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Nigeria Tax Act 2025 and legislative fidelity

By Gbenga Oyebode Falana

As Nigeria prepares for the implementation of the Nigeria Tax Act 2025, the country stands at a critical juncture in its fiscal reform journey. The Act, conceived as a comprehensive overhaul of Nigeria’s tax framework, promises improved efficiency, clarity, and enhanced domestic resource mobilisation. Yet, as implementation draws close, concerns surrounding discrepancies between the version of the Act passed by the National Assembly and the version published in the Official Gazette raise issues that go beyond technical drafting – they go to the heart of constitutional governance, legal certainty, and the sustainability of tax reform. This moment therefore calls not for alarmism, but for sober reflection, institutional clarity, and preventive action. Sound tax reform depends as much on process integrity as on policy ambition.

The central issue: Process, not policy

At the core of the current debate is a simple constitutional principle: only the version of a law passed by the National Assembly and assented to by the president constitutes valid law. The official gazette is an important publication instrument, but it does not possess law-making authority. Its role is to give notice of the law, not to alter it.

Where discrepancies arise between a passed Act and its gazetted version especially where such differences are substantive rather than clerical, serious governance questions follow. This is not a reflection on the objectives of the Nigeria Tax Act 2025, which remain largely sound. Rather, it is a reminder that even the most well-intentioned reforms can be undermined by procedural lapses. As implementation approaches, clarity on the authoritative text of the law becomes indispensable.

Why this matters for tax administration

Taxation is an area of law that demands a high degree of certainty. Taxpayers must know, with precision, what is required of them; tax authorities must be confident that their enforcement actions are grounded in valid law; and courts must have a clear statutory basis upon which to adjudicate disputes.

Unresolved discrepancies risk creating a situation where:

•Taxpayers challenge assessments on procedural grounds rather than substantive compliance;

•Revenue authorities face injunctions or reversals based on ultra vires enforcement; and

•Reform momentum is slowed by avoidable litigation and institutional friction.

None of these outcomes serves the national interest, particularly at a time when Nigeria seeks to expand its non-oil revenue base and strengthen fiscal sustainability.

Legislative supremacy and democratic accountability

Nigeria’s constitutional architecture is unambiguous in vesting legislative authority in the National Assembly. This is not a mere formality; it is a safeguard of democratic accountability. Laws especially tax laws derive legitimacy from representation. Any perception that statutory content can be altered outside parliamentary approval risks eroding public trust. As implementation nears, reaffirming legislative supremacy is therefore not an act of resistance to reform but a reinforcement of it. Sustainable reform rests on institutions that respect boundaries and processes.

Comparative perspective: How other jurisdictions prevent this

Other common-law jurisdictions offer instructive lessons.

In the United Kingdom, the authoritative text of an Act is the version that receives Royal Assent. Publication errors are treated as administrative mistakes and corrected only through narrowly defined correction slips limited to clerical issues. Substantive changes require fresh legislation, no matter how urgent the policy objective. Similarly, in South Africa, the constitution requires presidential assent to the exact text passed by parliament. The constitutional court has consistently held that deviations from parliamentary text are invalid. Gazette publication serves only as notice, not as a vehicle for legislative amendment.

The common thread in these systems is strong version control, clear institutional responsibility, and swift legislative correction mechanisms. These safeguards protect both reform credibility and constitutional order.

A preventive, not punitive, approach

As Nigeria approaches the commencement date of the Nigeria Tax Act 2025, the most constructive path forward is preventive rather than punitive. The objective should be to educate, clarify, and strengthen systems, not to personalise blame.

Key preventive steps include:

•Formal certification of the “as-passed” version of the Act as the authoritative text;

•Administrative guidance to tax authorities on reliance solely on certified provisions;

•Prompt corrective legislation where discrepancies are identified; and

•Institutionalisation of digital authentication and version-tracking for future legislation.

These steps are not extraordinary. They are routine features of mature legislative systems.

Balancing reform urgency with legal fidelity

It is understandable that, with pressing revenue needs and reform timelines, there may be concern that addressing these issues could delay implementation. However, speed without certainty is a false economy. Short-term acceleration achieved at the expense of legal clarity often results in long-term delays through litigation and loss of compliance confidence. Addressing discrepancies now before full implementation actually protects the reform timetable by reducing downstream risk.

Read Also: Christmas: Anglican Bishop urges Nigerians to embrace peace, unity

A teachable moment for Nigeria’s reform architecture

Beyond the Nigeria Tax Act 2025, this episode presents a valuable institutional learning opportunity. It underscores the need for:

•Stronger coordination between legislative drafting offices and publishing authorities;

•Clearer protocols for post-assent handling of statutes; and

•Enhanced legislative oversight of the final form in which laws enter public circulation.

If these lessons are institutionalised, Nigeria’s future reforms tax or otherwise will emerge stronger, more credible, and more resilient.

Conclusion: Reform is strongest when the process is sound

As Nigeria stands on the threshold of implementing one of its most ambitious tax reforms, it is worth recalling that the strength of law lies not only in its content but in its legitimacy. The Nigeria Tax Act 2025 has the potential to significantly improve Nigeria’s fiscal landscape, but that potential is best realised when reform ambition is matched by constitutional fidelity.

Clarifying the authoritative text of the law, reinforcing legislative supremacy, and adopting preventive safeguards will not weaken reform. They will anchor it firmly in the rule of law where all sustainable reforms belong.

As the year draws to a close and institutions prepare for the next phase of implementation, this moment offers an opportunity to reaffirm Nigeria’s commitment to sound governance, credible reform, and constitutional order.

•Falana, PhD is Research Fellow, African Centre for Tax and Governance and Commissioner, Tax Appeal Tribunal, Abuja

December 26, 2025
A new tone for press freedom

By Abdullahi M. Gulloma

The relationship between those who guard the state and those who tell its story has always been delicate. One watches for threats in the shadows; the other shines light into public spaces. When mistrust grows between them, democracy suffers. When understanding emerges, citizens breathe easier. Nigeria has lived through both seasons, and recent events around the Director-General of the State Security Service (SSS), Oluwatosin Adeola Ajayi, suggest that the country is entering a more stable chapter in that long and uneasy conversation.

On December 19, Ajayi put his thoughts into writing. In a letter personally signed and sent to the president of the International Press Institute (IPI) Nigeria, Musikilu Mojeed, the SSS Director-General pledged to stand for fair treatment of journalists and to support an environment where media professionals can carry out their lawful work without fear. The letter was not prompted by a crisis or public outrage. It was a response to a commendation award conferred on him by the IPI Nigeria at its annual conference earlier in the month, but its tone and substance went beyond gratitude. It read like a statement of belief.

“I will continue to champion fair treatment of journalists and create a conducive atmosphere for them to carry out their legitimate duties”, Ajayi wrote. He added that he had begun discussions with heads of other security agencies, urging them to place the safety and dignity of journalists high on their list of responsibilities.

Words matter, but history teaches that actions matter more. For decades, Nigeria’s media community has known the SSS less for dialogue and more for fear. Arrests at odd hours, prolonged detentions and intimidation were familiar stories. This past made scepticism natural. That is why the response from IPI Nigeria was striking, not just for its praise, but for the detailed record it laid out.

In a statement signed by its Secretary, Ahmed I. Shekarau, the IPI recalled that since Ajayi assumed office in late August 2024, the SSS had shown restraint, professionalism and openness. “Conflicts between the Service and the media are now resolved amicably through engagement rather than coercion,” the statement said, drawing a clear contrast with earlier years.

