Who should rightly use the title Dr? This question has sparked intense debates in certain quarters. How do we distinguish holders of honorary doctoral degrees from those with academic qualification using titles?

A fundamental distinction exists between honorary doctoral degrees and academic qualifications, particularly the Doctor of Philosophy (PhD). 

Unlike the PhD, which demands rigorous scholarly inquiry, original research, and academic rigour, honorary doctoral degrees symbolise exceptional individual achievements, contributions, and service to society, distinct from academic accomplishments.

Honorary doctoral degrees acknowledge non-academic achievements, including exemplary leadership, innovative entrepreneurship, exceptional artistic expression, and humanitarian endeavors. 

In the United States, these degrees are denoted by “Hon” or “HC” (Honoris Causa) in parentheses, preceding the degree 

In an interview with Nigerian Tribune, the Deputy Vice Chancellor, (Administration) University of Ibadan, Professor Peter Olapegba stated that medical doctors should not attach the title “Dr” to their names.

He noted that there is a craze for titles in Nigeria compared to abroad where medical doctors do not use the “Dr” title. According to him, it is only those that earn a PhD that are called “Dr.” 

He added that those who are awarded an honorary doctorate degree are not entitled to be called “Dr.” 

He said: “This is an ongoing controversy. Basically, abroad, for example, in United States of America precisely, medical doctors are not called Dr. 

“It is only those that earned an academic PhD that are addressed with ‘Dr’ title unlike here in Africa where everyone wants to be referred to using their title. For example, a veterinary doctor will also call himself a doctor, while a person who produces and prescribes herb will call himself doctor, that is ‘agbomola’ which is the Yoruba name for traditional medicine seller.

“Funny enough some professions use titles which do not exist. This includes surveyors who address themselves as ‘Surv.’ ‘Pharm’ is use to refer to pharmacists. Townplanners uses the title, ‘Tpl’. So there is a craze for titles. 

“So for someone who was awarded with a honorary doctorate degree, the person should not use the Dr title. The person should use ‘PhD Honoris causa’ at the back of their name to indicate that they were honoured with PhD by a university. 

“So they are not supposed to be addressed as Dr. Sadly because there is no regulation about it, everyone uses the title. If it was strictly regulated, such will be put to an end.”

Also speaking in an interview with Nigerian Tribune, the Director General, National Institute for Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS), Professor Ayo Omotayo, was also of the opinion that a medical doctor should be addressed as a physician and not addressed with the Dr title.

According to him, when medical doctors take further courses in the field they are addressed as ‘registrar’ and later ‘consultant’. 

He, however, argued that a person who has bagged an honorary doctorate degree award can also be addressed with the title “Dr” just as a person who worked to earn PhD from a university.

“Ordinarily medical doctors are not to be called doctors. They are basically physicians; that is the more reason you see they are addressed as registrars and later they graduate to be called consultant. 

“Those who have PhD are the ones to be called a ‘Dr’ and those who bagged honorary titles are also free to be called Dr because they were given in honour of some achievements they might have had that otherwise qualified them to be called Dr, but not truly at the same level with those who worked hard to get the award. But then, society accepts them. Even though they did not go through the academic process, they can be addressed with the title if they have truly contributed in other areas which makes them worthy to be given the title.”

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has reaffirmed his administration's commitment to reclaiming ungoverned areas—particularly forests—in the North West and across Nigeria, deploying advanced surveillance and technology to combat kidnapping, banditry, and terrorism.

He made the promise when he addressed the Katsina elders and leaders at a state dinner held at the Government House on Friday night.

"On the issue of security raised by former governor Aminu Bello Masari again this evening, yes, I agree that security is a challenge for the country. I addressed the men and women of the armed forces earlier today and assured them that we will do everything to fight terrorism and banditry.

"We will invest more in technology and take over the forests. Security is a national issue, not just at the local or regional levels. If we genuinely need investment in Nigeria, we must address security.

"Investment is cowardly, and it will not go where there is banditry and terrorism. We will solve the problem together with the states and local councils," he said.

