By the time you are reading this, we would have had a good belly laugh, a few or more persons would have also been arrested, must have had their hair cut by overzealous security personnel. It is Nigeria, the deed done, we would have moved on to the next matter.

Minna, the capital of Niger State, faces genuine security challenges—thuggery, cultism, and drug-related crimes—that demand urgent action. However, Governor Umar Mohammed Bago’s Executive Order on Thuggery Activities (22/04/2025) responds to these issues with measures that flagrantly violate legal norms, human rights, and constitutional principles. While the intent to restore order is understandable, the order’s provisions exemplify executive overreach, collective punishment, and a dangerous disregard for due process. 

Let me quickly state that I am not a lawyer…and I am not sure that I need to be one to share my fact—based opinions.

The executive order’s most egregious clauses contravene Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution and international human rights standards: Extrajudicial Killings and Collective Punishment (Clause 1): Declaring that individuals found with weapons (even sticks) should be “treated as armed robbers” and killed, with families charged for bullets, violates Section 33 of the Constitution, which guarantees the right to life. It also imposes collective punishment, outlawed under international law. Such measures normalize state-sanctioned violence and erode public trust. 

I don’t want to talk about the Criminalizing Appearance (Clause 2) is a profound testament to how our thoughts are wired. Arresting citizens for dreadlocks—a cultural and religious symbol for many—infringes on personal liberty (Section 34) and freedom of expression (Section 39). Targeting hairstyles is discriminatory and fuels marginalization, akin to past oppressive policies like Nigeria’s 1984 “War Against Indiscipline.” Which is why it did not succeed and it is not about to succeed now.

How about Property Rights and Due Process (Clause 6): Demolishing homes without court orders violates Section 44’s protection against compulsory property acquisition. Similarly, confiscating vehicles (Clause 10) bypasses judicial oversight, rendering the state both accuser and judge.  

I can tell that on Curfews and Overreach (Clauses 3, 9): While curfews can be legitimate, blanket bans on Okada/Keke Napep without consultation disproportionately harm low-income workers. Centralizing “Operation Flush” under the governor politicizes security agencies, risking abuse.  

And on the Erosion of Judicial Independence (Clause 7): Establishing “special courts” under the Chief Judge’s supervision risks undermining judicial impartiality, as expedited trials may compromise fair hearings (Section 36).  

These clauses reflect a troubling trend: governance by decree, not law.  

The order’s rationale—combating crime through fear—is both ineffective and unethical. History shows that heavy-handed tactics, like our not too far in the past SARS unit approach, exacerbates violence and alienation. By equating sticks with firearms, the order dehumanizes youths, many of whom are victims of systemic neglect. Demolishing homes and arresting community leaders (Clauses 5–6) scapegoats the poor while ignoring elite enablers of crime. Worse, it diverts attention from the government’s failure to address root causes: unemployment, poor education, and institutional corruption.  

The absurdity of these measures recalls a tale of a lawyer who sold a well to a teacher, only to later insist the water wasn’t included. When the teacher threatened to charge rent for the water, the lawyer retreated, exposing the folly of such exploitative logic. Governor Bago’s order mirrors this hypocrisy: it weaponizes legal technicalities to strip citizens of rights, much like the lawyer’s hollow claim over the well’s water. But just as the teacher turned the tables, the people of Minna can—and must—challenge this overreach. The order’s contradictions reveal its fragility; collective resistance can force accountability, as the teacher’s wit did the lawyer’s greed.

Sustainable solutions require addressing socio-economic drivers of crime and restoring trust. Now my dear governor and brother…to my grouse. I have a dread and I am not a criminal—

I believe you could have resorted to Community Policing: Train officers to work with local leaders, youth groups, and NGOs to identify risks collaboratively. A better approach and initiative that can reduce crime through dialogue and intelligence-sharing.  

How much has your government invested in vocational programs, public education, and job creation? For example, how many schemes are currently running to curb cultism by offering alternatives to crime.  

Truth be told, I keep stating that strengthening existing courts to handle cases swiftly while ensuring fairness is better than Mobile courts and improved legal aid services can improve access to justice without sacrificing rights.  

At the heart of these increased crime rates is the drug menace, I dare say, replacing punitive drug policies with health-focused approaches. Partnerships with NGOs can provide counseling and reintegration support.

At the heart of all the backlash also is the fact that there is an inherent flaw in the Political Communication methodology. Governor Bago’s authoritarian rhetoric deepens divides. Better political communication would: Engage Citizens: Hold town halls to co-create policies with affected communities. Promote Transparency: Publish crime data and budget allocations for security initiatives. Avoid Stigmatization: Replace inflammatory language (e.g., “thugs”) with terms that recognize systemic failures.  

The Minna executive order substitutes tyranny for justice. True security cannot be built on violated rights and collective punishment. By embracing dialogue, equity, and accountability, Niger State can tackle its challenges without sacrificing the rule of law. As Bob Marley, the “Natty Dread” himself, once sang: “Until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally discredited, everywhere is war.” Let Minna’s war on crime not become a war on its people—May Nigeria win!

--

Prince Charles Dickson PhD

Team Lead

The Tattaaunawa Roundtable Initiative (TRICentre)

The collapse of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) structure into the All Progressives Congress (APC) in Delta State could either strengthen or destabilize the APC, depending on how well old and new members integrate.
Interestingly, most of the original APC members in Delta were themselves former PDP members. So, the latest defectors are simply following a path previously taken by their predecessors.
In essence, the APC in Delta today is largely made up of former PDP members — from leadership to grassroots.

Make no mistake about it,there is nothing wrong in defection, per se.
After all the president of the United States of America, USA, Donald J Trump did not commence his political career as a member of the Republican party. Rather he registered as a Republican party member in only in 1987, and became a member of the lndependent party , the New York state affiliate of the Reform party in 1999. He was a Democrat in 2001 , a Republican in 2009 and he became unaffiliated in 2011 and finally returned to the Republican party in 2012.
Similarly, Robert F Kennedy Jnr defected from the Democratic party in the course of his presidential race in 2024 to contest as an lndependent party cancidate. He is currently the Health and Human Services secretary in President Trump’s administration after he colapsed his campaign into Trump’s Republican party campaign platform .
So, there is no big deal about defection in a democracy.
What should concern APC leaders in Abuja is whether the internal rivalries that fractured the PDP — and triggered the current wave of defections — might resurface and destabilize the APC if not properly managed.
The emerging APC, both in Delta and nationally, increasingly resembles the PDP of old — merely repackaged under a different banner.

Delta State, often described as a microcosm of Nigeria due to its diverse ethnic makeup, frequently reflects broader national trends.
Thus, the mass defection happening in the state that prides herself as the “Big Heart state” could signal the beginning of an even wider migration of politicians across the country, at a scale Nigeria has never witnessed before.

To ensure a smooth merger of the old and new party members, the APC State Chairman, Elder Omeni Sobotie, has directed all local government chairmen to collect registration booklets to formally enroll the new members, completing their transition into the party.

However, tensions from the 2023 elections, when the APC’s Ovie Omo-Agege contested against the PDP’s Sheriff Oborevwori, still linger. Although overt hostilities may be muted, old rivalries could resurface if not carefully managed — possibly requiring intervention from the party’s leadership in Abuja.

Among the old APC loyalists, who are politically weaker compared to the PDP’s dominance in Delta’s executive, legislative, and judicial branches, there may be a tendency to look down on the newcomers, branding them derisively as the “Taiwan APC.”
In local Nigerian parlance, especially among motor spare parts traders, “Taiwan” is used to describe imitation or inferior products — a reference to Taiwan’s early reputation for cheap manufacturing.

The use of “Taiwan” as a political insult gained prominence during the 2023 presidential elections, reportedly popularized by Peter Obi, the Labour Party’s presidential candidate. Obi, who dramatically disrupted Nigeria’s political landscape, especially the PDP’s strongholds, allegedly dismissed Dr. Ifeanyi Okowa — Atiku Abubakar’s running mate — as a “Taiwan Igbo.”
By that, Obi implied that Okowa, being from the Ika-speaking region of Delta State (the Igbo-speaking area of Delta North), was not an authentic Igbo, but rather an imitation — a symbolic slight against the PDP’s choice of running mate.

It appears that, because they originate from west of the Niger River, Dr. Ifeanyi Okowa and the people of Delta North are not seen by many eastern Igbos as authentic members of the Igbo ethnic group. Consequently, they are often perceived as “fake” or “Taiwan” Igbos — a term used locally to imply imitation.

Drawing a parallel from this sentiment, the recent influx of PDP defectors into the APC in Delta State could risk being seen in a similar light — as “Taiwan APC” — if tensions between old and new members are not properly managed.

To avoid such damaging divisions, the APC must ensure seamless integration. Fortunately, the party has significant experience managing mergers, dating back to 2013 when it successfully united the ACN, CPC, ANPP, and a faction of the PDP into the current APC platform. Given this track record, it should not be difficult for the party’s national leadership, particularly Chairman Dr. Abdulahi Umar Ganduje, to create a task force to manage the blending process — similar to how businesses handle mergers and acquisitions (M&A).

