Opinion

By Wathrayel Bassi Amos‎‎‎

Social media was once celebrated as a force for empowerment, creativity, and free expression. Yet beneath that promise lies a sophisticated system—the algorithm—engineered to keep users endlessly engaged. This unseen mechanism values attention over awareness, pushing content that evokes the strongest emotions: anger, envy, or desire. In today’s digital landscape, shock value has become the new form of currency. The more sensational the content, the greater its reach.‎‎

The algorithm, devoid of moral judgment, amplifies whatever sustains attention the longest—even when it undermines social values. From sexually suggestive dance trends to prank videos glorifying deceit, the boundary between entertainment and immorality grows increasingly faint.

Traditional moral guides—parents, teachers, and religious leaders—now struggle to rival platforms that reward sensationalism over substance. Never has indecency been so readily available, flooding timelines without consent. Some entertainers even release explicit material intentionally, using controversy as a marketing tool. In this new age, modesty has lost its worth, while moral decay is repackaged as strategy.

‎‎Cultural and religious voices continue to warn against this decline. They decry how virtues like humility, discipline, and community spirit are being replaced by an obsession with digital recognition. Success is now measured not by integrity but by influence—the size of one’s following. This transformation goes beyond behavior; it is reshaping the psyche of the youth, cutting them off from the moral and cultural foundations that once defined Nigerian identity.‎‎

The dominance of globalized online content represents a quieter form of cultural colonization. Though Nigeria is politically free, its digital life remains governed by algorithms designed abroad—systems detached from local values. These digital gatekeepers decide what trends, what sells, and what the public sees. Some nations, like China, have moved to restrict foreign platforms to safeguard their moral and cultural integrity.‎‎

Nigeria’s youth—the nation’s largest population segment—now grow up in virtual spaces where moral responsibility is optional and validation is everything. Many define themselves not by character, empathy, or contribution, but by the currency of likes, followers, and views. Digital popularity has replaced moral virtue as the new standard of worth.

‎‎To secure its future, Nigeria must reshape its digital culture around responsibility rather than recklessness. Social media should serve as a platform for enlightenment, not erosion—a space that uplifts intellect instead of promoting indecency. The internet must return to its true purpose: a marketplace of ideas, not a stage for moral decline.‎‎

Wathrayel Bassi Amos wrote from the Department of Mass Communication, University of Maiduguri. ‎

By Rabi Ummi Umar

The 2025 Batch C1 National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) registration for prospective corps members was a real eye-opener for me. I finally understood why my friends and family had urged me to take a breather after my final exams. I was itching to do something—anything—after completing my university studies.

As humans, we are wired to anticipate the next phase, and for me, that next thing was NYSC. Yet I wrestled with how to keep myself busy before the time came.

As someone who is always on the go, I began to feel the weight of post-school reality just a few days after returning home. There was suddenly little or nothing to occupy me. Then came the thought of continuing my internship with Image Merchant Promotion Limited (IMPR), a firm where I had already gained considerable experience.

That decision helped tremendously in keeping me engaged until NYSC registration was announced. There were mixed emotions as I waited for the process to begin—excitement, nervousness, and a bit of anxiety all at once.

Finally, when the registration portal opened, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. I whispered to myself, “Alhamdulillah, I’ve finally got something to do. The next phase is here.”

On the scheduled day, Tuesday, November 4th, 2025, I set my alarm for midnight, determined to register as soon as possible. However, the portal had its own plans. It wasn’t yet open for Batch C, so I had to wait until 4:00 a.m. to try again. Luckily, it worked—I put in my email and waited… and waited… and waited some more.

Restlessness set in. I thought my email had issues. I created a new Yahoo account, called friends and co-workers for help, and tried again and again. Nothing worked, even by 6 a.m. Eventually, I decided to head to the cybercafé.

Just as I left the house around 8 a.m., an email notification popped up—it was the long-awaited link to the registration portal. Overwhelmed with relief, I whispered “Alhamdulillah” and screamed in excitement without realising it.

When I arrived at the café, the network started misbehaving. The portal kept crashing and refreshing. Still, I managed to register and fill out the manual form provided. Everything necessary was done, and I finally left around 11 a.m. Reflecting on the experience, I thought, “What a stressful but fulfilling process.”

I was among the fortunate ones. Many of my friends and schoolmates faced serious challenges—some never received their registration links, while others couldn’t access the portal at all. Our group chat was flooded with frustration. By the second day, the site had begun to crash, and by the third, it was completely down.

Over a thousand prospective corps members were unable to register, a far cry from the seamless experience promised. The ordeal was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but empathise with those who weren’t as lucky, wondering how they coped with the stress and disappointment.

The situation grew so dire that NYSC had to extend the registration deadline by two days—from Sunday, November 9th, to Tuesday, November 11th, midnight. Yet, problems persisted. The payment system for call-up numbers malfunctioned, leaving many stranded. While the extension was a relief, it also exposed the urgent need for improved infrastructure and coordination.

NYSC must do better. The registration process should be seamless, not frustrating. If this national scheme must endure, it must also evolve. People shouldn’t have to suffer this much—just to get started.

Rabi Ummi Umar is an intern at Image Merchant Promotion Limited (IMPR). She can be reached via: rabiumar058@gmail.com.