President Tinubu highlighted encouraging signs of Nigeria's economic recovery, attributing recent positive growth indicators to bold policy decisions.

The President said the federal government will consider upgrading the airport in Katsina State to create jobs and expand the economy.

President Tinubu also assured that victims of terrorism will receive support to pick up their lives.

The President thanked Aminu Bello Masari for his role in ensuring that he got the endorsement of the North West and emerged as the APC presidential candidate.

The President also thanked the governors who honoured the invitation of the Katsina State Governor Radda for the commissioning of projects and his daughter's wedding.

The governors were those of Kaduna, Jigawa, Borno, Benue, Yobe, Sokoto, and Kwara States.

President Tinubu acknowledged the leadership roles of Katsina indigenes in the country and described President Muhammadu Buhari as a man of integrity who contributed significantly to Nigeria's development.

"I wish him well," he said.

In his remarks, Governor Dikko Radda said the state had established a security outfit that gathers and supplies intelligence. 

He said the proposed airport expansion, including the cargo terminal, customer terminal, and fire truck, would create 2,700 direct jobs and cost N54 billion.

Former Governor Masari thanked the President for appointing two ministers from the state to the Federal Executive Council.

Masari also thanked the President for appointing Kaduna indigenes as special advisers, chairmen of boards and heads of regulatory agencies such as the Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC) and Transmission Company of Nigeria (TCN).

On why he supported the President's ambition to contest the 2023 elections, he said: 

"You have the political will and courage to face the challenges of this country. You know the problem with humans: There will be resistance when new changes and a new social order are coming. And if you are not strong enough and determined, you will succumb, and the problem continues.

"But leadership is not about when it is all well. The hard way is the best; you know leaders during hard times. I know and believe you can do it; you have the courage."

Masari said the insecurity in the North West must be tackled holistically from the bottom up.

Bayo Onanuga

Special Adviser to the President

(information & Strategy)

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu will depart Abuja for Katsina State on Friday for a two-day official visit.

During the visit, the President will meet with key stakeholders to assess the security situation in the state.

He will commission the Katsina Agricultural Mechanized Centre and a 24KM dual carriageway completed by Governor Dikko Umar Radda.

President Tinubu will also honour an invitation to attend the wedding of the governor’s daughter before returning to Abuja.

Bayo Onanuga

Special Adviser to the President

(Information & Strategy)

Governor Chukwuma Soludo of Anambra State has announced the clearance of seven years of accumulated gratuity and pension arrears inherited from the previous administration of Chief Willie Obiano.

Speaking at the 2025 Workers’ Day celebration at Alex Ekwueme Square, Awka, Soludo reaffirmed his administration’s commitment to workers’ welfare despite prevailing economic challenges.

“Regarding gratuities owed to our retired workforce, we have settled all arrears inherited upon assuming office,” Soludo stated. “I am pleased to report that we have cleared four years’ backlog of pension arrears, except for cases with pending documentation.”

He revealed that retirees in the civil service were owed pensions totaling ₦14 billion. “We have paid for the years 2018, 2019, and 2020. Only 2021 remains, and we are making arrangements to ensure it is paid shortly,” he said.

Soludo emphasized his administration’s dedication to transparency, fiscal responsibility, and better working conditions. “Within the limits of our available resources, we are determined to improve the welfare and work environment of our workforce. This is not just a policy—it’s a moral obligation,” he added.

Chairman of the Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC), Comrade Humphrey Nwafor, commended the administration for the progress made but urged faster implementation of the Contributory Pension Scheme, as recommended by the Joint Committee on Pension Reform.

Nwafor also appealed for the payment of outstanding 17.5% peculiarity allowances owed to non-teaching staff under the Anambra State Universal Basic Education Board (ASUBEB) and those in post-primary institutions. He called for parity with the 27.5% allowance granted to teachers.