Events unfolding in Nigeria’s political arena suggest that President Tinubu’s 2027 re-election campaign will be anything but business as usual.
While the PDP is attempting to replicate Tinubu’s 2013 strategy — merging opposition forces into a special-purpose political vehicle to oust the ruling party — it is ironically being weakened by an aggressive takeover orchestrated by the APC.
Tinubu, much like a masterful Samurai or a Sumotori (Sumo wrestler), has disarmed and destabilized his opposition two years before the next election cycle.

It’s worth recalling that President Muhammadu Buhari himself once credited Tinubu for his eventual success in the 2015 presidential election, after three failed attempts. Tinubu’s depth in political strategy has always been a major force in Nigerian politics.

To draw a clearer parallel, in the corporate world, a hostile takeover occurs when a stronger company seizes control of a weaker, underperforming firm — usually without the consent of its management — by directly appealing to shareholders.
Hostile takeovers are characterized by unsolicited bids, bypassing management, and fierce resistance from the target company’s leadership.

Some typical tactics used in hostile takeovers include:
• Tender Offers: Public offers to buy shares directly from shareholders, usually at a premium.
• Proxy Fights: Efforts to install new management by winning shareholder votes.
• Bear Hugs: Aggressive offers that pressure the target company’s board into acceptance.

There are also classic defenses against hostile takeovers:
• Poison Pills: Strategies that make the takeover financially painful for the bidder.
• White Knights: Seeking a more friendly acquirer.
• Golden Parachutes: Offering lucrative severance packages to executives to deter acquisition.

Applying these concepts to politics, the 2013 creation of the APC was similar to a business merger — parties voluntarily combined for mutual benefit.
In contrast, today’s scenario resembles a hostile political takeover: the ruling APC is absorbing members from weakened opposition parties like the PDP, without formal mergers — often without the defectors’ original leadership’s blessing.

Critics argue that this mass migration signals the alarming drift toward a one-party state, raising concerns about “state capture.”
However, I view it differently: it is part of the natural evolution of Nigeria’s democratic experiment — much like refining gold through fire.
If Nigeria never explores different governance models, how will we know whether multi-party democracy truly suits us? One-party systems have both strengths and weaknesses, just like multi-party ones.
As the saying goes, “the proof of the pudding is in the eating.” Perhaps it’s time we stop relying solely on imported democratic templates and start developing a homegrown system that fits Nigeria’s unique cultural and social realities.

While the defection of the entire PDP political structure in Delta State to the APC last Monday made a major impact on Nigerian politics, the PDP’s decline has been a long time coming. It began in 2010, after President Umaru Yar’adua’s death, only two years into his term. Vice President Goodluck Jonathan took over and eventually ran for office himself, a move seen by many as a betrayal of earlier agreements. His election sparked a revolt within the PDP, led by Atiku Abubakar, Senate President Bukola Saraki, and a handful of governors who later defected to the APC.

In a sense, history is repeating itself in 2025, with Ifeanyi Okowa — the PDP’s 2023 vice-presidential candidate — moving over to the APC, much like Atiku did before the 2015 elections. Similarly, Peter Obi, PDP’s vice-presidential candidate in 2019, defected to the Labour Party (LP) to pursue his own presidential ambition in 2023.

As Atiku plans to create a coalition to challenge President Tinubu, similar to what he helped orchestrate in 2013 against Jonathan, he must recognize that Tinubu is a much savvier political operator than Jonathan was. Tinubu appears proactive, unveiling new strategies to maintain his grip on power.
To second guess him, I
its unlikely that he has exhausted his political options yet.

Despite the economic hardships — with inflation, currency fluctuations, and economic strain — there are signs of improvement: the Dangote Refinery promises an end to fuel scarcity, inflation is moderating, foreign reserves have grown, and initiatives like NELFUND are expanding access to education by democratizing university education in the manner the sage Obafemi Awolowo offered the western region free education and put the yoruba nation ahead of all other states in terms of education.
These positive developments may be enough to sustain voter support for Tinubu and the APC into 2027.

Historically, inflation alone doesn’t determine electoral outcomes in Nigeria. Major political shifts usually stem from larger causes or organized movements. For instance, the opposition to Jonathan’s re-election was driven by perceptions of broken agreements on power rotation. Similarly, in 2023, the “Obidient” movement, fueled by discontent from the Southeast, weakened PDP’s chances, helping Tinubu emerge victorious.

Although there are signs of dissatisfaction in the North — particularly a sense of neglect despite the region delivering 62% of Tinubu’s 2023 votes — Tinubu’s political instincts may help him navigate this better than Jonathan did. His strategy seems focused on consolidating control over the southern states: Yoruba regions, the South-South, and the Southeast.

While critics point to Governor Sanwo-Olu’s inability to secure Lagos votes for Tinubu in 2023, other governors like Ademola Adeleke delivered Osun a PDP state to Atiku. Thus, having key governors on your side still matters. Now with former Governor Ifeanyi Okowa, Governor Sheriff Oborevwori, and political heavyweight James Ibori (leader of the Niger Delta region)aligned with President Tinubu, Delta State — and the wider Niger Delta — could swing towards APC in 2027.

In the South-South, other states could follow. Senate President Godswill Akpabio and Akwa Ibom’s current leadership could help flip that state too. Cross River is already under APC control. Enugu Governor Peter Mbah is cozying up to APC, hinting at a possible defection. President Tinubu’s visit and praises for him recently further suggest warming ties.

In Anambra, Governor Chukwuma Soludo (APGA) may also align with Tinubu, especially since he won’t face re-election stress after winning a second term. Similarly, Abia’s LP Governor Alex Otti, who has a strained relationship with Peter Obi and whose party is weak nationally, could also be swayed to the APC side, despite official denials.

Rivers State’s political crisis, led by the Wike-Fubara feud, could ultimately benefit Tinubu, especially now that most of Rivers’ National Assembly members have pledged support for his re-election. This political realignment across the South mirrors the 2013-2015 period, when northern politicians defected massively from PDP to APC to oust Jonathan.

Meanwhile, Imo and Ebonyi are already firmly APC, while Oyo and Osun are technically PDP but acted independently during the last election. It’s feasible that Osun, surrounded by APC states, could eventually flip too.

Overall, Tinubu appears to be managing the political chessboard masterfully. Despite ongoing challenges, he stands a strong chance of winning re-election in 2027. The forces gathering against him seem unlikely to match his political acumen or organizational strength. Unlike Jonathan, Tinubu is proving to be a far more formidable opponent.

Therefore, it’s unlikely that President Tinubu can be unseated in the same way the opposition toppled former President Jonathan in 2015. A Ugandan proverb offers some insight:
“It is survival, not bravery, that makes a man climb a thorny tree.”
The current attempt by certain politicians to form a coalition against the ruling government is a desperate bid to wrest the presidency from Tinubu in 2027.

Former Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe once posed a poignant question:
“How do you convince future generations that education is the key to success when poor graduates and wealthy criminals surround us?”
Applying this logic, how can members of the PDP and other opposition parties be persuaded to stay loyal when their parties—particularly the PDP and Labour Party, which placed second and third respectively in 2023—are in disarray?
Realistically, who would willingly stay aboard a sinking ship?

It’s fair to say Nigeria may be drifting toward a one-party system—but whether this is by design or a natural evolution is debatable. Claims that President Tinubu and the APC are orchestrating a “state capture” seem misplaced. The internal crises ravaging the PDP and LP are largely self-inflicted. Their inability to manage internal divisions has triggered an exodus, as politicians naturally seek safer ground.

While Tinubu is focused on strengthening his base in the South, where he faced challenges during the last election, he hasn’t neglected his northern supporters either. Vice President Kashim Shettima, a Kanuri from the Northeast and former governor of Borno State, still commands significant influence in the region. Moreover, Tinubu’s cabinet includes a substantial number of former governors and influential northern politicians who can help consolidate his support there.

Having secured 62% of his 2023 votes from the North, Tinubu is likely to intensify his outreach as the 2027 election approaches. He may also be counting on the positive results of his economic reforms—such as declining inflation, stabilizing forex rates, and infrastructure achievements—to sway public opinion and strengthen his position.

The mass defection of the PDP’s structure into the APC in Delta State could either stabilize or destabilize the APC locally, depending on how old and new members integrate.

Essentially, the APC is executing a hostile political takeover, similar to corporate mergers and acquisitions in business. Unlike 2013–2015, when opposition parties voluntarily merged to challenge PDP dominance, today’s defections are driven more by survival instincts than strategic planning. The politicians leaving the PDP are responding to the party’s collapse, preferring to jump ship rather than go down with it—an exodus vividly demonstrated by the mass movement from PDP to APC in Delta State.

As it stands, Nigeria appears headed toward a one-party system—another phase in its political evolution. Whether the APC will dominate for 16 years or eventually implode, (as did PDP after 16 years) leading to the emergence of new parties, remains to be seen. Political evolution in Nigeria is dynamic, unpredictable, and often mirrors natural survival patterns.

