OTHERS' VIEWS

OTHERS' VIEWS

In an era when a single manipulated image can ricochet around the globe in seconds, our collective grasp on reality teeters dangerously on the brink. The media office of former Anambra State governor and Labour Party presidential candidate, Mr. Peter Obi, this week dismissed as “clearly photoshopped” the photographs circulating on social media that purported to show him kneeling before President Bola Ahmed Tinubu at a Vatican ceremony graced by the Pope’s moral authority.

According to Mr. Obi’s Media Adviser, Mr. Valentine Obienyem, these doctored images are “not reflective of the actual proceedings at the solemn occasion attended by global dignitaries” and would have “made the front pages of major newspapers” had they been real. That no credible outlet reported such a spectacle, Obienyem noted, speaks volumes about the lengths to which political mischief–makers will go to bend public perception to their will.

This latest affront is but the tip of a swelling iceberg: Nigeria today is drowning in a tsunami of fake news, filter-bubbled rants, and recycled rumors masquerading as fact. From the bogus “death” of Nollywood icons to fraudulent videos designed to inflame ethnic tensions, we’ve grown jaded, and dangerously complacent, about verifying what we consume. Yet beneath the surface of this chaos lies a simple truth elucidated by Source Credibility Theory: if the messenger is suspect, so too is the message. And in our Twitter-obsessed, like-driven world, we have surrendered our right to question not just the content of a story, but the very credentials of its originator.

 

To clearly understand the foregoing situation, it is germane I recount that years ago, long before I fully grasped the media industry’s nuances, I found myself in the corporate trenches delivering “news” of a prominent Nigerian politician’s death. My boss, the very picture of seasoned detachment, leaned back, arched a single eyebrow, and crooned, “Which newspaper reported it?” When I named the outlet, he snorted and waved the rumor away. “Forget it. It is fake.”

At the time, his flippancy stung. Was I so naïve as to believe every headline? Yet as I transitioned into journalism, I realized his skepticism was not borne of cynicism but of wisdom: information is only as valuable as its source. His instinctive application of what scholars call the Source Credibility Theory in Mass Communication would have made him a star pupil in any journalism school.

At its core, Source Credibility Theory argues that a message’s persuasive power is directly proportional to how trustworthy and expert its originator appears. Trustworthiness gauges perceived honesty and integrity; expertise measures knowledge and competence. Together, these twin pillars dictate whether an audience will accept, or reject, a claim.

 

Mainstream Nigerian dailies such as The Guardian, Punch, and ThisDay once, or still, command high scores on both counts. They painstakingly buttress each report with multiple sources, fact-checkers, and editorial oversight. Their hard-won reputations lend weight to every headline, strengthening democracy through informed debate. But today, the rise of digital influencers, amateur gossip blogs, and hyper-partisan WhatsApp chains has turned that paradigm on its head. Reach has eclipsed reliability; virality trumps veracity.

Every smartphone is now a de facto newsroom. Every social media user a self-declared journalist. The only qualification needed to break “news” is a large follower count, and a flair for the dramatic. Fact-checking? Optional. Attribution? Overrated.

This shift has unleashed a maelstrom of fake death announcements (remember Ngozi Ezeonu? Olu Jacobs?), conspiracy videos, and clickbait meant to enrage, not enlighten. Ned Nwoko, the politician-businessman, has had to publicly debunk false reports of his demise, twice.

 

Back to Peter Obi, an image claiming to show him meeting the Pope might as well have had a watermark from the “Emperor’s New Clothes” for all the truth it bore. Yet such doctored visuals spread faster than any correction could catch up.

Meanwhile, audiences judge credibility not by scrutinizing sources but by how an item makes them feel. Emotional resonance, confirmation bias, and the illusory-truth effect ensure that the more we see a lie repeated, the more we believe it, even if it originated from an anonymous handle with zero track record.

The Vatican incident crystallizes this crisis. A solemn gathering, featuring the spiritual leader of 1.3 billion Catholics, is reduced to a political stunt by opportunists wielding Photoshop as their paintbrush. Mr. Obienyem’s statement underscores three sobering realities:

 

1. “Silence Speaks”: “If such an event had occurred, it would doubtless have made the front pages of major newspapers.” The absence of mainstream coverage is, in itself, evidence.

2. “Procedural Protocol”: Pope Francis “extended personal greetings only to Heads of State, their official representatives, and members of the diplomatic corps”, a category not inclusive of Mr. Obi.

3. “Selective Targeting”: Of all Nigerian attendees, only Mr. Obi was slapped into the political crosshairs, a sign of malice, not accident.

 

This is not a mere prank. It is a calculated effort to redirect attention from the Pope’s real message, justice, peace, and care for the poor, and ethical leadership, toward specious clickbait that serves no purpose but to inflame partisan passions.

We are complicit in our own deception. We no longer pause before retweeting a fiery headline; we do not pause to check if the handle belongs to a reputable journalist or a newly-created sock puppet. The default assumption is: social media = truth. This blind faith undermines both the Source Credibility Theory and the very function of a democratic press.

Confirmation bias only deepens the wound, as we gravitate toward stories that validate our worldviews, regardless of their factual footing. In a country as ethnically and politically polarized as Nigeria, such bias becomes a weapon of mass distraction, one that drowns out serious discourse and corrodes civic trust.

 

If Nigeria is to stem the tide of fake news, we must re-embed Source Credibility Theory at the heart of our information ecosystem:

In fact, from primary schools to churches, it should be expedient to teach Nigerians to interrogate sources like they would inspect medicine labels. Who is speaking? What are their credentials? Have they cited evidence?

In a similar vein, legacy media must beef up their verification teams and publicly shame purveyors of fake content. Organizations like Dubawa and Africa Check need more funding, and higher profiles.

 

Also in a similar vein, social networks must be compelled to filter out manipulated media and penalize repeat offenders. Algorithms optimized for engagement should be recalibrated for accuracy.

In fact, the state can play a role without trampling press freedom. Legislation against malicious misinformation should target intent and patterns of deception, not stifle legitimate critique.

Again, brands and NGOs must vet the platforms they sponsor. If money stops fueling fake-news mills, their incentives evaporate.

 

On our own parts, we should always bear it in mind that each of us bears a responsibility. Before forwarding “breaking news” on WhatsApp, ask: “Who originated this? Have I seen it elsewhere? Could it be manipulated?”

My former boss never read Hovland and Weiss, yet he instinctively applied the lessons of Source Credibility Theory. He knew that the merit of any claim flows from the integrity of its messenger. Today, as a journalist, I stand alarmed at how easily our collective guard has been lowered. If we continue to elevate sensationalism over substance, amplify Photoshopped stooges over seasoned reporters, and reward clicks over credibility, then Nigeria’s democratic prospects will be undone by our own blindness.

In a world awash with “pixels of deceit,” we must reclaim the bedrock principle that trust and expertise matter. We must champion truth over tactics, ethics over expedience. Otherwise, we risk becoming a nation guided by the loudest liars rather than the most reliable sources, and in such a nation, democracy, development, and dignity will be the first casualties.

My daughter, Ifeoluwa, called on Monday to ask why I was in Jos. I explained that I had been appointed as a member of a fact-finding committee on the incessant attacks on communities in Plateau State and the inauguration was scheduled for the next day. She replied, “you have a way of getting yourself involved in all these strange assignments.” Those words echoed in my mind on Tuesday when, inaugurating the panel, Governor Caleb Mutfwang mandated us “to conduct an in-depth assessment of the persistent security breaches, understand the root causes, and propose actionable recommendations for lasting peace, justice, and stability in affected communities” in Plateau State.

My daughter is right. I don’t know what can be stranger than being asked to proffer solutions to the ethno-religious killings that have claimed thousands of lives over a period of more than three decades. But I am in good company here. Our chairman, Major General Nicholas Rogers (Rtd)had commanded ‘Operation Lafiya Dole’ against Boko Haram/ISWAP terrorists in the Northeastern part of the country and ‘Operation Safe Haven’ in the same Plateau State. Having also served in the United Nations African Mission in Darfur among other assignments, he understands the nature of the crisis we are facing. Another member, AVM Ibrahim Shafi’i (Rtd), also has extensive experience in such matters given his military service and current legal practice. And then we have Jonathan Kure, a retired deputy Director General of the State Security Service (SSS) who once served in Plateau and Lawan Usman Safana, a retired Assistant Director General and former SSS State Director in Plateau State.