By Abba Hikima

It is clear to even the most daft Nigerian that Nyesom Wike, a serving member of President Tinubu’s Federal Executive Council, is only in the PDP to sabotage it and clear the path for his benefactor, the President, come the 2027 elections. What may not, however, be clear is the extent to which Wike’s tactics and antics can undermine Nigeria’s democracy.

Whether you are APC, PDP, ADC or even politically indifferent, Wike’s actions should bother you, as long as you dream of a truly democratic Nigeria where institutions transcend whimsical meddling of the few.

From any angle, one sees a deliberate pattern that systematically seeks to dismantle the country’s main opposition party and tilts the political landscape dangerously toward one-party dominance.

The recent Federal High Court injunction, restraining the PDP from holding its planned November 15 National Convention, issued by Justice J. Omotosho, only reinforces this pattern. It aligns with a string of judicial outcomes and political manoeuvres that have consistently favoured Wike’s factional interests, all at the expense of Nigeria’s fragile democratic balance.

Between 2023 and 2025, Wike’s loyalists seized the PDP’s national secretariat at Wadata Plaza, installed their own acting chairman, and plunged the party into even deeper crisis. Earlier, he had been linked to moves to demolish the PDP headquarters in Port Harcourt and to lawsuits that derailed planned conventions.

These deliberate acts of sabotage are calculated to dismantle opposition structures and weaken the political alternatives that every democracy relies on. In Nigeria today, prominent political opposition actors are crosscarpeting from their political parties to the ruling APC, not because the APC is doing better, but to salvage their seats and realise their aspirations, which appear rather vivid with the APC.

In saner climes, inclusion of opposition figures within ruling governments is a laudable means of promoting national unity and bridging gaps. But in Nigeria’s case, Wike’s dual role, serving as a federal minister while wielding extraordinary control over an opposition party, is clearly a means of manipulation.

It blurs ethical boundaries and deprives citizens of genuine democratic alternatives.

Even more disturbing is Wike’s perceived closeness to certain segments of the judiciary- what Professor Chidi Anselm Odinkalu aptly described as a “pathological fixation.”

From 2019 to 2025, at least five major cases tied directly or indirectly to Wike’s interests have been heard before the same judge, fueling concerns of judicial clientelism —a scenario where powerful litigants can select their forums by proxy.

The danger goes far beyond politics.

If political elites can manipulate opposition parties while simultaneously bending judicial processes to their favour, then democracy becomes mere theatre. A performance that preserves power and erodes accountability.

Having said this, the National Judicial Council should randomise the assignment of politically sensitive cases and ensure that no single judge repeatedly handles matters involving the same litigants. A stronger ethical firewall must also be built between judicial officers and politically exposed persons.

Politically, Nigeria must introduce conflict-of-interest rules that bar sitting ministers or presidential appointees from exerting control over opposition parties. Democracy cannot thrive when the same hand both governs and manipulates its opposition.

Coming this far, we must accept that reform is not optional; it is existential.

Abba Hikima, Esq. wrote from Kano, Nigeria.

By Sa’adatu Aliyu

“I was Igbo before the white man came” is a saying by Chimamanda Adichie through her character Odenigbo in her infamous book Half of a Yellow Sun, reinforcing pride in her African heritage before the white man’s incursion, which destabilised the otherwise peaceful coexistence of African communal states.

However, it seems to me that she has been afflicted by the Igbo superiority complex over other tribes in Nigeria, especially the Hausa-Fulani in the North. This pride in being traditionally Igbo and human doesn’t extend to her acknowledgement of the Hausa-Fulani Muslim humanity and identity—held with equal pride—just as the Hausa-Fulani were before the Whiteman.

Ethnic Pride and Selective Humanity

Moreover, the likes of Adichie and her Igbo fanatics would rather make baseless and false claims about the Igbos being suppressed and ethnically cleansed in letters to Washington than sit to resolve their differences internally with their brothers in the North, solely because they are Muslims whom the Igbos do not perceive as human equals.

Generally speaking, the problem with the Igbos is that they believe all the lands in Nigeria belong to them. Their illusion of grandiosity makes them feel entitled to all locations in Nigeria beyond their region as places they have the right to live, seek better economic opportunities, and build a stable, secure life. In contrast, the same right is not extended to other tribes in Nigeria, especially the Hausa man, who, until today, faces all sorts of harassment whenever he is in the Southeast, sometimes stopped and asked by unscrupulous elements to pay “matching ground” money.

This is a form of tax collected from non-indigenous individuals seeking better economic opportunities over there—a thing that doesn’t occur in the North. Unlike the South, even though Muslims predominantly inhabit the North, it has a significant presence of churches, whereas the presence of mosques is not tolerated in the Southeast except in a few exceptional cases. Moreover, if the North was so brutal towards the Christians as they depict, why do Southerners/Eastern Nigerians seek greener pastures in the North more than the North moves towards their region? If it was so unfriendly to the Igbos and Christians, why not the Igbos remain in their regions, and the North remain in theirs?

Power, Entitlement, and the North–East Tension

While all Nigerian citizens have the right to live and build a life devoid of fear in any part of Nigeria, the Igbos particularly think they should be the ones solely steering the affairs of Nigeria and should be the sole tribe entitled to managing the juiciest positions in government, merely for being Igbo, not necessarily based on superior qualification.

Understanding the mentality of the Igbos has led to what I’d like to refer to as a “personality clash” with the Hausa-Fulanis. Despite being perceived as backwards in an educated population, they are like poor men who would never sacrifice their dignity for money, nor bow to any force that may seek to demean them based on possessing more Western education.