Yet, a pressing question remains: if the APC becomes the overwhelmingly dominant party, what credible alternatives exist?
Ironically, many of those trying to build a new coalition against Tinubu are themselves remnants of the fractured PDP—the very party from which people are fleeing into much like butterflies flocking to nectar, the APC.

Ultimately, if Tinubu secures a second term and exits office in 2031, the critical issue will be:
Will Nigeria’s next generation of leaders emerge ready to prioritize the nation’s interests and elevate Nigeria globally?
Or will they simply repeat the same cycles?

Is anyone out there preparing true successors who will place Nigeria first?

Magnus Onyibe, an entrepreneur, public policy analyst, author, democracy advocate, and development strategist.

Is the Doctrine of Separation of Powers Being Eroded?
Before I go into ‘the word for today’, I cannot but briefly comment on President John Mahama’s recent suspension of the Chief Justice of Ghana, Hon. Justice Gertrude Torkornoo (CJG) on allegations of misconduct. In Ghana, unlike Baron Montesquieu’s theory of Separation of Powers, the three arms of government are not co-equal. Article 57(2) of Ghana’s Constitution of 1992 (with Amendments through 1996) provides that the President takes precedence over all persons in Ghana, followed by the Vice President, the Speaker of the Parliament and then the Chief Justice. Article 146(6) of Ghana’s Constitution provides that, where there is a petition for the removal of the CJG, in consultation with the Council of State, the President will appoint a Panel of Inquiry to look into the allegations and recommend to the President whether the CJG should be removed. Also, when the petition has been referred to the Committee of Inquiry, in accordance with the advice of the Council of State, the Ghanaian President is empowered to suspend the CJG (see Article 146(10)(a) of Ghana’s Constitution).

In Nigeria, I have always maintained that we pretend that the three arms of government are co-equal, particularly as the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended)(the Constitution) doesn’t provide for a hierarchy like Ghana; but, in reality, it appears that we have adopted the same hierarchical arrangement as the one provided for in Ghana’s Constitution. The Constitution doesn’t endow the Nigerian President with the same powers of discipline that the Ghanaian President has over the CJG, with regard to the Chief Justice of Nigeria (CJN), even though President Buhari used a warped, unconstitutional process to remove Chief Justice Walter Onnoghen. See Nganjiwa v FRN (2017) LPELR-43391(CA) per Abimbola Osarugue Obaseki-Adejumo, JCA on the discipline of a judicial officer.

Though the procedure of discipline of the CJG raises questions of the independence of their Judiciary since the Judiciary is subject to the President, for now, however, constitutionally, President Mahama appears to be standing on ‘terra firma’, but only if the allegations against the CJG are not contrived, baseless or malicious, which some have argued that they are. The President’s powers of appointment of a good number of the members of the Council of State, 3 in consultation with Parliament and 11 by himself, aside from the President of the National House of Chiefs and elected members from the various regions, also gives him a considerable amount of power in the Council of State (see Article 89 of Ghana’s Constitution). Can this power be abused?

Last week, Milwaukee Circuit Court Judge, Hannah Dugan, was arrested in her court room by FBI Agents, for allegedly allowing a man who ICE Agents were seeking to deport, to evade them. She has been released, pending arraignment for felony charges of obstruction and concealing the proposed deportee. In this case, the FBI didn’t wait for any Judicial Conduct Commission, before taking action.

Sadly, it appears that what we are seeing these days, or what the Executive may be trying to achieve, is the subjugation of the Judiciary to it in order to be able to do as it pleases, without any check or balance. This will certainly impact negatively, on the independence of the Judiciary.

“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth.” - Buddha

Criminals are Criminals, But….
I do agree that crime is crime, and criminals are criminals; and instead of quibbling about the colour, ethnicity or religion of criminals, bringing them to justice to reduce insecurity in Nigeria should be the prime focus (see Section 14(2)(b) of the Constitution and Tanko v State (2009) LPSLR-3136(SC) per Pius Olayiwola Aderemi, JSC). However, the study of Criminology and research has shown that following trends is helpful in solving crime, and has revealed certain patterns of crime between groups of people and types of crime. Therefore, a branch of Criminology, Trend Analysis, is devoted to identification of patterns in crimes, changes in them, causes of the crimes and development of strategies to prevent same. So, for instance, if people are usually robbed in traffic on Eko Bridge, particularly in the evenings when they are going home after work, Trend Analysts will observe that pattern of crime - maybe it occurs between 5pm and 7pm on weekdays. And, if many of victims of the robberies and eye witnesses observe that, a good number of the thieves are young men who are or pose as street hawkers selling different items, would it be profiling or simply telling the truth to warn people to be careful of street hawkers on Eko Bridge, as a good number of them are really robbers, some simply masquerading as street hawkers?

Definition of Profiling
What does Profiling mean? It means different things, in different contexts. In terms of Consumer Profiling, it is used to identify the target market for certain products, purchasing trends, preferences or weaknesses in products based on purchase, or to design products for target markets. For example, research has shown that girls between age 3 and maybe 6-7 like Barbie Dolls. In the past, it used to be girls up to age 10, but, it appears that the taste of older girls may have changed. So, if Mattel Inc, the maker of Barbie still wants to target older girls, it would have to make the Barbie Doll more attractive or innovative to pique their interest.

Criminal Profiling is used by law enforcement agencies in the Western World, to ‘catch’ criminals. For instance, in the case of a suspected serial killer, there would be crime scene analyses to discover if there may be similarities or ritualistic tendencies that are common to the different crime scenes where people have been killed, which the Police would use to determine if it is the same perpetrator(s) that may have murdered the different victims (linkage profiling). There is the examination of the victims’ backgrounds, to discover if there’s any common thread that runs through them, and what attraction/hatred the perpetrator(s) may have towards them. The method of killing is also considered - was it the same; was it exceptionally brutal, thereby showing some kind of deep-seated hatred for the victims? There’s behavioural/psychological profiling created from these and other factors, to try to develop a possible physical and mental profile of the perpetrator(s), in short, to try to narrow down the scope of who the perpetrator(s) could be.

The Fulani Issue
From the foregoing description, neither the definition nor the aims and objectives of criminal profiling appear to fit into the complaints of the Fulani elite in Nigeria, that the Fulanis are being profiled because Herdsmen are being called ‘Fulani Herdsmen’, and whether Herdsmen, Kidnappers or ‘Bandits’, some of the most violent attacks in various parts of the country, particularly in Benue, Plateau and the farming communities across the country are being attributed to Fulanis. This is not profiling; it is simply ethnic identification, which is what politicians have turned everything in Nigeria into, since the advent of the Fourth Republic - most things are compartmentalised into religion, ethnicity, gender. With President Buhari, it was the Northernisation of appointments; with President Tinubu, it was Muslim-Muslim ticket and now, the Yorubanisation of appointments. Why then should we expect it to be different when it comes to crime, particularly when certain people appear to be regularly fingered in certain crimes?

In many instances, victims and eye witnesses have identified Fulanis as the attackers, and it is up to law enforcement to investigate these crimes and bring the perpetrators to justice. Certainly, it cannot be correct to conclude that all the Herdsmen in Nigeria, or those who have partaken in these criminal acts are all of the Fulani ethnic group, nor can we rule out the fact that many of them may also be criminals of other ethnic groups or even foreigners, sometimes disguised as Herdsmen, as the narrative of Government claims. Does it really matter who they are, as long as they are caught and punished? Their ethnicity is only important, if it would help to locate and apprehend them. And, it would also be absurd, for anyone to conclude that because the Herdsmen or those of the Fulani ethnic group are the main suspects in numerous violent attacks, it means that all Fulanis are violent/criminals. But, be that as it may, it would also be foolhardy to gloss over or ignore a criminal pattern that may have been identified in a particular group of people, just because some others abhor the connection or linkage.

The other day, I saw a horrific video of criminals in Imo State who had terrorised a village and surrounding environs, and were responsible for kidnappings and killings in the area. It looked like a scene in a Nollywood movie. They were also alleged to be cannibals, as a pot of Egusi soup allegedly cooked with human flesh was found in their camp. They appeared to have infiltrated law enforcement and had such credible source(s) of accurate information, that they had been able to evade the authorities for quite a while until law enforcement changed their tactics and were able to capture them. They were not Fulanis.

The Fulani or Fula ethnic group are African nomads, who are known for herding livestock across the continent. This is a fact that any African history book, or a search engine like Google will confirm. Of course, they are not the only ones who herd livestock in Nigeria. However, there have been too many accusations against them, and the public has seen many videos over the years of Herdsmen trespassing onto people’s farms to graze their cattle on their crops. I’m certainly not saying that all the Herdsmen who have partaken in these criminal acts are Fulani, nor do I rule out the fact that many of them may also be criminals disguised as Herdsmen. But, with the uncountable attacks in Benue, Plateau and other farming communities in various parts of the country over the years, Herdsmen have been accused of being responsible for many of the heinous attacks in their bid to look for places to graze their livestock.

