The Nation Newspaper

Category: Letters

  • When failure refuses to win: What Koleosho teaches us about success

    When failure refuses to win: What Koleosho teaches us about success

    By Arabinrin Aderonke

    In today’s world, failure is rarely allowed breathing space. Once the numbers dip, the verdict is swift: cancel, mock, move on. Careers are pronounced dead not by time, but by trending charts and online commentary.

    Ibrahim Yekini, popularly known as Itele, knows this reality too well.

    When Kesari hit the screens, it failed to meet expectations. The box office numbers were weak. Viewer reactions were unforgiving. Almost instantly, ridicule followed. In a digital culture that treats poor performance as permanent incompetence, many believed the story had ended.

    It had not.

    Rather than retreat, Itele chose persistence, a decision that runs against modern logic. In an industry now governed by analytics and algorithms, failure is often seen not as a lesson, but as disqualification.

    Yet he pressed on.

    Despite the data, despite public dissatisfaction, despite the noise, he returned with Koleosho, a film that arrived quietly, without hype or inflated expectations. I hardly watch television except when absolutely necessary, but I was introduced to the movie by my spouse. What was expected to be simple comedy and everyday storytelling turned into something far more significant.

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    Koleosho is now doing remarkable numbers globally, breaking records for homemade Nigerian movies on YouTube. The same digital space that once amplified ridicule is now broadcasting success.

    The irony is instructive.

    In a society increasingly obsessed with instant validation, we have forgotten that progress is often untidy.

    We worship data but misunderstand its limits. Numbers measure outcomes, not potential. They capture moments, not destinies.

    What Kesari represented was not failure of ability, but a stage in growth. What Koleosho represents is the reward of endurance.

    This comeback is not merely about entertainment. It speaks to a broader Nigerian reality where entrepreneurs fold businesses after one loss, professionals abandon dreams after one rejection, and creators silence themselves after one bad review.

    Yet, history, personal and national rarely belongs to those who quit early. Itele’s resurgence reminds us that resilience remains one of the most underrated currencies of success. Not every stumble is a signal to stop. Sometimes, it is evidence that refinement is underway. Failure, when confronted honestly, becomes education. Persistence turns it into advantage.

    The lesson from Koleosho is simple but profound: yesterday’s disappointment does not have the authority to cancel tomorrow’s breakthrough.

    In a time when society rushes to label, dismiss and move on, this story insists on patience with ourselves and with others.

    Because sometimes, what looks like the end is merely the interval before a stronger second act.

    And for those bold enough to return after failing publicly, the sky is not just the limit, it is the starting point.

    Arabinrin Aderonke Atoyebi is an award-winning investigative journalist, policy analyst, and Finalist, 2016 CNN Africa Journalist Award. She writes from Abuja.

  • Fela vs.Wizkid FC: Generational greatness and ethics of comparison

    Fela vs.Wizkid FC: Generational greatness and ethics of comparison

    Every generation possesses an inalienable right to define its own heroes. While history records figures whose greatness transcends time and epochs, it is neither natural nor just to deny succeeding generations the freedom to recognise excellence within their own cultural moment. Greatness is not a finite resource, and it is not inherited by negation. Each individual must be allowed to pursue significance independent of the shadows cast by predecessors. People sometimes fail to realise how transitions between generations can be rough. Social transitions can sometimes be filled with tension and misunderstanding. Paradoxically, many figures now revered as icons were, in their own time, misunderstood, resisted or outright disdained.

    If this paradox were not true, one must ask why figures such as Gani Fawehinmi appear greater in death than they ever were in life. In memory, he is celebrated as the Senior Advocate of the Masses, a tireless defender of the oppressed and an uncompromising voice against military dictatorship. Despite these, when he sought political power through the same masses whose cause he championed, their support was conspicuously scarce. He contested elections. He presented himself for leadership. And the inevitable question arises: how many people truly voted for him?