This has led to the long-standing tension between the two ethnic groups. The case of the North and the East is akin to a couple in their early years of marriage experiencing a clash of personality—not necessarily due to lack of love or to cause deliberate harm, but because one happens to blow issues out of proportion by arguing that the other insists on hurting them deliberately.

Instead of checking in with their ego, they engage in score keeping, accusing, and incessantly crying out for help, even if it means seeking a third party in the cloak of a certified therapist—who may hiddenly be a psychopath and has no genuine interest in the wellbeing of the couple, but instead has its greedy eyes on the money to be extorted from them, further destroying their home.

The West as “Therapist”: Foreign Meddling and Naivety

This is precisely what the Christians in Nigeria are doing by seeking the intervention of so-called America, peering underneath African countries’ beds looking for genocide, when the very foundation of the U.S. was built on the vile killings of Indigenous Native Americans.

This scenario has been fueling some of the false accusations circulating in the media about genocide against Christians in the North. It is no doubt Nigeria has been plagued by indiscriminate killings and kidnappings in the past few years, but this has involved the loss of lives and livelihoods of citizens across all ethno-religious groups—mainly by Boko Haram militias and banditry—and not killings affecting Christian communities alone, as the naive Christians of Nigeria, who still put the U.S. on a saintly pedestal, have been framing it.

This is mere fabrication born out of a myopic desire to destabilise the fragile peace still holding the nation together, forgetting that foreign powers have never and will never look out genuinely for the Black race, but have repeatedly set their eyes on how to invade and plunder the resources of our dear land.

Be it the U.S., Russia, China, or other subordinate world powers, they couldn’t care less if Africa burned. All they would do is not find a way of quenching the fire but find a means to steal our resources, all the while supplying the weapons we’ll use to maim our brothers with whom we share the same African Black DNA.

It is sad that, in the eyes of Nigerian Christians, America remains a demigod they rush to whenever facing a “problem.” in this manner. But this doesn’t paint the image of a race free from the shackles of colonialism—it looks to me like a remix of the same song to which we can’t dance, should any foreign power invade as is being threatened by the U.S currently. 

Nigerians should never forget Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan, and every other country the U.S. has invaded. It was never for goodwill or for the sake of the masses to have a better life; it was never about democracy but about the kleptomaniac instinct of foreign powers to pillage, to use the stolen resources of Africa to build their countries.

Colonial Mind enslavement and the Illusion of Freedom

When Chimamanda Adichie said she’s Igbo before the invention of the white man, I presume she was refuting the attempt of the white colonialist to redefine her ancestral root. She was rejecting the image of the indigenous people of Africa that the white man struggled to create to wipe out her identity.

I also want to believe the white man here is seen as foreign, intrusive, with no right to rewrite the history of the African people, nor to decide our destiny. But how come the same Nigerians, especially Igbos who pride themselves on being a fraction of the Black race, are quick to call for the intervention of the same white man to salvage them—to resolve a conflict with their African brothers on religious division, (the religions) on the basis which they’re stirring foment being a product nothing but a product of colonialism?

Yet they pick up their pens and still write saintly yet furiously about pride in Africa, Pan-Africanism, Negritude, and pride in the Black race they claim to represent. And one wonders with the level of hate projected towards Northern Muslims, whether they are not part of the black Africans. To me, this is nothing short of colonial mind slavery that still bedevils even our so-called intellectuals, blinded by religious fundamentalism and succumbing to it so effortlessly. Hence, one begins to question their education.

As Chuba Okadigbo once said:

 “If you are emotionally attached to your tribe, religion or political leaning to the point that truth and justice become secondary considerations, your education is useless.

If you cannot reason beyond petty sentiments, you are a liability to mankind.”

Mirroring a similar view, if the educated one cannot look beyond ethno-religious sentiment and live objectively, he has no business being called educated. However, this is a hat donned by several of Nigeria’s think tanks, sadly.

Similarly, Nelson Mandela reminds us:

 “It is not our diversity which divides us; it is not our ethnicity, or religion or culture that divides us…”

Can the African mind ever be decolonised? I doubt so. It might all look like we are free, but there’s no freedom without the freedom of the mind.

So, the quest of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o for Africans to free themselves from mental colonial slavery—which led to his abandonment of the English language and adoption of Kikuyu—doesn’t extend to this area for many Christian fanatics who happen to be influential writers from the Eastern part of Nigeria. And this is utterly disheartening.

In Conclusion

In the wake of all this commotion, I perceive the naivety of those spreading these lies to draw foreign intervention in Nigeria as an act of somnambolic foolishness—for which I am sure they will regret when they come face to face with the hypocrisy that lies in the heart of world powers, should they get what they are calling for.

I pray for peace, unity, religious understanding, and togetherness in Nigeria and the world at large. Let us always remember: a shred of peace is better than no peace at all.

Saadatu Aliyu is a writer and poet based in Zaria. Email @: saadatualiyu36@gmail.com 

By Prof. Abdalla Uba Adamu

I rarely discuss politics, policy, or religion at any level on social media. These three are totally beyond my modest capabilities. However, the Educationist in me stirred when it became news in November 2025 that a bill was being proposed in the Kano State House of Assembly, titled the Kano State Mother Tongue (Hausa Language) Education Enforcement Bill. It was introduced by Musa Kachako, a member representing Takai under the New Nigeria Peoples Party (NNPP). 