In 2016, as Governor of Kaduna State, Malam Nasiru El-Rufai, who stated that he is 87.5% Fulani, linked the killing of villagers in Southern Kaduna to a revenge/reprisal mission by Fulani Herdsmen from Niger, Mali, Chad etc (non-Nigerian Fulanis) who were caught up in the 2011 election violence in which many of them were killed, and their cattle lost. This is what Malam El-Eufai had to say in a Channels TV interview: “Cattle rustling and banditry is an essentially Fulani phenomenon. It is Fulanis, and we know where they were….Today, we have over 300 young Fulanis between age 18 and 30 in custody, for kidnapping, cattle rustling and robbery….This problem has multiple dimensions….To a large extent, we degraded cattle rustling; they moved on to kidnapping……”. Malam El-Rufai stated in the same interview that Fulani Herdsmen from other countries, migrate to Nigeria during certain seasons to graze their cattle through known grazing routes which may now no longer exist, as a result of urbanisation or farms now located along those routes. The question is, why should Nigeria be responsible for grazing routes for Malian or Guinean Herdsmen, particularly if it is detrimental to Nigerian Farmers? Shouldn’t their own governments, take up their responsibility?

In 2015, Chief Olu Falae was kidnapped on his farm in Ondo State by 6 or 7 Fulani Herdsmen, who were eventually caught, tried, convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment by an Ondo State High Court. Was Chief Falae profiling, or were the Fulani Herdsmen not responsible for his ordeal? Subsequently, Fulani Herdsmen attacked Chief Falae’s farm again, and killed one of his staff. In State v Haruna Usman, the then Kogi State Chief Judge, found 15 year old Fulani Herdsboy (about 17 at the time of conviction) guilty of culpable homicide punishable with death contrary to Section 221 of the Penal Code, and ordered his detention subject to the Governor’s pleasure. Usman had stabbed one Happy David to death, for stopping him from grazing his cattle on David’s Father’s farm at Emiworo Village, Ajaokuta.

So, what exactly do the Fulani elite mean, when they say that they are being profiled? That the public is claiming that every member of the Fulani ethnic group should be labelled as a violent criminal, or suspected to be one? I certainly do not think anyone can be saying so; and, if they are, it would be ludicrous. Should Muslims also say that they are being profiled as terrorists, because the very unIslamic Boko Haram terrorists claim to be Muslims? A friend of mine mentioned to me that there was an EFCC advertisement about fraud and 419 on television, that only featured Igbos and Yorubas. Does that mean that Igbos and Yorubas are being profiled as fraudsters, and Northerners or other ethnic groups do not commit fraud or 419? No. But, it may mean that Igbos and Yorubas may be more involved in that particular crime.

If victims and eye witnesses continue pointing fingers at Fulanis as their attackers, or victims of ‘419’ scams point to Igbos, Bendelites or Yorubas as the people that scammed them, should their observations just be ignored because their statements offend the sensibilities of others who share the same ethnic identity? Are their feelings or sensitivities, more important than the security and welfare of the thousands of Nigerians who are not only being killed, maimed and raped regularly, but driven from their farms and homes into IDP Camps? I do agree that people should not be stereotyped based on ethnicity, race etc, as this could lead to bias and discrimination (see Section 42(1)(a) of the Constitution and Lafia Local Govt v Govt, Nasarawa State & Ors (2012) LPELR-20602(SC) per Olufunlola Oyelola Adekeye, JSC), but, ignoring alleged criminal patterns instead of taking them seriously, would be detrimental to curbing whatever type of crime that requires attention.

When people say majority of the Nigerian drug traffickers caught/executed in Saudi Arabia are Yoruba, does this mean that all Yorubas who go to Saudi Arabia or all Yorubas are drug traffickers, or is it simply a fact supported by reliable statistics that they are the ones responsible for this particular crime? When they say majority of the ladies trafficked to Italy as sex workers are from the defunct Bendel State, is this borne out of reliable research and data, or is it that people just hate ladies from Bendel State and enjoy disparaging them for no reason?

Conclusion
We must move away from fruitless endeavours such as being economical with the truth, politicisation of criminality, over-dramatisation, ethnicity and this kind of general unproductive behaviour, and face this issue of insecurity squarely. For me, if the killers, kidnappers, rapists of Nigerians are from Ibadan like me, please, name them, shame them, but most importantly, apprehend them and punish them to the fullest extent of the law and curb their heinous activities. If they were called Fulani Geniuses or Yoruba Billionaires, would people complain about profiling?

The Hidden Harm Behind Youngkong’s Sexualized Street Tactics and Why It’s Time to Stop Laughing

He doesn’t stumble into these moments. He scouts them. He studies the street. He calculates the time and place. And then, with a smirk and a hidden camera, he pounces.

It starts like this:

“Hi, sorry—can you help me with directions?”

The woman pauses. She’s not expecting anything unusual. Maybe she’s in a market. Maybe it’s a sunny day. Maybe she’s simply out doing errands. She stops. She listens. She points him the right way.

But as he turns to leave, her eyes are drawn to something unnerving: a suspicious, exaggerated bulge running down his leg or thigh. It doesn’t look right. It doesn’t feel normal. She tries not to look, but instinct kicks in.

Then comes the scripted line:

“This is my stuff… I was born with it.”

“Can you handle it?”

She flinches. She freezes. She raises her eyebrows. Some respond with nervous laughter. Others gasp. Some flirt back—not because they want to, but because the moment catches them off guard. They ask, directly or indirectly:

“Is that real?”

What she doesn’t know is that she is already part of a viral video.

A hidden camera records her reaction. Every twitch, every smile, every awkward moment is captured and saved for one purpose: entertainment.

From Flirt to Exploitation

This isn’t comedy. It’s a performance built on provocation.

The prankster uses props—a cucumber, a sock, a rolled cloth—to simulate an exaggerated male genital bulge. The goal is simple: elicit shock. Prompt embarrassment. Provoke desire.

But it doesn’t end there. Sometimes he goes further.

He tells the woman he doesn’t have money for transport.

He claims his phone battery is dead.

He says he’s stranded and needs to contact someone.

And women, unaware of the setup, respond with compassion:

Some offer him money for his journey.

Some pull out their phones, letting him call a stranger.

Some say, “You can come with me” or “Let me help you find a place to stay.”

One even says: “I’ll pay for a hotel. Don’t worry.”

Some women, visibly shaken yet intrigued, exhibit involuntary signs of nervous arousal—licking their lips, playing with their hair, fidgeting with their clothes near sensitive areas, touching their necks, or adjusting their posture. These responses aren’t signs of consent or flirtation—they’re physiological and psychological reactions to sudden and confusing sexual cues, especially in public. Each gesture is part of a complex web of instinctive human behavior under social duress and emotional vulnerability.

Others appear emotionally drawn in by his scripted helplessness. When he says he’s stuck without money for transport or needs to call someone but has no battery or airtime, they respond with real concern. They reach for their purses, offer small bills, suggest getting him food, or even offer to walk him to a safe location. One woman says she’ll pay for his hotel. Another insists on buying him a phone card. A third gently hands over her phone and says, “Let me call someone for you.” These are genuine acts of care—manipulated and exploited for content.

What appears on camera as playfulness is actually a manipulated state of empathy, attraction, and anxiety. And the women involved? Most will face consequences long after the joke has ended.

Not Just Flirting—A Form of Public Emotional Exposure

We must call this what it is: digital emotional ambush.

These pranks go beyond harmless teasing. They lead women to expose not just their emotions, but their generosity, vulnerability, and bodily reactions. And all of it is packaged for laughs, likes, and shares.

It’s not just about how she reacts in the moment. It’s about what that reaction costs her afterwards:

At work: Her face circulates. Colleagues whisper. Her professionalism is questioned.

At home: A partner sees it. He replays it. He asks: “Why did you laugh?” “Why did you touch him?”

In her circle: Friends grow distant. Judgments arise.

In her mind: She replays it again and again. The shame multiplies. The guilt settles in. The regret becomes unbearable.

Some women react with anger when he finally reveals:

“It’s just a prank.”

But by then, it’s too late. The footage is secured. The video is edited. And her privacy has already been sold to the internet.

She becomes a meme. A punchline. And tragically, she becomes a case study in how public spaces are becoming psychological traps.

The Deeper Psychological Harm

As a psychologist would confirm, these pranks exploit neuro-emotional reflexes:

Startle-Arousal Confusion: The mind interprets sudden sexual suggestion as ambiguous threat or attraction.

Social Conditioning: Women are trained to be polite, to not make a scene.

Public Performance Pressure: In a crowd, people often suppress discomfort to “save face.”

Freeze or Fawn Response: Under surprise and stress, the brain triggers coping mechanisms—especially in women conditioned to avoid conflict.

Moral Entrapment: When women offer help, they are pulled into a trap of false kindness. Their virtue becomes entertainment.

These are not moral failings. These are manipulated survival instincts. And the damage left behind doesn’t just disappear. It lingers. It festers. It affects trust, self-esteem, and emotional safety.

He Gets the Fame, She Gets the Fallout

Let’s be brutally honest:

He walks away with views, followers, brand deals.