Other members of our panel include Yakubu Bawa, a Jos-based legal practitioner, Esther Lolo, a retired Judge of the Kaduna State High Court, Gad Shamaki, a civil society activist and Amina Elelu-Ahmed, a former Director of Legal Service at the National Orientation Agency (NOA). Our Secretary, Timothy Parlong, a legal practitioner and retired permanent secretary in the state civil service, has institutional memories, having served in some of the previous committees on the never-ending crises. Parlong happens to be the only indigene of Plateau State on our panel, which the governor said he carefully selected to demonstrate transparency on the issue.

By our mandate, we are expected to establish the number of communities that have been attacked and the approximate number of casualties from 2005 to date; establish the identities of persons who perpetrated the attacks and their possible motives and sponsors; and identify possible routes for bandits into the state and recommend measures to limit their access. We are also to recommend appropriate succour to identified victims and communities and suggest how to stop further occurrences. Though we are expected to engage with community leaders, victims, security agencies, and other relevant stakeholders across the state, we have just two months to complete our assignment!

Before the defining violence of 2001, the reprisal attacks of 2004 and the subsequent ones in recent years under the current democratic dispensation, there were similar violent eruptions under the military. In 1992, we witnessed the Mwaghavul communal crisis in Mangu local government area which recurred in 1995. In 1994, there was the famous ‘Jos Riot’ and in 1997, there were clashes in Lakushi and Sabon Layi in Langtang local government. The consistent pattern in all these crises, resulting in the loss of thousands of lives, is that victims appear to wait to plot their revenge. Hence, one cycle of killings inevitably leads to another.

Indeed, the gravity of our assignment hit me last Friday when I was with Sunday Dare, Special Adviser to the President on Media and Information. Although he did not discourage me, I could deduce from his comments that attempting to seek enduring peace in Plateau State is an uphill task, to put it mildly. A journalist of repute who served as Minister of Youth and Sports under President Muhammadu Buhari, Dare was born and raised in Jos which his family knew as home. But 16 years ago, in December 2009, Dare lost a number of those family members in a gruesome manner. “My only elder brother was hacked down with knives and machete and left to burn” along with their house, Dare recounted in January 2010, following that bout of violence. A year earlier, “precisely November 2008, my immediate junior sister’s husband was burnt down in his house while trying to escape after helping his family to safety. The 10-bedroom family duplex of my in-laws was razed to the ground,” Dare wrote in his recollection. “Two of my childhood friends were knifed to death in the open streets. The three days of reporting for the Voice of America that I spent in Jos after the November 2008 riots were scary. I saw a war zone with survivors walking around like zombies.”

Like most tragic occurrences across the country, there have been numerous panels of inquiry regarding the killings in Plateau State. Governor Mutfwang said as much on Tuesday both at the official inauguration and our private session that followed. He told us we were carefully chosen to reflect the diversity of Jos which is “mini-Nigeria” – a city in which many foreigners have also settled for decades and call their home. “There have been many inquiries in the past. I can assure you that by the time you do that sitting (a public hearing), every critical stakeholder to your assignment will be present,” the governor assured us. “We want to get to the root of these problems and resolve them.”

From the Bola Ajibola Judicial Commission of Inquiry (2009) to the Niki Tobi Judicial Commission of Inquiry (2002), there have indeed been many reports. But I understand why Mutfwang set 2005 as baseline for our assignment. A similar committee chaired by Mr Thomas Kagnaan had revisited the violence between 2001 and 2004 with its report submitted in October 2004. According to that report, 53,787 persons, comprising almost 19,000 men, more than 17,000 women and 17,000 children were killed during 32 months of tit-for-tat violence. The committee arrived at the figure after visiting affected communities where survivors listed the relations they had lost in the fighting between rival armed militia groups. No fewer than 280,000 people were forced to flee their homes, according to the report, with at least 25,000 houses razed to the ground and some 1,300 cattle slaughtered. That was 21 years ago, and several (and more violent) battles have been fought since then.

I have written dozens of columns on the violence that has reduced the people of Plateau State to little more than undertakers. My most recent, ‘When Will the Killings End?’ was published last September. In July 2023, barely six weeks after assuming office, President Bola Tinubu confronted this problem after a spate of killings. In a statement, ‘Plateau Killings: We Must Break this Cycle of Violence’, he expressed sadness and grief. “It is most unfortunate that in this orgy of violence, an innocent eight-month-old baby in Farin Lamba community of Vwang District, Jos South Local Government, died in a conflict she knew nothing about”, the president said. “A major consequence of perennial conflict is always the tragic loss of innocent lives.”

I agree with the president, but his administration should offer more than mere preachments that have become the defining response from the federal government over the years. It is also commendable that Mutfwang is determined to end the orgy of violence and bloodletting that has defined the state for decades. But other stakeholders, especially religious and traditional rulers, have larger roles to play. Fortunately, this assignment has given me the opportunity to engage some of them in the weeks ahead. And my message is this: With each side attempting to eliminate the other through what has become a bilateral genocide, to borrow a phrase coined in Rwanda, they must be prepared to end all appeals to hate and guilt by association.

As we drove to town from the airport on Tuesday, I beheld the luscious vegetation. And I wondered why we tend to waste all the resources bestowed upon our country by mother nature. That feeling came back yesterday morning when I decided on an outdoor walk in very cool weather one only gets to experience outside the shores of Nigeria. “Everybody knows that if you eat vegetables, there’s every likelihood that they came from the Plateau,” Mutfwang said on Tuesday while explaining why peace in his state is good for our country. “This is a state that can contribute significantly to Nigeria’s food security and in many respects, when it comes to farming potatoes, for example, you don’t have anywhere outside the Plateau.”

I am not under any illusion that our panel is guaranteed success considering that there had been so many such attempts in the past. The best approach, as Shafi’i counselled on Tuesday, is for each of us to keep an open mind. And that will be our guiding philosophy in this assignment. Perhaps I should conclude with my take two years ago after another round of what I described as a cycle of multilateral killings.

At the end of the day, all the contending parties in the violence must come to the sober realization that they have only been losing lives, wealth and their peace of mind. Their children are de-socialized due to religious and cultural teachings about the sanctity of life being cheerfully violated. A land that was once renowned as a haven of peace and agricultural productivity now exports only tales of man’s inhumanity to man. I hope that by the end of our assignment we can contribute to changing that narrative for an enduring peace in Plateau State.

Amaechi at 60

I first met Chibuike Rotimi Amaechi at the inauguration of the National Stakeholder Working Group (NWSG) of the Nigerian Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (NEITI) by President Olusegun Obasanjo on 16th February 2004. Then Speaker of the Rivers State House of Assembly, Amaechi was the representative of Southern Speakers with then Gombe State Speaker representing his Northern colleagues. I had been nominated to represent the Nigerian media in the group chaired by Mrs Oby Ezekwesili. Amaechi has, of course, since progressed in his political career. He served eight years as Governor of Rivers State and eight years as Minister of Transportation under President Muhammadu Buhari. Meanwhile, I have kept reminding him in the last 21 years that a friend with political power and influence is a friend lost. But on a serious note, even his most implacable foes would concede one thing to Amaechi: What you see is what you get. As he therefore clocks 60 next Tuesday, I wish him long life and good health.

At a time when the whole country is rejoicing and proud of the fact that President Tinubu embarked on a two day trip to Rome to attend the inaugural Mass of the newly- installed Pope Leo X1V, Babachir Lawal, the former Secretary to the FG, has decribed his attendance as a "non-event" and alleged that it came about "as a consequence of the work of lobbyists".

I have always had immense respect for this man and considered him a friend but I am constrained to ask whether he has lost his senses?