The Bill seeks to ensure that all instruction in primary and secondary schools in Kano (presumably those under Local Education Authorities) is conducted in the Hausa language. According to online reports, when presenting the bill during plenary, Kachako stated that the initiative followed global best practices in education, citing countries such as China, Japan, and India, which he noted had made significant strides in science and technology by teaching children in their native languages from an early age. Kano State can do this because Education, being on the Concurrent Legislature, gives room for any policy variation of Education from that of the Federal Government’s Exclusive list. 

Certainly, the idea of teaching all subjects in Hausa springs from a noble intention — to enable children to learn in the language they understand best, and to reaffirm local identity against the long shadow of colonial linguistic domination. I witnessed this during my tenure as a Teaching Practice Supervisor in various schools in Kano. Students tended to understand language lessons more fluidly than those in other languages. And we are talking about over 40 years ago. Along the line, I even came up with how to use Hausa proverbs to teach science, based on over 30 curated Hausa proverbs with scientific content (e.g. gravity in “komai nisan jifa, ƙasa zai dawo”) and trained dozens of teachers in Jigawa (ironically enough, Kano was not interested at the time!) on this much later.   

Yet, the success of such a language policy depends on its contextual intelligence — its ability to strike a balance between local comprehension, national unity, and global relevance. In all cases of such debates, the examples of China, Japan, and India are the most commonly cited as best practices that have worked. With its virtual monolingual Hausa population (perhaps the only State in the Federation with this attribute), elevating Kano as “Little China” certainly sound, albeit contradictorily, post-colonially romantic. This all sounds inspiring. But, without taking the shine off it, how realistic is it?

There is a certain merit to the idea, but only to a certain extent. Research everywhere agrees: children learn faster and think better when taught in their native language. Even UNESCO and Nigeria’s own education policy support this approach for the first few years of primary schooling, where community languages are encouraged, rather than metropolitan languages. Let’s look at some cases.

Ethiopia is perhaps the only country in Africa with a continuous mother-tongue education system. The country did not suffer the horrors of colonisation on the same scale as the rest of Sahelian African countries, as it was only briefly occupied by Italians between 1936 and 1941. It uses regional languages (Amharic, Tigrinya, Oromo, Somali, etc.) as the medium of instruction in primary and secondary education. In universities and higher education, Amharic or English is used depending on the region and field. Thus, Ethiopia’s system is perhaps the closest to continuous mother-tongue instruction, although English dominates technical and postgraduate studies.

In Tanzania, Swahili is the dominant language in primary schools, but English is introduced from secondary schools up to universities, especially in fields such as science, medicine, and law. In Rwanda, the medium of instruction in schools was switched from French to English in 2008, while Kinyarwanda remains the mother tongue in early primary education. In Mozambique, Portuguese dominates in secondary and tertiary education, and local languages such as Makhuwa, Sena, and Tsonga are used in early primary school. 

This pattern is repeated in other African countries, such as Ghana (Twi/Ewe in early schooling, English later), Senegal (local languages in the early years, French later), and Kenya (Kikuyu, Luhya, Dholuo in early schooling, English later). Thus, no colonised African country has fully implemented mother tongue instruction from primary through university, rejecting colonial languages entirely.

In Kano, where everyone speaks Hausa, the policy could genuinely improve comprehension and reduce dropout rates. Pupils won’t have to struggle with English before grasping basic concepts in classrooms. That’s a win. However, there is a catch, and it lies in the regular comparison with China, Japan, and India, as if Kano is a nation, rather than a State within a nation that has 400 languages. Let us look at the language policies of these countries closely.

China has between 281 to 305 languages and dialects. However, it took decades — from the early 1900s to the 1950s — to standardise Mandarin (Putonghua), reform writing, and establish a comprehensive teacher-training and translation system, enabling everyone to be educated in one language. 

Japan is relatively homogeneous, but still has dialect diversity with 16 living languages. Although Japanese is the dominant language of instruction, there is no law declaring it the official language of the country. In fact, a school could use other languages. There are now a few schools that use English to teach science and mathematics classes. Japan created a national standard (based on the Tokyo speech) during the Meiji era (late 1800s) — alongside massive investment in textbooks, printing, and teacher training. India, on the other hand, is multilingual by law — it has 22 official languages and hundreds more in daily use. Each state uses its local language for early schooling, but keeps English for higher education and technology. 

So, what worked for these three was not language alone, but long-term state planning, standardisation, and bilingual balance. Each of these countries went through a long, continuously sustainable process of deliberate policy strategies that ensured the success of their language policies in Education, backed by political stability. In Kano, policies are routinely changed with new regime changes, regardless of their merit. Let us look at the obstacles. 

English remains the principal language of science, technology, and international communication. A policy that sidelines it completely in early and middle education could restrict students’ ability to compete globally and to access higher education resources. Unless a bilingual model is adopted, the system may produce students with strong local literacy but limited global mobility.

Nigeria’s labour market — in public service, academia, commerce, and technology — operates primarily in English. Graduates from a Hausa-only system would face difficulty transitioning into these environments without adequate English proficiency. This could widen inequality rather than close it. Unless there are expectations that students from Kano, who will be the products of this policy, will never work in any Federal government agency in the country. 