She walks away with reputation loss, relationship strain, emotional fatigue.

This is not a fair exchange. It is a one-sided transaction that trades a woman’s dignity for a man’s dopamine high from digital fame.

And yet, we laugh.

We share.

We comment with flame emojis.

We cheer for the “confidence” of the prankster while ignoring the pain of the woman who was never in on the joke.

She is ridiculed. Not for what she did—but for being human in a moment of deceit.

This Isn’t About Deeply Blaming One Man—But It Is a Demand for Accountability

Let this be understood:

This is not a personal witch-hunt. It is not an attack against Youngkong as an individual.

It is a demand for ethical boundaries, for creators to understand that not everything done for clout is harmless. It is a call to action for platforms, followers, and viewers to wake up and ask:

Who is really being hurt?

Who is laughing, and who is left crying?

It is also a call to lawmakers and digital rights advocates: where are the protections for those who never gave consent to be sexualized and posted to millions?

Final Word: She Is the One Left Holding the Shame

So the next time you scroll past one of these videos, ask yourself:

What if that was your daughter? Your wife? Your mother?

What if that moment cost her peace, her relationship, her family, her job, or her self-esteem?

What if her act of kindness was turned into a global joke?

Because when the prank is over, the camera packs up, and the video goes live—

he walks away with applause.

But she is the one left holding the shame.

And she must carry that shame in silence, while the world scrolls on.

This writer does not know any of the individuals involved; the focus is solely on upholding democracy, truth, and justice.

When Legitimacy Is Ignored, the People Respond with Psychological Rebellion

On Thursday, May 2nd, 2025, something deeper than a protest occurred at the EUI Centre in Port Harcourt, Rivers State. It was not merely a political rejection or a civil show of disapproval. It was a collective rupture—an emotional outburst from women who could no longer watch their dignity be paraded, manipulated, and substituted.

Videos shared widely on X by Port Harcourt Socials captured the moment with striking clarity: rows of seated women suddenly rising, turning their backs on the stage, and walking out of a government-sponsored event under the Renewed Hope Initiative. Their chant echoed like a thunderclap across the venue:

“We want SIM!”

“We want SIM!”

It was not just a slogan. It was a demand. A declaration. A correction. A psychological protest.

“Who is that impostor? Ibas’s wife is addressing Rivers’ women. Who is she? Come on, pack your load, Madam, we don’t want you!”

— Woman protester, EUI Centre, May 2, 2025

“We need Mrs. Oluremi Tinubu to come and address us. She is the one we have been waiting for. We don’t need a stranger. We want Sim right now. Sim should come today, not tomorrow.”

— Another protester, outside the venue

These weren’t rehearsed statements. These were spontaneous indictments of a state being governed like a military outpost, where local identity is replaced by federal command, and community voices are drowned by executive overreach.

Theresa Ibas Was Not Rejected for Who She Is, But for What She Represents

Theresa Ibas is not the villain in this story. She is not the architect of the Rivers crisis. But in the minds of the women gathered at that venue, she became the symbol of political intrusion, the face of a federal hand reaching too far into a state that never called for help.

This is a textbook example of symbolic displacement—a psychological condition where people reject not the individual, but what the individual represents. In this case, the women were not rejecting a woman named Theresa; they were rejecting the erasure of their own democratic memory.

Valerie Fubara, wife of the elected and now suspended Governor Siminalayi Fubara, remains the only First Lady the people recognize. No amount of federal logistics or orchestrated programs can substitute the bond between the people and their chosen representative. The Renewed Hope initiative might claim to empower women, but it failed to understand that women are not empowered by presence—they are empowered by recognition.

What Happened to the Culture of Political Restraint—The Sense of Shame?

This is where the larger question emerges:

What happened to the sense of shame in governance?

In a functioning democracy, shame acts as a regulator. It tells those in power when to pause. When to reflect. When not to proceed. When public sentiment clearly rejects a path, shame becomes the moral stop sign.

Yet here we are—after massive protests by the Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC), condemnations by the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA), and increasing public outcry against the military-style occupation of Rivers State—and the federal government still proceeds to unveil Theresa Ibas like all is well.

It begs the question: Have Nigerian leaders grown so numb to public sentiment that even collective rejection no longer phases them? Or worse, are they so emboldened by impunity that they no longer care?

This isn’t governance. It’s psychological insult.

To drag out the wife of a federally imposed sole administrator—after discarding the elected governor and installing military-like control—is a level of political gaslighting that would be offensive in any society with a shred of democratic memory.

The Feminist Psychology of This Protest: When Women Say No, They Speak for Generations

Let us not reduce this protest to the actions of “angry women.” That would be not only dismissive but dangerous. These women are society’s stabilizers. Mothers. Grandmothers. Educators. Traders. Professionals. They are the ones who carry the emotional and cultural fabric of their communities.

And when they rise in collective anger, something foundational has been violated.

This event in Port Harcourt is a classic case of intergenerational resistance—a psychological act where the trauma of one political betrayal awakens the memory of others. These women were not just reacting to Theresa Ibas. They were reacting to:

The pain of being treated as voiceless.

The rage of watching democracy mocked.

The insult of being handed a new leader without consent.

And they did not just reject the speaker. They reclaimed the space.

This is what makes the walkout so significant: it was not a protest from outside. It was a revolt from within. They walked out not just of the hall—but out of the illusion that they are powerless.

“We Want Sim” Is More Than a Chant—It Is a Cry for Democratic Legitimacy

Let’s be clear: this protest is not just about political preference. “We Want Sim” is not a campaign slogan. It is a psychological cry for belonging. It is a defense of dignity. It is a reminder to the federal government that legitimacy cannot be forged by fiat.

Siminalayi Fubara, whether suspended or not, represents the last vestige of electoral choice. In a state suffocating under federal appointments and backdoor declarations, he is the psychological anchor of political identity.

To remove him without consent, install a Sole Administrator without consultation, and then parade the administrator’s wife before wounded citizens—is a deep, calculated act of erasure. But these women did not let it happen silently.

They spoke. They chanted. They walked.

They said: “We will not be gaslit.”

They said: “You cannot replace us with strangers.”

This Is the Real ‘Renewed Hope’—Resistance

Ironically, while the event was branded under the “Renewed Hope Initiative,” the only hope that was renewed that day was the hope in citizen resistance.

Because hope is not found in choreographed speeches. Hope is not in policy documents passed without consultation. Hope is in the fire that refuses to die, even when democracy is gagged and replaced with military-styled order.

Hope was in the voices of those women.

Hope was in the footsteps echoing as they left the hall.

Hope was in their insistence that Valerie Fubara remains their voice.

Final Reflection: Nigerians Are Watching, The World Is Watching

This event may seem like a localized protest to some, but it is not. It is a mirror of what is happening across Nigeria:

A people being governed without consent.

Women silenced, then expected to smile and clap.

Cultural memory being scrubbed and replaced with government branding.

Democratic betrayal wrapped in the language of national unity.

But the women of Rivers have issued a warning:

“If you cannot govern with our voice, you will not govern with our silence.”

A Final Message to Power: You Can Install a Stranger, But You Cannot Replace a People

The Psychological Cost of Being Treated as Nothing

In psychology, we call this betrayal trauma—a condition where those trusted to protect us become the source of our harm. And betrayal from government, unlike individual betrayal, affects entire communities.

In this case:

Women were told they had no right to decide who speaks for them.

Lawyers were told that their knowledge of the Constitution is irrelevant.

Citizens were told that their votes could be erased overnight—and replaced with uniforms and commands.

This is not just a political wound—it is a psychological crime.

How do you expect women to believe in empowerment when you dictate who empowers them?

How do you expect lawyers to believe in law when you openly reject the law in front of them?

How do you expect a people to feel like citizens, when every symbol of power tells them they are subjects?

From Resistance to Reckoning: The Birth of a New Political Consciousness

The walkout in Port Harcourt and the legal march in Abuja are not isolated acts. They are the birth pangs of a new consciousness.

These events have proven that:

Power can be challenged, even when surrounded by security.

Dignity can be reclaimed, even when taken for granted.

And most importantly, memory can fight back, even when the system tries to erase it.

This is how democratic resistance begins—not with bullets, but with walkouts, chants, and truths.

Lawyers in Black, Marching in Protest: A Nation’s Legal Conscience Takes to the Streets

Lawyers, dressed in their professional attire, stormed the American Embassy, protesting what they described as an “illegal occupation” of Rivers State. They held banners, submitted a formal petition, and demanded one thing:

The immediate reinstatement of Governor Siminalayi Fubara.

“This is not just a political crisis,” one lawyer declared into a microphone outside the embassy. “This is a constitutional assault on democracy.

Another said, “We are here because the courts have failed us. The rule of law is being mocked. The people’s mandate has been silenced. This is now a national embarrassment.”

That legal professionals—sworn officers of the court—would abandon their chambers to protest at the gates of a foreign embassy speaks volumes. It shows that Nigeria’s internal judicial mechanisms have lost credibility. That the rule of law is not just under threat—it is being trampled by those who should protect it.

