programming, customer service, or access to local content. Instead, arbitrary increases are implemented with little to no consultation with consumers.

Unarguably due to the pressure resulting from unprecedented price increases across sectors, Nigerians from different walks of life have expressed their frustration over these incessant increases.

Chidi Okeke, a Lagos-based entrepreneur, lamented: “I run a small business and depend heavily on mobile data for transactions. With this new proposed telecom tariff hike, I honestly don’t know how I will cope. The internet service is already poor, and now they want to make it more expensive? It’s unfair.”

 

Aisha Bello, a secondary school teacher in Lagos, said: “The electricity bill in my area has doubled, yet we hardly get power supply. Most times, I spend extra money to fuel my generator. How does the government expect us to survive? It’s getting unbearable.”

Mrs. Funmi Adebayo, a retiree, also in Lagos, shared her struggles: “I am on a fixed pension, and every month, I have to choose between paying my DSTV subscription or buying enough food for the house. The government and service providers should be considerate. People are really suffering.”

Similarly, Sunday Eze, a commercial driver in Enugu who spoke with this writer on phone few days ago, noted: “Since fuel subsidy was removed, transport fares have increased drastically. Now food is more expensive, DSTV is more expensive, and even making a simple phone call might become costlier. What kind of life is this?”

 

In fact, there is no denying the fact that the domino effect on cost of living resulting from fuel price increase by each passing day is becoming unbearable, and killing, so to say.

The removal of fuel subsidies, though a long-debated policy, has had far-reaching consequences beyond just transportation costs. Food prices have surged uncontrollably, as farmers and traders struggle to cope with increased logistics expenses. Commuters spend more on daily transportation, making life even more unbearable for minimum-wage earners. Small and medium-scale enterprises (SMEs) that rely on fuel for operations have had to transfer costs to consumers, leading to a general increase in the cost of goods and services.

The reality is that Nigerians are being squeezed from all directions. A country already dealing with high unemployment, unstable incomes, and growing insecurity should not be subject to continuous financial strain without a corresponding increase in service efficiency and quality.

 

In fact, beyond price increases, there is an urgent need for performance-driven pricing. While businesses must remain profitable, increasing tariffs should not be the default solution. The real issue is that many service providers operate inefficiently, passing their inefficiencies onto customers rather than addressing them internally. Before contemplating price hikes, service providers should meet certain key performance indicators (KPIs) to justify additional costs.

In the telecom sector, network operators should focus on improving connectivity, reducing call drop rates, and enhancing data efficiency. Nigerians should not be subjected to high rates while experiencing slow internet speeds and unresponsive customer service.

In the electricity sector, the power sector should be held accountable for its service delivery. DisCos should fix transmission issues, minimize technical losses, and ensure stable supply before introducing another tariff hike. The federal government must also ensure metering is widespread so that consumers are not extorted through estimated billing.

 

Given the foregoing backdrop, it is not a misnomer to suggest that Pay-TV Service providers, such as DSTV and other digital television service providers should revise their pricing strategies to accommodate the economic realities of their subscribers. Options like pay-as-you-go billing should be introduced rather than locking customers into rigid monthly subscriptions.

Concerning fuel and energy sector, the government and regulatory agencies should prioritize alternative energy investments, such as solar and gas-powered solutions, to reduce dependency on petrol and diesel. By doing so, businesses and individuals can find cost-effective alternatives instead of bearing the full brunt of fluctuating fuel prices.

One of the major gaps in Nigeria’s economic framework is weak consumer protection. Regulatory bodies such as the Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC), the Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission (NERC), and the Federal Competition and Consumer Protection Commission (FCCPC) need to be more proactive in ensuring that price hikes are justified and that consumers receive value for money.

 

Policymakers must also prioritize economic relief measures. Beyond palliatives, there should be deliberate efforts to stabilize the economy, control inflation, and create an enabling environment for businesses to thrive without shifting all operational burdens to consumers.

Without much ado, Nigerians deserve better. The frustration among Nigerians is understandable. It is not just about tariff increments but the lack of accountability and empathy from service providers. The Nigerian consumer deserves better. If prices must go up, services must significantly improve. Government agencies and regulatory bodies must do more than approve hikes; they must enforce quality assurance.

Nigerians have shown remarkable resilience over the years, but resilience should not be mistaken for endurance of perpetual suffering. It is time for businesses and policymakers to rethink their approach. Tariffs can increase if necessary, but they must come with commensurate improvements in service delivery. Anything less is daylight robbery.

Even after Pastor Enoch Adeboye had distanced himself from the arrest of a TikToker who disrespected him Olumide Ogunsanwo (SeaKing), the church PR unit still put out a notice overriding him. The church claimed that Pastor Adeboye weighed in before the video was reviewed. After watching it, they think, “It has become necessary to allow the law to take its course.” I will not pretend to know how the church’s PR unit runs, but this is one of the instances in which wisdom would have been profitable to direct them regarding their public communication.

From the clumsy wording of their statement, one is unsure which video they said had not been reviewed when their pastor commented on it. Was it the original one by Ogunsanwo or the Concerned Christian Youth Forum that stated why they got him arrested? Either way, saying their G.O. spoke out of turn is unbecoming. However, that was not the only part of their statement that was poorly thought out. Also, saying the law should take its course on a spurious issue such as this is merely hiding behind a needle. It is, in fact, what moral cowardice looks like.