The philosopher Hannah Arendt once observed that “power and violence are opposites; where one rules absolutely, the other is absent.” The shift described by IPI Nigeria points to a leadership choice that values authority predicated on dialogue instead of force. It is a choice that recognises journalists not as enemies of the state, but as part of the civic ecosystem that keeps the state honest.

The examples cited by IPI Nigeria bring this shift down from theory to practical experience. Barely hours into Ajayi’s tenure, a journalist, Adejuwon Soyinka, was intercepted and detained in Lagos. Such an incident could easily have followed a familiar path of silence and delay. Instead, according to IPI Nigeria, once the matter was brought to the Director-General’s attention, he ordered the journalist’s release within hours. Speed, in this context, signalled that the old reflexes were no longer automatic.

Another case bore deeper historical wounds. Lanre Arogundade, Executive Director of the International Press Centre, had for decades endured repeated harassment at Nigeria’s borders due to an SSS watch-list entry dating back to the 1980s. Successive assurances under past administrations failed to end the ordeal. When the issue reached Ajayi, IPI Nigeria said he acted swiftly to resolve it.

Even in moments when the SSS felt wronged, the approach under Ajayi appeared thoughtful. In the case involving Order Paper, where a staff member was arrested over a report alleging that the SSS invaded the National Assembly to influence leadership change, the Director-General ordered administrative bail once informed. Through engagement, the matter was resolved, charges were withdrawn and the case was closed. The message was that errors in reporting should be addressed with facts and conversation and not detention.

A similar posture emerged in February during tensions over media reports on the Lagos State House of Assembly crisis. IPI Nigeria acknowledged that the SSS had reasons to be aggrieved but noted that the Director-General chose patience and collaboration.

Perhaps the most telling moment came in October. Without external pressure, Ajayi ordered disciplinary action against officers involved in the arrest and detention of two journalists from Jay 101.9 FM in Jos. He also directed that a formal apology be issued to the journalists and their organisation. In public service, apologies are rare. When they come, they carry the power to humanise institutions that often appear faceless and distant.

Writers have long argued that accountability begins with humility. Chinua Achebe once noted that “the trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership.” Leadership, in this sense, is not about perfection but about the willingness to openly correct wrongs. Disciplining erring officers and offering an apology signalled that internal standards matter, and that authority does not shield misconduct.

It was against this backdrop that IPI Nigeria decided to honour Ajayi at its 2025 Annual Conference on December 2 in Abuja. The IPI Nigeria made it clear that the commendation was not an end in itself. It was recognition and encouragement. “We do so not only to acknowledge his commendable press freedom credentials but also to encourage him to do even more and to inspire other officials, institutions, and organisations to emulate his example,” IPI Nigeria said.

Recognition soon reached the highest office in the country. President Bola Ahmed Tinubu congratulated the Director-General of the SSS on the award, welcoming it as evidence that the SSS was changing its narrative. The president commended Ajayi for upholding citizens’ rights and operating within the law, noting that the SSS was building a climate of dialogue and engagement with the public.

President Tinubu urged other security agencies to see the media as partners rather than adversaries. In doing so, the president echoed the words of Thomas Jefferson, who famously argued that a free press was essential to liberty. While Jefferson spoke from a different century and context, the principle endures: societies thrive when information flows freely and responsibly.

The president also encouraged the SSS to sustain its efforts to protect journalists, reminding all that the constitution empowers the media to hold government officials accountable. The public presidential endorsement matters. It shows that respect for the press is not only the choice of a single agency head, but a principle woven into the wider culture of governance.

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For journalists across the country, these developments offer cautious hope. Hope is not built on blind faith, but on observable patterns. The early release of a detained reporter, the clearing of a decades-old watch-list, the withdrawal of charges after dialogue and the disciplining of erring officers are concrete markers. They suggest an understanding that national security and press freedom are not rivals locked in a zero-sum game, but parallel duties that serve the same public.

Psychologists remind us that institutions, like individuals, develop habits. Changing habits requires consistent choices. Ajayi’s pledge to engage other security agencies on journalist protection hints at an attempt to spread a new habit across the security sector. Whether this effort succeeds will depend on persistence and example.

As the country continues its democratic journey, the media will remain critical, sometimes uncomfortable and often screaming. That is its role. Security agencies will remain vigilant, cautious and sometimes suspicious. That is theirs. The challenge is not to erase these differences, but to manage them with respect.

In recognising Ajayi, the IPI Nigeria did more than hand out an award. It held up a mirror, showing what is possible when leadership chooses conversation over intimidation. President Tinubu’s endorsement reinforced that image, placing it within the wider story of governance reform.

The German philosopher Jürgen Habermas spoke of the “public sphere” as a space where citizens debate issues freely. Journalists are custodians of that space. When security agencies protect rather than shrink it, they serve democracy in its truest sense.

Nigeria’s story is still being written, line by line, headline by headline. The pen and the badge will continue to meet at tense moments. But recent chapters suggest that they can meet without hostility, guided by law, conscience and mutual respect. If that path is sustained, the reward will not belong to any single institution. It will belong to the citizens whose right to know and right to be safe are finally treated as equally sacred.

•Gulloma is a journalist and can be reached at abdulgulloma@yahoo.com

December 26, 2025
The mandate and the currency of hope
- By Ronke Bello
I have had causes to interact with brilliant minds across the globe in my numerous academic voyages in the last two years and I can say that so many of those discourses ended in their minds more or less like the scathing remark of the great writer, William Shakespeare who once said “The miserable have no other medicine but only hope”. But as a patriotic Nigerian, rather than boost the despair of those young Nigerians, I encouraged them in the light of Desmond Tutu’s words that “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness”.

Thinking about it all took my mind back to the beginning of this journey of (renewed) hope which we promised the nation.

The very formation of the Tinubu /Shettima Presidential Campaign Council (PCC) was one of hope. Formidable, disciplined and trusting; all signed for letters which clearly stated that we all were volunteers and we were all happy to so work. These in itself was the hallmark of our patriotism to Nigeria, a country many of us have, are and will keep giving our bests to, whatever happens.

In many minds, the APC presidential team were the best placed at hopefully moving the country forward. Both had enviable track record of experience and performance in both government and the private sectors. For those who truly worked, the campaign and election itself was neither an easy task nor a cheap win. One of the fiercest battles was on the Muslim/ Muslim ticket and some of us being Northern Christians (a minority in itself) had the uphill tasks of convincing our people in the north that it is time Nigeria as indeed the world moved away from religious, gender and tribal sentiments to repose confidence in men and women who can truly give their bests in moving our country forward.

As a member of the PCC Public Affairs/Spokespersons Directorate, my sermon was simple: if one had to go through a needed self-saving medical operation, one never asks if the surgeons are Christians, Muslims, Hindus or Traditional Worshipers. Nigeria needed a leap forward. To us, our candidate, an icon, a hero of democracy, a man of depth and experience who continually spoke from the heart was the next perfect fit for the Presidency. It was time to have a leader that epitomizes our unity as one indivisible nation.

Read Also: Tinubu sets up high-powered APC committee to tackle internal crises ahead of 2027

Despite the huge backlash and attacks especially from the oppositions, we sang “On Your Mandate We Shall and Are Standing “. For every jab, every brickbat we sang higher and louder! It was such a huge relief and sweet victory in the end! Of course, the experienced in public administration understand perfectly that victory at the polls is simply the tiniest bit of governance … for the real hard work to begin.