Mr. President, let this moment be your mirror.

You forced a Sole Administrator on a people who never asked for one. You let his wife step into the place of a woman chosen by the people’s vote. You watched as the women of Rivers stood, rose, and walked out in defiance. You saw lawyers—men and women dressed in black—march to the gates of the American Embassy, rejecting your imposed order.

And still, you said nothing.

That silence? It screams. And it cuts deep.

This isn’t about politics anymore. It’s about dignity. About whether Nigerians still matter. About whether votes are anything more than shredded paper. About whether women are living, thinking citizens—or just silent chairs to be spoken at by strangers sent from Abuja.

This writer does not know any of the individuals involved; the focus is solely on upholding democracy, truth, and justice.

Each time I write glowingly about a public figure, be he or she a celebrity in politics or entertainment, some people start whispering about obsession or sycophancy. The moment I wield the pen to criticize another, they say I am out for revenge or trying to settle scores. But let us set the record straight: neither is true. What I do, and what responsible journalists everywhere do, is guided by professional judgment, public interest, and the moral obligation of the press. We are not here to massage egos or lash out. When we praise, it is for merit; when we criticize, it is for accountability. That is the essence of journalism, not sentiment, not vendetta, and certainly not patronage.

In the theater of news and public commentary, one question that constantly lingers is: why do journalists praise some public personalities, especially political leaders, while relentlessly criticizing others? Why does the media celebrate one governor as a reformer and another as a dictator, or hail one president’s policies as visionary while dismissing another’s as catastrophic?

At first glance, it may seem like bias, partisanship, or the influence of brown envelope journalism. In some cases, it is. But the full answer goes deeper, rooted in communication theory, media roles, social responsibility, and the evolving dynamics between power and the press.

This piece examines the reasons, both idealistic and problematic, why journalists lean toward eulogizing certain leaders and condemning others, and the lessons such editorial choices impart to the society.

To start with, journalism has always been more than the art of reporting facts. It plays the role of a watchdog, a public educator, and a moral barometer. Journalists are often tasked with holding the powerful accountable, giving voice to the voiceless, and setting standards for public conduct.

So, when a celebrity; whether in politics or in entertainment, is praised in the media, it is not just flattery. It often reflects the perceived alignment of that leader’s actions with societal progress or values. For instance, a journalist may praise a state governor who builds roads, pays salaries promptly, or invests in education, because those actions tangibly benefit the public.

Conversely, condemnation arises when a leader’s decisions result in public suffering, ike hoarding palliatives, mismanaging state funds, suppressing press freedom, or being indifferent to rising poverty. In such cases, condemnation becomes a journalistic duty, not a personal vendetta.

From a communication theory perspective, two critical concepts explain the praise-or-condemn dilemma: Agenda-Setting and Framing Theory.

Agenda-setting theory posits that the media does not tell people what to think, but it tells them what to think about. When journalists consistently spotlight a leader’s progressive policies, they are shaping national conversations in that direction. If they continually expose a leader’s incompetence, corruption, or arrogance, they are setting the public’s agenda around accountability.

Framing, on the other hand, is about how a story is told. A journalist’s choice of words, tone, headlines, and structure shapes public perception. A report titled “Governor “A” Launches N10 Billion Industrial Project to Empower Youths” frames the leader as forward-thinking. But a headline like “Governor “B” Splurges N1 Billion on Convoys Amid Hunger Crisis” paints another as wasteful. The facts may both be true, but framing defines perception.

Thus, praise or condemnation is often a function of how journalists frame the leader’s actions and why they choose to highlight them.

Ideally, journalists are guided by public interest. When they praise a political leader or an entertainer, it should be to showcase a model worth replicating. When they criticize, it should be to call attention to leadership failures that need urgent correction. In this role, the journalist is not just a reporter, but a societal referee, promoting excellence and calling out incompetence.

However, we must also acknowledge the ugly truth: not all praise is sincere, and not all condemnation is fair. The Nigerian media space, like many others globally, is not immune to influence-peddling, favoritism, or partisanship.

Against the forgoing backdrop, it is not out of place to opine in this context that some journalists praise leaders or celebrities because they are on their payroll. Some condemn out of spite, political affiliation, or personal grudge. Others write glowing tributes because they were promised contracts, appointments, or envelopes of cash. In such instances, journalism becomes a tool for propaganda or character assassination, not a platform for truth-telling.

This explains why two newspapers can carry two conflicting headlines on the same event. One might scream, “President Launches Historic Economic Reform,” while another claims, “Tinubu’s Policy Pushes More Nigerians into Poverty.” Both stories reflect the slant and agenda of the editors and reporters behind them.

A less discussed psychological factor that also drives this pattern is the “halo and horns effect.” The halo effect is the tendency to overpraise someone based on one positive trait or success. For example, a journalist who admires a leader for free education may overlook that same leader’s penchant for nepotism or media repression.

The horns effect, on the other hand, is the opposite, judging someone harshly based on one negative trait. A governor who mishandled a protest might continue to be written off by the press, even if he later initiates a sound healthcare reform.

These effects show how difficult it is, even for journalists, to remain neutral once a narrative about a leader is already cemented.

At its core, journalism is about shaping values. When journalists praise a governor for developing rural infrastructure, they are encouraging other leaders to emulate him. When they write damning articles about a senator caught in a bribery scandal, they are deterring others from following the same path.

In other words, journalism praises and condemns not merely to inform, but to influence. It sets moral boundaries. It says: “This is the kind of leadership we want” and “This behavior is unacceptable.”

That is why even critical writing should be constructive, not vengeful. And praise should be based on truth, not political loyalty.

Given all of the above, journalists must ask themselves critical questions before writing praise or condemnation: Am I informing the public or flattering power? Is this criticism backed by verified facts or driven by my political bias? Am I praising this leader to inspire better governance or to curry favor? A journalist who fails to answer these honestly is not doing journalism, rather he or she is doing damage.

Just as journalists must interrogate their motives, readers must also learn to read critically. Not every glowing editorial is gospel. Not every scathing article is truth. Readers must look out for signs of bias, verify facts independently, and consume news from multiple credible sources.

In this age of sponsored content and media polarization, blind trust in journalism can be dangerous.

In the final analysis, journalism is not about being a cheerleader or a hater. It is about being a truth-teller. A journalist’s job is not to always be on the side of power, or always against it, but always on the side of the people.

When journalists praise, it must be because the public has benefited. When they condemn, it must be because the people have suffered. Anything short of this is not journalism, it is manipulation.

So, when next you see a journalist hailing one leader and tearing down another, ask: Is this piece upholding truth and public good, or just doing someone’s bidding? The foregoing question is necessary because in a democracy, the pen must remain mightier than the pocket.

The woman advertised, the man bought. Willing buyer, willing seller principle is at play in Nigeria. Look. If you push the bosom of a full breasted woman in the face of a man, his first thought most likely would be to grab the succulent opportunity with both hands, whether he proceeds to the next stage to devour and ravage to his heart’s content depends on a few other factors. But most men will rise to the occasion. Indeed, if they don’t, won’t the woman offering feel insulted? I even think it is not right to devalue a woman like that. 

So why is the opposition harassing President Tinubu and All Progressive Congress (APC)? How is it Tinubu’s fault that Nigeria is drifting towards a one-party state? The opposition party in Nigeria, like a woman, saw a hot-blooded male, looking for a warm body and offered to warm his bed. With a full cleavage in the open, figure hugging dress  barely veiling promises thereunder, the woman twerked and twisted. The man  tapped her shoulder. She winked. He tickled her waist, counting the waist beads furtively. She smiled and rolled her tongue over her lips. He dragged her to sit beside him. She opted to sit on his lap. This is a man who had already had a few glasses of cognac. She continued to rub her leg against his legs under the table. Of course, the man asked for his bill quick and took her to the ….. em….em…. slaughter slab, sorry, a nice suite to check her goods out. Please note that not once did we hear a whimper or protest. Note also that no man showed up to claim this woman as his. No one accused the ‘toaster” that the bread being  harassed or pawed was his. Why then is the man, and not the woman, being accused of abduction and kidnapping because she is now being  vigorously worked on behind closed doors? The man, having landed the prize, has to give a good account of himself. Doesn’t he? 

Giving a good account of itself is all APC is guilty of. The opposition is succulent and willing to give its bosom softly and freely. Seriously, do we actually think APC will spit out the nipples PDP and LP were pushing into its mouth? Save for REAL men of God or the ones whose wives are sitting beside them or watching, how many men do you personally know who will turn down a curvy banging body? 

Delta State alone has 3,221,695 votes according to the INEC register. It most likely will increase by 2027 when more and younger Deltans will come into the voting fold. A woman’s banging body doesn’t come better than this. What Governor Oborevwori is bringing into APC’s inner chambers are firm breasts, voluptuous hips, very fertile womb. Why do you think PDP is reeling in pains and APC rolled out the drums on Monday? This beautiful bride is coming with promise. She is beautiful endowed. She will give APC plenty of children. She’s a major addition. Rivers state with 3,537, 190 votes in her bra is still straddling the fence but with the way PDP has focused on who occupies the office of National Secretary instead of closing ranks to shield Rivers state, APC will soon add her to the harem. One minute she’s wearing a mini skirt, the next, she’s flaunting her breasts and smooth thighs,  what’s a man supposed to do, just smack his lips and take a cold shower? Not a sustainable or fair option. 