Even a child in Nigeria knows that no law anywhere fully defines our lives. What we call the law is mostly a bunch of suggestions enforced based on the contingent circumstances. The “law” can easily be set aside if certain characters with money and influence want it. Just recently a legal luminary announced he—and unilaterally too—instructed his lawyers to instruct the police to withdraw a criminal case from the court. That is how the police are remote-controlled by small men with big egos who will pursue a random social media user over comments they should be too important to notice.

Sometimes you wonder why the countries that invented these social media networks do not have incidents of billionaires, pastors, CEOs, politicians, public officials, lawyers, religious organisations, etc., convulsing over online insults. How come their police are not jobless enough to drive across multiple state lines to arrest people over online comments and incarcerate them until some big man instructs otherwise?

 

Nigeria’s supposed elites can afford to be petty because of the nature of our laws and the defective policing system. The police in Nigeria are not—and we can argue that they have never been either—an autonomous agency that carries out its constitutionally stipulated duty with detached professionalism. They are mostly errand boys for the rich and powerful, and therefore largely shorn of principled competence. Things have grown worse with the current IG Kayode Egbetokun, under whose watch a record number of abuses are being perpetrated by the police. They have always been abusive and oppressive, but under Egbetokun, they have elevated pursuing social media commentators into a defining agenda. Part of the problem, I suspect, is that Egbetokun is overcompensating for the insecurity of being branded an “illegal IG” and cannot rein in the sadistic officers under his watch. His illegitimacy makes him cover his appearance of weakness with needless brutality. His legacy will be that he oversaw an era where the police took their institutionalisation of injustice to stratospheric levels.

The only reason that Ogunsanwo was arrested and detained was because some people who could influence the police decided to flex their power.  What law was the RCCG referring to that had become necessary to be enforced? No law anywhere stops us from disrespecting our elders. Respect is a cultural norm, an ethical requirement necessary for a society to function, but there are no legal obligations to accord them to anyone by default. Even Jesus Christ called Herod a “fox”. If it were present society, some people would have been yelling that Jesus should have respected constituted authority. Jesus routinely criticised the Pharisees and Sadducees, the religious leaders, intellectuals, and elders of his time. If someone does the same on TikTok today, people like VDM would jump out and criticise them. What exactly have eyes not seen before?

 

I hope the RCCG learns a lesson from this and, going forward, knows what it can afford to do or not as arguably the largest Pentecostal denomination in Nigeria. As a church, it owes it to the public to always project higher ethical standards in its conduct and public communication. If the worldly standard is for those with social clout to subject critics to an unjust system of punishment to satisfy their ego, the church must act differently—and better. You are not called to be the same as the world; you are supposed to project higher moral standards. It is not for nothing that Jesus envisioned the church to be a city set on a hill.

Here is what I think is the problem: for far too long, Christians have openly rued how Muslims get away with using violence to settle scores when they feel disrespected. I suppose copying that same propensity to demonstrate power is what drove the Concerned Christian Youth Forum to try and enforce respect “legally” by subjecting a critic to police abuse while vowing to hunt down more. The RCCG’s press statement gave them away as supportive of such initiatives to deter the others who have turned frequent criticism of its G.O. into content-making. Unfortunately, that is a path that is not only unsustainable but also diminishing.

They ought to know that as they grow into a formidable institution, they will naturally attract a lot more anti-establishment sentiment. Their response should not be to outsource their responses to gbàrànmídelérù initiatives like Concerned Christian Youth Forum who will do the dirty work of beating up critics while, like Pontious Pilate who washed his hands off the crime for which he was morally culpable, they pretend it is simply the law doing its thing. If they see themselves as a church organization that will still exist in another 100 years, then they ought to think and act long-term in their approaches to issues like this. They should take cues from centuries-old churches like the Catholic Church that has maintained their institutional dignity in the face of relentless criticism from all sides. Imagine a world where the Pope uses the police to chase down his social media critics.

The RCCG should act with similar self-regard and set aside pushing silly correspondences to the public. They are not the first church that will be criticized, and they are not going to be the last. Powerful religious organizations routinely face scrutiny, and they absorb some of the severe criticisms. I am not talking about simple observations lobbed from the corner of a bedroom by a TikToker wielding a Tekno phone, but critical attacks from formidable cultural organizations who take on churches on aspects of their doctrine. Do those churches fold up and die? No. When they respond, they do not fly into a rage. They project the ideals of Christian ethics and intellectualism.

If the RCCG cannot handle just one TikToker, then what hope is there for them that they would know what to do if someone ever writes a popular book about them like Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code did with the Catholic Church? What if someone makes a popular show that criticizes their doctrines like The Book of Mormon did with the Latter-Day Saints (the Mormon Church? The Latter-Day Saints first baulked, then turned the popular satire into a promotional tool for their church. It would have been a mess and a missed opportunity if they had chosen to arrest the artist.

The RCCG has a university, a structure from where they can build an intellectual agenda to defend what is best about them (and restructure their shortcomings). Instead of abridging possibilities by taking the shortcut of violence, they should invest in creating their own apologists—people trained in cultural studies/theology who can project the positive side of them to the world to balance the negative narratives about them. That strategy will take exposing their people to the best education, polishing them until they are equipped to push back at their critics with intelligence.