Additionally, the NLC Chairman demanded the immediate implementation of the Consolidated Judiciary Salary Structure (CONJUSS) and the Consolidated Health Salary Structure (CONHESS). He also stressed the importance of enhanced training, improved welfare packages, and better security for all workers.

[Vanguard]

Akinwumi Adesina, president of the African Development Bank (AfDB), says Nigeria must industrialise rapidly to compete globally and lift millions out of poverty by 2050.

Adesina spoke on Thursday while delivering a keynote address at the 20th anniversary dinner of Chapel Hill Denham, an investment banking firm, in Lagos.

He lamented Nigeria’s economic decline over the decades, with current per capita income lower than it was at independence.

“Nigeria must stop seeing underdevelopment as normal. It must rise to lead Africa,” the AfDB president said.

Adesina warned that Nigeria’s slow growth and widespread poverty pose a major risk to Africa’s development, given the country’s position as the continent’s largest economy.

He said Nigeria should take lessons from countries such as South Korea, which rose from poverty to prosperity through savings, innovation, and manufacturing.

The AfDB boss said while Malaysia and Vietnam have achieved significant value addition in manufacturing and exports, Nigeria continues to lag due to its failure to industrialise.

To change this narrative, he called for large-scale investments in power, science, infrastructure, and agriculture driven by private capital and efficient governance.

Adesina highlighted the AfDB-led special agro-industrial processing zones (SAPZs) initiative as a game changer for Nigeria’s agricultural transformation.

He said the bank and its partners have committed $3.4 billion to support the establishment of the zones across the 36 states and the federal capital territory (FCT).

According to the economist, the agro-industrial zones are designed to attract agribusinesses to rural areas with high production potential, value to raw produce, and to create jobs.

Adesina said the zones would help diversify Nigeria’s economy, reduce food imports, and position the country as a global food powerhouse.

“Reimagining Nigeria’s future means making agriculture a business, not a way of survival,” he said.

He also urged the government to support policies that attract private investment in agriculture and rural development.

[TheCable]

By all accounts, the recent visit of Rivers State Governor Siminalayi Fubara to his predecessor and political adversary, Nyesom Wike, has stirred a chorus of opinions from various quarters. For some observers, the optics of the visit suggested submission or a betrayal of political ideals. To others, it looked like weakness on the part of a sitting governor, who they believe should be asserting his executive independence instead of extending an olive branch to someone seen as a rival. However, such interpretations not only miss the deeper meaning of forgiveness and reconciliation in leadership but also reflect a fundamental misunderstanding of strength, especially in a society increasingly governed by ego and vengeance.

As Mahatma Gandhi rightly said, *“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” This timeless wisdom encapsulates the heart of Fubara’s gesture. In a political climate marked by pettiness, vendettas, and unending cycles of revenge, what Fubara did was not weakness, it was strength. And if more Nigerian leaders adopted this posture of humility and reconciliation, perhaps our politics would not be the toxic, winner-takes-all terrain it has become.

To appreciate the weight of Fubara’s action, one must consider the backdrop of his tumultuous relationship with Wike. Their falling out, which has been widely reported, was not just personal; it had institutional and national implications. The rift led to alignments and realignments within the state legislature, a sharp divide among political loyalists, and a general sense of instability in the governance of Rivers State. It has become a textbook example of the dangers of godfatherism in Nigerian politics, with many waiting to see how the younger Fubara would handle the larger-than-life shadow of Wike.

Yet, instead of doubling down on animosity or playing the popular card of ‘defiance’, Fubara chose the unpopular path, a path less travelled in Nigerian politics: reconciliation. He visited Wike, and from all indications, it was not a media stunt but a genuine effort to heal wounds. This move should be celebrated as statesmanship, not mocked as capitulation.

Forgiveness, contrary to popular perception, is not a sign of weakness. It takes deep emotional strength, maturity, and self-control to offer peace when one has every reason to retaliate. It is easy to lash out, to hold grudges, and to surround oneself with sycophants who feed the fire of resentment. But it is profoundly difficult to extend a hand of peace, especially when the scars are still fresh.