He has refused to recognise the fact that, as I pointed out on X on the day our President went to Rome, that no Nigerian President has ever honored the Pope in this way and neither has any ever been given the honor by the Vatican to personally attend such an occassion.

The fact that President Tinubu went, even though he is a practising Muslim and not a Christian, speaks volumes for him and our nation and is an eloquent testimony to the fact that religious tolerance and harmony is alive and well in Nigeria and that even though we have a Muslim President and Muslim Vice President, the Christian community is being treated with the utmost respect.

I expected no less. Archbishop Kaigama of the Catholic Church commended President Tinubu for going to Rome as did millions of other Christians.

Does Babachir know better than them all? Who does he think he is?

Even though people like him had given the world the impression that Christians would suffer under this Government he has been proved wrong and the opposite is the case.

Under the Tinubu/Shettima Presidency the Christians of Nigeria have not only been treated equally and fairly but they have also been given pride of place which is far more that I can say happened under the Government that Babachir served.

Having a Christian Vice President is not the issue but rather having a President and a Vice President, regardless of their faith, that are ready to treat Christians and Muslims in a respecful and equitable manner.

When President Buhari was in power with his so-called Christian Vice President Professor Yemi Osinbajo, Christians were slaughtered like flies all over the North and every single operational head of each of our security outfits and arms of the military were Northern Muslims.

A Christian VP could not stop this shameful indignity and gratuitous insult against his fellow Christians from happening but under Tinubu and Shettima the aberration was remedied and the leadership of our Armed Forces and security outfits have been balanced in an equitable and all-inclusive manner.

In the light of this Babachir is the last person that should be complaining about insults to Christians and the first to repent of his obvious sins and seek prayers and deliverance from his bitterness, hate, resentment and anger.

He does not speak for the Christian community and he should keep his mouth shut and stop always trying to see and define matters of governance through a religious prism.

Finally his disrespectful and utterly absurd description of Vice President Kashim Shettima as a "flat spare tyre" the other day has not gone unnoticed.

I am not the VP's spokesman and I am aware that he is quite capable of fighting his own battles but surely Babachir, with his age and experience, would accept the fact that in attempting to subject the Vice President to ridicule he has only proved the fact that he is as asinine and uncouth as many had suspected.

If we are looking for "flat spare tyres" and I daresay "chicken-hearted ice cream sellers", Babachir should look towards the Vice President that he happily served and worked under and not Kashim Shettima who is doing an excellent job and supporting the President in a profound and eloquent manner.

Unlike the VP he served Kashim did not turn a blind eye, remain silent and hide under the bed when both Christians and Muslims were being slaughtered by terrorists without consequence under the previous regime.

Babachir can criticise the Government as much as he wants and no one is losing any sleep over it but he should stop doing so in the name of Christianity.

This is the greatest insult of all and he would be wise to desist lest he provokes a more robust response.

 

(FFK)

In the heat of the afternoon bustle in Ogba, Ikeja, a single voice pierced through the simmering air of frustration, rice steam, and boiling politics. Amid the clatter of plates and the sizzle of stew, a well-known restauranteur interrupted a political argument unfolding at his buka and thundered, “If na your papa dey there nko? You go dey sleep for house?”

The question, raw and honest, stopped everyone cold was not just a rhetorical jab. It was a reality check. And more than that, it was a social mirror, one held up to a nation that loves to criticize from the sidelines but would, if given the same opportunity, do exactly what it condemns.

The subject of the now-viral question? Sheyi Tinubu, son of Nigeria’s sitting president, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, a young man who has, over the past year, become a lightning rod for outrage, envy, and everything in between.

 

At this juncture, it is expedient to ask, “Who is Sheyi Tinubu and why Is everyone talking?” The foregoing question cannot be farfetched as Sheyi Tinubu is not a stranger to power. As the son of a political colossus who has now ascended to the highest office in Nigeria, Sheyi has always lived in a world of privilege. But since his father became president, Sheyi’s public profile has grown in ways many Nigerians find unsettling.

From attending official functions, with some Nigerians even accusing him of meddling in governance, his visibility has stirred resentment. People are asking, “Who elected Sheyi?”, “Why is he being given so much access?”, and “Why is he everywhere?”

And while these questions are not without merit, especially in a democracy that demands accountability, they are not always born from civic duty. Sometimes, they are born from envy, tribal bias, or deep-seated frustration at a country where opportunities seem sealed off for the masses.

 

That is what makes the restauranteur’s voice so profound. His question drips with realism, not idealism: If it were your own father, would not you do the same thing? Let us not pretend we would not.

Let us remove the mask. Most Nigerians, if they were to wake up tomorrow as the child of the president, would likely do what Sheyi Tinubu is doing or even worse. We know it. We have seen it.

We have seen people in government place their children in plum positions. We have seen nepotism take root in churches, companies, and family businesses. You get a job in the civil service and your first thought is how to fix your cousin. Your uncle becomes a local government chairman and suddenly your younger brother is the “Personal Assistant on Environment.” So why is Sheyi’s case different?

 

Because he is visible. Because the nation is angry. Because hunger is everywhere. Because salaries cannot buy a bag of rice. Because the masses are disillusioned. And when you are broke, hungry, and jobless, privilege feels like an insult.

But again, “If na your papa dey there nko?” The real problem is not Sheyi. It is the System. Let us get one thing straight: Sheyi Tinubu is not Nigeria’s problem. At least not the main one.

The problem is that our institutions are so weak that family members of politicians often step into unofficial roles of power without consequence. The problem is that proximity to the president in Nigeria grants unchecked access, influence, and control, no matter your official designation.

 

This should not be about Sheyi. It should be about the absence of boundaries between personal and state affairs.

In working democracies, presidents’ children are rarely seen at official events, and certainly not running government affairs behind the scenes. But Nigeria is not a fully matured democracy. It is a hybrid, somewhere between oligarchy and organized chaos, where institutions bent for personalities and power is passed down like family inheritance.

Aptly put, the hypocrisy in our anger is obvious enough. It is high time we admitted that a lot of our outrage is selective. We did not raise as much dust in the past political dispensations when children of politicians in various offices enjoyed perks of office. Many of us stayed silent when children of governors drove exotic cars in university campuses and flaunted wealth they clearly did not earn.

 

But we only find our voice when it is someone we do not support politically. That is not justice. That is partisanship. And it is hollow.

Besides, let us also be honest about our class warfare. Much of the anger towards Sheyi is not rooted in policy or fact, but emotion. Why him and not me? It is the pain of exclusion wrapped in fake moral outrage.

Against the backdrop of the foregoing view, it is germane we request for systems that work, not scapegoats. This is as dragging Sheyi Tinubu online daily might give some Nigerians a momentary sense of justice, but it would not change anything. The only way to stop the influence of unappointed individuals is to strengthen our institutions.

 

There should be clear rules about who can attend cabinet meetings. There should be transparency about appointments and decisions. If Sheyi is playing a role in government, let us demand to know what it is officially, and scrutinize it like we would any other political appointee. If he is not, then public appearances should not be confused with political interference.

In fact, when the structure is fixed, the individuals would not matter. Therefore, let us talk about the bigger picture At its core, this debate goes beyond Sheyi Tinubu. It touches the wound Nigerians do not want to talk about: the pain of exclusion.

The truth is, everyone wants to be “connected.” Everyone wants access. The same people dragging Sheyi online are praying for a phone call from a senator, a federal board appointment, or a political godfather.

 

That is the real tragedy of Nigeria, not Sheyi. The tragedy is a country where who you know matters more than what you know. Until that changes, there will always be another Sheyi, and another round of outrage.

At this conclusive juncture, it is not out of place to opine that the restaranteur was right. He may not have gone to Harvard. He may not write op-eds. But his one-liner carried more weight than most think-pieces ever could.

“If na your papa dey there nko?” It is not an endorsement of abuse of power. It is a challenge to all of us to stop pretending we are better than those we criticize. Let us demand better. Let us fix the system. Let us build a country where even the president’s child must follow due process.

 

Until then, before you cast the next stone, ask yourself: “If na my papa dey there nko?”