    This contradiction exposes an uncomfortable truth about society’s relationship with heroism. We often admire courage at a safe distance but hesitate to shoulder the cost of standing with it in real time. We canonise what we once resisted. We sanctify in retrospect what we could not accommodate in the present. It is only after their departure that society fully grasps the magnitude of the vacuum they leave behind.

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    A further complication arises from our obsession with comparison. We habitually ask: Who is greater? Messi or Ronaldo? Wole Soyinka or Chinua Achebe? Alabi Pasuma or Saheed Osupa? Jay-Jay Okocha or Kanu Nwankwo? Dangote or Otedola? King Sunny Ade or Ebenezer Obey? Obafemi Awolowo or Nnamdi Azikiwe?

    These questions, while popular, are shallow. They collapse distinct contexts and purposes of excellence into a false hierarchy. One is compelled to ask: toward what end are these comparisons made? What truth do they ultimately reveal, beyond inflaming sentiment and rivalry?

    Fela Anikulapo Kuti was undeniably great. That fact is not open to dispute. His artistic genius and political courage remain potent nearly three decades after he died. His continued relevance is itself evidence of the depth of his legacy. But greatness is not diminished because another generation finds resonance in a different figure. Also, celebrating contemporary excellence does not amount to erasing historical significance.

    Can anyone today claim to surpass Fela? Such a claim is premature, or perhaps incoherent. Legacy is not adjudicated in real time. It matures through decades of cultural endurance and critical reassessment. If we are to speak honestly, the only fair arbiter of such questions is time itself. Let us allow the present generation to live, create and define meaning on its own terms, and reserve final judgments for history.

    To ask who is greater is often to misunderstand what greatness truly is. In the end, reverence for the past and recognition of the present need not be mutually exclusive. A society secure in its values can honour its legends without weaponising them against the aspirations of those who come after. 

    •Matthew Alugbin, PhD,  Edo State University,  Iyamho.

  • As Emir Sanusi returns to school

    As Emir Sanusi returns to school

    The recent return of Muhammadu Sanusi II, PhD, the Emir of Kano, to academic lectures at Northwest University, Kano, where he is enrolled as a 200-level undergraduate law student, invites a thoughtful and timely reflection on the true meaning of education. His decision to resume formal study in both Common and Sharia Law, vividly demonstrates the enduring reality that learning is neither limited by age nor constrained by social status or previous accomplishments. Education remains a lifelong endeavour, sustained by intellectual curiosity, personal growth, and a deep commitment to the advancement of society.

    By choosing to pursue an LL.B degree at this stage of his life, he reinforces an essential truth: intellectual development does not conclude with the attainment of titles or high office. Rather, it is strengthened through humility, continuous learning, and renewed engagement with evolving bodies of knowledge.

    History is replete with examples of distinguished individuals who, even after reaching the summit of their careers, returned to academic and intellectual exploration in order to broaden their perspectives. Such figures illustrate that continued education is not a mark of inadequacy, but a deliberate pursuit of relevance, renewal, and deeper understanding in a constantly changing world.

    In the United States, Dr Francis Collins, a renowned physician and geneticist and former Director of the National Institutes of Health, exemplifies this principle. Having obtained both a Doctor of Medicine and a Doctor of Philosophy, Collins resisted complacency and instead devoted himself to research at the intersection of genomics and human health. His leadership of the Human Genome Project demonstrates how intellectual adaptability and sustained learning can produce transformative scientific breakthroughs.

    Similarly, Dr Mae Jemison, the first African American woman to travel into space, presents a compelling model of interdisciplinary education. Originally trained as a medical doctor, she later acquired advanced qualifications in engineering and, following her career with the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, immersed herself in diverse fields including dance, culture, and sustainable development. Her intellectual journey affirms that education is not a rigid or linear process, but a broad and integrative pursuit capable of addressing complex global challenges.