Reflecting on the journey thus far, both the positive, and the negatives, I now believe that it is true indeed Nigerians are a happy people that love life and living. These are anchored and seen daily through our cultures, creativities, ingenuity and the “Never die spirit” despite all the odds. These also reinforced my hope that no negative is insurmountable as long as there is the political will, the right team, empathy by the leaders, continued engagement with the led, a feedback mechanism, real time information disseminations on issues especially policies.

I have come to realize more than ever that the average Nigerian does not hate the leaders; they simply want promises fulfilled, situations, laws and policies explained. They have their own track and measure indices of their wellbeing. They easily read the temperament and temperature of governance. They are indeed generous followers and one that expect the same generosity of spirit, of duty and performance from their leaders.

Many scholars of governance and critical observation of governance itself have proven that “Governance is reciprocal: a two -way street involving mutual obligations, shared authority, and interdependent relationship where actions by one party (government and citizens) directly impact others, fostering collaboration, accountability, and trust, rather than just top-down control.”

While government creates the enabling environment for citizens to flourish, providing encompassing services and most importantly deliver on its campaign promise and mandate given in addition to defending our space, integrity and leadership presence in the sub region and in the global comity of nations; the citizens in turn must participate meaningfully and as a strategic point of duty demand for accountability. It is this dynamic exchange that strengthens the system or if lacking, weakens it.

The good news, the citizens of Nigeria are still cooperating with her leaders. They speak out, they cry out and it is heart-warming that in President Tinubu we have a listening and present leader. Under his watch many policies have been reversed. While many will argue that why the policy flip-flops and somersaults in the first place? Rules and laws guide in fact, define a society.

Empathy in governance is crucial for “it helps leaders understand citizens’ real needs, leading to more responsive policies, fairer resource allocation and better trust; it re-humanises governance”. The Tinubu administration has had its fair share of such policy readjustments and reversals based on understanding the view of the led.

Of recent, the security of our nation and her citizens has pushed itself to the front burner. While the issue of insecurity predates this administration, every administration must (without excuses) carry its own cross and the recent changes by the president in the nation’s security agencies and the recent appointment of General Christopher Gwabin Musa (Rtd) as Minister of Defence was overwhelmingly received by Nigerians. ”To whom much is given, much is expected”.

I join all excited Nigerians to wish the minister well.

In this context, my people of central Northern Nigeria will not forgive my exclusion in this article if I do not mention that urgent help is required. As the nation and especially the president prepares to enter a new year though a remarkably political – calendar year, it beckons on us all that contributed massively in enthroning this administration to keep advising, providing feedbacks and encouraging the administration to run well and graciously.

Yes, many of the “Emilokan” foot soldiers are aggrieved and perhaps rightfully so. While a president or leader has the exclusive right to choose his or her team, it can also be argued that while it can be patriotically right for a leader to bring all and sundry on board, it can’t be justified as politically correct, especially if men and women who worked (as the records show) super hard, sank in time, energy and resources, are not appreciated. Some are dead , some are still harassed daily by a fraction of non-forgiving Nigerian citizens (home and abroad ) who ask them at every opportunity in the local slang “ how market?” or at every given occasion bellow out “ On your mandate …”

Yes, everyone can’t be in government or be patronized at the same time but even the holy books affirms that “a labourer is entitled to his wages” and our candidate turned president on record looked at the team eyeball to eyeball, and promised a reward system so we must not give up on him now, metamorphose into opposition, or wish the administration failure.

As another season of campaigns begins … we must keep engaging government, providing the needed experience and advice. I believe that President Tinubu is determined to succeed and the team owe him that much.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year ahead!

•Bello, Ph.D is an academic, public policy analyst, publicist and author.
December 25, 2025
Christmas beyond customs, toward conscience and courage
- By Obiotika Wilfred
Christmas has never been static. It has journeyed through ages—from sacred faith to living tradition, from shared customs to today’s modern celebration shaped by commerce, media, and convenience. Yet beneath these layers lie a question Nigeria must ask as we observe Christmas 2025: What does celebration mean in a season of pain, perseverance, and paradox?

This year’s theme, “The Realm of Overcomers,” speaks directly to the Nigerian spirit between 2024 and 2025—a people pressed by hardship yet refusing to disappear into despair. It is a theme not of denial but of defiance; not of escapism but of meaning. To celebrate Christmas well in 2025 is not merely to decorate homes, travel villages, or exchange gifts. It is to confront reality with courage, to choose joy without blindness, and to end the year with moral clarity while stepping into 2026 with disciplined hope.

Nigeria’s recent story is heavy. Continual foreign loans, mounting debt, and the need to borrow yet again to fund the 2026 national budget have left the economy gasping. Inflation has become a daily language understood by market women, teachers, artisans, and professionals alike. Prices rise faster than wages; dreams shrink while responsibilities multiply. In this climate, citizens who refuse to complain are often labeled conspirators, naïve optimists, or even mad. Yet their dedication—to work, to faith, to family, to nation—often surpasses the understanding of those who prefer the smugness and ease of contemporary life.

Here lies the paradox of our time: perseverance is mistaken for madness; hope is confused with denial. But history teaches that societies are not rebuilt by mockery or comfort, but by men and women who endure when endurance is unfashionable.

Christmas, at its core, reminds us that love is a feeling, joy is a feeling, concern for others is a feeling, and compassion for the lost is a feeling. These feelings are not weaknesses; they are the moral energies that sustain civilizations. When stripped of feeling, celebration becomes noise; when detached from concern, prosperity becomes cruelty. The Realm of Overcomers is therefore not a place of wealth but of disciplined emotion—where love does not grow cold, joy does not turn shallow, and concern does not expire under pressure.

As we assess the world today—individually, corporately, and professionally—we must admit an uncomfortable truth. Many individuals are exhausted, not only by hardship but by meaninglessness. Corporate institutions, obsessed with profit and survival, often neglect humanity. Professionals, once guided by ethics and vocation, now struggle between integrity and compromise. In such a world, Christmas risks becoming a pause for consumption rather than a call to conscience.

Read Also: Tinubu sets up high-powered APC committee to tackle internal crises ahead of 2027

Yet Nigeria’s reality sharpens this call. Insecurity stretches across regions; farms are burned, families displaced, and communities uprooted. The next planting season remains uncertain, while food prices stay painfully high. These conditions breed fear. They also breed idleness. And where fear and idleness coexist, hope becomes contested terrain.

As 2026 approaches, Nigerians face three options: fear, hope, or idleness. Fear paralyzes. Idleness distracts. Only hope—active, disciplined, and communal—builds. Overcomers are not those who ignore danger, but those who refuse to let danger define their character.

Unfortunately, a louder voice is rising globally and locally—the voice of what can rightly be called a Hate Revolution. Documented global trends show increasing polarization, intolerance, and dehumanization across societies, amplified by digital platforms and economic frustration. Hate crimes, online hostility, ethnic suspicion, and ideological aggression have risen in measurable percentages worldwide over the last decade. Nigeria is not immune. When hardship persists, hatred often masquerades as courage, while bitterness pretends to be truth.

But hatred is not strength; it is emotional bankruptcy. Bitterness corrodes judgment. Fleshly lust—whether for power, pleasure, or dominance—clouds moral vision. The complacent, self-centred, and smug, fed up with their own emptiness, often accuse others of madness simply because those others still believe, still serve, still hope.

Christmas 2025 challenges this trajectory. It calls Nigerians to reject bitterness, to resist the tyranny of lustful appetites, and to choose responsibility over ridicule. It invites us to celebrate not only with music and meals, but with mercy and meaning. To support local communities. To protect human dignity. To speak truth without cruelty. To love without surrendering wisdom.