This idea is not just spiritual or philosophical, it is practical. According to mental health experts, forgiveness is emotionally liberating. Holding onto bitterness and hate often leads to psychological stress, sleeplessness, anxiety, and even depression. In leadership, these emotional weights can cloud judgment, breed paranoia, and fuel poor decision-making. On the other hand, a reconciliatory spirit frees the leader’s mind to focus on development, peace, and progress.

Some critics argue that Fubara’s visit gives Wike undue political mileage or reinforces his influence. But this line of thinking is flawed. First, power dynamics are not always defined by optics. In fact, the real power lies with the individual who can afford to stoop without losing his dignity. Fubara, in choosing to seek peace, has shown that he is secure in his position and is not afraid to take bold, unpopular decisions. That, in itself, is power.

Secondly, this visit should be interpreted not as a personal plea but as a strategic act of governance. Political stability is crucial for development, and reconciling with Wike may be the needed ingredient to douse the simmering tensions in Rivers State. After all, the ordinary people of Rivers do not care about ego battles. What they want is peace, governance, and prosperity.

In fact, Nigeria’s political culture is, unfortunately, one where reconciliation is rare, and humility is often mistaken for cowardice. Our leaders are groomed in the school of political brinkmanship, a gladiatorial arena where showing any sign of retreat is interpreted as defeat. But what has this mentality produced over the decades? Endless political feuds, impeachment dramas, legislative-executive face-offs, and stalled developmental projects.

Perhaps it is time we began to redefine strength in leadership. True strength is not in chest-thumping or political grandstanding. It lies in being able to choose peace when one has the power to wage war. It lies in understanding that governance is not about ego, but about service.

Fubara’s act should serve as a moral lesson for other leaders, especially at a time when the political class is deeply fragmented. Imagine how much more progress Nigeria would make if governors reconciled with their predecessors for the sake of continuity. Imagine the peace we could experience if political parties were mature enough to resolve internal disputes through dialogue rather than litigation, expulsion and jumping ship to opposing parties.

Without a doubt, forgiveness breeds stability. It fosters cooperation. It encourages continuity of policies and protects public institutions from being turned into battlegrounds. These are essential components of good governance.

In both African tradition and religious teachings, forgiveness holds a revered place. In Christianity, forgiveness is a divine attribute, even Jesus Christ, at the point of death, asked for forgiveness for his killers. In African culture, elders often urge feuding parties to bury the hatchet for the sake of community peace. It is ironic that in a society that professes deep religiosity and cultural values, acts of forgiveness in leadership are viewed with suspicion.

Condemning Fubara for seeking reconciliation with Wike is not only inadvisable but counterproductive. It reflects a societal mindset that glorifies conflict and undervalues peace. Fubara’s visit should be seen as a bold and mature move, one rooted in the understanding that forgiveness is not a sign of weakness, but a powerful expression of strength.

In a nation as fragile as Nigeria, where political disagreements often snowball into ethnic and religious crises, we need more leaders who can rise above pride and personal vendettas. We need more Fubaras, leaders who are secure enough to forgive, humble enough to reconcile, and strong enough to place the common good above their own ego.

As citizens, our focus should not be on who “knelt” before whom or who made the first move. Instead, we should be asking: “Will this peace bring development to Rivers State?” “Will it create jobs, fix roads, ensure security, and improve governance?”  If the answer is yes, then we owe Fubara commendation, not condemnation.

After all, the real test of leadership is not in showing how many battles one can fight,  but how many fires one can extinguish without raising a sword. And for that, Governor Fubara deserves applause. Not criticism.

According to history, tradition, and Nigerian media narratives—when all else fails, when the presidency turns inward, the legislature nods along, the courts go silent, and police power overshadows the people—Nigerians have turned not to more politics, but to the gods, spirits, and ancestral forces for justice.

This pattern is not new. It is cultural. It is psychological. It is historical.

And in that spirit, this piece stands not as a provocation, but as a reflection—of what the people see, what the law is meant to protect, and what higher truths continue to whisper, even when institutions choose not to speak.