Where was the man in the life of this woman that is now being ravished on the back seat of a limousine? Did he take care of the needs of the woman? Did he give her time and the energy of the other room? Where were the owners of the opposition parties when their critical members hit the streets to entice ‘the man’? Where was former Vice President Atiku Abubakar? Or is he no longer a major stakeholder and leader of PDP? My wicked friend said the woman escaped while her husband was in a meeting with his coalition partners. Ah, and he left the door ajar! Who does that? Women, like politicians, are attracted to success and power. What a curvy body does to men’s loins is what power and influence do to a politician’s head. The more influence the Labour Party and PDP lost, the less attractive it becomes to its members who are already looking at 2027. Their own jobs and bottom lines depend on who can secure another four years for them. 

Anybody with the sense God gave a goose knows the endless squabbles in the opposition parties could only lead them to Golgotha, the place of skulls. And what didn’t they fight over? PDP has not agreed on anything since 2022. They couldn’t agree on whether their Chairman, Senator Iyorchia Ayu, was bigger than their threatened electoral victory or not. The party threw the spanners in the works of its own presidential primaries in the middle of the event because the leaders couldn’t put the party first. For good measure, they hung the party’s major financier out to dry. When they couldn’t find any other thing to fight over, they started quarrelling over whose office was loyal to who until they started living on the premises of one court or the other. Nobody was big enough to call anybody to order. It was like the bug that bit Labour Party people assumed COVID-19 virus proportions in PDP. Nobody was listening to anybody. Nobody thought of the party. Soon, members of the opposition parties started living up to the ‘hook-up girl billing’. 

The hedge around them, they broke with their own hands. They have all now wandered out, freely tickling warm blooded APC. 

So, again I ask, how is this APC’s fault? Is it that we cannot see that politicians are incapable of loving anybody but themselves? Is it not obvious that the defection song and dance is all about a few men and the national cake they are stuffing their face with? They are not doing this for God or country.

Soon and very soon, APC will impregnate more stray brides, enlarge its harem and the rest will be history repeating itself all over again, if you get my drift.

Once again, a voice of reason has emerged with hard truths about Nigeria’s economy, this time from no less a person than Dr. Akinwumi Adesina, President of the African Development Bank (AfDB). At the 20th anniversary dinner of Chapel Hill Denham in Lagos on Thursday, May 1, 2025, Adesina did not mince words. He told Nigeria what it needed to hear, not what it wanted to hear. He warned that the country must industrialize rapidly or continue to slide further into economic irrelevance, poverty, and underdevelopment.

But the burning question is: Will the presidency listen, or will it respond in its characteristic dismissive manner of attacking the messenger instead of addressing the message?

The reason why this writer is interested in his speech, and want the government to listen is that Dr. Adesina is no social media commentator or idle critic. His views carry the weight of experience, exposure, and empirical evidence. As a former Minister of Agriculture and now President of the AfDB, he has walked the corridors of power, interacted with global institutions, and steered major development initiatives across Africa. When someone with such a pedigree offers sober reflections on Nigeria’s dire economic reality, the least a serious government should do is listen.

He pointed out that Nigeria’s per capita income is now lower than it was at independence. This is an indictment on over six decades of mismanagement, inconsistency in policy, and misplaced priorities. Rather than seeing this as a personal attack or an attempt to discredit the current administration, the government should treat it as a mirror reflecting decades of collective failure and an opportunity to recalibrate.

It is germane at this juncture to recall that the government, specifically the presidency usually exhibit a pattern of Intolerance for constructive criticism, and in the same vein urge it not to exhibit such pattern of intolerance in this case of Adesina’s. 

Without any iota of exaggeration, the Nigerian presidency, especially through its appointees and media aides, has unfortunately developed a pattern of antagonizing critics, regardless of the merit of their message. Every well-meaning observation is met with a barrage of clap backs, sarcastic statements, character attacks, or outright denial.

Whether it is economists, former public office holders, civil society leaders, or international institutions, the default response seems to be “attack first, reflect later.” Constructive feedback is often interpreted as sabotage or unpatriotic behavior. This mindset is dangerously counterproductive, particularly in a country where open dialogue and accountability should be encouraged in a democracy.

In fact, Dr. Adesina’s speech must not be subjected to this same knee-jerk reaction. He is not a political opponent. He is a development technocrat, an economist, and above all, a patriot who has repeatedly demonstrated his belief in Nigeria’s potential.

There is no denying the fact that Adesina’s words are inherent with truth. This is as he rightly diagnosed Nigeria’s economic malaise: a refusal to industrialize, an overdependence on raw exports, poor infrastructure, and lack of private-sector-driven growth. While countries like South Korea, Malaysia, and Vietnam have transitioned into industrial and manufacturing powerhouses, Nigeria remains stuck in the past, celebrating small wins in digital payments and oil exports while ignoring the pressing need to create jobs, increase productivity, and generate wealth through value addition.

He also referenced the AfDB-led Special Agro-Industrial Processing Zones (SAPZs), a multi-billion-dollar initiative aimed at transforming agriculture from subsistence to agribusiness. These zones are designed to attract investment, create jobs, reduce food imports, and enhance rural economies. What is striking here is not just the vision, but the fact that the bank and its partners have committed $3.4 billion, a rare opportunity that Nigeria must not squander with red tape, corruption, or policy inconsistency.

It is not enough to acknowledge Adesina’s remarks. The federal government must act. Nigeria needs massive investment in power, science, technology, and infrastructure. These are not buzzwords, they are the foundations of any competitive economy in the 21st century. Without them, we are doomed to remain an import-dependent, poverty-stricken nation that fails its citizens and its position as Africa’s supposed giant.

The Tinubu administration must break away from the inherited culture of combative governance and embrace a new style, one that welcomes ideas, encourages collaboration, and is open to criticism. If the presidency cannot take observations from a figure like Adesina, then who else can it listen to?

Governing a nation like Nigeria demands humility. It requires the wisdom to acknowledge shortcomings, even when pointed out publicly. Leaders must realize that critics, especially those who speak from a place of experience and love for country, are allies, not enemies.

Sadly, too many in this administration wear power like armor and see every suggestion as an attack. This attitude has prevented many sound policies from taking root and scared away potential investors, both local and international.

Adesina has laid out a clear, actionable path: industrialization, agro-processing, infrastructure development, and private capital mobilization. These are not new ideas, but they are timely reminders that the window of opportunity is closing fast.

Nigeria is racing towards a projected population of over 400 million people by 2050. If we fail to industrialize and create jobs now, we are simply preparing for mass unemployment, insecurity, and social instability on a frightening scale.

This time, the presidency has a choice: it can respond with its usual condescension and PR gymnastics, or it can engage with Adesina’s ideas and work to implement solutions. The time for defensiveness is over. Nigerians are tired of empty rhetoric, recycled excuses, and reactionary governance.

Dr. Adesina spoke truth to power. He deserves more than a polite nod or, worse, a dismissive retort. His advice is a national resource, and ignoring it would be an act of economic self-sabotage.

As the Yoruba say, “Ogbon ju agbara lo”, wisdom is greater than strength. Now is the time for Nigeria’s leaders to prove that they understand this.

In the annals of Nigeria’s political history, courage has always had a price, and when that courage comes from a woman, the price is often doubled. This truth now stares us in the face as Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan stands firm in her petition against the Senate President, Godswill Akpabio, alleging sexual harassment and abuse of power. What she is enduring is not merely political backlash; it is a coordinated assault aimed at silencing a voice too bold for the liking of Nigeria’s old guard.

In this moment of trial, one voice has risen with clarity, boldness, and unshakable moral conviction, the voice of Dr. Oby Ezekwesili, former Minister of Education, reputed to be one of Nigeria’s most principled voices in public discourse. In a powerful tweet, Ezekwesili reminded Senator Natasha, and indeed all Nigerians, that she is “not alone”. “You. Will. Never. Walk. Alone,” she declared. This was not just solidarity; it was a call to action.

Ezekwesili’s statement is a masterclass in principled leadership. She went beyond the usual performative concern and took a firm stance, openly calling out the Senate President and the cabal of political enablers attempting to drown out Natasha’s demand for justice. Her voice represents what every well-meaning, justice-seeking Nigerian, particularly women, should echo, that no woman who dares to speak out should ever be left to walk through the storm alone.

Unfortunately, this moment has also exposed an uncomfortable truth about the nature of female solidarity in Nigeria, or rather, the lack of it. While Ezekwesili and a few courageous women from bodies like FIDA (Federation of International Women Lawyers) have thrown their weight behind Natasha, some women, especially within political circles, have shamefully aligned with her traducers. Rather than lend their voices to justice, they have chosen to serve as foot soldiers of a rotten system, eager to protect power over principle, and loyalty to men over loyalty to truth.