 

The Advertising Regulatory Council of Nigeria, ARCON, has been in the news recently over the N1 million violation fee it slammed on a restaurateur who violated Article 148 (b) of its Act. Reading the umbrage against the regulatory agency from certain quarters, what comes to mind is Chimamanda Adichie’s admonition in her October 7, 2009 TED talk on the danger of a single story.

The single story of a N1 million fine has achieved the primary purpose of leading people to develop prejudiced ideas about ARCON as a government agency that stifles and ultimately ruins businesses, particularly small and medium scale enterprises. But nothing could be farther from the truth. Granted, a N1 million fine is steep but it is a punishment for an infraction that, ironically, demands only a N15,000 compliance levy. So, the steepness of the fine is deliberate – to serve as a deterrent to those who run afoul of the law.

Article 148 (b) of the Act states that any person who sponsors or benefits from an advertisement without proper authorisation from ARCON, including the exposure of unauthorised advertising, is liable for a fine. The Act, which became operational on June 27, 2022, clearly states that notwithstanding the provisions in any other Act, ARCON has the exclusive power “to determine, pronounce upon, administer, monitor and enforce compliance by persons and organisations on matters relating to advertisements, advertising, and marketing communication in Nigeria, whether of a general or specific nature.”

 
 

Not only that, the primary goal of the ARCON Act was “to establish a regulatory framework for the Nigerian advertising, advertisement and marketing communications industry and for this purpose to create an effective, impartial and independent regulatory authority; ensure that all advertisement exposed and directed at the Nigerian market is legal, decent, honest, truthful, respectful, and mindful of… Nigerian culture, constitutional tenets and relevant lawful enactments; prepared with high sense of social responsibility, devoid of misinformation or disinformation in advertising and marketing communication; promote and encourage local content whilst entrenching best practices in the advertising industry in Nigeria.”

The law requires that all advert materials are handed in for vetting beforehand, which attracts N15,000 fee — a nominal charge that covers administrative costs associated with reviewing the content. The review serves common good. For instance, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, FDA, mandates pre-clearance for pharmaceutical advertisements to ensure claims about drugs are scientifically validated. The idea is to deter would-be offenders and by so doing, the system has been credited with preventing the exposure of 45 misleading drug advertisements to the public.

So, the single story which paints the picture of ARCON as an obtuse government agency, asphyxiating small businesses that are already on life support because of harsh economic environment with excessive fees is misleading.

And a regulated advertising space where sanctions are meted out to offenders is not peculiar to Nigeria. For instance, those in breach of advertising regulations in the United Kingdom risk fines as high as £500,000. It is even higher in the U.S. where breaches attract multimillion-dollar fines.

So, while the highly nuanced narrative of a restaurateur being asked to pay within seven days a violation fee of N1 million for posting about her restaurant on Instagram “without the vetting and approval certificate of the Advertising Standards Panel,” may be seductive to the uninitiated, the truth remains that such a narrative does not paint the whole picture. And the idea that the imposition of fine portrays ARCON officials as scavengers trivializes the matter.

If the argument is on the medium of advertisement, well, in this era of digital marketing, advertisement has migrated online. In 2005, Microsoft founder Bill Gates predicted that the Internet would attract $30 billion in advertising revenue annually within the next five years. But he was remarkably off the mark because barely three years thence, internet advertising leapt to $40 billion, and by 2010, it had grown to $80 billion. It was such a seismic shift that according to current market data, the value of online advertising globally in 2024 was projected at nearly $796 billion. This signifies a substantial growth in digital advertising spending, demonstrating the increasing reliance of businesses on online platforms to reach their target audiences. So, it does not matter whether the advertisement is on Tiktok or Instagram.

It will be understandable if the argument is for a reduction in the vetting fee paid by small businesses in advertising promotional materials. But to argue, as some are doing, that there is no need to vet such materials is self-serving because advertising regulation is not just a bureaucratic exercise, it is an essential mechanism for protecting consumers from misleading claims, financial scams, and public health hazards.

Globally, regulatory frameworks exist to ensure that advertisements uphold truth, transparency, and consumer safety, and no country leaves advertising unregulated because right advertising frameworks are foundational to consumer trust, market stability, and economic growth.

In the United States, the Federal Trade Commission, FTC, enforces stringent guidelines on truth-in-advertising, and has been protecting consumers for over 100 years. For instance, in 2022, the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, SEC, fined Kim Kardashian $1.26 million for promoting a crypto currency token on Instagram without going through the statutory processes and disclosing that she was paid $250,000 for the endorsement.

The United Kingdom’s Advertising Standards Authority, ASA, employs a hybrid regulatory model. While broadcast advertisements undergo pre-exposure vetting, digital and print ads are monitored post-publication, with penalties for violations. The ASA’s “CAP Code” requires all advertisments to be “legal, decent, honest, and truthful,” with fines reaching £500,000 for repeat offenders. Such regulations also abound in Europe. The idea is to protect the public from the unethical machinations of unscrupulous businessmen driven solely by quest for profit maximization.

Nigeria cannot be an exception. The need for a regulated advertising space cannot be overemphasized, taking into cognizance the country’s delicate socio-cultural and even economic sensitivities.

