The Nation Newspaper

Category: Letters

  • Why Nigerians fear talking positively about their nation

    Why Nigerians fear talking positively about their nation

    Sir: There is a curious tragedy that runs deep in the Nigerian psyche: the fear, even shame, of speaking well about one’s own country. It is a paradox that in a land blessed with immense human capital, cultural creativity, entrepreneurial resilience, and a natural resource base that many nations envy, Nigerians recoil from affirming these blessings. Instead, they repeat, without interrogation, tired clichés about “corruption” and “failure,” often borrowed from outdated headlines.

    One explanation lies in our inurement to entrenched narratives. For decades, the word “corruption” has been the most convenient description of Nigeria, and it has become the default lens through which many interpret every action of state and society. It does not matter that positive reforms or development are taking place in sectors like digital banking, creative arts, agriculture, transportation, non-oil export, manufacturing, education, information and technology; the elite and ordinary citizens alike cling to yesterday’s headlines. We do not ask for evidence before believing the worst, but we demand unassailable proof before believing the good. And even when proof is provided, we eye it with suspicion, as though good news were a conspiracy.

    Why this attitude? Part of it is psychological convenience. It is easier to wallow in cynicism than to accept the responsibility that comes with hope. To affirm Nigeria’s progress is to be compelled to contribute to its continuation. To declare that reforms are working is to implicate oneself in sustaining them. Thus, cynicism functions as an escape—an excuse for passivity. By condemning the nation wholesale, one absolves oneself from the duty of incremental personal change.

    Another layer is hypocrisy. We are quick to lambast “public corruption,” yet rarely confront our private corruption: examination malpractice, nepotism, tax evasion, inflated contracts, violation of traffic rules, or the silent bribery of everyday interactions. To commend those in public life who have acted with integrity would expose our double standards, for it would force us to reckon with our own moral compromises. Nigerians are often stingy with deserved commendation, preferring instead the “safety” of unrelenting condemnation.

    There is also the curious phenomenon of glorifying the foreign while demonizing the familiar. Nigerians exaggerate the virtues of societies they admire—whether in Europe, North America, or Asia—while downplaying the struggles, corruption, and inequities that plague those same societies. In the desperate bid to validate one’s dream of “japa” (emigration), Nigerians paint their country in the darkest shades, dispatching horror stories abroad as passports to sympathy. Yet in so doing, they unwittingly sabotage their own identity and de-market the very nation that could have been their pride.

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    But perhaps the deepest reason is fear: the fear of being labelled naïve, complicit, or compromised. In Nigeria’s polarized atmosphere, to speak positively about one’s country is to risk being accused of sycophancy, of “eating from the system,” seeking public appointment by the government, or of being blind to reality. This fear silences honest optimism and makes many Nigerians prefer the safety of despair. Good news is treated as betrayal, while bad news is received as patriotic truth-telling.

    Yet this negativity has consequences. Nations are not built by those who despise them. The persistent denigration of Nigeria has robbed her citizens of confidence, robbed her youth of hope, and robbed her image abroad of dignity. No society can advance where its own citizens are its chief de-marketers. By refusing to talk positively about Nigeria, we cripple our own potential.

    To break this cycle requires courage—the courage to believe in our own story. Talking positively about Nigeria does not mean denying her challenges; it means refusing to let those challenges be the sole narrative. It means affirming progress where it exists, and giving commendation where it is due. It means balancing criticism with celebration, exposing corruption while rewarding integrity, and holding leaders accountable without damning the entire nation.

    Nigerians must learn that it is not betrayal to speak well of one’s country. On the contrary, it is betrayal to remain silent when truth and progress deserve to be heard. A nation that cannot believe in itself cannot expect the world to believe in it either.

    •Leonard Karshima Shilgba, <shilgba@gmail.com>

  • On rising paternity fraud cases

    On rising paternity fraud cases

    Sir: The recent revelation from the 2025 Annual Testing Report by Smart DNA Nigeria, a genetic testing company, has set tongues wagging and exposed the need to combat the rising tide of paternity fraud in Nigeria. In the report, it was revealed that only one in four children tested were confirmed to belong to their assumed biological fathers.