Ending 2025 jubilantly does not mean pretending all is well; it means affirming that all is not lost. Starting 2026 prosperously does not begin with budgets alone, but with attitudes—individual, corporate, and professional—realigned toward service, resilience, and shared destiny.

The Realm of Overcomers is not reserved for the loud or the lucky. It belongs to those who feel deeply yet act wisely; who love without naivety; who hope without illusion; who stand firm without hatred. In a world flirting dangerously with a Hate Revolution, Christmas remains one of the few seasons bold enough to remind us that humanity survives not by anger, but by conscience.

That, perhaps, is the best way to celebrate Christmas 2025—and the strongest way to enter 2026.

•Wilfred writes via obiotika2018@gmail.com
December 25, 2025
Terrorism financing: Of media trials and death of due process

By Sule Yusuf

In Nigeria, judicial processes, whether for real or imagined crimes, are increasingly migrating from the solemn halls of the law courts to the noisy pages of newspapers, the sensational glare of television studios and most scarily, the ever toxic streets of social media. In these spaces, everyone armed with a smartphone appropriates to themselves the robe of a judge, the wig of a senior advocate, and the moral authority of an appellate court, often on issues they know next to nothing about. In this alternate judicial system, evidence is optional or immaterial; context is a nuisance and fair hearing an inconvenience.

This growing culture of media trial has become one of the most corrosive afflictions of our public life. It thrives on outrage, feeds on half truths, and survives on the attention economy where speed trumps accuracy and sensation replaces substance. Truth, if it shows up at all, usually arrives late and breathless, long after reputations have been lynched and livelihoods wrecked.

Such was the case recently with Mustapha Ibrahim Yakubu, a law abiding businessman and licensed Bureau de Change operator, who woke up one morning to discover that he had been tried, convicted, and sentenced, not by any court of competent jurisdiction, but by a media court presided over by Omoyele Sowore. The courtroom was virtual, the gavel was digital, and the judgment was delivered via his online platform with a long established reputation for sensationalism masquerading as investigative journalism.

Without so much as a knock on his door or a request for his side of the story, Mustapha was summarily branded a terrorism financier. The gravity of such an allegation cannot be overstated. Terrorism financing is not a traffic offence. It is one of the most damaging accusations imaginable, the kind that stains a man’s name, freezes his business relationships, and places him permanently under public suspicion. Yet this was dispensed with the casual recklessness of a click hungry headline.

What was the evidence marshalled against this businessman? Nothing! The online medium’s entire case rested on the claims of a retired army general whose canary songs have long lost their tune. This is a man whose empty notes no longer inspire confidence, whose toneless music has been dismissed in many quarters as the ramblings of someone perpetually courting relevance. Yet, on the strength of this single broken voice, Mustapha was condemned.

Most disturbing, is the fact that not one agency, neither the accuser nor the outlet that fired the first shot, thought it necessary to carry out even the most basic due diligence. Not one phone call or email. No request for clarification or any attempt to hear from the accused. As is usually the case with media trials, guilt was presumed, innocence was an afterthought, and the right to fair hearing was quietly escorted out of the room.

For context, it is important to examine the specific allegations that the online medium paraded as damning proof. The first charge was that Mustapha operates 39 bank accounts. This, we were told, was a red flag, prima facie evidence of terrorism financing. The second so called smoking gun was that he transferred billions of naira to a company belonging to a colleague, Murtala Jega, another Bureau de Change operator who had himself been accused of terror financing.

On the basis of these two claims, the medium effectively pronounced Mustapha a terrorism financier. No need for trial, interrogation or further explanations. Just a conclusion neatly wrapped for a public who buried their teeth into it without thought or restraints.

Going by this curious logic, anyone who operates multiple bank accounts and conducts business with fellow operators in the same industry automatically qualifies as a terrorist or, at best, a terrorist sympathiser. It is a logic so lazy that it collapses under the slightest scrutiny. Yet it was presented with the confidence of settled law.

What the online medium in question did not care to explain, perhaps because explanation would have ruined the headline, is that it is standard practice for licensed Bureau de Change operators in Nigeria to maintain multiple bank accounts. This is not a criminal workaround; it is a commercial necessity imposed by banking regulations that cap transaction limits. To function efficiently, BDC operators spread their operations across several accounts, often in multiple banks. This is industry reality, not clandestine wizardry.

Nor did the medium bother to investigate the nature or purpose of the transactions between Mustapha and his colleague. In a sector where operators routinely exchange funds to meet liquidity needs, settle obligations, or complete legitimate forex transactions, such transfers are neither unusual nor inherently suspicious. But context, again, is the enemy of sensationalism.

Sadly, this shoot first ask questions later approach—whether by overzealous law enforcement or irresponsible media actors, is fast becoming a defining feature of criminal justice administration in Nigeria. The line between investigation and persecution is increasingly blurred. Accusation has become punishment.

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Sowore is no stranger to this pattern. His platform has repeatedly shown a troubling willingness to publish allegations first and worry about facts later. The collateral damage is often borne by individuals who lack the resources or platforms to immediately push back. It is rather disheartening because, for someone who has himself suffered from the overzealousness of media trial, one would have thought the medium he publishes would adapt the time tested practice of benefits of doubt.

Sadly, he is not alone in this Gestapo style enforcement. Recently, a similar tragedy unfolded when three Nigerians namely: Umar Ibrahim, Alhaji Bello Rabiu, and Jaja Sarki Bamo who were returning to the country were summarily accused of being members of a terrorist organisation. They were detained for months under harsh conditions, their lives suspended on the strength of suspicion. Eventually, after it emerged that their detention was unjustified for lack of evidence, they were released, discharged, and acquitted. Reports even suggested that the DSS paid a N3 million compensation for holding them unlawfully. But, is there any amount of compensation that can fully restore lost time, damaged reputations, or the psychological scars of wrongful incarceration?

These cases expose a dangerous pattern: the ease with which accusations are made, amplified, and weaponised, and the difficulty of undoing their consequences once the truth finally emerges.

I believe it is in the interest of justice, and indeed of responsible journalism, to begin demanding consequences for reckless publishing. Freedom of the press is not freedom from responsibility. The journalist’s ethos of objectivity, balance, fairness, and verification exists precisely to prevent this kind of damage.

Indeed, Nigeria cannot build a credible justice system where accusations are litigated on timelines and verdicts are delivered by trending hashtags. Courts must remain courts. Journalists must remain journalists. And citizens, no matter how unfashionable they may be, must retain the right to be heard before they are condemned.

Until we draw that line firmly, the media court will continue to thrive, dispensing instant justice that satisfies the mob while slowly poisoning the country with a reputation that reads like a rap-sheet.

•Yusuf writes from Abuja.

December 24, 2025
The Farouk controversy and the cost of our moral choices

By Peter Obi

The controversy surrounding Farouk Ahmed has resonated so deeply because it speaks to something far larger than one individual. When Alhaji Aliko Dangote alleged that Mr. Farouk, chief executive officer of the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority (NMDPRA), spent about $5 million on the secondary school education of his four children in Switzerland, he was not merely calling for an investigation. He was, perhaps unintentionally, forcing the nation to confront an uncomfortable moral question about privilege, public office, and responsibility in a country marked by extreme inequality.

At current exchange rates, $5 million is approximately N7.5 billion. In a nation with over 18 million out-of-school children—the highest number in the world— this figure cannot be treated as a private lifestyle choice divorced from public consequence. Education is rightly regarded as one of the noblest investments a parent can make, and no reasonable society should begrudge parents for wanting the best for their children. As Plato argued in The Republic, education and upbringing are foundational to the making of good citizens, and neglecting them ultimately damages the entire political order.