The Legal Eruption: A Cold Coup in the Language of Order

On the surface, it appears to be an “executive measure”—a declaration of emergency in Rivers State by President Bola Tinubu. But beneath that surface, legal minds across Nigeria and beyond are describing something more severe: a constitutional disturbance, bordering on what might be called a soft-state override.

With the removal—some say neutralization—of Governor Siminalayi Fubara and the state’s legislative structures, the act has left many legal practitioners, scholars, and ordinary Nigerians stunned. To many, it looks less like a democratic correction and more like a federal occupation masked in legality.

The Black March: Lawyers Choose Silence No More

Then came the black robes. Young Nigerian lawyers—men and women—marched in mournful dignity to the United States Embassy. Their march was not chaotic, not riotous. It was orderly, composed, and resolute.

They came with law books, not slogans. They came not just to defend Fubara—but to defend the Constitution itself. And their message was unmistakable: Nigeria is drifting into dangerous constitutional territory. Not through gunfire. Not through military trucks. But through executive ink and parliamentary silence.

Their symbolism is powerful. The judiciary is trained to be quiet, but here they were—breaking their own cultural code of silence. And that, more than any protest chant, should give pause to any government truly committed to democratic balance.

Federal Overreach—or Strategic Calculus?

The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria is not vague about federalism. It does not permit a sitting president to singlehandedly dissolve or neutralize the governance structures of a state. Such power, as lawyers have reminded the nation, once belonged only to military heads of state—not democratic presidents.

And so, the question arises: Is this a lawful action, or a politically dressed intervention?

Most dangerously, a consensus is forming in the public domain that this move may be less about law and more about 2027. Nigerians are talking. Commentators are whispering. Observers are drawing lines: that this crisis may have less to do with Rivers’ “instability” and more to do with the strategic ambition of certain individuals ahead of the next election cycle.

Many believe that the influence of former Governor Nyesom Wike—once powerful in Rivers but now politically challenged—played a key role in persuading the presidency to act decisively. That Fubara’s calm defiance became a political embarrassment that had to be erased before 2027’s electoral map is drawn.

But Here Lies the Unspoken Question: How Do They Know They’ll Be Around in 2027?

This is not a death wish. It is not a threat. It is a question of political humility—of existential reality.

Politics is unpredictable. Power is never permanent. No officeholder, no matter how favored today, can claim tomorrow with certainty. Health changes. Public opinion shifts. Legal winds turn. Global optics reshape alliances.

So the people ask, quietly but sincerely:

What kind of certainty convinces some actors that they will still be key players in 2027?

What knowledge or assumption emboldens them to move the chess pieces so confidently—years before the board has even been set?

Such questions are not aimed at individuals. They are aimed at power itself, and the psychology that often blinds it to time, consequence, and the human spirit.

Echoes of Military Rule in Civilian Clothing

The deeper fear is not just about Rivers. It’s about precedent. Because if the President, with legislative affirmation, can dissolve the governance of one state today—under “emergency”—what stops it from happening again? Where is the boundary? Who watches the watchers?

Elders remember a time when such moves were reserved for military regimes. When federal power descended like a hammer without process. And the lawyers marching this week are warning: We may be drifting back to that era—only this time, in suits and agbadas instead of khakis and berets.

The Calm Governor: Why Fubara’s Silence Is Louder Than Their Noise

Siminalayi Fubara has not shouted. He has not threatened. But perhaps that is the very problem for those who seek total control.

His restraint is uncomfortable. His composure disarms chaos. And in a political climate addicted to confrontation, his calm is its own rebellion.

It is not that he has rebelled—it is that he has refused to be owned. And for some, that is more intolerable than open defiance.

So they push him aside.

But in doing so, they elevate him.

Because now, Fubara is no longer just a governor. He is a national metaphor—for quiet dignity, for stolen mandate, and for democratic betrayal.