    In other words, only 25 per cent of those tested returned positive. It further states that apart from Jamaica, Nigeria has the highest cases of reported paternity fraud in the world.

    This is deeply troubling and worrisome and portends doom for our society.

    Let it be known that paternity fraud isn’t entirely novel to the Nigerian society. In the days of yore, cultural pressures around lineage and inheritance have sometimes pushed many wives to play “away games” while in their matrimonial homes. Those were the days when male children were prized above female children. Those were also the days when barrenness was seen as a curse from the gods and such women were not only looked down upon but also ostracized from society.

    If most people did an investigation of their ancestors, they would probably discover one or two wealthy and powerful ancestors who have had to accept children that they suspected or knew were not theirs. However, the difference between what we had then and what we have now, is that paternity fraud was very few and far between. And it was a taboo that was rarely spoken of.

    The rise of paternity fraud in Nigeria is a frightening reflection of societal decay and spells doom for the institution of marriage in Nigeria. This is particularly dangerous especially in a country where many youths already regard marriage with scepticism due to financial hardships, unemployment, and mistrust. The high rate of infidelity

    exposed by the report points to a pervasive trust deficit in the country. It portrays the country in a bad light in the comity of nations. This alarming development could lead to family disruptions, dislocations, and divorces.

    One factor that has contributed significantly to exposing paternity fraud is the “japa syndrome” which has gained currency among Nigerians of late. Most western nations due to the need to prevent immigrants from turning their visas into a racket, now demand DNA testing of children to prove paternity.

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    There is a need for a reengineering of our value system if we want to curb this menace. We need to embrace cultural, ethical, and religious values that uphold good conduct, discipline, patience, respect for law and order, and familial cohesion. Our value system today is nothing to write about. Most people today get their values from the negative things that they see on social media, shows like Big Brother Naija that promote nudity, and music and entertainment programmes which promote materialism, the use of hard drugs, promiscuity, etc.

    Going forward, the government must enact a law that penalizes paternity fraud in Nigeria. It must also enact a law that makes DNA testing mandatory, affordable, and accessible to all at the birth of a child. Most developed countries of the world rank low on cases of reported paternity fraud because they have easy and cheap access to DNA testing.

    A concerted effort by government, civil society, and faith groups is needed to raise awareness and educate the public. Parents should encourage their children to marry for love and not money, wealth, and fame. They should teach their children to have respect for the institution of marriage. And that family is very important because it

    is the smallest unit of the society and if family is destroyed, ultimately, society will also be destroyed.

    •Peter Ovie Akus, Ontario, Canada.

  • Uzodimma’s welfarist gestures

    Uzodimma’s welfarist gestures

    Sir: It’s a new dawn for civil servants and the people of Imo State as Governor Hope Uzodimma raised the state’s minimum wage from the nationally approved N70,000 to N104,000 monthly and medical doctors’ entry-level salary to N508,000 monthly.

    Whilst the above presents a gratuitous denouement for Imo citizens in active service, the retirees are also not left out, an immediate clearance of N16bn gratuity arrears were also ordered in one of the most novel and deserving gestures ever displayed by a sitting governor.

    The optics of this munificent initiative goes beyond a populist posturing.  Governor Uzodimma has proven that tectonic empathy towards citizens at the subnational levels of government is what is needed to alleviate the suffering of Nigerians and not the obstreperous decibel of hunger outcry against the president who must address issues of defence, foreign affairs and vestiges of macro-economics.

    Ever since the military’s venture into politics, a unitary mental construct has been foisted on Nigerians and has remained a constant default perception driving the social economic life of citizens. The military’s messianic rhetoric projected through deviant national broadcasts and the impetuous suspension of constitutional order heralding the beginning of such governments have engraved a syndrome of unitary hangover on citizens in a manner that is difficult to reverse.

    Whereas a federal democracy recognizes dividends of governance to be delivered by layers of constituted authorities in a manner prescribed by the constitution, a military paradigm does not only usurp the electoral precursors to such arrangements but also the autonomy of every layer to deliver to the people close to it.