In a country where debilitating primordial sentiments, particularly of the religious hue, is an ever-present ticking bomb, the 2022 Sterling Bank Easter advert, which drew an insane comparison between Jesus rising from the grave and the in-oven rising of “Agege Bread” nearly set the country ablaze. Similarly, the 2024 Federal Inland Revenue Services, FIRS, advert – Christ Paid for Sins, Not Taxes – was another thoughtless advertising gimmick. Last December, a banner displayed at the gate of the Lekki Central Mosque in Lagos, with the inscription, “Jesus Christ is not God. He is a Prophet and Messenger of God!” almost set the State ablaze.

Granted, ARCON doused the sectarian fire these unhinged adverts provoked before it could gain traction and snowball into national crisis, but even at that, that was only because Christians were at the receiving end. Imagine what would have happened if the joke was on Muslims.

But all that could have been avoided if the materials were sent to ARCON for vetting as required by law. Such adverts wouldn’t have seen the light of the day. Viewed from this prism, advert regulation is a national security imperative which should not be trifled with.

Is the ARCON Act perfect? Not exactly. Which means that it could be tinkered with if need be without sacrificing its essence on the altar of the unbridled petulance of an entitled few. But to suggest as some people are doing that it should be discarded wholesale is tantamount to throwing away the baby with the bath water. That will serve no useful purpose. What needs to be done is a more robust stakeholders’ engagement and to ensure that it does not become a tool for vendetta – business, political or otherwise.

The worst possible outcome of the 2023 presidential election would have been an Atiku Abubakar victory. That would have established such a bad and dangerous precedent, causing serious damage to Nigeria’s unity and worsening the country’s already problematic management of diversity.

Atiku ran for the PDP presidential ticket on the basis that only a northern candidate could win. It was not a subtle campaign but a full-throated one, in which Atiku and Aminu Tambuwal, as well as their associates such as Raymond Dokpesi, went on national TV to cite controversial population dynamics as the reason only a northerner could win the presidency.

The naiveté displayed by these men, who ordinarily should be considered seasoned political strategists because of the positions and offices they had occupied, was outstanding. It was a clear misreading of the Nigerian political system, or even worse, an exhibition of ignorance of the country’s political behaviour and demographics. But, apparently, the desperation to win the PDP’s presidential ticket and check the ambitious and cash-flushed Wike clouded their judgment, making them push a line of reasoning that was not only wrong but clearly against their own long-term interest.

This ‘only a northerner can win’ campaign was so steep that it also impacted the rival APC. I was a strategist for the campaign of a southern presidential aspirant in the APC, and one of our notable challenges was the growing narrative that only a person from the north could win the general election, especially if the PDP elected a northern Presidential candidate.

 

The argument seemed silly and easily dismissible considering Nigeria’s plural demographics, voting behaviour, and the presidential election results since 1999. But even in casual conversations, one could tell that the narrative was gaining ground, and soon there was chatter of a plot in the Villa to ensure that a northerner emerged as the APC presidential candidate, to make it an all-north final—Atiku in the PDP and the northerner to emerge in the APC.

I wrote an article at that time to repudiate this argument and to call out Atiku for his myopia. My point was that the framers of the 1999 constitution made it impossible for anyone to emerge as President without substantial investments and support from the other regions. That is why regional parties in the mould of Obafemi Awolowo’s UPN and Nnamdi Azikiwe’s NPP have not succeeded in the 4th Republic. To be a successful presidential candidate, one needs a broad coalition straddling both the North and South.

I noted that such an insular mindset made Muhammadu Buhari a serial loser of presidential elections until he formed an extensive coalition of leading northern and southern politicians. I also pointed out that southern candidates, Goodluck Jonathan and Olusegun Obasanjo, had won the presidency handily in the past through such political alliances. In any case, I argued, assuming Atiku was right that the population of the north gave it such a superior advantage that political parties were compelled to field only northerners to ensure victory, did it mean that northerners would rule Nigeria in perpetuity?

 

Of course, the results of the 2023 presidential election confirmed my arguments and put a lie to this line of reasoning. Atiku’s PDP, expectedly, performed poorly in the South, losing its strongholds of the South-South and South-East to Peter Obi’s LP. Even in the North, he only won nine out of a possible 19 states, which was insufficient to put him ahead in the presidential race. But imagine he had come out on top despite his alienating campaign against southern demographics. That would have disrupted the gentleman’s arrangement for power to move from one zone to another and validated the argument that political parties don’t have to broaden their outlook to win.

As the opposition rallies towards the 2027 elections, it is necessary to draw attention to the PDP’s error of 2023. The narrow messaging of Atiku, Tambuwal and co cost the party its southern support base, making it impossible for the PDP to win. The emerging coalition must therefore be wary of the inclination of some politicians to mask personal ambition as the group’s own and thereby foist an image on it that is narrow, alienating and limiting.

That was the PDP’s fatal undoing in 2023, diminishing from a national party with a support base sufficiently spread across the country to Atiku’s personal electioneering vehicle that pandered to a limited demographic. The drivers of the new coalition must therefore insist that it remains broad-based, drawing strength from its plurality and diversity, like the APC did in 2013 when it was formed. Anything short of that would be Nunc Dimittis, a funeral for a stillborn, rather than the building of a people-owned political party capable of rescuing the country.

Many years ago, when my son was completing paperwork for a job with the Lagos State government, he was required to fill out a form that included his State of Origin. He paused.