    The United Kingdom also offers instructive examples. Professor Stephen Hawking, widely regarded as one of the most brilliant theoretical physicists of the modern era, consistently extended his intellectual engagement beyond formal qualifications. Although his doctorate was in cosmology, his later work explored philosophy, ethics, and the wider implications of scientific discovery for humanity, thereby enriching public understanding of science and its societal significance.

    In a similar vein, Dr Richard Dawkins, after completing a PhD in zoology, expanded his scholarly influence into literature, philosophy, and public education. His work demonstrates that intellectual vitality flourishes when scholarship transcends narrow disciplinary boundaries and engages society in critical reflection. Together, these British examples underscore the enduring value of sustained intellectual curiosity beyond specialised academic training.

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    Africa, too, has produced inspiring figures. Professor Wangari Maathai of Kenya, the first African woman to receive the Nobel Peace Prize, initially earned a doctorate in veterinary anatomy. Her intellectual pursuits later expanded into environmental science, civic education, and grassroots activism, enabling her to translate academic insight into lasting social and ecological transformation across the continent.

    In Nigeria, Dr Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, trained in economics and regional planning, continually expanded her expertise in international development and global finance.

    Ultimately, Sanusi’s return to undergraduate study encourages society to reconsider narrow assumptions about education, age, and status. His decision aligns with a global tradition of accomplished individuals who regard learning as a continuous responsibility rather than a completed phase of life. Far from constituting a distraction, his enrolment should be celebrated as a powerful testament to humility, discipline, and the enduring value of knowledge.

    In an era where titles are often mistaken for wisdom and authority is conflated with learning, Sanusi’s example offers a quiet yet persuasive lesson. Genuine intellectual distinction lies not in past achievements or inherited positions, but in the willingness to continue learning, to share intellectual spaces with others as equals, and to pursue knowledge for its own sake and for the betterment of society.

    •Abdulrashid Sani Gimi, PhD, Kaduna State.

  • Taxation and the question of trust

    Taxation and the question of trust

    Sir: Nigeria’s dwindling education fortunes mean that many Nigerians don’t even understand taxation and aren’t equipped with the basic knowledge to understand an arcane subject that usually mesmerizes even astute professionals. Sometime last year, the federal government, with the National Assembly pushed through the tax laws. The laws led by the Nigeria Tax Act 2025(NTA) which aimed at reforming Nigeria’s tax architecture, broadening the tax base, achieving tax inclusivity, and laying the groundwork for extensive economic development through robust taxation, were immediately met with resistance and recriminations.

    As Nigerians struggled to comprehend the proposed laws, there were accusations and counter-accusations about what the laws were meant to achieve. In the end, however, after wider consultations, the laws were passed, effectively changing Nigeria’s tax landscape.  The laws that came into effect on January 1, promise to transform the fortunes of Nigeria’s taxation with the understated effects of transforming the lives of Nigerians. But the whispers and outright whiplash that continue to greet the laws tell a familiar and potentially portentous parable.

    Simply put, Nigerians are no tax enthusiasts. As with the ingrained condition that shapes their approach towards many other issues, Nigerians need convincing and even compulsion when it comes to paying their taxes. To be clear, this is not a compliance problem as much as it is a conviction conundrum. Nigerians simply do not trust that the taxes they pay will be deployed for their benefits. More tellingly, Nigerians do not trust the government.

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    Decades of systemic corruption have laid waste to any trust Nigerians have in those who collect and account for their taxes. It is a commonly held view among many Nigerians that whatever money they remit to the government by way of taxes has a way of ending up in private pockets. Whether this view is right or wrong is not significant as much as its effect on how people perceive the government.

    In a country where infrastructure has suffered years of neglect, with security and the economy taking equally jarring hits, it is difficult to make sense of Nigeria’s crippling underdevelopment and grinding poverty in light of the vast amount of resources that have accrued to successive governments.