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    A command and control structure expedient for military combat efficiency runs parallel to civil deliverables and therefore contributes to the distortion of civil engagements and muzzling of the rule of law. Be that as it may, Governor Uzodimma’s giant strides will go down in posterity as a bold attempt to deconstruct the military stereotypes of citizens and recalibrate expectations as they pertain to each level of government.

    Whilst the president is held accountable on the macroeconomic outcomes, especially in the context of the exclusive mandates listed in the constitution, governors and council chairmen must not be given a free pass to remain languorously obtuse to citizens’ aspirations.

    As Governor Uzodimma ramped up expenditure on wages and retirement benefits to make life easier for Imolites, so can every governor replicate in healthcare delivery, pivotal investments in education and so on.

    The Nigerian Governors Forum’s concerted efforts at the subnational would not only promote healthy competition among states but accelerate the potential for poverty eradication in the land.

    •ESV Bukola Ajisola, bukymany@yahoo.com

  • As Nigeria Immigration Service and passport fees

    As Nigeria Immigration Service and passport fees

    Sir: On August 28, the Nigeria Immigration Service (NIS) unveiled a wave of financial burden for citizens. From today,  Monday, September 1, the cost of acquiring a 32-page passport (valid for five years) will leap from N50,000 to N100,000, while the 64-page passport (valid for 10years) jumps from N100,000 to N200,000, a staggering 100 per cent increase across the board. Applicants in the diaspora are spared this hike, with fees remaining at US $150 and US $230, respectively.

    This move  marks the second significant increase within a year. In September 2024, passport fees were already raised, 32-page passports moving from N35,000 to N50,000, and 64-page passports from N70,000 to N100,000, triggering widespread public discontent. Despite the government’s assurances that fee hikes are necessary for maintaining quality and upholding the integrity of the document, the near doubling of fees in under 12months raises serious questions.

    Why is the government increasing passport fees again so soon after a previous hike? What specific factors justify a near doubling of fees in less than a year? What does “maintaining quality and integrity” of the passport mean in practical terms, and how does the fee increase directly contribute to this? How will the new fees impact ordinary citizens, particularly those with low incomes? How does this increase align with the government’s broader economic policies, especially as citizens deal with high inflation?

    For millions of Nigerians, this surge arrives against a backdrop of persistent economic hardship, skyrocketing inflation, high unemployment, dwindling purchasing power, and cost-of-living pressures. Travel, already privileged, becomes nearly exorbitant. A 10-year passport now costing N200,000 is likely beyond the reach of middle- and lower-income earners, effectively creating new barriers to mobility, for work, education, medical care, or reunions with loved ones abroad.

    NIS defends its decision, citing needs such as improving production quality, safeguarding passport integrity, and enhancing service delivery, claims echoed during the 2024 hike. But when citizens have already endured a massive hike last year, the sudden doubling again within months smacks of fiscal recklessness. Without transparency into the actual costs or targeted improvements, these justifications ring hollow.

    It’s notable, and arguably inequitable, that while internal applicants face steep increases, diaspora fees remain unchanged at fixed dollar amounts. The government defends this on exchange-rate stability grounds, citing dollar-denominated production costs, but that reasoning only underscores the suffering of Nigerians in-country, grappling with currency devaluation. It also draws attention to structural inequities between those abroad and those at home.

    This sudden cost increase is unacceptable. To my mind, here are four things that the NIS must do quickly to assure Nigerians that its purpose is not strictly to ‘obtain’ Nigerians.

    Number one, it must offer a transparent cost breakdown. NIS should publish clear accounts showing why fees need to increase, and how additional revenue will be utilised, be it improved printing technology, staff training, or office expansion.

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    Two, these sorts of price adjustments should be gradual. The case here is that, rather than raising fees in large leaps, the government should pursue incremental adjustments aligned with inflation and real cost growth.

    Besides, the service needs to deploy means-based considerations. It has to offer concessions or instalment options for civil servants, students, and low-income applicants to avoid penalising the most vulnerable.