It had been marked a compulsory field, and he wanted to know if not filling it would affect his chances. I said it would. He replied that he wouldn’t fill it, even if it meant losing the job. It didn’t make sense to him that his chances might come down solely not to his competence, merit, or the fact that he was born in Lagos, where he has resided all his life – but to the state where he is from.

He didn’t fill it and didn’t get the job, though I cannot remember if there were other reasons. Nigeria is the only country I know where a citizen or resident is compulsorily required to fill out their state of origin and local government and provide details of their forbears to the fourth and fifth generation as a basis for getting a job or contract.

In the beginning

It’s mainly a public sector thing – the sector that has been our blessing and bane. In its original form, “state representation,” apart from being a core unit of the federation, was also supposed to be a form of affirmative action. It was supposed to be a tool to encourage fair representation and protection, especially for ethnic minorities. The colonial government laid the foundation with the Sir Henry Willink Commission in 1957 to examine the agitation of minorities on the eve of Nigeria’s independence.

But like all good things politicians touch, they have managed to debase it. It’s convenient to argue that it was not politicians but the military that started it. States have been created five times since former Head of State General Yakubu Gowon created 12 from the four regions in 1967 to weaken Biafra.

But Gowon did it at the behest of politicians, as has every other military leader after him, including military President Ibrahim Babangida, who loved it so much he did it twice.

Growing obsession

Nigeria has since grown from 12 to 36 states. Former Head of State General Sani Abacha delivered the last set of sextuplets of states in 1996. Yet, the urge for more has not only become a national pastime. It is perhaps the next single biggest obsession of politicians after “budget padding”, a practice that permits lawmakers to inflate the annual appropriation bill to gratify themselves.

All 10 National Assemblies since 1999 have never failed to mention and pursue the creation of more states. Committees on state creation have travelled the country at substantial public expense, selling new states as the snake oil to “marginalised” communities.

At the end of such jamborees, including the collection of tonnes of memos that only feed the public a false hope, the politicians leave expectant communities high and dry until the following memo collection by a new set of politicians who lie to themselves that state creation is the medicine for social injustice. Not exactly true.

Not a joking matter

State creation is a serious business. For example, the request for a new state in Nigeria must be supported by at least two-thirds of the representatives from the area, from the councils to the state and National Assembly.

That’s the first step. After that, it must undergo a referendum that must be ratified by a simple majority of all the states in the federation and by a simple majority of members of the National Assembly. Military governments in the country created states without much resistance because of their unitary command and control structure. Even at that, deadly disputes among splintered states lingered and still linger on for years.

The assets-sharing dispute between Kano and Jigawa States lasted 18 years, while the boundary dispute between Cross River and Akwa Ibom continues after 38 years, with many lives lost. The Oyo-Osun post-state creation clashes rank high on the violent dispute ladder, stoking agitation for the creation of the New Oyo State. The case between Bauchi and Plateau remained a low-intensity dispute that later morphed into ethnoreligious clashes.

States abroad

It’s not for nothing that none of the world’s most prominent federations, such as India, the US, Canada, or Brazil, has created a new state in the last 50 years. This is not because of a lack of demand or because these countries have no ethnic minorities who feel endangered. Instead, they are evolving ways of managing their diversity that reduce the salience of statism as a basis for social justice, such as prioritising merit and competence.  

Agitation for more states remains a recurring problem in Nigeria because politicians have managed to frame it as perhaps the most viable route to development – the channel connecting neglected communities to Abuja’s drunken sailors.

Many governors have praised state creation not necessarily for the opportunities they have created from the exercise by looking inwards but because of their access to Abuja’s monthly pie. For being a state, however miserably governed, Nigerian states are entitled to 26.72 percent of the monthly revenue from the federation account, which can run into billions of naira. Among politicians, the lust for a share of this pie or monthly allocation is at the heart of the relentless demand for new states.

Making it 67?

The House of Representatives’ bill to create 31 additional states to bring the number to 67 is a joke. As far as demands for new states go, the most rigorous effort in the last 20 years was in 2014, when President Goodluck Jonathan’s government set up the National Conference to discuss mainly structural issues facing the country.

The conference recommended 18 additional states to bring the number to 54. The main arguments were the arbitrariness in previous exercises by the military. In the case of the South East, the point was made that the region has remained maliciously underserved in political representation, making it look like a continuation of Nigeria’s Civil War by other means.

A fundamental difference between the conference’s recommendation and others before and after it is the suggestion for six equipotent zones (with the same number of states), which would form the basis of the federating units with the centre. The conference further recommended that each zone could create more states if it deemed desirable and could finance it.

An unlikely adventure

There was no final agreement. “My experience at the conference,” Chief Ajibola Ogunshola, one of the members representing the South West, wrote in a paper in 2017, “suggests that it is highly unlikely that the establishment of zonal governments now or in the near future can be achieved through voluntary, peaceful negotiations.”

It’s even more unlikely now that the Federal Government is almost broke and only four of the 36 existing states are solvent. A 2023 report by the public sector transparency watchdog, BudgIT, said 32 states relied on Federal Allocation for at least 55 percent of their monthly revenue.

What matters

Are politicians genuinely interested in social justice, inclusiveness and development for their communities? They must look beyond the random creation of new states, quotas, privileges and other forms of affirmative action, often a disincentive to merit, resourcefulness and innovation.