A Judiciary under Watch, a People Under Strain

The silence from Nigeria’s judicial bodies—aside from the protesting lawyers—has been deafening. Whether it is fear, fatigue, or alignment, we cannot say. But one thing is clear: the people are watching.

More dangerously, the international community is beginning to take notice.

Images of black-clad lawyers, walking in legal dignity, are far more powerful in diplomatic corridors than tweets or protest chants. Those images raise questions in foreign capitals. They trigger quiet reports in foreign ministries. They shift how global actors view Nigeria’s internal affairs.

No administration—no matter how domestically secure—wants to become “that government” in the eyes of the world.

Final Word: They Can Influence Men, But Not the Spirits

Yes, President Tinubu may command the levers of federal authority. Yes, Minister Wike may still wield influence across the South-South’s political terrain. But there are forces—older, deeper, and beyond human manipulation—that neither of them can control:

The eyes of the international community

The judgment etched into legal history

The conscience of a betrayed populace

And the ever-watchful spirits of Nigeria’s ancestral realm

When governance begins to resemble conquest, when constitutional rights are treated as inconveniences, and when duly elected leaders are removed as though they are political appointments, the people do not merely protest—they invoke.

They call upon enduring values passed from generation to generation—not out of fear, but as expressions of cultural strength and psychological defense. These are not superstitions. They are symbols of moral resistance—reminders that power, no matter how entrenched, is never exempt from accountability or higher justice.

And so it should surprise no one that across platforms—social media timelines, radio call-ins, newspaper columns—a single refrain has risen with unmistakable clarity:

“Tinubu, you are not God.”

This is not a threat. It is not an insult. It is a cultural reminder—that no mortal, no matter how protected or powerful, can override the will of a people enshrined in their Constitution. It is ungodly to dismantle an entire state’s democratic structure. It is morally indefensible to silence a governor chosen by the people. And it is spiritually dangerous to presume the ancestors are asleep.

History Has Already Recorded Their Defiance

To President Tinubu, to Minister Wike, and to all those behind this unfolding constitutional rupture—history has already taken note.

What the young lawyers in black did was not ordinary. It was not angry. It was sacred. They did not shout. They did not burn. They walked—with law in their hands, and justice on their backs.

They did not mourn a man.

They mourned a system.

They marched not for noise, but for memory.

They carried no slogans—only the Constitution.

They carried no weapons—only truth.

And in doing so, they wrote your names—Tinubu, Wike, and all enablers of this moment—into the pages of Nigerian history. Not as reformers. But as those who stood against the very system they swore to protect.

Some among you may attempt the usual responses—subtle punishment, withdrawn appointments, whispered blacklists, legal smoke screens. But nothing can undo what has been seen:

The world saw it.

The Nigerian people felt it.

The ancestors have recorded it.

You may dominate budgets. You may direct institutions. You may maneuver the media. But you do not control truth. And truth, once revealed, does not go quietly. It outlives every regime. It survives every title. It becomes legacy.

Return Fubara—Before the Ground Shifts

So, I speak now not as a protester, but as a psychologist. Not to incite—but to reflect. Not to challenge authority—but to warn power of its illusions.

Return Fubara.

Not to please the crowd.

Not to ease global scrutiny.

But to preserve the last threads of your own moral legacy.

Return him—not as a sign of surrender—but as a mark of wisdom.

Return him—not for the optics—but for the order.

Return him—not for headlines—but for history.

Because if Nigeria’s journey has taught us anything, it is this:

Power passes. Memory remains.

While men may try to erase the past, the people remember. And the gods—those spiritual witnesses that hover over this land—they never forget.

You may shift courtrooms. You may suspend lawmakers. You may redraw the political map.

But you cannot erase what is already spiritually recorded:

That one calm governor was unlawfully removed.

That a silent march in black cried out without words.

And that those who held the reins of power broke the law in the presence of the world, and under the gaze of eternity.

So again, I say this not in anger—but in clarity:

Return Fubara. Now.

Before time does what it always does—exposes the truth, humbles the proud, and immortalizes those who stood for justice when others sought control.

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