    Therefore, when those who occupy Nigeria’s corridors of power sit to devise means of dealing with the mass murmur of discontent concerning the new tax laws, they should also target improving the image of the government. Efficiency can go a long way in achieving this.

    •Ike Willie-Nwobu,Ikewilly9@gmail.com

  • Yet another abduction of worshippers

    Yet another abduction of worshippers

    Sir: The abduction of 177 worshippers on Sunday from ECWA Church and Cherubim and Seraphim Churches 1 and 2 in Kurmin Wali community, Kajuru Local Government Area of Kaduna State, has once again forced the nation to confront a disturbing and persistent question: what exactly is the motive behind these repeated attacks on innocent citizens at places meant for peace, refuge and worship?

    Initially, the incident was flatly denied by security agencies, a response that has sadly become familiar in similar cases. However, the truth eventually emerged, confirming the fears of families and communities who already knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Such denials only deepen public distrust and reinforce the perception that authorities are either overwhelmed or unwilling to confront reality head-on.

    This incident is one abduction too many. The government must find a concrete and effective way to put an end to these senseless crimes that have turned daily life into a gamble with death or captivity. Statements of condemnation are no longer sufficient; what is required is decisive action, accountability and results that citizens can see and feel.

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    One must ask, honestly and painfully, when did Nigeria reach this point? When did the security of lives and property become so uncertain that attending church or travelling on the road now carries the risk of kidnapping? A nation that cannot protect its citizens in their most vulnerable moments is one standing on dangerously weak foundations.

    The country recently rejoiced when victims of the Kwara church abduction were released. Yet that relief was short-lived, as no arrests were made and no clear consequences followed. This failure to bring perpetrators to justice may well have emboldened criminals, sending the message that mass abduction carries little risk beyond negotiation.

    These criminal networks have also been strengthened by the steady flow of ransom payments. While families often have no choice but to pay to save their loved ones, the broader effect is devastating. Ransom has become a business model, funding further operations and encouraging more daring and violent attacks.

    Nigeria can no longer pretend that this crisis can be solved in isolation. It is increasingly clear that foreign assistance is needed, alongside strong and sincere collaboration with neighbouring countries to secure porous borders that allow criminals and weapons to move freely. At the same time, the practice of granting amnesty to terrorists and violent criminals by some states must be firmly discouraged, as it only legitimises crime and worsens the situation.

    This crisis is getting out of hand, and pretending otherwise is dangerous. The nation must summon the political will to confront abductions with a comprehensive, coordinated and uncompromising strategy. Anything less risks condemning citizens to a future where fear replaces faith and survival becomes the ultimate act of resistance.

    •Tochukwu Jimo Obi,

    Obosi Anambra State.

  • Salary deductions for lateness illegal

    Salary deductions for lateness illegal

    Sir: In many Nigerian workplaces, salary deductions for lateness have become a routine disciplinary tool. Employees arrive late to work and find their wages surcharged, sometimes calculated per minute or per hour. While this practice may appear administratively convenient for employers, it raises a critical legal question: does Nigerian labour law support penalizing workers for lateness through salary deductions?

    The starting point is Section 5 of the Labour Act, which deals with the protection of workers’ wages. Section 5(1) provides that an employer shall not make any deduction from the wages of a worker except as permitted by the Act or any other law. This provision establishes a strong presumption against wage deductions. Salary is therefore protected by law, and any deduction must be expressly authorized. Lateness, on its own, is not listed anywhere in the Labour Act as a valid ground for deducting wages.

    Many employers attempt to justify lateness deductions as a form of disciplinary penalty. However, the law treats this differently. Section 5(2) of the Labour Act addresses fines and penalties and prohibits employers from imposing any fine on a worker unless such fine is prescribed by regulation and approved by the Minister of Labour. In practical terms, most lateness-related deductions qualify as fines and are therefore unlawful in the absence of ministerial approval.

