Opinion

By Lawal Dahiru Mamman

History has shown, time and again, that empires rise and fall. The Roman Empire, one of the most powerful the world has ever known, once ran its affairs through the “cursus publicus”, a state-run courier service that carried official messages, documents, and goods across vast territories. At its peak, that system was the lifeblood of Rome’s political and economic power.

It was through the “cursus publicus” that Rome sustained control over trade, tax collection, commercial regulation, and responses to economic challenges. It kept the wheels of commerce turning, ensured that official supplies — from grains and olive oil to textiles and metals — moved swiftly, and maintained the empire’s hold over its provinces.

But as Rome began to lose its grip on that system, communication faltered. Trade weakened. Taxes dwindled. Economic integration collapsed. What followed was a slow, sprawling decline that signalled the empire’s loss of power and the gradual rise of others.

Today, empires no longer look like Rome. They are defined by global influence, control of international systems, and the ability to shape the world order. The West — especially the United States — has long enjoyed that advantage. But emerging power blocs are redrawing the world map, and anyone can see the global balance is shifting.

It is against this backdrop that the recent noise around an alleged “Christian Genocide” in Nigeria must be understood. Following that allegation, US President Donald Trump redesignated Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern (CPC). The designation carries several potential consequences: aid cuts, export license restrictions, asset freezes, limited security cooperation, and even American opposition to international loans and investments.

Not stopping there, Trump went a step further, issuing a dramatic threat of military action that would be “fast, vicious, and sweet” if the Nigerian government failed to protect its citizens. His declaration sparked reactions far beyond Nigeria’s borders, raising an important question: What truly motivates America’s sudden aggression?

To understand this, one must consider the broader geopolitical shifts unfolding beneath the surface. In January 2025, Nigeria joined BRICS — a powerful intercontinental bloc formed by Brazil, Russia, India, and China, with South Africa later joining. The BRICS exists largely to counter the dominance of Western institutions like the IMF and the World Bank and to promote a multipolar global economy in which the US dollar no longer reigns supreme. 

With a combined GDP of roughly $30 trillion, the bloc wields real economic weight. Nigeria’s entry strengthens its ties with major economies such as China and India, promising new investments in energy, agriculture, infrastructure, and industrial development. It also opens the door to greater export opportunities, especially in oil and natural gas. 

For a country long boxed into Western-controlled financial systems, BRICS offers breathing space — and alternatives. There is also the Dangote Refinery, with its single-train capacity of 650,000 barrels per day. For decades, Nigeria relied on imported fuel despite its abundant crude oil. That era is ending. Import figures are falling sharply — 24.15 million litres per day in January 2025, 19.26 million in September, and just 15.11 million in the first ten days of October. 

With Dangote planning to expand to 1.4 million barrels per day, Nigeria is on the path to fuel independence, rivalling India’s Jamnagar Refinery, the world’s largest. This development, naturally, unsettles countries that benefit from Nigeria’s dependence — America included.

Then there is Nigeria’s deepening relationship with China. In the past year alone, Nigeria has signed major deals on industrial parks, rail and port infrastructure, mineral exploration, and energy development. China’s economic footprint in Nigeria is expanding rapidly. Meanwhile, Russia’s growing presence across sub-Saharan Africa and Nigeria’s renewed ties with France add to America’s discomfort.

The mineral dimension is equally sensitive. Beyond oil, Nigeria holds rare minerals — including lithium — that power the world’s battery industry. In a world moving toward electric mobility and renewable energy, lithium is the new oil. And China, not the United States, is securing access.

US Senator Ted Cruz once captured America’s anxiety bluntly during a congressional session when he warned: “China is a global threat that must be confronted territory by territory, nation by nation… China is pouring billions into its Belt and Road Initiative… gaining control over cobalt, lithium and other rare earth minerals… refining more than 70% of the world’s cobalt and controlling vast shares of global supply chains.”

His comments speak volumes when placed beside today’s geopolitical tensions. None of this denies the fact that Nigeria still faces grave security challenges. Our leaders must rise to their responsibilities and make the country safe for all. But it is naïve to imagine that America’s sabre-rattling is purely humanitarian. 

The United States may not be threatening a “sweet” military strike out of concern for Nigerian lives. Rather, like Rome losing its “cursus publicus”, America may be reacting to a shifting world order in which its grip is slipping — and Nigeria now sits at the centre of that shift.

Lawal Dahiru Mamman writes from Abuja. He can be contacted at: dahirulawal90@gmail.com.