Nigeria’s educational bureaucracy is highly centralised. Curriculum design, examination systems (NECO, WAEC), and tertiary entry assessments (JAMB) all operate in English. Switching Hausa to the medium of instruction at primary and secondary levels, without corresponding policy alignment at higher levels, would isolate Hausa-medium students from tertiary education pathways. Thus, despite Education being on the concurrent list, centralised examinations are under the Federal Exclusive list. Kano cannot create its own WAEC, NECO, and JAMB examination boards; it must use Federal agencies for this purpose. These agencies are in Nigeria’s official language, which is English.  

Next would be concerns about teachers. Currently, and without being aware of the timeline for implementing the Bill, if it is passed successfully, there are not enough trained teachers in Kano with adequate linguistic competence to teach science, mathematics, or social studies effectively in Hausa. 

Moreover, curricular materials, textbooks, and terminologies for specialised subjects (such as chemistry, ICT, or physics) are largely underdeveloped in Hausa — except for some pioneering efforts by the Northern Nigerian Publishing Company and NTI Kaduna in the 1980s–1990s, and more recently by a few authors. For instance, the Centre for Research in Nigerian Languages, Translation, and Folklore at Bayero University, Kano, has produced eight Science textbooks in Hausa for students of primary, junior, and senior secondary schools in northern Nigeria. 

Written by Mika’ila Maigari Kashimbila of the Department of Physics, Bayero University, these are Kimiyya Da Fasaha Don Makarantun Firamare Books One to Three, Lissafi Don Kananan Makarantun Sakandare Books One to Three, Kyamistare Don Manyan Makarantun Sakandare, and Fizis (Physics) Don Manyan Makarantun Sakandare. He had earlier written Lissafin Makaratun Sakandare Na 1. 

I was even part of the committee set up by Bayero University Kano to “launch” these books, although things faltered, and I don’t think the launch ever took place. Wonderful as these books and efforts are, I believe they would serve as supplementary readers to the core textbooks, where they help to deconstruct the more esoteric prose of the English textbooks. 

Other concerns are sociological. For instance, making Hausa the exclusive medium in primary and secondary education in Kano risks political backlash from non-Hausa-speaking communities. In a multilingual federation, such a policy could be perceived as linguistic imperialism, deepening ethnic tensions and further alienating minorities. It may also entrench regionalisation rather than national integration — the very problem English was meant to solve.

Additionally, if Hausa becomes the sole instructional language, students from Kano may face difficulties participating in the global economy, digital platforms, and higher education, which remain English-dominated. True, the increasing use of Artificial Intelligence might alleviate some of these fears – but that is not the same as captive learning. A purely Hausa-medium system would require parallel translation of scientific and technological vocabulary to prevent intellectual isolation — a task that even developed monolingual nations struggle with.

On the positive side, a well-planned Hausa-medium system could revive indigenous literacy traditions, encourage the translation of modern science into local epistemologies, and restore pride in local knowledge systems. It could also expand Hausa publishing, radio, and digital content industries — thereby democratizing access to learning for those currently excluded by the dominance of English.

But the devil is in the details. Policy flip-flops reflecting a lack of consistency are the biggest danger. As antecedents have shown, this particular political climate might favour this move, complete with a law backing it. The next political class might very well destroy it simply because it was not its idea. This has always been the central characteristic of Kano politics. 

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

When most people hear the phrase “Artificial Intelligence” (AI), their minds often drift toward futuristic fantasies: robots that think like humans, machines plotting to overthrow their creators, or computers smarter than their inventors. Science fiction has fed us these images for decades. Yet, beyond Hollywood thrillers, AI is already here, quietly shaping the world around us. It answers customer queries through chatbots, selects the next movie you’ll watch on Netflix, predicts what story appears at the top of your newsfeed, and even decides whether a bank approves your loan.

But this growing presence of AI in our daily lives forces us to confront a pressing question: how intelligent is artificial intelligence?

The honest answer is that AI is not a brain. It is not some mystical creation that understands, feels, or reasons like humans do. What appears to be “thinking” in AI is essentially mathematics—machines processing massive datasets, detecting patterns, and making predictions based on those patterns. Take medicine, for instance. AI can analyse thousands of X-rays or MRI scans in minutes, flagging possible signs of disease with astonishing speed. Yet, it does not comprehend illness, nor does it share in the burden of delivering a life-changing diagnosis. It only “sees” shapes, signals, and recurring features in data.

This distinction raises a critical debate: Is AI genuinely intelligent, or is it just an extraordinary mimic?

Human intelligence is not simply about solving problems or recalling information. It is a rich blend of memory, imagination, intuition, creativity, and moral reasoning. It includes the ability to feel empathy, wrestle with ethical dilemmas, or create art that expresses the soul. AI has none of these. It has no emotions, no conscience, no instinct for right and wrong. When it generates a song, writes an essay, or navigates a self-driving car, it is not exercising creativity or judgment. It is reproducing patterns learned from the data it has been trained on.

Yet, to dismiss AI as a hollow imitation would be unfair. Its capabilities, in specific domains, far exceed human performance. Banks now rely heavily on AI systems to monitor millions of transactions, detecting fraud almost instantly —a feat that no team of human auditors could achieve at the same scale. In agriculture, AI-driven weather forecasts and soil sensors enable farmers to predict rainfall, manage crops effectively, and enhance food security. In education, adaptive learning platforms can tailor lessons to meet each student’s unique learning style, giving teachers powerful tools to reach struggling learners. These are not gimmicks; they are reshaping how we live, work, and think.