States are not in short supply, yet because of primordial greed, the campaign for more will not abate until each of Nigeria’s 350 ethnic nationalities has one. Politicians know the difference between greed and necessity but will not dare to make the right choice. They earn a living by feeding their communities false hope.

The Managing Director of the Financial Derivatives Company Limited (FDC), Mr. Bismarck Rewane, likened Nigeria to a morgue of abandoned projects last week. He could not have been more apt. “Easy to start and easier to kill,” was Rewane’s way of describing the way public policies and mega projects are initiated in Nigeria before they are then abandoned. He said the novel idea of highway concessioning has become a nightmare that stalls “N11.54 trillion in private investment” in the country. Instructively, Rewane’s intervention came on the same day ‘LEADERSHIP’ newspaper published a report on how infrastructural projects worth hundreds of billions of naira have been abandoned by past and current governors in no fewer than 29 of the 36 states.

While interested readers can access the report, (https://leadership.ng/29-states-abandon-270-multi-billion-naira-projects/), the issue of abandoned projects and the implications for the future of our country is one I have addressed on this page several times. My last intervention, ‘Squandermania Nigeria Unlimited’ on 15th September 2022, followed a report credited to then Nigerian Maritime Administration and Safety Agency (NIMASA) Director-General, Bashir Jamoh, that years after taking delivery of a floating dock constructed with the whooping sum of N50 billion (about N500 billion by today’s exchange rate), it had not been put to use due to bureaucratic bottlenecks. “Now, as we are talking, I am just coming back from Abuja to get the consent and agreement of the people that will give us the location where we can place the floating dock. Up till now, we have not got a location,” Jamoh lamented. “And then, the other thing is that it has been there since 2018, nobody has worked on it, started it or tested it.”

Considering what I discovered yesterday about that scandalous floating dock affair, I want to excerpt from the column before making my concluding point:

============================================================== 

Dry docking is a term used when the ship is brought to dry land for submerged sections to be repaired, cleaned or inspected. There are only three functioning shipyards in Nigeria where minimal repairs of cabotage vessels of 500 tonnes are carried out. Two of these—Starzs Shipyard and Niger Benue Shipyard—are privately owned. The other, Nigerdock Limited, was originally 100 per cent owned by the federal government but was privatized following the demise of the Nigerian National Shipping Line (NNSL). That story is already well-documented.  

At its peak, Nigerdock had 29 vessels. Today, Nigeria’s flag administration is essentially dead and we no longer have a single ocean-going vessel. Our shipyards can barely repair cabotage vessels, forcing international shipping companies to other smaller African countries in order to retain their safety classification and insurance, as specified by the International Maritime Organisation (IMO). In fact, we currently depend on Ghana, Senegal, South Africa etc. to dry-dock all ocean-going vessels doing business in Nigerian waters. That explains why it’s almost criminal that a prime asset (measuring 125 metres by 35 metres, with three in-built cranes, transformers, and a number of ancillary facilities) meant to fill that gap could be allowed to waste for years. Now marooned at a Naval Dockyard, the floating dry Dock was envisioned to, and has capacity for, employing hundreds of Nigerians. It would also have served as a hub to train students in our Maritime tertiary institutions. 

For those who may not be conversant with maritime matters, ships are required to dry dock at least twice every five years to retain their seaworthiness. With an average of 5,000 ships calling on our ports annually, in addition to 400 active coastal vessels and several fishing trawlers, it is estimated that Nigeria could save up to N350 billion annually (more than a trillion Naira in today’s value) while also earning millions of dollars in the process. The maritime sector, like the oil and gas industry, holds considerable prospects for the development of our economy. But it is also being grossly mismanaged. Meanwhile, it costs more than $1million to tow vessels out of Nigeria for repairs when the cost of dry-docking itself (for which the floating dry dock was conceived) is approximately $400,000. This is a compelling story of lost opportunity, not to mention the cost of doing business in Nigeria. Of course, it is not surprising that we have ended up in this situation because those who conceive and execute projects in our country are usually more concerned about transactional details that benefit them than the more important consideration of public good.  

From my investigation, this story began on 23rd October 2013 under President Goodluck Jonathan when the Federal Executive Council (FEC) approved the contract for the “Construction of Ship Building Facility and Dockyard: Maritime Equipment and Structures, Ancillary Buildings and Electro-Mechanical Works and Facilities (Package 1) at Okerenkoko, Delta State for the sum of N40,243,702,763.38.” The contract period was 36 months effective from the date of receiving the first payment of 15 per cent mobilisation which translated to N6,036,555,414.49. “The balance payment shall be based upon the following modes: 65 per cent of the total contract sum shall be paid by irrevocable confirmed Letters of Credit (LC) to enable your Company import heavy duty equipment required for the project which includes Water Treatment Pipes; Powerhouse and Services; Travel Lift; Landing Modular Jetties; Modular Floating Dock and Cradle Set; and Quay Crane…”   

If we consider that the exchange rate in 2013 was N159 to a dollar, it is easy to understand the current value of this project, especially as it was paid in dollars. I have no idea why the contract exceeded its timeframe by more than a year or the rationale for increasing the cost by 25 percent. But on 29th May 2018, the company wrote to notify NIMASA that “following successful inspections by Manufacturer (Damen Shipyards), Lloyds officials, Debaj Engineering Company ltd (NIMASA consultants), the Modular Floating Dock (MFDd NIMASA, IMO 9785639) is heading to Lagos, Nigeria as per the communicated program of works and our previous notification letter.”   