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    It is important to distinguish between lateness and absence from work. Nigerian labour law recognizes the principle of “no work, no pay” in situations where an employee fails to render any service for a given period. For example, where an employee is absent for a full day without authorization, wages may lawfully be withheld for that day. Lateness, however, does not amount to absence. Once an employee reports for duty and performs work, even if late, the employer has received value for that labour. Financially penalizing such an employee goes beyond withholding pay for unworked hours and becomes a punitive measure, which the law strictly regulates.

    The illegality of wage deductions for lateness does not mean employers lack disciplinary options. Nigerian labour law allows employers to manage misconduct through non-monetary measures, provided due process is observed. These include issuing verbal or written warnings, raising queries, implementing performance management measures, suspending employees where contractually permitted, and, in cases of persistent misconduct, terminating employment following fair procedure.

    Some employers rely on provisions in employment contracts or staff handbooks to justify deductions for lateness. This approach is legally flawed. No contract or internal policy can override a statute. Any contractual clause that permits unlawful wage deductions is void to the extent that it conflicts with the Labour Act. Professional HR practice, including guidance from the Chartered Institute of Personnel Management of Nigeria, reinforces the principle that discipline should be corrective rather than punitive and that wage deductions should not be used to address attendance issues.

    Beyond legal compliance, the issue has broader implications for workplace culture. Arbitrary salary deductions often damage employee morale, reduce trust, and expose organizations to avoidable disputes and litigation. As Nigerian organizations continue to mature and professionalize, adherence to labour standards is both a legal obligation and a sound management strategy.

     Nigerian labour law does not support penalizing workers for lateness through salary surcharges. Except where a fine has been lawfully prescribed and approved by the Minister of Labour, such deductions are unlawful. Employers are better served by addressing lateness through structured disciplinary processes that respect statutory protections and promote fairness, accountability, and sustainable workplace relations.

    •Samuel Jekeli,

    FCT, Abuja.

  • Nigeria’s lobbying deal and the politics of global perception

    Nigeria’s lobbying deal and the politics of global perception

    Sir: In early January, the federal government reportedly signed a $9 million contract with DCI Group, a Washington-based lobbying firm, to help communicate its efforts at protecting religious communities and sustaining U.S. support in the fight against violent extremism. The move, facilitated through a Nigerian intermediary on behalf of the Office of the National Security Adviser, reflects Abuja’s enduring concern with perception and diplomatic positioning in an era of intensifying global scrutiny.

    For decades, Nigeria’s relations with the United States have been shaped by a mix of cooperation and contention. Security partnerships, trade engagements, and diaspora politics have been central pillars of this bilateral relationship. However, events of the past few years, including sustained attacks by insurgent groups, inter-communal violence, and allegations of targeted persecution of religious minorities; have complicated Nigeria’s diplomatic narrative.

    In this context, the federal government’s decision to spend millions on a lobbying contract can be understood as an attempt to manage external perceptions and reassure key global partners that its policies are robust, inclusive, and aligned with international norms. The logic is straightforward: negative portrayals in influential foreign media and policy circles have the potential to jeopardise security assistance, foreign investment, and international goodwill. If left unchecked, such narratives could translate into tangible diplomatic consequences.

    Yet the question that naturally arises is this: should securing international image be so resource-intensive when the nation’s own citizens continue to bear the brunt of insecurity and economic dislocation?

    Critics argue that the contract amount is not merely a matter of fiscal imprudence but a reflection of deeper disconnects between the state and its citizenry. When millions of Nigerians contend daily with inadequate infrastructure, inflationary pressures, and persistent insecurity, the optics of allocating significant public funds to foreign image management appear out of step with citizen expectations and democratic accountability.

    Civil society groups have been particularly vocal. Some describe the effort as a form of misplaced priority; an attempt to outsource credibility instead of strengthening internal communication structures and security institutions. Others point to the irony of denying targeted religious persecution while simultaneously paying to convey the government’s protective efforts abroad.