Despite being a fundamental principle of democracy, the doctrine of separation of powers appears to be under threat in Nigeria, as recent remarks by Senate President Godswill Akpabio suggest a troubling fusion of legislative and executive roles. This article explores how the National Assembly’s posture under Akpabio undermines Montesquieu’s vision, blurring the lines meant to prevent tyranny and preserve liberty.

When Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de La Brède et de Montesquieu, formulated the doctrine of the Separation of Powers in his seminal 1748 work, The Spirit of the Laws, it was intended as a safeguard against tyranny. By advocating for the division of government into three distinct branches, legislative, executive, and judicial, he proposed that liberty could only be preserved if each branch functioned independently and served as a check on the others.

Fast-forward to contemporary Nigeria under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, and what we see playing out under the watch of Senate President Godswill Akpabio is the complete opposite of that ideal. The principles Montesquieu passionately laid out to prevent authoritarianism have not only been diluted, they have been brazenly turned on their head.

 

Senator Akpabio’s recent assertion that “lawmakers were not elected to confront the executive but to partner with it” is not only misguided but dangerous to the very foundation of democratic governance. His statement reflects a chilling truth about Nigeria’s current political reality: the walls between the arms of government have crumbled, and what remains is a unitary structure masquerading as a democracy.

Akpabio made the remarks in a documentary marking President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s two years in office, emphasizing legislative-executive collaboration and ongoing national reforms, according to a statement on Tuesday by Presidential Media Adviser Bayo Onanuga.

“When elected into the National Assembly, whether in the Senate or the House of Representatives, your constituents will not give you boxing gloves. It’s not a boxing tournament,” Akpabio said. “You are there to work in a bipartisan manner for the interest of Nigeria.”

 

To understand the gravity of Akpabio’s declaration, we must first acknowledge the constitutional role of the National Assembly. Under Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution (as amended), the legislature is empowered to check the executive, not massage its ego. It is the voice of the people, and its loyalty should rest with the electorate, not with the presidency.

Yet, Akpabio’s words and actions have continuously undermined this principle. His claim that “if you spend all your energy fighting the executive, who will work for Nigeria?” is emblematic of someone who fundamentally misunderstands, or deliberately subverts, the watchdog role of the legislature. This is not about political infighting; it is about institutional oversight and accountability, which are hallmarks of any functional democracy.

In a bid to justify his camaraderie with the executive, Akpabio flaunts the fact that the current administration features a president, vice president, and first lady, all former senators. According to him, this shared pedigree has fostered “unprecedented cooperation.” But cooperation, in the context he describes, is merely subservience in disguise. It is a scenario where the legislature becomes an extension of the presidency, a rubber stamp, rather than a check and balance.

 

The Nigerian democracy today, particularly under the Tinubu administration, is suffering from a dangerous synchronization of powers. Nowhere is this clearer than in the following observations:

From the approval of massive loans without rigorous scrutiny to the quick passage of bills forwarded from the presidency, the National Assembly has acted more like a civil service department than an independent arm of government. Laws like the Student Loan Act and Minimum Wage Bill may be lauded by Akpabio, but they are often passed without robust public consultation or debate. The question is not whether laws are passed, but whether they are passed through a process that reflects legislative independence.

The judiciary, the supposed last hope of the common man, has become increasingly politicized. Judicial appointments are heavily influenced by the executive, and judgments on politically sensitive matters often tilt in favor of the ruling party. The separation of powers cannot exist where judges are afraid to rule against the government for fear of retribution or lack of promotion.

 

The core function of the National Assembly, to hold the executive accountable through oversight, has become more theatrical than substantive. Committees summon ministers and heads of agencies more for show than for genuine interrogation. Reports are swept under the carpet, and corruption probes often end without consequence.

Akpabio boasts that the Senate has rejected some of the president’s nominees, as if that alone proves independence. But rejecting a handful of appointees while approving dozens of questionable decisions does not restore credibility. It is a tactic to project a façade of impartiality while maintaining the status quo.

Montesquieu wrote: “When the legislative and executive powers are united in the same person, or in the same body of magistrates, there can be no liberty.” This is exactly what Akpabio is institutionalizing. The Nigerian Senate, under his leadership, has become a co-pilot in a plane that the executive solely navigates.

 

Rather than serve as a balancing force, the legislature has surrendered its identity, its dignity, and its purpose. The claim that legislators are elected to “work in a bipartisan manner” sounds noble on the surface, but in Nigeria’s context, it often means turning a blind eye to injustice, incompetence, and impunity, all in the name of unity.

The effect of this breakdown in the separation of powers is dire. Nigeria is teetering on the edge of elected authoritarianism, where elections still happen but the institutions that should guarantee fairness, accountability, and transparency have been neutralized. The legislature no longer asks tough questions. The judiciary is slow or reluctant to challenge the executive. And the executive rules almost unimpeded.

The average Nigerian citizen, reeling from economic hardship, insecurity, and poor governance, is left with nowhere to turn. When all three arms of government sing the same tune, dissent becomes a crime, and the interests of the people become secondary to the interests of the ruling elite.

 

What Nigeria desperately needs is not lawmakers who see themselves as partners in governance, but as protectors of the people’s trust. They must reassert their constitutional role, not for the sake of confrontation but for the preservation of democratic integrity.

Senator Akpabio’s model of legislative-executive “synergy” may win him applause in the corridors of Aso Rock, but such relationship would not in history be seen as a legacy that should be replicated. By turning Montesquieu’s principle of separation of powers on its head, he is helping to erode the very fabric of democratic governance in Nigeria.

In this precarious moment in Nigeria’s history, the question is not whether the arms of government should work together, but how they should work together without compromising their constitutional independence.

 

For if the legislature continues to abandon its oversight role and the judiciary its impartiality, then Nigeria will not just be a flawed democracy. It will become a democracy in name only, a sad irony for a country that once fought so hard to escape the yoke of military dictatorship.

In Nigeria’s current political theatre, a headline recently broke with thunderous resonance: “2027 Coalition: Atiku Camp Offers Obi VP Role in One-Term Deal.” According to reports, former Vice President Atiku Abubakar has allegedly offered Mr. Peter Obi a Vice Presidential slot in a coalition arrangement that would see Atiku contest for president and serve only one term before supposedly handing over power to Obi.

On the surface, this sounds like political maturity, a show of compromise to oust the All Progressives Congress (APC) and bring in what they call a “Government of National Salvation.” But beneath the carefully crafted headlines lies a deeper question about self-worth, political identity, and how Nigeria’s long-suffering electorate perceives true leadership.

Peter Obi, this is not just about political arithmetic. This is about legacy. This is about knowing your worth and not settling for less. And to be blunt: accepting a vice-presidential slot in 2027 would be akin to a first-class graduate begging for “any job” after waiting five years post-graduation.

 

For the sake of clarity, let us at this juncture unpack the analogy. There was once a graduate, brilliant, qualified, loaded with potential, who walked from office to office, CV in hand, only to be asked repeatedly, “What kind of job are you looking for?” And each time, out of frustration, he would say, “Any job.” That answer, although sincere, always came across as desperate and undefined. Nobody hires “anyone” for “Any job.” The real world does not work that way. Just like in politics, perception is everything.

Peter Obi is no political novice. He is not “anyone.” In 2023, he became the poster boy for Nigeria’s youthful aspirations, a beacon for issue-based politics, and the only candidate who forced the status quo to reckon with new political realities. He inspired a generation of first-time voters and civilly engaged Nigerians who rejected both APC and PDP not out of rebellion, but out of reason.

To now consider playing second fiddle again in 2027, after running a formidable presidential campaign that shook two political giants to their core, would be nothing short of political regression.

 

To in this context explain why this is the wrong move, it is germane to first talk about credibility. In 2019, Peter Obi ran with Atiku under the PDP and lost. That loss was not only because of the APC machinery, but also because the duo failed to inspire genuine transformation. When Obi broke away in 2022 to pursue the presidency under the Labour Party, it was a masterstroke. It was not just a change of party, it was a change of politics. That bold move drew in young people, professionals, and first-time voters in droves.