By Aliyu U. Tilde

International perception of religious conflicts in Nigeria is influenced by a propaganda that is overwhelmingly based on biased naming of their victims and perpetrators. When you search the Internet for the killing of Muslims in Nigeria by Christians, the best result you can get would be very scanty. But when you ask about Christian genocide, killings, etc., the result would be very lengthy. Something is amiss.

It is not that Muslims are not being killed by Christians or fellow Muslims. For twenty years, before Boko Haram and bandits started killing mostly Muslims, wholesale massacres of Muslims have been taking place in Northcentral Nigeria especially. And the mass killings have continued even after 2009 when Boko Haram appeared. However, the Internet turns blind when you search for them. Therefore, international observers hardly remember them and researchers hardly notice them. The reason is in the name.

Same Crime, Different Names

When the victim is a Christian, media reporters, who are predominantly Christians in the country, call them Christians, even in a conflict that may have nothing to do with religion. The headlines will quickly read: Fulani kill Christians, Christian communities attacked, genocide of Christians, etc. The Internet sees only what is posted.

On the flip side, when the victims are Muslim, they are given neutral names: villagers, worshippers, civilians, locals, people, Nigerians, etc. The 25 abducted Kebbi school girls are called “school children”, not “Muslim school children”. Their religious identity is cancelled, deleted or hidden deliberately. So when any scholar or reader searches the Internet on Muslim killings or genocide, he hardly gets much.

Again, if the attackers are Muslim, they are eagerly reported as Islamists, jihadists, Fulani (Muslim) militants, terrorists, etc. The Internet easily apprehends them and hands them over to the researcher who receives them with delight and uses them as the statistics of his own narrative, thus multiplying the spread of the bias.

However, if the perpetrators are Christian-affiliated, they are reported as youths, tribal militias, unknown gunmen, attackers, mob, etc. The Christian identity is deleted, hidden and allowed to escape the policing of the Internet.

Thus, the Internet-dependent world of today, as was the mainstream Christian southern press, is afflicted with the illusion that Christians are always the target, and Muslims always the perpetrators, which is false by history, statistics and morality.

Forgotten Massacres of Muslims

The Internet hardly reflects the following carefully planned and executed war crimes against Muslims by their Christian neighbours:

— Kasuwan Magani (1981) – The first major religious crisis began with the nocturnal attack of innocent Muslims by Christians.

— Kafanchan crises (1987, 1999) – Multiple waves of massacres of Muslims.

— Zangon Kataf (1992) – So horrendous that Christian leaders were convicted and a retired General was sentenced to death.

— Tafawa Balewa recurring pogroms (1991, 1995, 2000, 2001) – Ending in the cleansing of the town of its Muslim founders and majority.

— Plateau crises (2001, 2004, 2008, 2010, 2012) – More than 40 Muslim settlements were wiped out.

— Yelwa massacre (May 2004) – Exceptionally barbaric; the Christian President suspended the Governor and declared a state of emergency.

— Southern Kaduna (2011) – In Matsirga, Zonkwa, Kachia, and many other southern Kaduna towns where over 1,200 Muslims were killed by Christian militias.

— Wukari crises (2013–2014) – Jukun Christian militias carried out mass slaughter of Muslims.

— Taraba/Jalingo/Ardo Kola (2012–2017) – Entire Muslim communities wiped out.

— Mambilla Plateau massacre (June 2017) – 727 Muslim Fulani herders massacred under the supervision and protection of Christian officials of Sardauna LGA and Taraba State Government.

— Numan massacre (November 2017) – Hundreds of Fulani Muslims killed by Bachama Christian militias.

All of the above gruesome Christian-on-Muslim killings are called ethnic clashes, reprisals, intercommunal violence, farmer-herder conflict, youth violence or mob attack. When Muslims attack Christians, often in defence or reprisal, it is called Islamic violence, jihad, Christian genocide or religious persecution. The asymmetry is astonishing and it is not without its reasons and motives.

Reasons

The naming bias exists because Western institutions are Christian, culturally, and so is the Nigerian media predominantly. This tilts their sympathies, metaphors and moral instincts toward Christian victims. A Muslim killed in Kuru is a Nigerian villager; a Christian killed in Jos is a Christian.

The evangelical world and funding structure of NGOs also share a quota of the biased narrative. Organizations like CSW, Genocide Watch, Open Doors, WWW, ICC Evangelicals, name them, are Christian and their reports are the fodder of CNN, US Congress, BBC, and form the basis of Western narrative. Muslims are not blessed with such infrastructure of global lying and propaganda.

Then Christian traders of conflict especially from the Northcentral, IPOB secessionist, and evangelical entrepreneurs feed this inverted narrative for the purpose of gaining NGO sympathy, Western evangelical funding, UN, US and UK political pressure, diplomatic leverage as well as weapons and security alliances. Moreover, foreign governments are easily animated by the mention of religious persecution rather than ethnic conflict.