After highlighting other technical details, the company then listed pending operational matters: “We kindly request NIMASA to notify the concern (sic) authorities regarding the arrival of OSPREY and the offloading of MFDd NIMASA in Lagos. We kindly request a resolution of the subject of location including access to the proposed site in Apapa, Lagos in order to proceed with civil and mechanical works for the mooring of the Floating Dock. Also be reminded that the existing old and faulty NPA floating dock should be moved/relocated in order to allow mooring of the new NIMASA Modular Floating dock; Registration of the Nigeria Flag for MFDd NIMASA, IMO 9785639; Obtaining waiver of custom duties for the modular floating dock and Obtaining Insurance for the floating dock.”   

The Floating Dock arrived in Nigeria in 2018, but what should be earning us revenue has become another huge burden. When we eventually decide to put it to use, we may also be talking of turn around maintenance running into billions of Naira. In fact, the Association of Marine Engineers and Surveyors (AMES) raised the alarm last year (2021) that the dry Dock had been removed from the Lloyd’s Registers Class because it could not be surveyed for three years. This raises several pertinent questions. Why did the federal government embark on such an expensive and highly technical project without a firm decision on where the Dry Dock would berth? Should NIMASA, a regulatory agency, take on the role of operator which the purchase of the floating Dry Dock implies? Why do public officials continue to promote ideas doomed to fail and, in this instance, not backed by the enabling law? And how are we sure we have not already created another monument to waste? Like Ajaokuta, most of the software in the computer-driven floating dock may have become obsolete according to some experts. 

The only rational explanation I can find online on this sordid affair was one provided by a former NIMASA Executive Director, Operations, Rotimi Fashakin (now of blessed memory). He told reporters in Lagos that berthing the dock at the permanent site of the Nigerian Maritime University, Okerenkoko, as was originally conceptualized, could not be done due to insecurity. “Initially when the floating dock was acquired, the design was for it to berth in Delta State. But even at that time, there were a lot of reports advising to the contrary”, explained Fashakin who added that the contract preceded the Buhari administration. “A dock is supposed to serve the shipping community as a commercial facility, but which company or vessel would be bold enough to travel to Delta State given the insecurity? When the dock landed in Nigeria, there were various state governments that requested for it, all these are on record. When it came in, we thought of many ideas, but this is a government asset and not something you can just give to an operator. NIMASA is a regulator and not an operator, so giving the dock to an operator also needs to go through the bureaucracy of government.”   

The fact that a regulator was trying to play in the same league with operators should have been clear to NIMASA before initiating the idea. But like most government contracts, we pay first and think later. The more information one obtains on this matter, and I have spoken to many stakeholders, the more despondent you become about our country – even if some of us refuse to give up hope. The greater concern is that this is not an isolated problem. Our national landscape is strewn with projects that were not well-conceived and have become liabilities after hundreds of billions of Naira had been invested in them.

In 2015, the then Chartered Institute of Project Management of Nigeria (CIPMN) president, Victoria Okoronkwo, estimated abandoned projects in Nigeria at N12 trillion. If we use the exchange rate at the time these projects were conceived and expenditures incurred, we should have an idea of the billions of dollars we are throwing away. Listing the projects by geopolitical zone, Okoronkwo said the South-east has 15,000; Southwest, 10,000; Southsouth, 11,000; Northwest, 6,000; Northcentral, 7,000: North-east, 5,000 and Abuja, 2,000. I have no doubt that hundreds of others have been added to the list since then…

ENDNOTE:

More than two years after that column, the NIMASA Managing Director who succeeded Jamoh is still talking about how they will put the drydock to use. “The initial plan for the floating dock was not the right one. We are going to put the Modular Floating Dock to very good use so that once it’s in operation; it will benefit the economy, seafarers, and NIMASA itself,” Dayo Mobereola said last August. “We need to place the modular floating dock in an appropriate location. It is just a matter of time; we will soon get that done.”

From my findings in recent days, even though the expensive drydock has been moved to Nigerdock, it is still idle almost seven years after it arrived in Nigeria! This extraordinary level of waste and mismanagement of scarce resources speaks volumes about the lack of accountability in a country that has now been appropriately dubbed a ‘morgue of abandoned projects.’

 

Enough said!

The question of whether former U.S. President Donald Trump, or any American leader, should reconsider U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) funding to Africa is a pressing one. This is not because Africa does not need financial aid, but rather because much of the aid intended for development and poverty alleviation ends up in the pockets of corrupt leaders and their cronies. The cycle of looting has become an institutionalized plague, depriving millions of Africans of the much-needed benefits that such funding is meant to provide. If USAID funding is being squandered through corruption, then the question arises: Should the U.S. continue providing financial assistance to Africa under such conditions?

Without any iota of exaggeration, the USAID Mission is a noble intention thwarted by corruption.  For the sake of clarity, USAID was established with the goal of promoting economic development, democracy, and humanitarian assistance around the world. In Africa, the agency has played a critical role in addressing poverty, healthcare crises, and infrastructural development. From funding malaria and HIV/AIDS prevention programs to providing relief during famines and pandemics, USAID has been instrumental in improving the quality of life for millions.