    Lastly, the increase must lead to genuine service improvements. The NIS has a responsibility to ensure that any increased revenue translates into tangible improvements. This is in terms of faster processing, functional local centres, and expanded access, including to rural areas.

    If passports, tools for personal advancement and global mobility, become prohibitively expensive, what message does that send about who truly belongs in the conversation of African opportunity?

    Let this be a call for accountability, compassion, and reform, not further financial burden under the guise of progress.

    •Elvis Eromosele, elviseroms@gmail.com.

  • Nigeria’s cultural taste for poverty

    Nigeria’s cultural taste for poverty

    Sir: Not long ago, a news report showed Nigerian children writing the West African Senior School Certificate Examination, WASSCE late into the night with nothing but candles and torchlight. For many, it was just another story. For me, it was a mirror into Nigeria’s future, 20 to 30 years ahead. Because what enters into the minds of children shapes the society they grow into. And if darkness and struggle are normalised today, then hardship and mediocrity will be normalised tomorrow.

    In most societies, that image alone, children studying by candlelight, would be enough to shake a nation, to trigger reforms, to provoke outrage. But in Nigeria, it barely caused a ripple. Why? Because we have developed what I call a cultural taste for poverty.

    You wonder why senators and governors appear hardened, behaving like tin gods, forgetting the mandate of their positions and lacking empathy for the poor. It is because they too were raised in an environment where suffering was normalised. “If it was normal for me to hold position, then why shouldn’t it be normal for you to suffer? God will do your own”. That is the silent philosophy guiding much of our leadership and even our everyday lives.

    Look around and you would see it everywhere. A power outage lasting days is met with resignation. And when electricity suddenly returns, people shout, “Up NEPA!” as though electricity supply for a few hours is a gift, not a right. When supply stays on for 10 hours straight, we marvel, “They are really trying.” Trying to supply us with darkness? This is how low the bar has been set.

    The same applies to governance. A senator facilitates a project, funded not by his sweat but by taxpayers’ money and suddenly his name is plastered across the project as if it were a personal favour. We cheer, we clap and we thank him. Yet the truth is this, he has only carried out a duty for which he was elected. Nothing more.

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    This culture of lowered expectations has crept into every corner of our national life. We celebrate the bare minimum. We glorify survival over prosperity. We see the worst of situations and call it normal. And so we remain stuck.

    Nigerians have accepted incompetence as the order of the day. Leaders fail woefully at their duties, yet rather than hold them accountable, we explain away their failure, “What if he didn’t do it?”, “At least he is better than the last one.” It is this resignation that emboldens mediocrity. Any rogue can ride roughshod over us, loot resources, neglect the people and still find admirers who clap for him just for occupying office.

    Bad leadership no longer shocks us, it has been normalised into the national psyche. We endure obnoxious taxes, infrastructure decay and high price for fuel in an oil-rich nation. We buy transformers, energise it for distribution companies to charge us, we pay for services never rendered, we live in insecurity and yet the collective outrage is weak. Many have quietly accepted this cultural taste of poverty as a way of life. We no longer expect excellence, we no longer demand accountability and so we are governed by the worst among us.

    But Nigeria cannot continue this way. We must rise above this culture of poverty and mediocrity. We must refuse to normalise suffering and incompetence. We must begin to demand more, not just from those who govern us, but from ourselves as citizens. A nation is built not by what it tolerates, but by what it refuses to accept. Until we cultivate a taste for excellence, empathy and prosperity, Nigeria will continue to recycle the same failures. But the day we reset our values is the day Nigeria begins to rise.

    •Dayo DaSilva, (arpa, amncs) dsv123ng@yahoo.com

  • Dealing with ethical challenges in real estate sector

    Dealing with ethical challenges in real estate sector

    Sir: Real estate is one of the most visible professions in society, shaping where people live, work, and invest. Yet, in recent years, the industry has faced rising criticism over ethical lapses that undermine public trust. From allegations of sexual harassment and discrimination to opaque commissions, misleading marketing, and misuse of client data, the culture and conduct of real estate practice have come under scrutiny worldwide.