The problem, therefore, is not education itself but scale, context, and moral proportion, especially when such spending is associated with a public official in a country where millions of children have no classrooms, no teachers, and sometimes no schools at all. In such circumstances, personal choices inevitably take on public meaning.

To appreciate the scale of what is at stake, it is worth considering what N7.5 billion could realistically achieve within Nigeria. With that amount, 25 school blocks could be constructed at N35 million per block, covering building, furnishings, and basic learning infrastructure. Each block would contain six classrooms, and each classroom could comfortably accommodate 40 students. This means 240 students per block, translating to 6,000 children educated every year from a single investment.

These schools would not exist in isolation or rely on perpetual charity. Each block would employ 18 teachers, producing a total of 450 teaching jobs. At a monthly salary of N125,000, the annual wage bill would amount to N675 million. Even after paying for construction and one full year of salaries, N5.95 billion would still remain from the original sum.

If that balance were invested in Nigerian government bonds at 19 percent, it would yield approximately N1.13 billion annually. From this return, N250 million could be allocated each year for maintenance, libraries, laboratories, utilities, learning materials, and other ancillary needs across the 25 blocks. Teachers’ salaries would still be fully covered, with over N200 million left annually for reserves, expansion, and long-term stability. In effect, the schools would become self-sustaining in perpetuity, without touching the original capital again.

Put simply, the amount allegedly spent on educating four children abroad could establish a permanent education ecosystem capable of transforming entire communities, employing hundreds of teachers, and lifting thousands of Nigerian children out of ignorance every single year. The irony is that even Nigerian children educated in the Western world would benefit from such an arrangement, because an educated home society produces better governance, safer communities, stronger institutions, and a more dignified nation. Education, in this sense, is not a zero-sum game but a collective investment.

The broader implications become even more striking when the argument is scaled nationally. Nigeria has a population of about 240 million people. In a “fantastically corrupt” (David Cameron) and “now disgraced country” (Trump) such as ours, it is not unreasonable to assume that at least 2,400 individuals – just 0.0001 percent of the population— have access to extraordinary resources derived from public office or its proximity.

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If each of these individuals sacrificed just $5 million, Nigeria could build 60,000 school blocks, educate 14.4 million children every year, and employ over one million teachers. Under such a scenario, the national conversation would no longer revolve around access to basic education or the shame of out-of-school children. The debate would shift toward quality, innovation, and excellence, which is where a serious country ought to be.

The Farouk controversy, therefore, is not merely about one man or one family. It is a mirror held up to our collective conscience, forcing us to ask whether privilege will continue to coexist comfortably with abandonment, or whether responsibility will finally rise to meet opportunity. It challenges the moral imagination of those who benefit most from the system to consider what their choices say about the kind of country Nigeria is becoming.

Plato warned centuries ago that when education is neglected, the damage does not end with children but spreads through the entire society. Nigeria’s present predicament suggests that his warning was not theoretical. The question now is whether we will continue to look away, or whether we will finally understand that the future we desire cannot be built without educating the children we have.

•Obi was the presidential candidate of the Labour Party in the 2023 election.

December 24, 2025
US: How not to engage a changing continent

By Olalekan Adigun

The year is 2025, yet many American politicians still behave as though the world is frozen in the post–World War II and Cold War era, when the myth of U.S. exceptionalism held strong influence across Africa. Today’s global order has shifted, but Washington’s tone toward Africa remains trapped in an age of threats, lectures, and unchecked arrogance. The result? The United States is losing ground on a continent that now demands respect, partnership, and dignity—not paternalism.

Over the years, African leaders and citizens have grown increasingly disillusioned with how U.S. officials speak about them. From the infamous “shithole countries” remarks—echoed repeatedly by American politicians who mirror Donald Trump’s style—to the persistent framing of African states as helpless dependents, Washington’s posture feels outdated. As an African saying goes: If you are not feeding me, and I have never begged you to feed me, telling me you are richer than I am is useless information.

Africa of 2025 is not the Africa of the past. Gone are the days when leaders trooped to Washington “cap in hand” in pursuit of crumbs. Economically, geopolitically, and demographically, the continent has become a fiercely competitive space—and the numbers tell the story.

China has firmly established itself as Africa’s largest source of imports. As of 2025, 34 of Africa’s 54 countries list China as their top import partner, reflecting Beijing’s broad export and developmental presence—from giant infrastructure projects and mining ventures to machinery, chemicals, and everyday consumer goods. It is a full-spectrum relationship built on convenience, speed, and mutual economic benefit.

On the export side, resource-rich African nations increasingly look to the UAE and China. The UAE, now a major importer of African gold, has aggressively expanded diplomatic and commercial ties across the continent. China remains one of the largest buyers of African crude oil. The U.S., meanwhile, trails far behind.

The Trump administration, which returned to power in January, aims to secure “advantageous” trade deals through tariffs and tougher rules. But such measures threaten key African economies that depend on the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA). Countries like Ethiopia, Madagascar, Kenya, and Eswatini—whose textile and apparel sectors are built around U.S. markets—face serious economic shocks if AGOA is abolished or tariffs increased.

Instead of strengthening partnerships, Washington appears intent on signalling dominance. Africa is responding by diversifying—and choosing partners who treat them as equals.

What Africans want is simple: respect. Not lectures. Not threats. And certainly not condescending conditions masquerading as “assistance.”

China’s model—while not perfect—offers lessons. Beijing does not visit Africa to scold governments over known problems; it comes to negotiate railways, ports, power plants, and industrial parks. It may all be business, but it is business wrapped in dignity. China does not insist that Africans change their political systems, cultural identities, or ideologies before cooperation can proceed.

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Contrast that with Washington’s approach.

In 2017, after years of resistance, the U.S. finally sold Nigeria the A-29 Super Tucano aircraft to fight insurgency—only after imposing strict conditions: the jets could only be used in the Northeast. Nigeria paid $593 million of its own hard-earned money, yet Washington dictated how and where the aircraft could be deployed. Predictably, insurgents adapted and expanded operations into other regions. To many Nigerians, that did not feel like assistance—it felt like control.

The U.S’ unconditional support for Israel’s devastating assault on Gaza has made Washington increasingly isolated in global opinion. African countries, which take issues of justice and human rights seriously due to their own histories, watched closely as South Africa dragged Israel before the International Court of Justice in 2024. Washington’s anger over this move marked the beginning of a strained relationship with Pretoria. Trump even revived old tropes, suddenly claiming that “white South Africans” needed protection—comments widely dismissed across the continent.

Since his first election in 2016, Donald Trump has never set foot in Africa. Yet he talks about the continent in the most degrading terms. His disdain reflects a wider problem: many U.S. policymakers still view Africa as a peripheral region deserving of sermons, not sovereignty. This is not lost on African governments, who increasingly perceive the U.S. as unreliable, disrespectful, and out of touch.

Africa is young, rising, and increasingly empowered. New partners—China, UAE, India, Turkey, Brazil, Gulf States—are courting the continent with investment, infrastructure, and flexible diplomacy. The U.S., by contrast, is clinging to outdated assumptions and moral superiority.

If Washington wants to regain influence, it must change its tone. Africans do not demand charity. They demand dignity. They demand equality. They demand genuine partnership.

Until American leaders stop speaking down to Africa and start engaging it as a global player, the United States will continue to lose ground on a continent that has clearly—and decisively—moved on.