There is also this strange desperation to prove Christian persecution in Nigeria which, for lack of sufficient data, is compelling many Christian clerics and politicians to claim Muslim victims as Christians. A picture of a Muslim burial is tagged “Muslim murder 25 Christians in latest violence across Nigeria—Pastor killed, churches torched.” In the instance of the kidnapping of 25 girls from a secondary school in Kebbi, even American officials and former Rep. Riley Moore are insinuating that they are Christians. Fortunately, to forestall any false claim, the school has just released the names of the victims: 100% Muslim.

The same thing with the killings in Bama, abductions in Katsina, and so on. We hope they will not claim that General Alkali and Brig. M. Uba are Christians too. Some people sabi lie. A reverend just told the Internet world that he carried out 70 mass burials, some up to 500 people in mass graves—he alone, he claimed. Where are the graves? No answer. Chineke! IPOB have also jumped into the fray. I watched a video showing cattle grazing while a group of masked men, speaking Hausa with a heavy Igbo accent, claimed to be Fulani terrorists ready to kill Christian Igbo.

Finally, let us also not forget the frequency of complaint and the readiness to exaggerate. Muslims hardly complain over and over when they are killed. They shout once, mourn for three days and carry on, “leaving everything to God.” Christians, on the other hand, as a Christian TikTok girl said, see it as an opportunity to complain, at home and abroad, for the reasons I just mentioned. The Internet algorithms will then definitely be in favour of the Christian narrative.

In the end, a false portrait is painted—that Christians are being wiped out everywhere; Muslims are never victims; Christians never kill; and Muslims kill for religion but Christians for “land” and “in clashes.”

Conclusion

A balance even in vocabulary is always important for proper understanding of any situation. Muslims in Nigeria are learning so since President Trump assigned himself the role of Peter the Hermit. They must learn the art of nagging and complain endlessly as their Christian counterparts do. Finally, they must adopt the Nigerian vocabulary of conflict reporting, naming the religious identity of their attackers and victims, whether Christians or Muslims. Only this would open the eyes of the Internet to their suffering, bring their victims to the notice of researchers and catch the attention of the West and global institutions.

With this egalitarian balance of nomenclature, the world would see a better picture of conflicts in Nigeria and assist the country in overcoming its problems. Without it, the narrative will remain one-sided and the Muslims in Nigeria will always be blamed—and punished—for crimes over which they do not have monopoly.

Dr. Aliyu U. Tilde is a political analyst based in Bauchi State Nigeria.

Dear Nicki Minaj,

As the latest spokesperson in America speaking on Nigeria, I must clarify that the script provided to you by internal actors back home in Nigeria and their collaborators in the United States is biased and one-sided. You might not fully understand the complexities of insecurity in my country, and you have been fed false lies about fictitious claims of ongoing Christian genocidal attacks.

Here is the reality:

1. In North West Nigeria, banditry devastates the region, with Muslims frequently killing fellow Muslims.

2. In North East Nigeria, Boko Haram and ISWAP, both Muslim terrorist groups, mainly kill fellow Muslims in Borno and Yobe.

3. In North Central Nigeria—Plateau, Southern Kaduna, Taraba, Benue—farmer-herder conflicts, caused by land disputes, are often wrongly seen as religious wars. These conflicts affect both Christians (farmers) and Muslims (Hausa-Fulani herders).

4. In South East Nigeria—Anambra, Enugu, Ebonyi, Abia—IPOB terrorists, who are Igbo Christians, are killing fellow Igbo Christians in their bid for secession.

Dear Nicki, insecurity in Nigeria impacts Muslims, Christians, traditionalists, and atheists equally. The narrative you received is incomplete and misleading.

Nicki Minaj, the Muslims being killed in Nigeria, and other heinous crimes being perpetrated against them do not get to the headlines of international media for you and others to see and understand. The Muslims back home in my country bury their loved ones killed in silence, for they do not believe in using dead bodies for propaganda or to attract sympathy or donations from international organisations.

If you care about speaking for Nigerian Christians, I urge you also to speak for Black Americans facing police brutality. Just as you highlighted Nigeria’s challenges, you can bring the reality of racial injustice in the US to global attention.

Just like you are calling for global international attention on what has been tagged as ongoing Christians’ genocidal attacks in Nigeria, kindly also call global attention to the silent, ongoing police brutality against your fellow Black Americans and the racial discrimination they are facing.

If Nigerian Christians’ lives matter to you, then let the lives of your fellow Black Americans matter as well.