Still, with such benefits come significant dangers. The real problem arises when society overestimates AI’s intelligence, attributing to it a wisdom it does not possess. Algorithms are only as good as the data they consume, and data is often flawed. Recruitment systems trained on biased records have been caught replicating discrimination, silently excluding qualified women or minorities. Predictive policing tools fed with skewed crime statistics risk unfairly targeting entire communities, reinforcing cycles of distrust and marginalisation.

Even more worrying is the human temptation to outsource too much decision-making to machines. When schools, governments, or businesses heavily rely on AI, they risk eroding human capacity for critical thinking. Societies that allow machines to make moral or civic decisions run the risk of dulling their own judgment, a peril that no amount of computing power can rectify.

This is why interrogating the “intelligence” of AI is not just an academic exercise; it is a civic responsibility. Policymakers must move beyond lip service and regulate how AI is designed and deployed, ensuring that it serves the public good rather than private profit alone. Technology companies must become more transparent about how their algorithms operate, particularly when these systems impact jobs, justice, and access to essential services. Citizens, too, have a role to play. Digital literacy must become as fundamental as reading and writing, empowering people to understand what AI can and, crucially, what it cannot do.

Ultimately, the irony of AI is this: the real intelligence lies not inside the machine but in the humans who create, guide, and govern it. AI can calculate faster than any brain, but it cannot care about the consequences of those calculations. It can analyse data at lightning speed, but it cannot empathise with the human beings behind the numbers. That is the dividing line between computation and compassion, between efficiency and wisdom.

If we maintain this distinction, AI will remain a powerful tool that amplifies human potential, rather than one that diminishes it. The smartest move is to resist the illusion that machines are thinking entities and instead recognise them for what they are: products of human ingenuity, useful only to the extent that we wield them responsibly.

Ultimately, the future of AI will not be dictated by algorithms, but by people. The question is not whether AI can become truly intelligent; it cannot. The real question is whether humans will remain wise enough to use it well.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu writes on disaster management, humanitarian response, and national development.

By Abdussamad Umar Jibia 

Finally, you are there. Your “brother” from America has spoken. He is coming to “your disgraced country” to wipe out your enemy, an enemy who has lived above your pettiness. This enemy does not give attention to your blackmail, an enemy in whose presence you always feel inferior. That enemy is I, the Muslim Northerner. Out of your inferiority complex, you have given me different names, the most widely used of which is Hausa-Fulani.

I am Hausa-Fulani, even if I am Kanuri, who can speak no single word of Hausa or Fulfulde. I am Hausa-Fulani even if I was born to one of the minority tribes of Gombe, Bauchi, Kogi or, in fact, a Birom. To qualify as a Hausa-Fulani, I require only to be a non-Yoruba, non-Igbo Northerner who prays five times a day. 

At last, I have caught the attention of your big brother, who has never been to Nigeria, a person who has no respect for a black man like you and me. All you are now waiting for are his bombs and rifles to make you greater than the Hausa-Fulani, to make your presence arouse hate and fear in others, just like you feel when I am around. Congratulations. 

Your hatred towards me has a history which cannot be ignored. You and I have lived side by side for centuries. This is where our creator has decided to place us, just like He placed the Chinese in China, the Indians in India, the Arabs in Arabia, etc.

Living together always generates experiences, sweet and bitter. You have always emphasised the bitter experiences of living with me as the reason for disliking me. For example, you believe that before the coming of the British, you were oppressed by me through my emirs, who carried regular raids on your villages to catch slaves; slaves they sold to Arabs and your newfound brothers in Europe and America.

When the British came as colonisers, they no longer needed slaves. So, even though they ruled you through my emir, they banned slavery the way it was done at that time. However, because they sensed no wisdom in you, they taught you that the worship of one God, as done by your neighbour, was wrong. They taught you about three gods that can be considered as one. Depending on who taught you Christianity, you believe that these three gods (or parts of God) are the Son, the Father and the Holy Ghost or the Son, the Father and the holy ghost. Even if it didn’t make sense, it was handy. At least, you now had a religion just like the Hausa-Fulani had one. 

This raises one question. Are you a Christian because you genuinely believe in Christianity, or are you in Christianity because you want to compete with me? Actions are said to speak louder than words. Your later actions would answer this question.

For example, even before Europeans arrived in this part of the world, we travelled to Makkah, now located in Saudi Arabia, for the annual pilgrimage. To date, we have saved our money to go on Hajj without waiting for the Government. Even without Government agencies, we would continue to go on Hajj on our own because it is an article of our faith. Don’t worry, I know how your mind is working. You would be happy if your American brother would bomb the place we go to annually. To your chagrin, that wouldn’t change anything. We shall still perform hajj even if the Kaába is demolished. Islam has provided for that possibility.

Unfortunately, Christians do not have an organised system of worship that provides for an annual pilgrimage. Out of ignorance, you thought Israelis are your brothers because their grandfather is mentioned in the Bible. You thus put pressure on the Government to create diplomatic ties with Israel so that you can go there for pilgrimage, just like Muslims go to Saudi Arabia. So, you annually come back to tell stories about Israel just like Muslim pilgrims share their experiences in Saudi Arabia.