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    It is important to acknowledge that lobbying in foreign capitals is not inherently illegitimate. States engage in such practices as part of broader diplomatic strategies. However, in the Nigerian case, the reliance on third-party narrative management exposes vulnerabilities in official capacity and raises questions about strategic coherence.

    If Nigeria’s security apparatus, diplomatic missions, and information ministries possess the necessary insights and policy articulation, why is it that these roles must be outsourced at great expense? Why not invest in strengthening institutional communication channels within existing diplomatic frameworks? Such investments, arguably, would yield not just better messaging but stronger institutional capacity.

    Moreover, public diplomacy divorced from substantive action often rings hollow. The international community, particularly democratic partners such as the United States, does not simply respond to polished narratives; it responds to results, accountability metrics, and demonstrable policy outcomes. In this light, lobbying becomes less about persuasion and more about damage control, a reactionary measure that risks obscuring the structural reforms urgently needed within Nigeria’s domestic governance.

    What Nigeria needs, therefore, is not merely a strategic communications contract, but a balanced approach to both internal reform and external engagement. This includes prioritising effective security policies, ensuring transparent governance, and engaging international partners through substantive intergovernmental channels.

    As Nigeria navigates the complexities of global politics and domestic expectations, it would do well to remember that credibility cannot be purchased; it must be earned. The $9 million lobbying contract may momentarily shape perceptions, but it will not substitute for demonstrable progress on security, economic stability, and social cohesion.

    For a nation striving for both global respect and internal stability, the path to vindication lies not in expensive image management, but in results that resonate with citizens and command respect abroad. It is time for public policy to match public rhetoric.

    •Felix Oladeji,

    Lagos.

  • Rebuilding Nigeria’s tax base amid public exhaustion

    Rebuilding Nigeria’s tax base amid public exhaustion

    Sir: Nigeria entered 2026 with a tax story unlike any it has faced in decades. From social media speculation to radio debates, conversations about the new tax laws have been urgent and, at times, anxious. Citizens worried whether their hard-earned money might be taken unexpectedly, while entrepreneurs fretted over new obligations. Yet, a careful reading of the laws shows that most Nigerians, particularly low-income earners, face exemptions and net relief.

    It is noteworthy that the new tax regime is Nigeria’s gradual movement away from oil rents and borrowing toward taxation as a core state resource. Rather than a technical adjustment, it is a fundamental transformation of the social contract. When governments rely on oil, fiscal distance allows them to remain unaccountable to citizens. When governments rely on taxes, citizens expect tangible returns including better roads, functional hospitals, quality schools, and reliable public services. The legitimacy of the state is now measured not by promises, but by visible outcomes.

    Low-income earners are mostly exempt under the new regime, yet Nigeria’s economy remains largely informal. Millions earn irregular incomes through trade, agriculture, and small-scale services. While these workers may owe no tax, administrative requirements such as Unique Taxpayer Identification Number (UTIN) registration, filings, and declarations can still create anxiety.

    This anxiety is often expressed with humour and caution on social media. One student, for example, posted a receipt from their bank account, circling the balance and writing: “Na my school fees ooh. FG no touch am.” This simple, relatable act captures the mix of fear, vigilance, and resilience many Nigerians feel as they navigate a system they are told to trust but do not yet fully understand.

    Here lies a subtle risk: fear arises not from payment, but from navigating unfamiliar systems. Reform fatigue magnifies this, as citizens recall previous initiatives that promised inclusion but delivered exclusion. To be humane, a tax state must distinguish contribution from compliance, offering gradual, supportive, and educational pathways for informal workers and microbusinesses.

    SMEs are vital to Nigeria’s economic recovery. They have been reassured of exemptions and thresholds, yet growth can paradoxically trigger fear over new reporting obligations, digital infrastructure requirements, and professional fees may accompany increased visibility.