    At the heart of these challenges lies the structure of the industry itself. Many practitioners work as independent contractors with limited oversight, while the traditional commission-based model rewards closing deals rather than safeguarding clients’ interests. The result is an environment where ethical risks are easily overlooked in pursuit of profit. In markets like Nigeria and across Africa, these concerns are compounded by weak regulation, inadequate consumer protection, and the rapid adoption of digital technologies without corresponding safeguards.

    The ethical dilemmas cut across several areas. Agents are often caught in conflicts of interest, balancing loyalty to clients with pressures from referral fees or in-house deals. Misrepresentation of property details remains a recurring problem, eroding confidence in the profession. More troubling are cases of discrimination, harassment, and toxic workplace cultures that make it difficult for women and younger professionals to thrive. Added to this is the growing risk of money laundering through property transactions and the rising use of artificial intelligence in valuations and tenant screening tools that, if unchecked, may reproduce bias and privacy violations.

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    The good news is that solutions are within reach. Regulators and professional bodies must strengthen licensing and disciplinary processes, ensuring that ethical breaches carry real consequences. Firms need to move beyond mere compliance and embed integrity into their culture by redesigning incentives, publishing clear codes of conduct, and providing safe reporting channels for misconduct. Transparent disclosure of commissions, fair housing commitments, maintenance of reliable and up-to-date data banks, and whistle-blower protections are essential steps. Equally, technology should be governed with care data privacy safeguards, bias testing, and human oversight must accompany the growing reliance on digital tools.

    Ultimately, restoring trust in real estate requires more than rules; it demands a cultural shift. Leaders in the profession must set the tone by valuing fairness, accountability, and dignity alongside sales performance. If ethics become part of the industry’s DNA, the sector will not only protect consumers but also strengthen its reputation as a vital steward of homes, communities, and the built environment.

    •Dr. Victoria Odunfa  <odunfavictoria@gmail.com>

  • Dress code: A note to OAU management

    Dress code: A note to OAU management

    • By Oluwaseyi Okuribido

    Sir: I write with utmost respect to the leadership of the great Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, acknowledging its long-standing reputation for excellence, discipline, and cultural pride. The university has historically upheld values that blend scholarship with moral responsibility, and it is in this spirit that I respectfully seek the attention of the university management on the recently issued Dress Code Sanction List.

    Having carefully studied the document, I wish to humbly highlight the following observations:

    The intention behind the policy, which is to maintain modesty, discipline, and respect for Nigerian cultural values is commendable and reflects the high moral standards expected of students.

    One area of concern is excessive punishment. Rustication for one or two semesters for dress-related issues appears disproportionate compared to the gravity of such infractions. Rustication is traditionally reserved for serious offenses such as cultism, violence, or examination malpractice.

    Another is cultural heritage and expression. Hairstyles such as braids, dreadlocks, and coloured hair have deep roots in African culture and contemporary Nigerian society. Banning them outright risks alienating students from their identity and heritage.

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    Then of course are global standards.  In universities across the world, dress codes focus mainly on safety and professionalism (e.g., laboratory attire, clinical placements), while personal expression is respected. Harsh sanctions for appearance-related matters may therefore cast the institution as overly authoritarian.

    To strike a balance between discipline, culture, and modern realities, the following revisions are suggested: Limit dress restrictions to instances that compromise safety, decency, or academic seriousness; introduce graduated sanctions: verbal/written warnings, counselling, or community service for first-time dress code violations; reserve rustication only for repeated defiance or when dress misconduct is tied to cultism, violence, or public disorder; frame policies in terms of professionalism and cultural respect rather than morality alone, making them acceptable to both Nigerian society and global academic observers.

    Among the institutional benefits of revision is that it will enhance the university’s reputation for fairness and inclusivity, reduce the risk of student unrest or resistance, aligning OAU with the best practices of top global universities while still respecting Nigerian culture and traditions.

    This request is made in the firm belief that OAU’s leadership is committed to fostering an environment where discipline and excellence thrive without stifling students’ cultural identity or rights. Revising the dress code policy will further strengthen the university’s standing as a modern, progressive, yet culturally rooted institution.