One thing you have forgotten is that Israelis do not even believe in Christianity. As far as they are concerned, Jesus Christ is an illegitimate child of an adulterous woman, and Christians are idol worshippers. Yet, you still believe that Israelis are better than you because they are the “God-Chosen”. I don’t even know which god chose them. Is it the God they claim to have killed, or is it another God? In any case, you need a solution to your slave mentality. 

You are very unlucky to be a tiny minority; otherwise, I would have been cleansed long ago. Your record of violence against Muslims in the few areas you control is well established. In some cases, like Tafawa Balewa, Zangon Kataf and Saminaka, you wiped off/displaced entire Muslim communities. In many other cases, you killed as many as you could by intercepting Muslim travellers, attacking them during prayers, etc., as you did many times in Plateau state.

You were enjoying your violence and playing the victim with the support of the Christian press when the Fulani herders conundrum began. The word “herdsmen” is a misnomer used to avoid ethnic profiling. The correct words are criminals, armed robbers, or bandits. These groups of people have no respect for human lives and property. The least they do is to drive their cattle into farms to devour crops, and when farmers react, they fight them without mercy.

In the extreme, they attack a village, hamlet or innocent travellers and kill, rape, maim, steal and/or kidnap for ransom. Thank goodness, the ‘’herdsmen’’ kept you in check as they always return whatever fire you release with multiples of it. Both of you are criminals, but they are more vicious and sophisticated. This is even as it is in record that your youth allegedly received training in Israel to fight Muslims.

In any case, you would agree with me that I have suffered from banditry more than you did. The whole thing began in Zamfara and spread to Katsina, Sokoto, Niger and Kaduna before it reached Plateau and Southern Kaduna. Yet, you go about lying that your fellow criminals are Muslims carrying out genocide against Christians. Your shamelessness is awful.

Once more, accept my congratulations. Your lies have paid. You may, however, be disappointed to know that Americans have never solved any problem. Whichever country they enter, they would be worse off after leaving it, except in Afghanistan, where they were shamed out. Should they come in here, we are determined to resist and drive them out like they were driven out of Afghanistan. We shall die honourably or triumph with grace, in sha Allah. For us, submission to the enemy is not an option.

Finally, let me note that there are many exceptions to the above. I have respect for peace-loving Christians from the North, and there are many of them.

Abdussamad Umar Jibia wrote from Kano, Nigeria, via aujibia@gmail.com.

By Muḥammad San

I have read the PhD thesis of the Emir of Kano, and just like in his Gamji days, Sanusi Lamido Sanusi (now Muhammadu Sanusi II) remains forthright in expression and uncompromising in his quest to balance Shari’a.

Some may dismiss contributions like mine as disturbing or argue that we are too little academically to weigh in on the Shari’a debate. But this is a debate that dominated Nigeria at the turn of the millennium, and Sanusi himself was at its centre. Having read his papers, watched his TED talk, and reviewed the recent compendium of his essays, I can say I have at least a fair understanding of his intellectual outlook.

Sanusi has always been controversial. His now-famous remark that a wife should slap back or retaliate against an abusive husband is a good example. That boldness, perhaps, was the same energy that pushed him to the University of London to produce a doctoral thesis on Islamic family law, using Morocco and Kano as his comparative space.

The Emir is an ardent advocate of girl-child education, but this passion seems to have narrowed his focus, leaving him blind to the ordeals of men under the same system. While women’s marginalisation has been widely documented, men, too, are now facing a new wave of vulnerabilities. The cases are there for anyone who cares to look.

The infamous Maryam Sanda case, in which a woman brutally murdered her husband, remains etched in public memory, yet the debate around it was clouded by sympathy. In 2021, a young wife in Kano was convicted of poisoning her husband after repeated disputes. In 2022, another woman fatally stabbed her husband during a quarrel over financial neglect. These are not isolated events. They highlight the rise of what can be called “feminine defence,” but they also expose the growing fragility of men trapped in broken family systems.

Sanusi himself points to Morocco as a model. “What did they do in Morocco? They built schools and invested in transportation so that girls could be moved from villages to the nearest schools. They also invested in school feeding and provided financial support to the poorest families ready to send their sons and daughters to schools,” he said in an interview with Time Africa Magazine. Yet the contrast is sharp. In Kano, the state government spends millions on lavish emirate ceremonies, while journalists like Dan Bello continue to expose the dire state of public schools in the very heart of the metropolis.

To be fair, Sanusi’s thesis tackled the historical marginalisation of women in Islamic family law with rigour and depth. But in amplifying women’s rights, it failed to defend men or acknowledge their growing vulnerabilities in a rapidly changing society. By leaning heavily on the Moroccan Moudawana, itself a product of feminist activism, the work framed men only as a dominant class to be restrained. Missing were the struggles many men face: unemployment, the crushing demands of polygamy, and the relentless pressure to perform as patriarchs without resources.

This omission is striking. In Kano today, the rise of wives killing their husbands is not just a crime. It is a signal of imbalance in the family system, a warning that reform is incomplete. Without addressing male fragility alongside female empowerment, Shari’a reform risks becoming a zero-sum game. Sanusi’s thesis suggests that empowering women alone can resolve family crises. But true reform, as Shari’a itself demands, must be a balanced restructuring that preserves the dignity and well-being of both men and women.

Muḥammad Sani is a freelance and public policy writer from Zaria. Can be reached via muhdusman1999@gmail.com.