Now imagine trying to tell those same people in 2027, “I’m back as number two to the same man I left behind.” It would be seen as a betrayal of hope. The “Obidient Movement” was not built around Atiku. It was built around Peter Obi. If he accepts to return as a Vice Presidential candidate, he risks not only losing the movement but diluting its very essence.

Second, there is no guarantee Atiku will keep his one-term promise. Nigerian politics is not built on trust. If there is anything history has taught us, it is that political agreements, especially unwritten ones, are hardly worth the paper they are not written on. Even if it is documented, there is no legal obligation for Atiku to hand over after one term. Power, once tasted, rarely gets relinquished easily.

 

Furthermore, let us not forget: Atiku is a serial contestant. He has been on the ballot more times than most Nigerians care to count. Each time, he says it is his “last try.” Why should anyone believe 2027 would be any different?

Given the backdrop of the foregoing views, it is not out of place to opine that desperation should not be mistaken for Strategy.  Let us return to our graduate job seeker analogy. What does it mean when a qualified person says, “I will take any job”? It means he or she is not thinking clearly. Such graduate is tired, and vulnerable. And more often than not, exploited.

Peter Obi must not become the desperate graduate of Nigerian politics. He must not act like a man who just wants to enter Aso Rock by any means, even through the servant’s quarter. Because, like the graduate who undersells himself, he would be telling Nigerians and the world: “I don’t know my worth.”

 

Without mincing words, this is not the Peter Obi Nigerians followed in 2023. The Peter Obi they followed was bold, precise, intentional, and principled. He did not wait to be offered a position, he declared his interest, challenged the establishment, and proved that a new Nigeria was possible. That Peter Obi cannot and must not be reduced to a “Spare Tyre”

It is time to go all in, or step aside. This is as 2027 must be all or nothing. It must be a presidential bid or none at all. If there is no room for him to run as president under the Labour Party due to internal crisis, then let him rally the Obidient Movement, civic groups, and credible political stakeholders to create or adopt a platform that truly represents the people’s interests. Nigerians are tired of recycled promises and tired political marriages that do not translate into better governance.

Obi must not allow Atiku to rebrand himself using his clean slate and integrity. He must not allow the political establishment to piggyback on his credibility simply to gain votes and then dump him once power is secured.

 

If Atiku is truly serious about making way for Obi, then let him step aside now and support Obi as the coalition’s presidential candidate. Anything less than that is deception.

To the millions of Nigerians who stood in the sun and rain to vote for Peter Obi, in the last presidential election in 2023, do not let this pass quietly. Politics is not a one-man game. Movements only succeed when they are loud, persistent, and clear. Make your voices heard. Let Obi know that anything short of a presidential ambition in 2027 is unacceptable. Let him know that he was not chosen to be a second option. He was chosen to be a first choice.

Peter Obi has a chance to go down in history as the man who redefined Nigerian politics, or as the man who played safe and faded into political footnote. He must decide whether to rise like Nelson Mandela or shrink into a supporting role that history would not remember.

 

This is not the time to act like the jobless graduate begging for any job. Peter Obi is overqualified for the vice presidency. He is presidential material. Let it be presidency or nothing. Nigerians are watching. The world is watching. And history will judge.

It was, perhaps, no surprise that when President Bola Tinubu spoke to newsmen after the coronation of Pope Leo XIV in Rome on Sunday, the theme that he chose was the diversity of the Nigerian nation. The significance of the invitation and the symbolism of Tinubu’s presence at the Vatican were widely perceived against the background of the perennial question of diversity in this multi-religious and multi-ethnic country. Here was the President, a Muslim, leading the Nigerian delegation to the epochal Christian ceremony that attracted many leaders across the world. Tinubu said of his presence: “(It is) consistent in the true sense of unity in diversity… We must continue to work on it. It’s a work in progress…”

Now, identity politics is a global phenomenon. It is a challenge to nation-building in many countries. In the specific case of Nigeria, the manifestation of identity politics is more pronounced in the religious, ethnic and regional dimensions. In particular, the question of ethnic identity will be examined in this column. Virtually every issue in the polity and society is now ethnicised, thereby compounding the process of finding solutions.

To start with, a lot of conceptual problems becloud rational discussions. Terms are used without clarity about their meanings. So, during debates there is hardly any mutual understanding of the words being employed to advance arguments from opposite sides.

One of those often-misused words is “tribe.”

It is in this light of the foregoing that a revised copy of a piece entitled “So, where are the tribes?” published here on April 14, 2021, is being reproduced as follows:

Simply put, there is no tribe anywhere in Nigeria today. There are instead communities, ethnic groups and nationalities making up the country. These categories are different from tribe.

Despite this obvious sociological fact, in official documents and public discussions ethnic groups comprising tens of millions of people are incorrectly referred to as “tribes.” Hence, from the professor to the senator and from the pundit to the roadside mechanic, comes the conclusion that the problem of Nigeria is “tribalism.” 

When you make a statement at the police station, you have to indicate your “tribe” on the paper. A line in the Nigeria’s resurrected national anthem even says: “Though tribes and tongues may differ; In brotherhood we stand…”

It’s often considered supremely charitable when you say a political personality is “detribalised.” But, this is grossly erroneous.  To be “detribalised” is to be removed from a tribe. Here is the definition of “detribalise”, according to the Oxford Dictionary: “remove (someone) from a traditional tribal social structure.” The dictionary further gives the examples of usage of the word “detribalise” as follows: “these policies attempted to detribalise native people by extricating them from their land base; (detribalised as adjective):  the 250,000 include many detribalised urban people. “

It is, therefore, a monumental insult to say, for instance, that an Igbo man belonging to an ethnic group of over 40 million people is “detribalised” when what you simply mean to say is that he is no ethnic chauvinist. When you describe a man as “detribalised” what you are saying unwittingly is that the gentleman has just been taken out of a primitive enclave and relocated, perhaps, in an urban civilised setting. And it doesn’t strike some pundits as strange that while the British discuss the issue of “Scottish nationalism” Nigerians talk of “Yoruba tribalism” even though the Yoruba population in Nigeria is larger than that of the Scottish in United Kingdom. You will never read in British newspapers stories about Welsh or English tribalism. No, they don’t discuss “tribalism” because they know the implication of inferiority in the meaning. Rather, they talk of “nationalism” Britain.   

It should obviously sound offensive that over 250 ethnic groups in Nigeria are derogatorily referred to as tribes. Some persons talk of their “tribe” when the appropriate word should be nation, nationality or ethnic group.

It is amazing that some pundits seem not to be rankled by these conceptual contradictions.

Imprecision is a social and intellectual malaise in Nigeria. This is because the scientific approach is hardly adopted in solving everyday problems. Scientific method is not yet entrenched in the national culture. It takes discipline to do so. The imprecise use of terms is part of the deficit in the current debate of the Nigerian condition. Hardly is there any agreement on the meanings of many of the buzzwords used in discussing the nation’s problems. For instance, despite the legitimate impatience of some well-informed advocates of “restructuring” with those still ask for the meaning of the term, a lot of clarification is still necessary in some quarters. This may sound indulgent or pedantic; but it is important.

In the specific case of the inappropriate use of the   category “tribe,” the concern here transcends academic anthropology. The error is in a sense a measure of Nigeria’s social and political development. Historically, the colonialists in their perverted sociology used the word “tribe” to describe a people they regarded as primitive. It was part of the ideological hegemony of the racists to portray the colonised people as inferior with no social or political history. It didn’t matter that kingdoms and empires existed for centuries in places the colonialists later described as tribal enclaves. Imagine still describing Edo as a tribe centuries after the Benin Kingdom established relations with Portugal.  Today, the Portuguese will not refer to any part of their country as a tribe. Talking about sociological evolution, it was a racist insult to describe as tribesmen the producers of the masterpieces of art stolen by the white man during the colonial conquests.  

The irony is that decades after independence well educated Nigerians continue to describe their ethnic groups and nationalities in the same pejorative term those sociologists in the service of colonialism describe black people in the 19th Century.