Thanks.

Mustapha Gembu is a Nigerian citizen and a proud advocate for peace, unity, and harmonious coexistence among my fellow Nigerians.

By Engr. Abubakar Sulaiman

The Amnesty International Nigeria and some Northern Intellectuals were asleep or in a state of limbo when the Kano state government invited Mallam Lawan Shuaibu Triumph to appear before the Shura Committee and defend what some segments of Muslims considered blasphemous or disrespectful. He appeared, defended his statements, and heaven did not fall. He also made it clear that he was open to further discussion or debate.

Waking up from slumber, Amnesty International found its voice only when the ‘anointed’ Yahaya Masussuka (whom some people laughably expect to bring about a ‘revolution’ in mainstream Islam and its preachings) was invited by the Katsina state government to appear before a committee regarding his preachments. That was when they realised someone was about to be stripped of their freedom. The olive branch that wasn’t extended to Mallam Lawal Shuaibu Triumph.

Is it double standards or hypocrisy from the organisation and the so-called intellectuals? It is both. And it is a clever-by-half and calculated attempt to arm-twist a government procedure. But this is a discussion for another day.

That said, I believe state governments should find a way to disengage from organising religious debates. They should enact laws that regulate religious preaching and require JNI or CAN (or any other faith-based body) to license preachers. Whoever has a disagreement or believes a cleric’s preachment is an affront to overriding public interest should approach the court. Based on the enacted laws, the court should determine what constitutes extremism or actions inimical to social stability and thereby de-license a cleric or even sentence them to time in correctional facilities where appropriate.

I think debates on religious ideologies should be organised by faith-based organisations, or anyone who has an axe to grind with another person on religious issues should extend an invitation to a debate. Two Salafi scholars, Shaykh Isa Ali Pantami and the late Shaykh Idris Abdulaziz, extended such an invitation to the Boko Haram leader, the late Muhammad Yusuf, without any state government spearheading or supervising the engagement. Many people later renounced the Boko Haram ideology after listening to that debate. Additionally, Mallam Al-Qasim Hotoro also approached Mallam AbdulJabbar Nasiru Kabara for a debate, though AbdulJabbar used a ‘tactical manoeuvre’ to decline the engagement. The populace will then be the judge of who can present convincing evidence for their beliefs or ideology from such debates.

State governments risk falling into a quagmire if they continue to entertain complaints and organise religious debates without referring them to government-recognised faith-based organisations or a court of competent jurisdiction. It is difficult to digest, given the fear of censorship from our kind of governments, but regulation is key to taming religious hiccups and extreme tendencies while enhancing social integration.

Abubakar writes from Kaduna and can be reached via abusuleiman06@gmail.com.

By Umar Sani Adamu, 

For a long time, Western media outlets, foreign politicians, and advocacy groups have repeatedly described Nigeria as the scene of an ongoing “Christian genocide” at the hands of Muslims, particularly Fulani herdsmen. The charge is serious, emotional, and widely circulated. However, a closer examination of the facts on the ground reveals a much more complex and painful truth: the primary victims of the country’s deadliest insecurity crisis, armed banditry, are overwhelmingly northern Muslims.

Multiple independent investigations have found no evidence of a systematic, religiously motivated campaign to exterminate Christians. A 2024 BBC Global Disinformation Unit report, fact-checks by AFP and Al Jazeera, and even cautious statements from Open Doors, the Christian persecution monitor frequently quoted by genocide advocates, have all warned that the term “genocide” is being misused and exaggerated in the Nigerian context.

The violence plaguing the country is real, but it is predominantly criminal, not confessional. Since 2015, armed banditry, kidnapping for ransom, cattle rustling, village raids and mass killings have turned Zamfara, Katsina, Kaduna, Sokoto and parts of Niger State into killing fields. These states are 90–98 per cent Muslim. Most bandits are ethnic Fulani Muslims who prey primarily on Hausa Muslim farming communities.

Complex numbers tell the story that western headlines rarely do:  

– Zamfara State alone recorded over 1,200 banditry-related deaths in 2023,  almost all Muslim.  

– In the first nine months of 2025, more than 2,800 people were killed by bandits across the North West, according to the Nigerian Atrocities Documentation Project. The vast majority were Muslim.  

– The U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom stated in its 2025 report that banditry “disproportionately affects Muslim-majority areas”.

While Christians have suffered real losses in Middle Belt farmer-herder clashes and church attacks, the scale and frequency pale in comparison to the daily carnage in the Muslim North West.