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    A tax system that punishes growth inadvertently discourages formalisation. Humane reform means phased obligations, clear guidance, and support for compliance, ensuring that entrepreneurial success is encouraged, not penalised. This is essential for SMEs to participate fully in Nigeria’s new economic order.

    The timing of these reforms is politically significant. As Nigeria approaches the 2027 electoral cycle, perceptions of fairness, trust, and service delivery are heightened. Tax policy is therefore not merely fiscal; it is political, shaping public sentiment well before votes are cast.

    Reform fatigue amplifies suspicion as citizens wonder if the policy is genuine or politically motivated. The antidote is transparency, empathy, and consistent administration. When citizens perceive taxation as a tool for collective benefit rather than partisan advantage, compliance grows, and trust is reinforced.

    The anxiety surrounding Nigeria’s new tax economy is understandable. Reform fatigue tells us that citizens are alert, invested, and sensitive to fairness. It is a signal, not an enemy. On balance, the reforms are reassuring that most Nigerians will pay no additional tax, exemptions are explicit, and rates have been clarified.

    Yet reassurance alone will not build trust. Trust grows from clarity, fairness, visibility, and respect for citizen dignity. If Nigeria manages this transition with empathy, operational coherence, and accountability, the tax state can become a foundation for shared progress, not a source of fear.

    Ultimately, reform fatigue is not just a bureaucratic hurdle; it is a mirror of the relationship between state and citizen. Nigeria’s tax reforms will only endure if they rebuild trust, show tangible fairness, and invite people into a shared project of nationhood. The success of these measures will be measured less by legal texts than by the public’s sense that the state is not merely demanding, but deserving of their cooperation.

    •Lekan Olayiwola,lekanolayiwola@gmail.com

  • A whole-of-society call to transform education

    A whole-of-society call to transform education

    Sir: As the world marks the International Day of Education, Nigeria stands at a pivotal crossroad. Today, according to UNICEF, over 18 million children in the country are out of school, the highest number in the world, and learning poverty, defined as the inability to read and understand a simple text by age 10, exceeds 70 percent at the primary school level. This is not merely an education problem; it is an economic, social, and security crisis with profound implications for the nation’s future.

    Every day that Nigeria delays bold action, we risk an entire generation growing up without the skills to participate fully in society, compromising productivity, innovation, and even national stability. If we are serious about building a resilient and prosperous nation, education cannot remain the responsibility of the government alone. It must become a whole-of-society project, mobilizing all sectors—government, private sector, civil society, communities, development finance institutions (DFIs), and international NGOs, around a shared North Star: By 2030, every Nigerian child acquires foundational literacy, numeracy, and life skills, regardless of geography, gender, or income.

    This simple and collective goal allows governments, donors, civil society, and communities to align budgets, policies, innovation, and accountability toward a single, life-changing outcome: learning for every child, everywhere.

    Recent multi-stakeholder dialogues on education financing and reform have reinforced three non-negotiable truths. First, coalitions outperform isolated efforts. Second, multi-year funding is essential for sustainable impact. Third, education finance must be catalytic, coordinated, and outcome-driven.

    Stakeholders across government, the private sector, development partners, and philanthropy increasingly recognise that education transformation cannot happen in silos; it requires coordinated, long-term, multi-sector action.

    Education is too complex to be solved by one sector alone. Each sector has a role: the government provides policy, regulation, financing, and teacher development; the private sector invests capital, technology, and innovation; civil society and local communities ensure relevance, advocacy, and accountability; DFIs and INGOs offer patient, catalytic financing, technical expertise, and global best practices; and the media and citizens drive awareness, public support, and social mobilization.

    When these actors work together, the result is not just incremental improvement but systemic transformation.

    Global experience illustrates what is possible. In Rwanda, pooled financing and long-term partnerships significantly expanded classroom access and teacher training over a decade. Ghana’s education technology collaborations now reach hundreds of thousands of learners in underserved communities through private sector co-investment catalysed by development finance.