    Thank you for your kind consideration.

    •Oluwaseyi Okuribido,

    <mailtanimola89@gmail.com>

  • Open letter to minister of education

    Open letter to minister of education

    • By Professor Kabir Àlàjó

    Sir: Within the two years of your saddle in the administration of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, you have taken the bull by the horn through bold reforms and pragmatic national policies in the education sector. Prior to your tenure in the Federal Ministry of Education, what had existed were policies, many of which are jaded and outdated, constricting the development of education sector in the country.

    Through your initiatives and backing of the president, Nigeria is beginning to reclaim its status as one of the best countries in the African continent with sound educational systems and opportunities.

    From the Diaspora BRIDGE initiative to the N50 billion settlement of long-standing Earned Academic Allowances (EAA), you have redefined the conversation about policy articulation in the education sector in such a way that was never seen before in recent time.

    The ranging reforms aimed at enhancing corporate compliance and unified governance structure in the country’s tertiary institutions is a legacy that future reviews of Nigeria’s education policy will remember you for.  Those reforms have done a great deal of service in enabling best global practices in not just how the leadership in the tertiary institutions are recruited, but also streamlined the protocols for a system-wide format of administration.

    While the review of the appointment of Professor Stella Ngozi Lemchi as the substantive vice-chancellor of Alvan Ikoku Federal University of Education, Owerri was the catalyst for those reforms, the current situation at the Federal University, Oye-Ekiti would be a litmus test of whether those reforms could stand the test of time.

    In April of this year, the substantive vice-chancellor of FUOYE, Professor Abayomi Sunday Fashina embarked on his accumulated annual leave. The decision of the vice-chancellor to proceed on leave followed a turbulent session of sexual harassment allegation against him, which the Governing Council thoroughly investigated and made its report.

    Since then, a management team led by Professor Olubunmi Shittu has run FUOYE with gleaning meticulousness.

     The twist in the mix now is that there are vested interests within and outside of the university who are bent on frustrating the return of Professor Fashina on the one hand, and on another hand, scheming to make Professor Shittu’s acting tenure extended and making him become the substantive vice-chancellor.

    The antics of these elements are ultra vires as they negate the noble principles of the reforms put in place about leadership succession in Nigerian universities by your esteemed self, acting under the authority of the president and visitor of the university.

    For emphasis, it was announced by the Director of Press, Federal Ministry of Education, Folashade Boriowo, that the federal government had stopped acting VCs, rectors, provosts from contesting substantive positions, and, according to the statement, the directive became necessary following a pattern of undue advantages observed over the years, “where officers serving in acting capacities often leverage their positions to influence appointment outcomes, thereby compromising the fairness and transparency of the selection process.”

    The policy stipulates that any officer serving in an acting capacity as vice-chancellor, rector, or provost shall not be eligible to apply for the substantive position while still holding the acting appointment.

    Such officers may choose to recuse themselves from their acting position before the expiration of their non-renewable six months tenure, thereby becoming eligible to apply for the substantive roles.

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    Why the situation in FUOYE is pivotal to the implementation of this policy is because it is the specimen for the laboratory test in the viability of the policy, given the fact that the acting vice-chancellor in FUOYE was appointed on April 14, barely a week after the policy was announced.

    It may interest you to know that same forces who championed the sexual harassment scandal against the substantive vice-chancellor of FUOYE are currently retooling to embark on sponsored public protests to forestall the return of the VC to his position after the expiration of his research leave, instigating leadership crises in the university and projecting to counter government’s policy on leadership recruitment protocols.

    It needs be stressed at this juncture, that the Governing Council did not find the substantive VC, Fashina, guilty of the charge and it has become clear by recent developments, that the scandal was contrived to make the vice-chancellor a cannon fodder in a sinister campaign of having a native as vice-chancellor of FUOYE.

    We urge you, honourable minister not to allow parochial interests to override the broader objective of justice and fairness that underpin the lofty policies that you have put in place in the governance structure of tertiary institutions in Nigeria.

    •Professor Kabir Àlàjó,

    United States.