 When the clergy cross the line

This month, Plateau State Police Command arrested a Catholic priest for allegedly supplying AK-47 rifles and thousands of rounds of ammunition to bandit gangs operating across Plateau, Kaduna and Bauchi. Weapons recovered from the cleric have reportedly been linked to recent deadly raids. He was paraded on November 12.

It is not an isolated case. In February 2025, another Reverend Father, a deaconess and several church members were arrested in Taraba for allegedly running arms to both Boko Haram and bandit groups. Similar arrests of Christian clergy and lay workers have occurred in Benue and Nasarawa.

Social media reaction was swift and furious: “They label every Fulani man a terrorist, yet a Reverend Father is caught red-handed arming the same killers,” wrote one widely shared post.

Why the false narrative endures

Images of burnt churches and grieving Christian widows travel fast on global networks. Footage of torched Muslim villages in remote Zurmi or Tsafe rarely does. Poor, Hausa-speaking northerners lack the lobbying machinery that amplifies Middle Belt voices in Washington and London.

As one northern governor privately admitted: “When they shout ‘Christian genocide’ abroad, the grants go to NGOs in Jos and Enugu — never to the millions of displaced Muslims rotting in camps in Gusau and Birnin Gwari.”

The way forward

Nigeria’s crisis is one of state failure, poverty, climate stress and organised crime not a holy war. Treating banditry as jihad only deepens division and delays solutions. Community policing, economic revival in the rural North, and ruthless prosecution of arms suppliers regardless of collar or turban offer the only realistic path to peace.

Until the world stops peddling a convenient myth, the people bearing the heaviest burden — ordinary Muslim farmers, women and children of the North West — will continue to bleed in silence.

There is no Christian genocide in Nigeria. There is, however, a predominantly Muslim tragedy that the world has chosen not to see.

Umar Sani Adamu can be reached via umarhashidu1994@gmail.com.

By Abubakar AbdusSalam Muhammad (Baban Gwale).

Dr Audu Bulama Bukarti is one of the individuals I admire most in today’s Nigeria.

Recently, during the deeply thought-provoking Zoom discussion organised by Professor Toyin Falola on President Donald Trump’s comments about Nigeria, Bulama once again demonstrated remarkable clarity, courage, and sincerity. His contributions stood out with intellectual depth and honesty, and he represented our nation with dignity and unwavering principle.

Beyond his powerful voice in national discourse, Dr Bukarti is an expert legal practitioner, a meticulous researcher, an exceptional analyst, and a genuine freedom fighter whose work continues to inspire countless Nigerians.

What truly sets him apart is his unshakable commitment to Islam and truth. I recall during an episode of Fashin Baki on President Tinubu’s recent pardons, when he was asked about the case of DCP Abba Kyari and other inmates. His response was firm, principled, and full of integrity:

“I don’t talk on anything that contradicts Islam whatsoever.” These words reflect the heart of a man guided by faith before anything else, a man whose compass does not bend under pressure or public opinion.

A true Nigerian, a proud Muslim, a committed Northerner, a brilliant mind, and indeed a one-man army “KAI KAƊAI GAYYA”

I am deeply proud of him, not only for his intellectual contributions, but for who he is as a true Muslim brother whose sincerity, courage, and patriotism strengthen my love and respect for him.

May Allah preserve him upon goodness, protect him, and continue to make his voice a source of benefit, justice, and guidance for our beloved nation.

By Lawan Bukar Maigana 

The growing hunger among media organisations and young people to publish exclusive news has created a climate where speed is valued more than truth and its consequences. Many rush to break stories without verifying details, flooding the digital space with noise and carelessness.

This reckless chase is more dangerous than it appears. Insurgents and criminal groups quietly monitor social media ecosystems. They sit behind screens, study posts, and gather intelligence that was never meant for them. A single careless update becomes an open door for those who wish to harm the nation.

The tragedy of Brigadier General Mohammed Uba stands as a painful reminder of how information can be weaponised. His initial capture, his escape, and the later recapture that ended with his execution reveal how ruthless these criminal networks have become. While many sympathised with his ordeal, few understood how online chatter influenced the events.

These groups constantly scan conversations, comments, and reactions. They interpret patterns and extract clues from citizens who treat every issue as content. The story of General Uba should teach the country a life-saving lesson. Silence is sometimes safer than speed. Enemies are listening and active online, and every careless post strengthens their hand.

They learned from social media chatter that he was still in the bush after escaping. Thoughtless updates provided them with clues. They mobilised fighters, tracked him again, recaptured him, and executed him. This is the heavy cost of posting without restraint.

Security matters require silence more than spectacle. Media organisations must recognise that operational secrecy protects lives. Sensational updates during crises do not inform, but they endanger. The right to know cannot outweigh the need to safeguard ongoing operations. 