    In Vietnam, sustained government commitment combined with multi-year development financing helped raise literacy rates from 58 percent to over 95 percent within two generations.

    The lesson is clear: meaningful transformation requires patient capital, multi-year funding, and coalition-driven action. Short-term grants and fragmented programmes cannot deliver the scale of impact Nigeria urgently needs.

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    Education is not only a development priority; it is national security infrastructure. Research shows that each additional year of schooling reduces the risk of youth participation in violent extremism by up to 20 percent, while countries with high learning poverty experience lower productivity growth and higher crime rates. Many of Nigeria’s current insecurity hotspots overlap with regions of persistent educational exclusion. Investing in education is therefore a direct investment in peace, productivity, and national resilience.

    The private sector, in particular, has a critical role to play beyond traditional corporate social responsibility. Strategic co-investment, aligned with national priorities and designed for scale, can strengthen education systems while delivering measurable social returns. When private capital is coordinated with public policy and development finance, it can help unlock innovation, improve accountability, and accelerate outcomes across the education value chain. Every naira invested in education also strengthens human capital, digital infrastructure, gender and inclusion, climate resilience, future jobs, and social protection, the six pathways the UN identifies as essential for transformative development.

    Nigeria must choose transformation over incrementalism. Governments must align budgets, data systems, and accountability frameworks to learning outcomes. Private sector leaders should commit to sustained, multi-year co-investment. Development partners and DFIs must deploy catalytic financing at scale. Civil society and citizens must continue to demand education as a national priority. If Nigeria unites around a common North Star and mobilizes the full strength of society, our education crisis can become the greatest opportunity of this generation. Every child who learns is a step closer to a nation that thrives economically, socially, and securely.

    Education is Nigeria’s most powerful investment, in prosperity, peace, and the promise of the future. The time to act is now, not tomorrow, not next year. When society, finance, and governance align, every child can learn, thrive, and contribute to a stronger, more secure nation and the global economy.

    •Olapeju Ibekwe, Lagos.

  • Securing the future of our agricultural sector

    Securing the future of our agricultural sector

    Sir: For too long, the agricultural sector has been weighed down by the “gravel” of security challenges. What should be a landscape of growth and food security has, in many regions, become a theatre of uncertainty. Farmers, who are the lifeblood of our nation, are facing more than just the traditional risks of weather and pests; they are navigating a terrain of banditry, theft, and land disputes.

    This environment of “life fear” has a paralyzing effect. When a farmer is afraid to step onto their field, the “acts” of planting and harvesting—the very foundation of our survival—is compromised. To achieve national prosperity, this climate of fear must not just be managed; it must be destroyed through deliberate action and strategic planning.

    To move ahead and push toward the “ultimate drops of success,” our approach to agricultural planning must evolve. We cannot treat security as an afterthought to farming; it must be integrated into the very setting of the sector.

    Establishing dedicated security outposts in high-production farming clusters to ensure that farmers can work without looking over their shoulders has become imperative. Utilizing drones and satellite mapping to monitor remote farmlands, allowing for rapid response to threats before they escalate is another crucial step.

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    Planning must include the local farmers themselves. They are the first to see changes in the landscape, and their insights are vital for pre-emptive security measures.

    The drive for success in agricultural practice is “keen”—the potential is massive, and the will of the people is strong. However, potential alone does not put food on the table. We need a shift in the “settings” of our national policy where the safety of the farmer is as prioritized as the quality of the seed. When we remove the gravel of insecurity, we pave the way for a new era of productivity. By destroying the barriers of fear, we allow the sector to push forward, ensuring that our agricultural output doesn’t just trickle, but flows toward the ultimate goal of national self-sufficiency and economic resilience.

    Key points for the policy makers include transitioning from a state of fear to a state of productivity and ensuring policymakers integrate rural security into agricultural planning.

    •Michael Adedotun  Oke,Gwagwalada, Abuja.