To be sure, members of a tribe belonged to one of the lowest rungs in the ladder of human civilisation; they were still at the pre-state stage in political evolution. The tribal space is the universe of some members of the tribe.   As a member of a tribe you might not even be aware of the existence other tribes in the same region. 

It is noteworthy that in the West, in contemporary discussions of inter-group relations the category “tribe’ is reserved only for those regarded as backward with all the socio-economic and political connotations. So the Aborigines in Australia are described as “tribal’” people. In the American context, ethnic and racial groups are not called tribes. The category of tribe applies only to some native Americans still consigned to the dungeon of underdevelopment by virtue of racist policies. Tribesmen as a group and as individuals are markedly separated from other people in terms of development and modernisation. The areas occupied by the extremely disadvantaged groups are still described as “tribal.” 

However, none of the Nigerian ethnic groups, nationalities and, some would even say, nations, could be described as caves of primitive tribesmen.  No part of Nigeria today could be said to be occupied by people completely detached from civilisation.

Regional disparities are, of course, undeniable.  No ethnic group is immune to the  socio-economic underdevelopment which defines the Nigerian society. Yet no group is excluded in the process  of elite formation regardless of the size.

It was quite instructive watching a retired service chief  on television the other day telling his remarkable life story which illustrates  the point at issue. He  belongs to “a minority group within  a minority area.” Yet he rose to be a defence chief some years ago. Similarly, a former senator told his own story. If you use language as the yardstick of ethnic classification, his mother tongue is spoken by only a few hundreds of people. The distinguished senator became a reputable principal  officer of the  senate. There are several examples of citizens belonging to small ethnic groups who have gained national prominence on their own  individual merit. Certainly, these ladies and gentlemen cannot be described as tribesmen and women. In contrast, it was great news in the United States early four years ago when a native American was appointed into a high political office. 

It is pertinent  to draw attention to the   error of calling ethnic groups tribes  because of its consequences for the current  identity politics. There is a way in which tribal identification tends to eclipse the factor of national integration in discussions.  The description of ethnic groups as tribes is, perhaps, an unconscious denial  of the currents of integration. Those who employ the category tribe in identifying themselves and others in puristic terms ignore these obvious currents.

For instance, the sensibilities of the products of inter-ethnic marriages are routinely ignored when some separatists beat the drums of war by peddling ethnic prejudice against members of other groups. The biological   products of  the  cosmopolitan  trends in the Nigerian society can definitely not be tribesmen by the very  definition of their birth. A person may decide to identify with the ethnic group of his mother or father; but that doesn’t make him a tribesman or woman.

The matter even becomes more absurd  when the dynamics of integration is considered.  Those who still talk of tribes and tribalism have static view of things. Take a sample. A citizen is born outside the homestead of his grandparents. He is of the third generation of his family members who have made the place outside their  place of origin  home. He has only visited the place of origin only on a few occasions. In every material sense the man is integrated into his place of abode where he works, pays his taxes and builds his family.  But in this upsurge of identity politics in the land, the man described above would likely be told by some ethnic champions  that  he doesn’t belong to the “tribe” that owns the place in which he lives. To talk of tribe in this context  is an insult to the man as well as those accusing him of being a stranger to the so-called tribe.

It is astonishing that this racist categorisation is embraced in everyday conversations by Nigerians themselves in the playing identity politics.

Doubtless, identity politics will be enriched by bringing conceptual clarity to the issues in dispute. A requirement for this is a good understanding of the meaning of words and phrases used in the debate because of their  implications.  Far from being pedantic on this topic, it is worth stressing that precision in terms of  the use of concepts is important for the urgent  task of diversity management. Those employing  categories to describe groups should be clear about what they mean precisely.

In sum, the Nigerian diversity is not defined by differences among tribesmen.

Among the diverse groups are ethnic groups and nationalities. Some even proclaim their own groups as nations. National integration is, therefore, not about forging an amalgam of tribes. Indeed, integration could be achieved with the instruments of well-articulated policies to promote equity in inter- ethnic and inter-regional relations and social justice for all citizens wherever they choose to reside in the country.

This should be an urgent task for all the tiers of government so that the promotion of national unity could be a legacy of this generation of leaders.

Last Thursday, May 15, 2025, a news report has it that a bill to amend the Electoral Act 2022 to make voting compulsory for Nigerians of voting age has passed second reading in the House of Representatives. The proposed legislation was sponsored by the Speaker, Tajudeen Abbas, and Daniel Ago. Leading the debate during plenary, Ago said the bill aimed to encourage citizens’ participation in the electoral process, noting that voter apathy during elections would be addressed if the bill scales legislative scrutiny. The proposed legislation stipulates penalties for eligible voters who fail to vote without valid justification, including a fine of N100,000, a six-month jail term, or both.

According to PBS News of November 3, 2014, 22 nations around the world make voting mandatory for their citizens, often starting at age 18. They are Australia, Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Mexico, Belgium, Congo DRC, Ecuador, Costa Rica, Dominican Republic, Egypt, Greece, Honduras, Lebanon, Luxembourg, Nauru, Singapore, Panama, Peru, Uruguay, Thailand and Paraguay.  In Australia, failure to vote can result in a $20 fine. I quite understand the motive behind the bill, which is to shore up voters’ turnout and cut enormous waste being incurred at every poll by the Independent National Electoral Commission. This economic loss is found in unused ballot papers printed with billions of naira.

Nonetheless, making voting compulsory in Nigeria currently and even in future is a no-brainer. Indeed, it is a joke taken too far and a needless distraction! It is against the fundamental rights of citizens. Do the sponsors of the bill think that this is a panacea or an antidote to voter apathy? Did they do their research well enough to know that this piece of legislation, which to me is dead on arrival, is a priority for Nigerians? Granted that there is abysmal voter turnout in Nigeria, the drivers of that ugly phenomenon are not known to include optional voting.

I watched a video over the weekend about Indian elections and learnt that the Asian country has over 980 million registered voters as of 2024. Out of this number, 646 million voters voted in the May 2024 general elections. By the way, India has over 1 million Polling Booths, over 2,500 registered political parties and a population of 1.438 billion (2023 estimate). How come India recorded about 70 per cent voter turnout in its last general elections, and Nigeria, with 19 registered political parties, 93,469,008 million registered voters and 176,846 polling units, recorded a mere 27 per cent in the 2023 general elections? Meanwhile, elections in India are not compulsory.

 

According to the Independent National Electoral Commission, there has been a steady decline in voter turnout since 1999. The commission said there was 57.54 per cent of voter turnout in 2007 (remember, this was adjudged as the worst election in this Fourth Republic), 53.68 per cent in 2011, 43.65 per cent in 2015, 34.75 per cent in 2019, and 26.72 per cent in 2023. There are multiple reasons for voter apathy. These include lack of good governance; labourious voters’ registration and Permanent Voters Card collection process; late commencement of voting due to INEC’s logistical challenges; restriction of movement on election day; limited voting hours (six hours i.e., from 8:30 am-2:30 pm); a lack of trust in the election management bodies that votes will count and not rigged in favour of preferred candidates as well as electoral violence. Others include inadequate voters’ mobilisation by stakeholders, such as the political parties, candidates, INEC, civil society organisations and the media; perceived miscarriage of justice by the judiciary especially in election matters; a lack of multiple voting techniques, such as early voting, voting by proxy, out-of-country voting, diaspora voting, and voting by prisoners.

As I said in my column on December 4, 2024, there are several things Nigeria needs to do if it wants to improve voters’ turnout in subsequent elections. These are as follows: INEC needs to hold all general elections on one day. Having polls over two Saturdays is wasteful and illogical. In the August 2022 Kenyan elections, polls were conducted for six political offices in one day! Also, locking down the country or state during elections is counterproductive. Many people whose polling units are not near their residences are automatically disenfranchised.