This protection is not just for soldiers but also for citizens. Insurgents study community movements, market patterns, celebrations, and tragedies. Careless information helps them identify the weakest points. 

If anyone must share information during sensitive times, the only safe place to do so is with the authorities. Security spokespeople exist to process information responsibly. They verify claims, filter sensitive information, and ensure that outsiders cannot track anything that could compromise national security.

Despite these realities, many still chase virality with reckless boldness. A recent incident exposed this trend when a fabricated story circulated about a young lady in  Gubio Local Government Area of Borno State, who allegedly took her life because she was forced into marriage. Influencers shared it widely without verifying a single detail from her family or the authorities.

The emotional weight of the story carried it across timelines. People blamed parents, culture, and religion. The story was false, yet the damage was already done. The truth moved more slowly than the lie. Later, those who invented the news were arrested, and they confessed that they had shared the information without any verification after a whole LGA had been demonised.

This incident reflects a troubling social habit. People now prefer drama to accuracy. They prefer emotional reactions to factual clarity. They prefer virality to responsibility, at the expense of people’s lives, especially among northern netizens. 

This culture feeds insecurity and weakens the nation’s sense of truth. When false alarms dominate the digital space, real warnings become harder to identify. When emotion overshadows fact, society becomes vulnerable.

Young people must understand that social media is no longer a playground; it is a battlefield for attention and a monitoring ground for criminals, organisations, and individuals with exclusive access who read everything posted online.

Editors and influencers must rise above the chaos and set a standard. They must insist on verification before publication and accuracy before speed. Their platforms should become places where truth is valued and rumours are filtered out. If they uphold responsible reporting, their followers will learn to do the same.

They must also use their influence to educate the public. People should understand that clicks are not worth the life of a soldier or a citizen, and shares are not worth the shame of an innocent family. Only through responsible reporting can society rebuild trust, strengthen security, and protect the dignity of those whose stories are too important to be mistreated or used to strengthen news agencies’ visibility.

Lawan Bukar Maigana wrote via lawanbukarmaigana@gmail.com.

By Oladoja M.O

In the grand, often tumultuous, theatre of African politics, a deeply entrenched and insidious narrative persists: the Messiah-Villain Binary. This simplistic, yet devastating, framework casts political leaders not as fallible public servants, but as either divine saviours or malevolent destroyers. It’s a binary that suffocates nuance, stifles accountability, and, in a continent desperate for democratic maturity, acts as a corrosive cancer on the body politic. We must call this what it is: a dangerous delusion that has shackled Africa’s progress for far too long.

This orientation, a relic of post-colonial strongman politics, reduces the complex art of governance to a moral melodrama. Citizens, conditioned to see their leaders as larger-than-life figures, become spectators in a perpetual battle between good and evil. When a new leader emerges, they are instantly elevated to the status of a messiah, the one chosen to slay the dragons of poverty, corruption, and instability. Any opposition is, by default, cast as the villain, a saboteur working against the people’s will. This is not just a rhetorical device; it’s a profound psychological trap that prevents a healthy, critical relationship between the electorate and those they elect.

Look no further than the story of Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe. In the euphoric dawn of independence in 1980, Mugabe was the indisputable messiah. He had led the liberation struggle, promised the people a new land, and was seen as the architect of a new, prosperous Zimbabwe. But as his rule solidified, dissent grew. His staunchest supporters did not see his brutal suppression of the Gukurahundi massacres and his increasingly authoritarian tendencies as the actions of a flawed leader, but rather as the necessary evils required to defeat the ‘villains’—the opposition, foreign agents, and internal critics. This narrative allowed him to dismantle democratic institutions and cling to power for nearly four decades, all while his country’s economy imploded. The messiah had morphed into a tyrant, but the binary, with its pre-assigned roles, kept many from seeing the reality until it was too late.

A similar pattern can be seen in Rwanda, albeit with a different trajectory. Following the 1994 genocide, Paul Kagame was hailed as the man who pulled his nation from the brink of total annihilation. He is undeniably a messiah figure for many Rwandans, credited with bringing stability, order, and remarkable economic growth. Yet, this messianic status has made it incredibly difficult for a genuine political opposition to emerge. Critics, journalists, and political rivals who question his iron grip on power are often swiftly silenced, accused of undermining national unity or of being sympathisers of the genocidal past. 

The messiah’s narrative, while perhaps initially justified, has become a tool to legitimize the suppression of democratic pluralism. The ‘villain’ is no longer the genocidal regime, but anyone who dares to challenge the man who defeated it. This is a profound danger: when a leader’s infallibility is tied to a nation’s salvation, dissent becomes tantamount to treason.