  • Remaking the fragile politics of traditional power

    Remaking the fragile politics of traditional power

    • By Lekan Olayiwola

    Sir: The flare-up over conferment of traditional title has cooled, but its resonance remains. Not because the quarrel between the Ooni of Ife and voices in Oyo was unprecedented, but because it exposed a larger truth: in today’s Nigeria, thrones do not merely honour tradition; they contest power, shape identity, and strain the boundaries of democracy.

    Across Nigeria, royal thrones are more than ornate relics. They are living institutions, simultaneously revered and contested, woven into governance, identity, and politics. When they clash, the tremors ripple far beyond the palace walls.

    Royal rumbles in Nigeria are not simply about personality clashes; they are the aftershocks of colonial rewiring that never healed. Indirect rule froze fluid precolonial systems into rigid hierarchies, privileging some thrones while shrinking others and the resentments endure.

    Over time, executive instrumentalisation deepened the fault lines: state governors now hold the purse strings and the power of recognition, so that crowns rise or fall with political patronage.

    Add to this the marketisation of prestige, where chieftaincy titles double as fundraising and lobbying tools, and rivalry becomes less about heritage than scarcity and status.

    The law, instead of calming these waters, muddies them further: customary norms, state statutes, and court precedents overlap, inviting contradiction and forum shopping.

    And in today’s media age, what once remained within palace conclaves now trends on TikTok, magnifying minor slights into national spectacle.

    Sceptics might dismiss these palace clashes as mere ceremonial theatre. Yet their impact is tangible and far-reaching. Communities fracture as rival allegiances pit youth against elders, and local identities splinter along palace lines.

    Political opportunists exploit these divisions, co-opting traditional authority to amplify their own power while weakening collective voices. Public trust erodes when monarchs trade insults in tabloids or on social media, diminishing the sacred aura that once commanded respect across generations.

    Governance itself suffers: in Kano, Zazzau, and Ibadan, drawn-out legal battles over thrones consumed energy and attention that could have fuelled development; in the Middle Belt, weakened traditional mediation exacerbates farmer–herder conflicts, prolonging disputes that might otherwise have been resolved peacefully.

    Across the country, the ripple effects indicate these are not trivial quarrels behind palace walls, but disputes that touch civic cohesion, political stability, and social harmony.

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    Yet, traditional institutions remain critical soft power for a state whose legitimacy is often fragile. Weakening them is not just symbolic; it is destabilizing.

    Resolutions of these palace disputes are often superficial. Conflicts are suppressed through executive fiat, contained with stipends, swapped titles, or other face-saving measures, and sometimes eased through quiet bargains like new council seats, ritual concessions, or symbolic gestures.

    Each approach buys temporary calm but rarely addresses the underlying rivalries, leaving disputes poised to resurface under new political winds or succession shifts.

    These settle individuals, not institutions. And when governors, courts, or heirs change, the conflicts resurface.

    If rivalries are national, remedies must be systemic. Nigeria does not need fewer crowns; it needs clearer covenants. A National Atlas of Customary Authority could record every stool, its succession rules, kingmakers, jurisdiction, and precedents, creating memory infrastructure to prevent opportunistic rewrites.

    Harmonized state laws would set transparent standards for succession, published kingmakers’ votes, and narrow, reviewable grounds for executive overrides.

    A Standing Mediation Collegium—senior monarchs empowered to intervene early—would issue guidance that governors must publicly accept or reject, letting sunlight discipline process.

    Funding should be depoliticized, with stipends on predictable statutory transfers linked to peacebuilding, youth empowerment, and cultural preservation, while professional palace secretariats handle administration.

    Title conferment protocols would require notification of counterpart councils, registry in the atlas, and publication of grounds, with sanctions for repeated breaches.

    Ultimately, prestige should be measured by civic service—conflicts mediated, apprenticeships created, heritage preserved, rather than by origin myths alone.

    The Alaafin–Ooni episode was today’s weather. The climate is a century of unsettled rewiring   from Kano to Warri, Ibadan to Benin.

    Nigeria must stop treating each clash as fresh scandal and start building durable systems—memory, law, and mediation—that outlast personalities.