 

Furthermore, there is a need to increase voting hours. In Egypt and the US, where I have been privileged to observe elections, polls are held for 12 to 13 hours. In Nigeria, voting hours are just six. In addition, the late arrival of INEC officials for duties has led many potential voters to leave in frustration without exercising their franchise. There should be provision for early voting so that millions of registered voters who are going to be on election duties, such as poll officials, security agents, accredited journalists, and observers, can vote ahead of the main election day. Recall that ahead of the November 5, 2024, elections in the US, 85 million registered voters had cast their ballots days and weeks before that day.

Another thing Nigeria should do is amend our laws to allow for out-of-country and diaspora voting. In the last general elections in Kenya, Kenyans living in 12 other countries were allowed to vote for the presidential candidate of their choice without having to travel home. Also in Kenya, prisoners are allowed to vote. This is not the situation yet in Nigeria. Allowing independent candidates to contest for political offices also has the potential to increase voters’ participation. Peaceful campaigns devoid of arson, killing, maiming, and fake news can instill confidence in voters to participate in elections. Pre-election violence has the power to scare away voters on election day.

How candidates emerge victorious in Nigeria’s election is too simple. For legislative positions, it is first-past-the-post. For executive positions, you need 25 per cent of valid votes cast in two-thirds of the country, state, or wards, depending on whether it is a presidential, governorship, or local government chairmanship poll. In other climes that have adopted the French model, a contestant needs to score 50+1 votes, which is an absolute majority, to be declared the winner. In countries like Ghana and most Francophone countries, voter mobilisation is taken seriously by political parties and candidates, unlike in our clime where this onerous responsibility has been abdicated to INEC, National Orientation Agency, and CSOs.

Of course, as earlier said, there is a need for improved governance with palpable dividends of democracy to the people. All these measures, if taken, will lead to a significant improvement in voters’ turnout.

Rather than making voting compulsory, what should be made mandatory is good governance!  Imagine if public education and health services are made free; if there is no self-aggrandisement by the political class and there is low-level corruption; high-level of infrastructural development, security and welfare of citizens. Voters will not need to be coerced to perform their civic responsibility.

Though he may not like being in the headline of a newspaper, Dr Michael Olawale Omolayole will admit two things: He is a goldfish that has no hiding place, and his name will help draw attention to the colloquium on malaria that is taking place today in Ijebu-Imusin, his hometown.

The colloquium is midwifed by the Michael and Theresa Omolayole Centre for Community Development, a non-government organisation set up by Omolayole and his late wife, Theresa, for interventions in community development issues.

The colloquium, to be addressed by Prof. Oyeku Oyelami, specialist in paediatric and adolescent medicine, and Provost of Federal College of Medicine, Ila Oragun, Osun State, reflects the theme, “Malaria Ends with Us: Reinvest, Reimagine, and Reignite”, that marked Malaria Day of April 25, 2025.

Dr Titi Hassan, professor of zoology at of University of Ibadan, will respond to Oyelami’s submissions, and ophthalmic surgeon, Dr Kunle Hassan, proprietor of the White Shoe Eye Foundation Hospital, is the chairman.

 

 The 2025 Malaria Day global campaign is to re-energise efforts, from global to community level, to expeditiously eliminate malaria. Nigeria’s National Strategic Plan 2021-2025 is to achieve a malaria-free Nigeria, by keeping malaria parasite prevalence to less than 10 per cent and reducing mortality to less than 50 deaths in 1,000 live births by 2025.

According to Omolayole, the colloquium will provide “vital knowledge about the prevention and treatment of malaria, which is a dreaded disease in the whole of tropical Africa. It particularly affects and kills millions of children below the age of 5”.

Those old enough will remember that West Africa was described as a “White man’s graveyard” because yellow fever and malaria led to a high mortality rate of Europeans. Some suggest that Caucasian and Arab settlers chose temperate Southern and North Africa to escape the scourge of mosquitoes.

Hinting at his approval of alternative medicine, Omolayole revealed that Oyelami was in a position to “demonstrate… how some herbs and plants that surround us can help considerably in the matter (of battling malaria)”.

He adds that he had heard and read extensively “about neem (dongoyaro), lemon grass and oruwo plants” that are cheaper and more readily accessible for use to combat the devastating scourge of malaria fever.

By the way, ethnopharmacology, which Omolayole seems to be interested in promoting, is the study of what Western orthodox medicine practitioners prefer to derisively label as traditional medicines and their uses.

A more academically arrogant definition of alternative medicine is that it aims to achieve the healing effects of orthodox medicine, even though it lacks biological plausibility, testability, repeatability or evidence of effectiveness.

But, then, any form of medication, orthodox or alternative, must be taken with a pinch of salt. That is probably why doctors suggest that patients should always seek second opinions. Some have even suggested that patients could use orthodox and alternative medicine to complement each other.

Perhaps a more acceptable definition of alternative medicine is that it includes medical practices that are not considered to be part of conventional or orthodox medicine and focuses on holistic approaches, natural therapeutics and alternative systems of healing, many of which are backed by a long history of usage and cultures.

It is also important to stress that there is a need to ensure the safety of the medications and the qualification or expertise of those who will dispense the alternative medicine options, as it applies to the use of Western orthodox medicine.

In addition, the methods of alternative medicine are not taught by regular university medical schools. But it is obvious that alternative medicines have returned with a vengeance, to the extent that vendors of herbal medicines are sometimes allowed to hawk their remedies to patients even in the wards of some Nigerian medical teaching hospitals.

 

Perhaps the biggest blow to Big Pharma is that alternative medicine gives patients very easy access to exceedingly cheaper herbs. Alternative medicine includes herbal medication, acupuncture, homoeopathy, massage therapy, yoga and meditation and significantly reduces the need to pop pills that come with significant negative side effects.

The lobby for alternative medicine, or at least another approach to the use of medication, was taken to another level by Dr Stella Immanuel, a Cameroonian, who studied medicine at the University of Calabar in Cross River State of Nigeria.

She led an audacious crusade for the use of hydroxychloroquine to treat patients of the COVID-19 pandemic. Of course, America’s food and drug administration agency, in panic mode on behalf of Big Pharma, promptly shot the idea down with reports of “serious heart rhythm problems” and other ill-defined health issues.

But Dr Immanuel’s effrontery rang throughout the world as Donald Trump, in his first term as America’s President, seemed to have weighed in on her side. But Dr Anthony Fauci, Director of America’s National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, was on the side of orthodox Western medicine and the financially munificent Big Pharma lobby.

But the world took notice of the debate, and many in the metropolitan economies of North America and Western Europe and the peripheral economies of South America, Africa, Asia, and Central and Eastern Europe stampeded in droves to patronise outlets that sold herbal medicines to combat the dreaded Covid-19 grim reaper.

Two state governors in Nigeria, Nasir el-Rufai of Kaduna State and Seyi Makinde of Oyo State, publicly admitted to having been cured of COVID-19 after taking herbal medicine. Testimonies of the efficacy of herbal medicine thus suddenly became more fashionable.

Dr Olorunninbe Mamora, a medical doctor and Minister of State for Health to former President Muhammadu Buhari, even promised that the government would work with herbal medicine practitioners to find solutions to COVID-19.

However, the cynicism of the Western orthodoxy against alternative medicine is so high that the world may miss the little steps that are capable of delivering the great benefits of cheaper and less complicated drugs to the world.

Little do these Euro-American cynics know that South African botanist, Dr. Zimara Dubeni, found out that Moringa oleifera leaf extracts can enhance food safety, reduce synthetic additives and improve public health if used to preserve raw chicken meat that can otherwise breed foodborne diseases.

The intervention of the Omolayoles’ MATOCCODEV is timely, considering the recent report of a breakout of Lassa fever that has caused 138 deaths in 15 Nigerian states. To be sure, Lassa fever is somewhat different from malaria fever.

Lassa fever is a viral illness transmitted by rodents, and malaria fever is a parasitic infection that is spread by mosquitoes. Whereas symptoms of Lassa fever are headache, fatigue, and, sometimes, bleeding, vomiting and kidney issues, those of malaria fever are chills, sweats, and, when it really gets worse, include seizures, fainting, coma and even death.