The messiah-villain binary is a disease that festers in the heart of African electoral politics. It’s visible in the fervent, almost religious, rallies where supporters see their candidate not as a political leader with a manifesto, but as an oracle. The 2017 Kenyan election and the subsequent crisis offered a stark illustration. Both Uhuru Kenyatta and Raila Odinga were cast as messianic figures by their respective supporters. For Odinga’s base, he was the long-awaited liberator, the man who would finally lead them to a promised land of social justice. For Kenyatta’s supporters, he represented stability and continuity, the man protecting the country from the ‘villainous’ forces of instability. This emotional fervour, fueled by tribal and regional loyalties, led to a deeply polarised society where compromise became impossible. The result was not just political gridlock, but a cycle of violence and deep-seated animosity that continues to haunt the nation. The election wasn’t a contest of ideas; it was a crusade.

This issue is not just a problem of the past; it remains alive and well today. In Nigeria, the perennial politics of ‘saviour’ and ‘enemy’ plague the electoral landscape. From the military regimes to the current democratic dispensation, every election is framed as a life-or-death struggle against forces of darkness. A new candidate emerges, promising to sweep away the corruption of the past, and is instantly elevated to a messianic pedestal. Yet, once in power, the same old patterns of patronage and unaccountability emerge. The people, having invested their faith in a person rather than in institutions and processes, are left disillusioned, only to repeat the cycle with the next messiah figure. This prevents the building of strong, independent institutions, a free press, an impartial judiciary, and a non-partisan civil service, because the entire political system revolves around the individual, not the rules.

The messiah-villain binary is a trap, a narrative cul-de-sac from which genuine democratic progress cannot escape. It’s a cancer because it preys on hope, exploiting the legitimate frustrations of the populace for political gain. It turns citizens into blind followers and opponents into sworn enemies. This dangerous orientation must be dismantled. We must stop looking for messiahs. There are no magical saviours.

There are only men and women who are fallible, flawed, and accountable to the people they serve. We must demand a politics of substance, not spectacle. We must judge our leaders not by the promises they make on the campaign trail, but by their respect for democratic institutions, their commitment to the rule of law, and their willingness to be held to account.

The true liberation of Africa as a continent and Nigeria as a nation will not come from a single hero, but from a critical and engaged citizenry that understands that the power to govern belongs to them and that no politician, no matter how charismatic, is a god. It is time to retire the messiah, to dismantle the villain, and to embrace the hard, unglamorous work of building a true and lasting democracy.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com.

By Abba Marke

Across the length and breadth of Jigawa State, conversations are heating up. In tea joints, markets, and political circles, people are talking, and what they’re talking about is the sudden and somewhat surprising shift in tone from the administration of Governor Malam Umar Namadi Danmodi.

Barely halfway through its first tenure, the Jigawa State Government has begun sending strong signals that it intends to seek re-election in 2027. The governor’s close allies and political associates have, in recent weeks, made comments and gestures that clearly point toward a second-term ambition.

To many observers, this early campaign-like posture has come as a shock. The people of Jigawa expected that, at this midpoint in his administration, the governor’s main focus would be on governance, performance, and fulfilment of campaign promises made during the 2023 elections. Instead, they now see high-ranking officials raising eight fingers — a symbolic declaration of a “second term” agenda — while many of the promises that inspired the electorate’s trust remain unfulfilled.

This development has left the public asking some serious and legitimate questions:

1. Is it already time to begin campaigning for the 2027 elections?

2. Have all the commitments made to the people of Jigawa in 2023 been accomplished?

These questions are not born out of malice or opposition politics; they stem from a genuine concern among citizens who want to see their state move forward. The people yearn for progress — for improved infrastructure, better schools, reliable healthcare, job opportunities for the youth, and meaningful reforms that impact their daily lives.

However, they now worry that the government’s attention is shifting away from governance toward political preservation. Many fear that this early flirtation with the idea of a second term could become a major distraction, diverting energy and resources from the actual work of leadership.

History has shown that once a sitting government becomes preoccupied with re-election, governance often suffers. Projects slow down. Accountability weakens. Public servants often start aligning themselves with political interests rather than serving the public. The people of Jigawa, who have placed their hopes in this administration, fear that this could be the same path being taken once again.

What the public is calling for is simple: focus on the job at hand. Let the government channel its full strength into delivering on its promises — building roads, improving agriculture, empowering the youth, reforming education, and uplifting rural communities. Once visible progress is made and the people feel the impact of good governance, the question of a second term will naturally answer itself.