•Adigun is a researcher and journalist based in Abuja.

December 24, 2025
A legacy in motion: The making of Nigeria’s Reformist Interior Minister

By Capt. Bishop Johnson

Legacy, in most political literature, is discussed with a sense of finality—as something evaluated after a leader has left office, retired from public life, or transitioned into history. But the story of Dr. Olubunmi Tunji-Ojo defies that template entirely. His legacy is not a monument of the past; it is an architecture still being built, brick by brick, reform by reform, decision by decision. It is a river in motion, reshaping its course as it flows, gathering strength with each policy breakthrough and each institution he compels toward modernisation.

By his early forties, he had already executed reforms that many Nigerians believed were impossible within the constraints of public service. Passport automation, border surveillance restructuring, correctional humanisation, NSCDC revitalisation, fire service modernisation—each milestone fed into a broader national narrative: that Nigeria’s institutions were not irredeemable, they were simply awaiting the right kind of leadership.

What makes his legacy remarkable is not only the volume of reform, but the velocity at which it happened. He entered office in August 2023 and, within weeks, altered the trajectory of a ministry historically dismissed as “too complex to fix.” Officers across commands—Immigration, Correctional Service, NSCDC, and Fire Service—often remarked privately that his reforms made them feel as though they were working under a completely new government, even though the political leadership remained the same. His presence and method created a paradigm shift: not by slogans, but by the force of performance.

The beginnings of this legacy can be traced through the individuals whose work he transformed. At the Alausa Passport Office, Assistant Comptroller Oluremi Ojo still recalls the day he walked in unannounced and ordered a structural workflow overhaul that increased daily processing by 230 per cent. At the Correctional Service’s Kaduna training facility, Deputy Controller Pauline Adebayo frequently narrates how his insistence on modern vocational training led to the reopening of workshops that had been shut for nearly a decade. Officers like CAS Adaobi Nwokorie of the NSCDC speak of receiving equipment they had only seen in foreign training manuals. These testimonies are fragments of a legacy that is still expanding, still gaining shape, still redefining public-sector expectations.

The unfinished nature of his legacy is part of its power. Every reform he implements opens another frontier of possibility. Passport automation raised questions about digitizing other citizen services. Border surveillance improvements ignited conversations about national biometric integration. Correctional reforms triggered public debate on non-custodial sentencing and restorative justice. Each intervention became a catalyst for broader national introspection.

His legacy is also unfolding in the minds of ordinary Nigerians. Young people from Lagos to Kano, Port Harcourt to Akure, Abuja to Johannesburg, frequently reference him when discussing what governance could be. In online forums, he is cited as evidence that “good government is not a myth.” In diaspora communities, he is mentioned as the reason many no longer view Nigerian public service as hopeless. His leadership style—calm, clinical, and uncompromising—has become a study point in youth political conferences, policy seminars, and governance workshops not because of speeches he has made, but because of systems he has built.

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Yet, for all the reforms achieved, Tunji-Ojo himself insists that his work is far from done. Internally, he often describes his ministry as “only 30per cent modernised,” a reminder that his standards remain far ahead of the nation’s expectations. He continues to challenge his team with the same question he asked on his first week as minister: “What will this ministry look like in a Nigeria that works?” That question has now become the ideological anchor of his emerging legacy.

This treatise examines that legacy—not as a finished story, but as a living one. It explores the imprint he has already left on institutions, the expectations he has reset, and the broader cultural impact he continues to exert on Nigeria’s evolving governance psyche. It investigates the reforms still underway, the structural battles he continues to confront, and the national aspirations that now orbit around his name.

Above all, it considers a profound national possibility: that the legacy of Dr. Olubunmi Tunji-Ojo may ultimately be less about the reforms he executed and more about the belief he restored—that Nigeria can be governed differently, efficiently, and honourably. His story is not an epilogue; it is a beginning. The chapters ahead for him, and for the country he serves, are still unwritten.

The legacy is in motion, and the nation is watching it unfold.

•Capt. Bishop C. Johnson, a retired US Army Captain, is a national defence and military strategist and a respected national security commentator.

December 24, 2025
One-party state is loading: true or false?

By Magnus Onyibe

As a student, I was often intrigued by open-ended examination questions such as “No Nile, No Egypt. Discuss.” Such questions demanded analytical reasoning grounded in historical facts. That early fascination inspired the title of this intervention: “One-Party State Is Loading in Nigeria: True or False?”

Any assessment of Nigeria’s democracy must acknowledge one reality: political bias inevitably shapes judgment. Thus, the question of whether Nigeria is sliding into a one-party state is often answered emotionally rather than empirically.

Those who argue that the danger is real point to the massive defections from the People’s Democratic Party (PDP), Nigeria’s former ruling party. Once dominant between 1999 and 2015, the PDP today resembles a political patient in intensive care. It has been hemorrhaging governors and leaders, unable to heal internal fractures despite repeated reconciliation efforts since its defeat by the All Progressives Congress (APC) in 2015.

The party’s recent national convention in Ibadan, intended as a reset, may yet prove pyrrhic. Deep factionalisation, parallel conventions, and ongoing legal battles—particularly involving the rival faction led by Nyesom Wike, former Rivers State governor, and current FCT minister—have crisis rather than resolved it.

In contrast, the ruling APC appears politically stable, making comparisons between the two parties akin to juxtaposing ancient Athens—the birthplace of democracy—with modern-day Washington, DC.

It is particularly disappointing that the PDP, which midwifed Nigeria’s return to multiparty democracy in 1999 after years of military rule, governed for 16 years before collapsing into opposition disarray. A decade on, the party remains trapped in a deep malaise.

This dysfunction largely explains the growing wave of defections to the APC, a trend that is fast becoming the norm.

The Labour Party (LP), which surged to national prominence through Peter Obi’s impressive third-place finish in the 2023 presidential election, is not immune either. Internal democracy deficits and allegations of financial impropriety have plunged the party into factional strife, mirroring the PDP’s troubles.

Against this backdrop, fears that Nigeria may be drifting towards a one-party state are understandable. Politicians in failing opposition parties are quick to sound the alarm—whether out of genuine concern or political self-preservation.

But the critical question remains: Does the weakness of opposition parties necessarily mean the death of democracy in Nigeria?

This dysfunction explains the growing wave of defections to the APC, a trend increasingly interpreted as evidence that Nigeria is sliding towards one-party rule. But that conclusion is far from settled.

Contradicting this narrative is another school of thought that holds that a one-party state is not “loading” in Nigeria. Despite the avalanche of defections to the APC, countervailing movements suggest a reconfiguration—not a collapse—of opposition politics.

For instance, Osun State Governor Ademola Adeleke has reportedly defected to the Accord Party, a platform once considered near moribund. More significantly, key PDP founding figures—including former Vice President Atiku Abubakar and former Senate President David Mark—along with thousands of party members, have migrated to the revitalised African Democratic Congress (ADC).

Politics is inherently dynamic. In this case, the ADC appears to have been politically “acquired” by heavyweight defectors from the PDP—unlike the formal merger that birthed the APC in 2013. The ADC has made no pretence about its ambition to challenge the APC for control of Aso Rock in 2027 and has already embarked on an aggressive membership drive, ahead of the APC’s planned convention in March 2026.

Waziri Adamawa, Atiku Abubakar’s recent formal entry into the ADC at a rally in Jada, Adamawa State, underscores the party’s renewed momentum. Meanwhile, Peter Obi—widely assumed to be aligned with the ADC—has yet to formally declare, suggesting strategic caution rather than political irrelevance.