We must ask: “What is the cost of silence?” What does it mean when women, who should instinctively understand the weight of Natasha’s burden, choose to protect the status quo, either out of fear, political expediency, or sheer envy? What does it say of a society where women climb the ladder of power only to pull it up behind them?

Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan’s battle is not hers alone. It represents the lived experience of countless Nigerian women, in government, in the corporate world, in academia, and in everyday life, who have been subjected to sexual harassment, intimidation, and gas lighting by men in powerful positions. Her decision to speak up against the Senate President is therefore not just personal. It is symbolic. It is a direct challenge to a deeply entrenched culture of impunity.

Oby Ezekwesili’s intervention is thus timely and necessary. She reminds us that fighting injustice, particularly gender-based injustice, should not be optional. It must be instinctive, non-negotiable, and absolute. “No amount of money, not even all the wealth in every Central Bank in the world, can buy my convictions, voice, and stance,” she wrote. These words should shame every Nigerian woman who has looked the other way in the face of this injustice, especially those in power who have chosen cowardice over courage.

Now is the time for all decent women, and men of conscience, to rise. This is more than a political issue; it is a moral and institutional test. If we fail Natasha, we fail every woman who dares to report a powerful predator. If we trivialize her allegation or let it be buried under manufactured lies and distraction tactics, we send a dangerous signal that Nigeria is not ready to protect its women, not even those with a mandate from the people.

Let us not forget that Senator Natasha has consistently faced smear campaigns, character assassination, and attempts to delegitimize her for daring to be outspoken, competent, and fearless in a space where many women are expected to be silent ornaments. The sexual harassment allegation she has raised against Senator Akpabio should trigger not just outrage but institutional action. A fair, transparent, and independent investigation must be carried out. Anything short of that is a disservice not just to Natasha but to the spirit of justice itself.

We have reached a fork in the road, where Nigerian women must decide who they are. Will they be enablers of oppression, just because the oppressor shares their party affiliation or fills their pockets? Or will they be defenders of justice, truth, and sisterhood?

To the silent majority of Nigerian women in politics, in civil service, and in the legal and media spaces, now is your time to speak. History is watching. The next generation of women is watching. Will you be counted among the bold, like Ezekwesili, or among the cowardly chorus of betrayers?

Let us be clear: injustice to one is injustice to all. If Natasha is crushed under the weight of a system that shields the powerful and punishes the brave, then we all lose. But if we rally, raise our voices, and refuse to be cowed, we not only protect her, we protect the future.

Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, this fight is bigger than you, and yet, you carry it with the grace and grit of a true warrior. In standing for yourself, you are standing for every girl and woman who has ever been told to shut up and endure. You are not alone. And you never will be.

Let justice rise, not as a whisper, but as a thunderous roar from every corner of Nigeria. Enough is enough.

When he was a Justice the Court of Appeal in the Port Harcourt Division, during the tenure of Mohammed Bello as Chief Justice of Nigeria (CJN) 1987-1995. Alloysius Katsina-Alu was the subject of allegations of serious misconduct which ended up before the Advisory Judicial Committee (AJC), the predecessor to the National Judicial Council (NJC). Upon finding the allegations established, the AJC determined that Katsina-Alu would be denied elevation beyond the Court of Appeal. Less than one decade later, he was a Justice of the Supreme Court. In 2009, he assumed the office of CJN.

On 30 April 2025, the NJC, this time under the leadership of a different CJN, announced that it would similarly ban from elevation for a period of five years, Inyang Ekwo, a judge of the Federal High Court in Abuja. Additionally, the Council decided to place him on a “watch list” for five years and to suspend him from judicial functions for one year.

According to the NJC, these measures became necessary because in a 2023 case, Inyang Ekwo “delivered a ruling in a pending application without hearing the parties” and “ignored an application to set aside the proceedings of the Court conducted in the absence of the parties.” These, the Council found, violate Rules 3.1 and 3.3 of the Revised Code of Conduct for Judicial Officers in Nigeria.

For the avoidance of doubt, Rule 3.1 of the Judicial Code of Conduct requires judges to be “true and faithful to the Constitution and the law and [to] uphold the course of justice….” Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution guarantees fair hearing in judicial and legal proceedings as a fundamental right. Accordingly, Rule 3.3 of the Judicial Code of Conduct requires all judges to ensure that they afford to all parties in proceedings before them a “full right to be heard according to law.”

A judge holds office under the constitution. Before assuming office, the judge publicly swears to an oath to uphold that constitution and to do justice to all persons in accordance with it. Put differently, Inyang Ekwo violated the most basic expectations entitlements of litigants before a court and a judge.

Inyang Ekwo became a lawyer in 1991 after graduating with a degree in law from University of Cross River State. After a career spent mostly on the staff of the Corporate Affairs Commission in Abuja, he was translated to the bench of the Federal High Court on 3 January, 2008. His path to this judicial sinecure was smoothed in no small measure by family networks which lock-in closely with the founding military administrator of the South-Eastern State (the legacy state of both Cross River and Akwa Ibom States).

By 2023 when the facts of his latest misconduct arose, Inyang Ekwo had been a judge for over 15 years. Judicial inexperience was not one of his liabilities.

The measures announced by the NJC against Inyang Ekwo this past week were the second in eleven months. On May 16 2024, the same NJC found the same Inyang Ekwo guilty of “abuse of discretionary power of a judge by wrongly granting an ex parte order.” He was therefore “barred from being elevated to a higher Bench for a period of two years.” That decision of the NJC had not spent its first year when they found the same judge guilty of even more egregious violations this time. This suggests that Inyang Ekwo is a compulsive recidivist in judicial misconduct. Even now, there remain other serious complaints against the same judge still under investigation with the NJC and many more pending questions to resolve.

First, it is not clear whether the Council reminded itself of the subsisting punishment when it decided on its dispositions in the latest one.

Second, if the NJC determined last year to preclude Inyang Ekwo from elevation for two years; and this year in another case to do the same thing for five years, are these to run concurrently or consecutively?

Third, it is not exactly clear what placing a judge on an NJC “watch-list” means or why anyone would consider the proposition anything other than absurd.

Fourth, what would it take to persuade the NJC that a person is too crooked for judicial office?

This last question is at the heart of the problem with what the NJC claims to have done in this latest instalment of a pattern of decision-making that enables judicial corruption instead of curbing it.

Inyang Ekwo was one of three judges suspended by the NJC this time. Jane Inyang (no relation of Inyang Ekwo) was appointed a Justice of the Court of Appeal in September 2023 after eight years as a Judge of the Federal High Court. According to the NJC, while a case was still pending before her at the Federal High Court, Jane Inyang “issued inappropriate ex parte orders for the sale of a petrol station and other businesses” in dispute in the case. This was the same kind of misconduct for which the Council issued Inyang Ekwo with a letter of caution in May 2024.

This time, however, the NJC decided to suspend Jane Inyang from judging for one year and without pay. Like Inyang Ekwo, she will also be denied elevation for five years. That means that after five years and with this record, she could find herself as a Justice of the Supreme Court. The fact that a judge with this kind of record was promoted to the Court of Appeal while the complaint against her misconduct was - in all likelihood - pending says all that anyone needs to know about the state of disrepute into which judicial appointments in Nigeria have fallen.

In the case of Aminu Baffa Aliyu, another judge of the Federal High Court to whom the NJC applied similar measures, the Council found that he unlawfully restrained the security services from performing their statutory functions and, even worse, effectively overruled the Supreme Court in order to do so. The NJC decided in addition to suspending him without pay for one year, to preclude him from elevation for three.

In August 2017, when the United Nations Office of Drugs and Crime (UNODC) and the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) issued a joint report naming the Nigerian judiciary as “the second highest receiver of bribes in the Country” after the Nigeria Police Force (NPF), the NJC bristled, dismissing the conclusion as “not only subjective but speculative.”

The NPF is the oldest institution in the country and also the largest employer. A standard cover-up procedure in the Force is to transfer out of station officers against whom serious allegations of misconduct subsist, granting them a cooling off sabbatical during which they are reported as unaccounted for. A not-too-dis-similar practice occurred in parts of the Catholic Church in the past to cover-up for priests caught in allegations of clerical abuse.

Academics sometimes also take sabbaticals with or without pay to enable them recharge their intellectual batteries or pursue other interests for the advancement of knowledge.

These latest dispositions by the NJC are worse than slaps on the wrist of errant judges. Far from discouraging judicial misconduct, the Council consecrates a ninth Beatitude: blessed are the crooked judges for they shall be entitled to a sabbatical. Put differently, the NJC seeks the beatification of judicial corruption into high virtue for which recidivist judges like Inyang Ekwo or rampant ones like Jane Inyang receive a year-long sabbatical. Judges who prize fidelity to their judicial oaths must wonder why they bother.

This institutionalizes cover-up under cover of judicial ceremony. Two words describe what the NJC now does on judicial discipline: complicit scandal. It is a tendency that deserves close attention and study as a model of how the judiciary accomplishes its own evisceration.

A lawyer and a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.