Today, MATOCCODEV is going to be facilitating the sharing of knowledge on the prevention of malaria fever and distributing, for free, 25 units of treated mosquito nets that were popularised by Rotary International.

Omolayole expects that the colloquium will attempt to explain the nexus between orthodox medicine and herbal medicine that is considered to be more cost-effective and more readily available, especially in rural communities.

Maybe Nigeria’s healthcare policymakers should give more than passing attention to the malaria colloquium taking place at Ijebu-Imusin today.

One of the founding theses of public administration reform philosophy is that the dysfunction and reconstruction of the administrative system must be figured out both in theory and in practice, and public administration had therefore historically functioned within frameworks of communities of practice and service and their knowledge networks. And that, among other things, implies that theory and practice must first be seen as being two sides of the same coin rather than two mutually exclusive frameworks. When I made the decision so early in my public service career to study the theoretical foundations of the Nigerian public service system, it dawned on me that dissecting the dysfunctional dynamics of the public service system provokes theoretical insights by which to engage with these same dysfunctions.

However, the gross anti-intellectualism of the policy space in Nigeria contributes to one of the fundamental deficiencies in the institutional framework of the public service in Nigeria: a mix of conception-reality and passion without knowledge gaps that manifest in terms of a mismatch between theoretical and reform paradigms on the one hand, and local conditions, circumstances and realities on the other. Indeed, administrative reforms are conceived and implemented to a significant extent with scant recognition that public administration has a theoretical foundation that is way distinct from the theoretical assumptions of the core management science.

We therefore arrive at a most significant reason why the public service system has been struggling to constitute the institutional mechanism to backstop democratic governance and its dividends for Nigerians. If we take it as axiomatic that the bureaucracy is a necessary complement to democracy, then it implies that the public service must be in topnotch shape—in terms of human resource management, performance accountability and productivity metrics—to be able to deliver on the imperatives of good governance. The public service system in Nigeria has however been struggling with the necessity for institutional reform that will transform it into a worldclass mechanism that could serve the need of a developmental state and its democratic requirements.

Ultimately, the fate of the public service and its optimal functionality—its capacity readiness to service democratic governance anywhere—lies firmly in the type of theoretical questions we ask in terms of what should drive the practice of public administration. The big questions are fundamental questions that articulate the relationship between theory and practice, and provide the directions that enable theorists and practitioners to make sense of any endeavor. The big questions that public administration is confronted with help to shape how it grounds its frameworks, dynamics and paradigms, especially when applied to the working of the state and the imperatives of governance.

Three initial big questions have been offered that are meant to ground public management. One: how can public managers break away from non-innovative fixation with excess of procedural rules which prevent pubic agencies from achieving measurable result and outcome? In other words, how might we ignite the shift from current input-process fixation to an output-outcome-impact-results-based management framework? Two: how can public managers motivate their workforce to achieve more in performance terms? Three: how can public managers measure these achievements?

These how-questions underscore the capacity of the public manager and her capacity to facilitate the capacity readiness of the public bureaucracy. This approach, especially in public administration, focuses on the public managers and their objective of capacitating the public agencies as an organization with its own unique character. However, as the objection goes, such an approach is limited in its failure to connect the functionality of the public bureaucracy or agency to the institutional demands of a democratic government. Public administration in a democracy is a whole ballgame all by itself. Once we see the intimate connection between public administration and a democracy, then we immediately see how there is a need for new set of big and fundamental questions that will adequately guide public administration practice within a democratic context.

Seven of such questions have been provided in the literature. “(1) What are the instruments of collective action that remain responsible both to democratically elected officials and to core societal values? (2) What are the roles of nongovernmental forms of collective action in society, and how can desired roles be protected and nurtured? (3) What are the appropriate tradeoffs between governmental structures based on function (which commonly eases organizational tasks) and geography (which eases citizenship, political leadership, and societal learning)? (4) How shall tensions between national and local political arenas be resolved? (5) What decisions shall be “isolated” from the normal processes of politics so that some other rationale can be applied? (6) What balance shall be struck among neutral competence, representativeness, and leadership? (7) How can processes of societal learning be improved, including knowledge of choices available, of consequences of alternatives, and of how to achieve desired goals, most importantly, the nurturing and development of a democratic polity?”

Unfortunately, it is not just sufficient to align public administration and public management to the imperatives of democratic government, as these seven questions by John Kirlin of the University of South California has attempted to do. A further criterion is missing. And this, because the experience of public administration and democracy differs from context to context. The contextual criterion ensures that the fundamental big questions we need to ask will be those that will take seriously the peculiarities and uniqueness of the context within which public administration will be expected to interact and backstop democratic governance. This is even more so in the Nigerian context where public administration and democratic government must factor postcolonial circumstances into the type of fundamental questions they are meant to engage with.

The Nigerian state, since its post-independence trajectory, has generated its own unique experience of public administration. This can be framed in terms of the myriad attempts at achieving institutional reform of the public service system inherited from the British colonialists. The commencement of the democratic experiment in 1999 puts a new spin on the urgency of bending public administration to the demands of democratic governance that will transform the quality of life of millions of Nigerians who have been promised the dividends of democracy. How then can we articulate the fundamental questions that should guide our understanding of the relationship between public administration and democratic governance in Nigeria? What are the critical issues that the government, its bureaucracy and public administration theorists ought to make the core of their reflective endeavor?
In what follows, I frame seven of such big questions in line with my many years of theoretically and practically engaging with the perils and promises of the public service as a mechanism for democratic fulfilment in Nigeria.

One: How can public managers break away from non-innovative fixation with excess of procedural rules and regulations that prevent public agencies from producing results and outcomes that translate to better life to the people in a democracy? This question speaks to the centrality of the “I-am-directed” Weberian tradition and the centrality of the input and process-oriented business model that undermine the output-oriented model which demands performance, efficiency, productivity.

Two: ⁠How can the public service resolve the seemingly jinxed pay and remuneration policy problem which has prevented the public service from achieving an excellent talent management regime that enables attraction and retention of talented professionals and some of the scarce skills the service requires to perform at optimal levels? This is a question that stems from government’s loss of status as the employer of choice which in turn has eroded civil service’s prestige as a brand, as well as the inability of the public bureaucracy to attract and retain the brightest and the best while managing adversarial industrial relation that undergirds employer-employee contractual obligations.

Three; ⁠How can public managers measure the achievements of their agencies in a way that is game-changing for performance of government and the productivity of the national economy? The success of democratic governance in Nigeria is aligned to the urgent need for a shift in the productivity paradigm that ensures that the public service system becomes motivated by a performance management that increases the productivity profile of the Nigerian state.

Four: ⁠How can the nature and role of the state be sustainably redefined and how to leverage same to organize and utilize government resources to better achieve the collective good? The nature and the role of the state keeps changing in relation to its governance responsibility. And this demands that the success of public administration is seen in terms of the state’s relationship to other non-state and nongovernmental actors that are stakeholders in the governance space.

Five: ⁠How can the public service regain public trust and foster social equity within framework of stewardship relationship with the people in a democracy? This question addresses the modalities by which the public service system function as a democratic institution that is transparent, accountable and open to the citizens as the most significant component of a democratic government.

Six; How should NGOs be empowered so they can play more positive role in society and in getting public policy to achieve the common good, and how can their desired roles be better protected? NGOs, as a nonstate actor, opens up the governance space (hitherto dominated by government and its agencies), and serve as the critical mediator between the government and the citizens.

Seven: ⁠How can the public service strike a balance between the values of being neutral and non-partisan as basis for strengthening professional ethics and the public servants’ capacity to speak truth to power? The founding dichotomy in public administration—the politics/administration distinction—insists that the politician and the administration must operate on different level of the policy divide. However, this dichotomy must be balanced with the capacity of the public servant to confront and engage with policy somersaults that fails the test of policy intelligence and action research.

These big questions constitute core issues which the public administration profession in Nigeria must foreground as the central reflective points for rethinking the functionality of the public service in Nigeria’s quest for democratic distinction on the continent.

*Olaopa, a Professor of Public Administration, is the Chairman of the Federal Civil Service Commission, Abuja

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