    •Lekan Olayiwola,

    lekanolayiwola@gmail.com

  • Beyond NITDA’s removal of harmful online content

    Beyond NITDA’s removal of harmful online content

    Sir: When the National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA) disclosed that more than 58 million harmful pieces of content were taken down from major platforms such as Google, Microsoft, and TikTok in Nigeria last year, it was more than a headline statistic. It was a powerful statement on the scale of Nigeria’s digital challenges—and a reflection of how far its regulatory ecosystem has come. Beneath the number lies a deeper conversation: what this data reveals about NITDA’s role, the evolving nature of online threats, and the delicate balance between regulation and innovation in Nigeria’s digital space.

    The compliance figures—filed under the Code of Practice for Interactive Computer Service Platforms jointly issued by NITDA, the Nigerian Communications Commission, and the National Broadcasting Commission—signal a fast-maturing regulatory framework. Over 754,000 user complaints were lodged, leading to millions of harmful items being removed and nearly 14 million accounts shut down. These measures are more than routine mechanics of online safety; they represent the scaffolding that allows Nigerians to engage online without being drowned in abuse, scams, or misinformation. Their true value lies in the intelligence they generate for regulators.

    For NITDA, compliance reports are not mere paperwork—they are windows into digital behaviour. They reveal patterns of abuse, highlight categories of content that pose the greatest risks, and expose gaps that demand more than takedowns or suspensions. A regulator that only enforces rules will always be reactive, lagging behind bad actors. But a regulator that interprets data can anticipate threats, influence platform design, and shape preventive strategies. This is where NITDA’s insight matters as much as its oversight.

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    The urgency of this work is underscored by Nigeria’s online landscape. With 107 million citizens connected—nearly half the population—and 38.7 million active on social media, exposure to digital harm is pervasive. On average, Nigerians spend more than six hours online daily, most of it on social platforms. Against this backdrop, 58 million harmful content removals are not routine clean-ups; they are indicators of just how deeply users are already exposed.

    Consider the ratio: nearly 59 million harmful content removals in 2024 equate to more than one harmful post or account neutralized for every active social media user in Nigeria. This illustrates not just the urgency of regulation but also the magnitude of the challenge: for every safe interaction online, there is a constant, invisible battle against toxicity, fraud, and manipulation.

    Still, numbers alone cannot guarantee trust. Fifty-eight million removals do not automatically translate into safety. Harmful content often reappears, legitimate voices may be wrongly silenced, and appeals can overturn moderation decisions. For NITDA, the priority must shift from counting takedowns to interpreting them. Which types of harm dominate? Are vulnerable groups disproportionately affected? Do successful appeals reveal flaws in moderation, or are they loopholes exploited by bad actors? Without such insights, compliance could risk becoming a bureaucratic exercise rather than a genuine safeguard.

    Yet, the progress is undeniable. Not long ago, Nigerian regulators were seen as too weak to hold global platforms accountable. Today, some of the world’s largest tech firms are filing detailed compliance reports in Abuja—a striking transformation that underscores Nigeria’s growing influence. In this environment, compliance is no longer optional; it is the cost of doing business in Africa’s largest digital market.

    Equally important is the human dimension. Nigerians must feel NITDA’s presence not only as a regulator behind the scenes but as a visible ally. That requires breaking down technical reports into simple insights for the public, investing in digital literacy, and empowering citizens to recognize and resist harmful content. It is not enough for harmful posts to vanish; users must understand why they were dangerous and how to avoid them in the future.

    The story of 58 million removals is, therefore, not just about what disappeared from Nigerian timelines. It is about how a regulator is learning from the digital battlefield, transforming raw data into actionable intelligence, and building a governance model that is both firm and adaptive. More importantly, it signals Nigeria’s transition from being a passive consumer of global tech policies to becoming an active shaper of digital norms. If NITDA continues to treat compliance data not just as evidence of alignment but as a tool for foresight, Nigeria could position itself not merely as a participant in the global conversation on online safety but as a continental leader setting the pace.

    •Shuaib S. Agaka,Kano.