However, despite these noble intentions, the impact of USAID funding has often been diluted by systemic corruption. Instead of ensuring that these resources reach the people who need them most, corrupt government officials, bureaucrats, and elites siphon off large portions of the funds, enriching themselves while leaving the masses in abject poverty. Transparency International and other anti-corruption watchdogs have repeatedly exposed shocking cases of embezzlement, with some African leaders stashing stolen funds in offshore accounts or investing in luxurious properties abroad.

 

At this juncture, it is expedient to throw insight into how African leaders squander USAID funds. This is as there are numerous documented instances of aid money being misappropriated or misused by African governments.

For instance, several African countries receive millions of dollars annually from USAID to fight diseases like malaria, tuberculosis, and HIV/AIDS. However, reports have shown that funds meant for purchasing medical equipment and drugs are often mismanaged or embezzled, leading to a lack of essential medicines in public hospitals.

In a similar vein, infrastructure projects funded by international aid are frequently over-inflated or never completed. Corrupt officials often award contracts to bogus companies, diverting large sums into personal accounts while leaving roads, hospitals, and schools in decrepit conditions.

 

In fact, some leaders and their associates set up dubious non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to access foreign aid, only to divert the funds for personal use. These organizations exist merely on paper, while the funds are channeled into private businesses and real estate ventures.

Even when USAID funds are disbursed, they are often distributed through corrupt networks, with money reaching only those with political connections. Many public service projects are executed based on favoritism, rather than need-based assessments.

Given the foregoing insights, it is not an exaggeration to opine that the human cost of corruption in this context is colossal.  This is as the looting of aid funds is not just an economic crime, it is a moral and humanitarian crisis and the effects are dire.

 

For instance it has resulted to poverty and unemployment. The reason for the foregoing cannot be farfetched as given the development funds being stolen, millions remain trapped in poverty, with little hope for economic empowerment. Worse still, youth unemployment rates continue to soar, creating fertile ground for crime, violence, and migration crises.

In a similar vein, it engenders poor healthcare and education. In fact, the inability to channel funds into the health and education sectors has left many Africans without access to quality medical care or proper schooling. Many hospitals lack basic medical supplies, and classrooms are overcrowded with underpaid teachers struggling to educate future generations.

Also in a similar vein is the political instability the malfeasance leads to. This is as corruption leads to frustration, social unrest, and in some cases, violent uprisings. Citizens who feel betrayed by their governments often turn to protests or even armed conflicts, further destabilizing already fragile states.

 

Given the foregoing, the question on everyone lips, and asking no one in particular is, “Should the U.S. Withdraw Aid?”

To answer the foregoing question, it is expedient to opine that given these grim realities, it is understandable why Trump and other American policymakers might question the wisdom of continuing USAID funding in Africa. After all, why should American taxpayers’ money be funneled into a system that enriches corrupt elites rather than addressing the actual needs of the people?

Yet, a complete withdrawal of USAID funding could also have catastrophic consequences. Millions rely on this aid for food, healthcare, and emergency relief. Cutting off funding could worsen hunger crises, increase disease outbreaks, and further entrench poverty. Instead of outright discontinuation, a more effective strategy would be to implement stricter monitoring and accountability measures.

 

Against the backdrop of the foregoing view, it is salient to suggest that reforming the aid distribution from USAID is the way forward.

Therefore, to ensure that USAID funds serve their intended purpose, the U.S. government, in collaboration with African institutions, should adopt measures that cut across direct funding to credible NGOs, adoption of stringent accountability mechanism, adoption of empowerment over handouts, collaboration with Civil Society and Whistleblowers and promotion of good governance.

Explanatorily put, rather than routing funds through corrupt governments, USAID should work directly with reputable NGOs and grassroots organizations that have a proven track record of accountability.

 

In a similar vein, USAID should enhance its auditing systems to track every dollar spent. Any country found to be mismanaging funds should face sanctions, including suspension of aid until reforms are made.

Still in a similar vein, instead of just giving aid, USAID should prioritize economic empowerment programs that create jobs and support local enterprises. Initiatives that provide skills training, entrepreneurship support, and microfinance opportunities can help Africans build self-sustaining economies.

Besides, civil society groups and investigative journalists should be empowered to expose corruption. USAID should establish partnerships with these watchdog organizations to identify and eliminate fraudulent activities.

 

Again, the U.S. can leverage aid as a tool to push for governance reforms. Only countries that demonstrate progress in fighting corruption and upholding democracy should continue receiving full aid packages.

Without a doubt, the debate over USAID funding in Africa is not about whether Africa needs help, it does. The real question is whether aid can be delivered in a way that ensures it benefits ordinary people rather than enriching corrupt leaders. While Trump and other policymakers may have valid concerns about aid mismanagement, an outright withdrawal of USAID funding would do more harm than good. Instead, a more stringent, accountable, and reform-driven approach must be adopted to curb corruption and ensure that aid fulfills its purpose of improving lives.

Ultimately, the fate of Africa rests in the hands of its leaders. If African governments refuse to tackle corruption, then no amount of foreign aid will be enough to lift the continent out of poverty. African citizens, civil society organizations, and international partners must hold their leaders accountable to ensure that development funds serve their rightful purpose. Only then can the vision of a prosperous Africa become a reality.