Beyond the ADC, Nigeria’s political map further weakens the one-party thesis. In Kano State, the New Nigeria Peoples Party (NNPP), led by Dr Musa Kwankwaso and powered by the Kwankwasiyya movement, remains firmly in control. In Anambra State, Governor Chukwuma Soludo of the All Progressives Grand Alliance (APGA) secured a landslide re-election victory in November, defeating the APC candidate by over 400,000 votes—clear evidence that APGA, not the APC, rules the roost.

Similarly, in Abia State, Governor Alex Otti of the Labor Party (LP) has sustained multiparty vibrancy through performance-driven governance. While internal party disputes pose challenges, LP’s control of Abia further undermines claims of an APC monopoly.

Taken together, these realities raise a critical question: how can Nigeria be described as descending into a one-party state when LP, APGA, NNPP, ADC, Accord, and even the weakened PDP still control states, mobilise voters, and credibly compete for power?

The decline of the PDP—once Nigeria’s dominant ruling party—should not be conflated with the collapse of democracy itself. Parties rise and fall; democracy survives through competition, not permanently. What Nigeria appears to be experiencing is not a one-party state but a phase of dominant-party politics.

Dominance, however, is not the same as monopoly. As long as opposition parties win elections, govern states, and challenge for national power, Nigeria—however imperfectly—remains a multiparty democracy.

At this juncture, it is pertinent to share with readers how the post below shared with me by a senior member of the commentariat prompted this analogical intervention.

The following is the data that was shared:

“The People’s Democratic Party: The journey to single-digit states

Ruling Party Trajectory

1999 — Presidency & 22 states

2003 — Presidency & 26 States

2007 — Presidency & 29 States

2011 — Presidency & 25 States

2015 — 13 States

2019 — 16 States

2023 — 13 States

2025 — 6 States

The six States:

•Adamawa

•Bauchi

•Oyo

•Plateau

•Taraba

•Zamfara

NC NE NW SW”

It is astonishing that since the above statistics were generated, the PDP has further shrunk in its ranks from six (6) states to three (3), as Plateau, Taraba, and Adamawa have also fallen under the spell of the APC. This development has occurred as the ruling party—now going beyond a conventional political organisation—has effectively morphed into a movement, enabling it to roll over formerly opposition-controlled states.

Consequently, the leadership of the remaining three PDP-controlled states is now in a quandary over how to withstand the ferocity of the ruling APC while remaining within an increasingly weakened and handicapped PDP.

Being naturally inquisitive, I chose to look beneath the surface of the data, ignoring the drumbeats and celebratory dances of those alleging that Nigeria is descending into a one-party state simply because the PDP is now in the ICU and seemingly in the throes of death.

By stripping away the noise and focusing on reality, one can discern that during the current political cycle, three nearly moribund parties—LP, ADC, and Accord—have been resuscitated, while a new party, the NNPP, has emerged within the same political dispensation. So, the diminishing fortunes of the PDP do not equate to the imminent death of democracy, as some would have us believe.

History is instructive in validating this assertion. Empires rise and fall—an inevitable reality. Greece, once the cradle of democracy, is today but a shadow of its former self. Britain, which once ruled nearly three-quarters of the world—from Africa to India, the Caribbean, Canada, Australia, and even the United States—has since contracted into England, Ireland, and Wales, collectively known as the United Kingdom.

Therefore, while it is understandable to mourn the decline of the former ruling party, PDP, it is disingenuous to portray its internal crisis—now leaving it in control of only three states—as evidence that Nigeria’s over 25 years of continuous multiparty democracy is degenerating into a one-party state.

Incidentally, Nigeria has witnessed a similar political scenario in the past, as highlighted by the socio-economic and political analysisby a firm Statisense. During the era when the PDP was the ruling party, particularly under President Olusegun Obasanjo’s second term between 2003 and 2007, the party controlled all the South-East and South-South states and most of the South-West and north central as well as a bit of north east and west, with Lagos State as the lone exception.

Subsequently, following court rulings that nullified several elections, the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN), which had lost the South-West to the PDP, strategically plotted its return to national relevance by merging with three and a half other opposition parties to form the All Progressives Congress (APC) in 2013. This coalition enabled the APC to reclaim lost ground and eventually seize power.

Today, it is remarkable that the APC—owing largely to the organisational skills of President Bola Tinubu—has reinvented itself from controlling only Lagos State in 2007, to becoming the ruling party in all but six of Nigeria’s 36 states as 2025 draws to a close.

At this juncture, it bears reiterating that if a one-party state were ever to emerge in Nigeria, it would reflect Tinubu’s political dexterity as a seasoned strategist—and, conversely, the failure of opposition party leaders to inspire committed followership due to weak internal democracy within their platforms, including the PDP, LP, SDP, and ADC.

The argument that Tinubu is secretly funding the undertakers of opposition parties currently exhibiting signs of terminal illness is both lame and untenable.

In politics, opposition parties routinely deploy all available tactics—demarketing, blackmail, intimidation, and deception—to outwit rivals. A classic example was Senator Bukola Saraki’s emergence as Senate President against the wishes of then-President Muhammadu Buhari. Through political manoeuvring, Saraki outsmarted party leaders(diverting hostile senators away from the chambers while the loyal ones remained to vote in his favor) and thus secured the position as senate president against the plan of the leadership of his party but with support from dissident APC senators and opposition PDP lawmakers. That episode was realpolitik at its finest.

This reality underpins the popular saying that politics is a dirty game—a negative but globally entrenched label, with Nigeria being no exception.

Given this context, political parties worthy of the name should protect their flanks, much like households secure their homes against intruders. Instead of ensuring internal cohesion, opposition parties facing self-inflicted implosions have chosen to blame the APC and Tinubu for their misfortune.

For instance, the PDP’s crisis deepened in 2023 when the party violated its zoning principle by shifting the presidential ticket northward, producing Atiku Abubakar as its candidate instead of rotating power to the South-East. In protest, Peter Obi—Atiku’s former running mate in 2019—defected to the Labour Party, becoming its presidential flagbearer.

That political divorce resulted in Obi and the LP sweeping votes across the South and East to finish third, with 6,101,533, while PDP and Atiku secured a distant second place with 6,984,530 votes, largely from parts of the North, as Tinubu and APC garnered 8,794,726 in the 2023 presidential election.

If opposition leaders in the PDP failed to consolidate their gains from 2019, lacked foresight, and could not forge a united front in 2023—ultimately losing to Tinubu—why should anyone else be blamed for their misfortune?

President Tinubu, by contrast, demonstrated political sagacity by persuading rival contenders to step down during the APC primaries and by patiently building a national coalition over several years before winning the presidency.

Given this level of diligence and strategic effort, how can the failures of Nigeria’s opposition parties—now metaphorically sleepwalking into oblivion—be blamed on Tinubu or the APC?

Interestingly, in states such as Osun in the South and Zamfara in the North, the APC has reportedly rebuffed overtures from incumbent PDP governors seeking to defect, confident in its organisational strength and electoral machinery. Rather than accommodating distressed politicians, the party has chosen to block their entry.

In the past, it was fashionable to accuse the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) of coercing governors into defecting. That line of argument has now become obsolete, as no credible evidence supports such claims in the current dispensation.

The advice to opposition parties, especially the PDP, therefore, is simple: end the blame game and address internal vulnerabilities. Political parties hemorrhaging their top members—particularly governors—must confront their self-inflicted wounds.

As a precautionary note to the APC, however, its current dominance should not be mistaken for a fait accompli. The party must remember the aphorisms: uneasy lies the head that wears the crown and what goes up must come down.