For now, the citizens of Jigawa are watching closely. They want results, not rallies. They want action, not ambition. And they want their leaders to remember that time spent seeking a second term could be better spent earning it.

Abba Marke wrote via abbayusufmarke@gmail.com.

By Ibrahim Aisha 

Across much of Northern Nigeria, girls still face an invisible wall after secondary school. Parents’ fears, tight household budgets, and the pull of early marriage keep many daughters at home. Yet, data and role models reveal what is lost when the ambition of a female child is clipped.

For generations, education has been regarded as the key to progress and empowerment. Still, in conservative societies, the education of girls beyond the basics is often seen as unnecessary or even a threat to tradition despite government campaigns, NGO interventions, and success stories of women who have broken barriers.

The world has become a global village. Technology, digital communication, and international mobility have reshaped how we live and work. In this new reality, uneducated girls are left voiceless, powerless, and excluded from the spaces where contemporary women now thrive sitting in parliaments, leading global institutions, directing multinational companies, and innovating in science and technology.

Why, in 2025, do some communities still resist girls’ education?

The answer often lies in illiteracy. Parents who never had the privilege of education sometimes fail to see its value. Many fear what they do not understand. To them, sending a daughter to university feels like losing her to an unknown world.

Data from the National Bureau of Statistics as at 2017 defined literacy as the percentage of people aged 15 and above who can read, write, and understand simple expressions in any language. A Punch Editorial Board report from September 2023 highlighted Nigeria’s poor education outlook: although the government claimed a national literacy rate of 69%, this figure hides wide regional disparities. 

According to a UNICEF report on the state of Nigeria’s children, 10.2 million primary school-aged children and 8.1 million secondary school-aged children are out of school in the country.Reports indicate that between 2020 and 2025, Northern Nigeria consistently recorded between five and seven million out-of-school girls, with only minor fluctuations despite ongoing efforts.

Socio-Cultural Impediments 

Household-level constraints on access to education are not entirely economic. Studies and surveys identify several socio-cultural factors: erosion of extended family solidarity, weakening societal values, and gender-related issues such as teenage pregnancy, early marriage, and perceptions about the “proper role” of women.

Northern Nigeria is still shaped by cultural practices harmful to women’s emancipation, including early and forced marriage, wife-inheritance, widowhood practices, lack of access to education, low enrollment rates, poor funding, inadequate facilities for persons with disabilities, and frequent disruptions caused by conflict and seasonal migration.

Stories from the Ground

The experiences of girls and women across the North reveal both the struggles and the possibilities of education.

Rahama Dajuma, a graduate, said that education had done everything for her. She now works with an NGO and is about to get married. She relieved her father from the stress of buying furniture for her wedding, and her fiancé is allowing her to keep her job.

Zainab Abubakar, a student, mother and a resident of Sabuwar Gwammaja, argued that girls should be asked their opinions because “you can force a horse to the riverbank but you cannot force it to drink.” She added that many parents above 60 in her community do not want their sons to marry women educated beyond secondary school, fearing such women will not be submissive.

Zakiyyah Al-Hassan, a resident of Chiranchi, shared that she is not educated but wants her child to go beyond secondary school. According to her, the world is changing and women should not be stuck in the kitchen, as educated women contribute to the home even before bringing in their salaries.

Fatima Abubakar, a student of the School of Hygiene, explained that she is the only one schooling out of nine children. Her father could not afford fees for all, so her siblings sacrificed for her.

Iya Aminatu, a resident of Kurna Kwachiri, revealed that none of her seven daughters went beyond junior secondary school because her husband is completely against it, and she could not object to his decision.

Malam Rafa’i, a local Islamic teacher and resident of Tsakuwa, said during a telephone interview that it is a waste of time and resources to send a girl to school when she should stay home and learn how to cook so as to be a perfect wife to her husband.

Fatima Haruna, a secondary school graduate, recalled that her elder sister Khadijah finished with flying colours and was promised that she could continue schooling. After marriage, her husband refused, saying he had no intention of letting her further her education. He had only used that promise to lure her into marriage. Since then, their father insists that no daughter can further her education unless her husband agrees.

The Road Ahead

These stories show that the real question has shifted from “Should girls be educated?” to “How fast can Northern Nigeria catch up?” Education experts and stakeholders warn that if the situation does not improve, Northern Nigeria risks falling further behind, with dire consequences for national development. The region needs more investment in infrastructure, security, and teacher training. Cultural reorientation campaigns must also be intensified to promote the value of education, especially for girls.

The answer lies in stronger government commitment, sustained community awareness, and the courage to challenge harmful traditions. Education is no longer a privilege. It is a necessity for survival in the global age.