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The road ahead will be rough if the APC fails to consolidate economic reforms and translate improving macroeconomic indicators into tangible relief for ordinary Nigerians. Reduced petrol prices must meaningfully reflect in lower transport costs, less expensive food prices, affordable housing, and good healthcare—critical components of daily life.

At this juncture in Nigeria’s history, public messaging by the leadership should emphasise patience and hope, acknowledging the inevitable lag between policy implementation and real-world impact.

In other words, APC must strive to convince weary Nigerians that joy is coming.

Although the implosion of the APC was once predicted due to its formation from ideologically diverse parties in 2013—strange bedfellows by any measure—it has instead grown stronger, much to the consternation of its adversaries.

But by the simple rule of life, every society or firm goes through boom and bust. The PDP is going through that motion. Indeed the longevity of an entity or society is dependent on the dexterity of the leaders in managing success.

APC has thrived well as it has been enjoying a boom period stretching over the past ten years.

It must be remembered that leadership can be tenous if it fails to be inclusive and responsive to the yearnings of members of the society.

In the case of political parties, if internal democracy is not enforced by way of inclusion of critical stakeholders, and in situations whereby the opposition parties fail to play their critical of keeping the ruling party in check, civil society/liberty organizations such as YlAGA Africa, Enough-Is-Enough, SERAP, CISLAC, etc that abound in Nigeria can step in by holding the feet of our political leaders to the fire.

In the final analysis, the prospect of Nigeria descending into one party is not to worry about as the system has the capacity to self-correct course.

President Tinubu and his team, given their wide political experience would likely not lead our country into such cul-de-sac because it would not even serve their best interest if by chance they wanted to be selfish.

Magnus Onyibe, an entrepreneur, public policy analyst, author, democracy advocate, development strategist, an alumnus of the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, Massachusetts, USA, a Commonwealth Institute scholar, and a former commissioner in the Delta State government, sent this piece from Lagos

December 24, 2025
Rethinking the war on terror
- By TJ Ishola
There comes a time in the life of every nation when euphemisms become dangerous, when diplomatic grammar becomes a coffin for innocent citizens, and when the pretence of “managing” terror becomes the very oxygen that sustains it.

Nigeria has reached that point. The recent spate of attacks, in which villages were sacked, Christians slaughtered, travellers ambushed, and families wiped out, has once again revealed a bleak truth: our enemies do not pause, our enemies do not negotiate, and our enemies certainly do not respect appeasement. They advance because we retreat. They escalate because we hesitate.

With the appointment of General Christopher Musa (retd) as Minister of Defence, Nigeria stands at a crossroads. His background, forged in the fires of counter-insurgency operations, signals a decisive shift away from armchair security management toward operational clarity. Predictably, this change has unveiled tensions between those who favour decisive action against terrorism and those who prefer endless explanations, negotiations, and pacification.

As former Chief of Army Staff and elder statesman, Lt Gen T.Y. Danjuma, once stated with stark military clarity: “The best form of defence is attack.” It is a principle Nigeria has historically ignored, often at substantial cost. With the new Defence Minister, the doctrine is back, it’s measured, driven by intelligence, and absolutely firm.

And the reaction to it has been revealing.

Many Nigerians have been shocked by recent public responses to the defence minister’s reported order, which is publicly described as a tougher stance against armed bandits and terrorists. Though communities affected by kidnappings, killings, and displacement have welcomed a firmer approach, a different chorus has unexpectedly emerged.

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Some commentators, including Professor Yusuf Usman, have publicly urged the president to restrain the defence minister, describing his posture as “too harsh,” “too fast,” and “too sharp.” In his view, as expressed in public commentary, the bandits are “not strangers,” but “sons and daughters, brothers and sisters” who merely “need attention” and should be engaged through dialogue rather than force. He has argued against what he terms a “total war” approach and warned that military pressure could escalate violence.

Such arguments are not new, but their timing is instructive. They emerge precisely when the state begins to assert itself.

No serious nation denies the humanity of criminals. But no serious nation elevates the comfort of perpetrators above the safety of victims. To describe armed groups that have kidnapped schoolchildren for years, razed villages, violated women, murdered farmers, and terrorised highways as misunderstood “freedom fighters” is not mediation—it is moral inversion.

If terrorists are human, then so are their victims. If bandits deserve empathy, then kidnapped children deserve justice. If dialogue is proposed for those wielding guns, what language is reserved for those buried by them?

Nigeria must be careful not to allow the language of sympathy to become a shield for impunity.

Nigeria has tried dialogue. Nigeria has tried amnesty. Nigeria has tried negotiations. Nigeria has tried ransom payments. Nigeria has tried back-channel emissaries.

Each attempt has ended the same way: stronger bandits, richer kidnappers, bolder terrorists, and more traumatised citizens.

The country must finally confront a hard truth: appeasement has not reduced violence; it has commercialised it. Kidnapping has become a business because it pays. Banditry has expanded because it is tolerated. Negotiation has become profitable because it carries no consequence.

When governors are praised for “engaging” armed groups, the message is clear: violence earns relevance. When ransom payments are quietly made, the message is clearer still: terror works.

That message must be reversed.

For too long, Nigeria’s security architecture has operated reactively, arriving after attacks, counting bodies, issuing condolences, and convening meetings. Terrorists strike at will because they expect delay, hesitation, and negotiation.

The current defence minister’s approach, emphasising firmness, deterrence, and proactive engagement marks a necessary correction.

This does not mean indiscriminate force. It means decisive, intelligence-led force. It means denying terrorists the initiative. It means entering forests before kidnappers emerge from them. It means making armed criminality a high-risk occupation rather than a lucrative career.

As Danjuma’s maxim reminds us, defence begins not at the point of impact, but at the point of intent.

One of Nigeria’s most under-discussed security problems is not just terrorism itself, but terrorist sympathy and justification within elite and intellectual spaces. When respected voices frame violent criminals primarily as victims of circumstance while minimising or relativising their crimes, they weaken national resolve and confuse moral clarity.

This is not a call to criminalise dissent. It is a call to recognise that narratives matter in war.

Every justification offered for terror delays action. Every excuse extends suffering. Every appeal for endless dialogue buys time for kidnappers, not for victims.

Those who materially support, facilitate, shield, or knowingly legitimise terrorist groups, whether financially, politically, or logistically—must face investigation under Nigeria’s laws against aiding and abetting terrorism. No society can defeat armed violence while romanticising its perpetrators.

Perhaps the most urgent reform Nigeria must embrace is the complete cessation of ransom payments. What began as desperate survival tactics has mutated into a structured economy of abduction. The moment money stops flowing, the business model collapses.

Rescue operations, intelligence penetration, and forceful disruption must replace negotiation. The safety of citizens must be pursued through strength, not tribute.

Conclusion: This Trajectory Must Not Be Derailed

The early signals from the new Defence leadership have already triggered resistance, not from terrorists alone, but from those uncomfortable with a state that finally chooses firmness over familiarity.

Nigeria must not retreat. The country must stay the course: proactive, not reactive; decisive, not deferential; protective of victims, not indulgent of criminals.

The era of appeasing terror through dialogue without consequence, ransom without restraint, and sympathy without accountability must end.

As Lt Gen T.Y. Danjuma warned, the best form of defence is attack. Not reckless force, but resolute action guided by intelligence, law, and moral clarity.

Nigeria owes this not just to the dead, but to the living, and to a future that must no longer be negotiated with men who trade in fear.

•Ishola writes from United Kingdom.
December 23, 2025