By Zayyad I. Muhammad 

1. Immediate Actions: Dispatch a high-level delegation to Washington: President Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu should immediately send a high-powered delegation composed of respected Nigerian statesmen, business leaders, and senior government officials to engage with U.S. authorities.

The team should include former President Olusegun Obasanjo, former Head of State General Abdulsalami Abubakar, Chief Bola Ajibola, business mogul Aliko Dangote, Rev. Hassan Matthew Kukah, and the President of the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), Most Rev. Dr Daniel Okoh, His Eminence Sultan of Sokoto, representatives of Religious groups, NGO, etc.

From the government side, the delegation should include the Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, the Secretary to the Government of the Federation, and the Governors of Benue,  Plateau, Niger, Katsina, Kaduna, Zamfara, Borno, Yobe and Adamawa States, given the security relevance of their regions.

2. Re-engage the U.S. Mission in Nigeria: The Presidency should task the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and other well-placed Nigerians with deepening communication with the U.S. Mission in Abuja and the Consulate in Lagos to strengthen diplomatic rapport, address misperceptions, and align mutual strategic interests.

3. Reach out to U.S. allies and partners: Nigeria should actively engage with other influential U.S. allies across Europe, the Middle East, and Asia to rally broader international support for Nigeria’s security and development agenda.

3. Seek U.S. assistance in defence cooperation: President Tinubu should formally request more support from the Donald J. Trump administration in providing modern weapons, intelligence-sharing technology, and counter-insurgency training to bolster Nigeria’s fight against terrorism and violent extremism.

4. Immediate appointment of ambassadors: Nigeria’s diplomatic missions have remained without substantive ambassadors for too long. Swift appointments of competent, credible, and globally respected diplomats will help restore Nigeria’s voice and visibility on the international stage.

5. The Minister Yusuf Tuggar should be reassigned to another portfolio, and a new Minister of Foreign Affairs, preferably one with strong international connections and more diplomatic weight, should be appointed. This will send a clear signal that Nigeria is repositioning its foreign policy and engagement strategy.

6. Launch a global public relations drive: Nigeria must embark on a robust, well-coordinated international PR campaign to reshape global perception. This should highlight the Tinubu administration’s economic reforms, anti-corruption measures, and counter-terrorism efforts, while showcasing Nigeria as a stable, investment-friendly democracy that protects all faiths and ethnicities

7. On the Security and Communication Front: The office of the National Security Adviser and the high military command are doing well; thus, to further boost the effort, they should further re-align the war against insurgency and banditry. The battle against bandits, terrorists, and other insurgent groups must be comprehensively restructured. This includes better coordination among the armed forces, improved intelligence gathering, community-based security initiatives, and enhanced welfare for frontline troops. A unified national security strategy will yield faster and more sustainable results.

8. Strengthen media visibility of Nigeria’s counter-terrorism efforts: Nigeria’s efforts in the fight against terror are often underreported or misrepresented internationally. There should be massive, transparent media coverage, both traditional and digital, to showcase the government’s ongoing efforts, victories, and human stories of resilience. This will help counter misinformation, boost public morale, and attract global understanding and support.

Zayyad I. Muhammad writes from Abuja via zaymohd@yahoo.com.

By Malam Ibrahym El-Caleel

Foreign invaders such as the US, NATO and Russia strike capital cities first, basically to break command and control. This creates a leadership crisis in the country, and this is how armed militia from different parts of the country begin to get stronger. The country’s borders become porous, everything passes through. This effectively means you’d have a full scale war and an insurgency going on. Even after the war when the foreign invader leaves, your insurgency will be there staring into your eyes. Go and take learnings from Libya, Iraq and Afghanistan.

Well, after attacking the nation’s capital, the next thing foreign invaders do is to begin working on their supposed objectives of invading. God forbid they invade Nigeria, but after Abuja, they will be heading to the purported sites of “Christian genocide” to begin the work of “saving Christians”. It is not Kano, or Jigawa or Gombe. It is North-Central, especially states like Plateau and Benue, then perhaps Southern Kaduna. These are the areas constantly flashed in the media, with a claim of Muslims in Nigeria killing Christians, when everyone knows what’s happening there!

Now, the attackers in these locations do not have designated addresses. They are bandits, killer herdsmen, kidnappers and whatnot. They are criminals who live in the bushes and always moving from one area to another. If the US will be able to clinically target them and annihilate them, then this is a very good one. Nigeria will be extremely grateful for this act of charity done from the American taxpayers’ money. Both Nigerian Muslims and Christians will be happy and grateful that the US came and annihilated these bloodthirsty beasts with clinical precision.

However, based on clear antecedents, foreign invaders don’t do this type of job free and with clinical precision. It costs a nation so much to launch an invasion, therefore nobody goes to war “free”. Secondly, interventions like this always come with collateral damage. The undisclosed costs and the collateral damage is what every Nigerian with a functional brain thinks about and shivers. Once you have a functional brain, this uncertainty is what makes you not want US presence on Nigerian soil, whether you are Muslim or Christian.

Now, back to the North-Central. The first collateral damage in Benue and Plateau States is most likely going to have more Christian victims themselves, than Muslim victims. The simple reason is because we all know that Christian population in these states is more than the Muslim population, and this is why both the governor and deputy governor in each of these states are Christian. As a Christian who is cheering Savior Trump, if you are sure that the US will be able to isolate Christian populations from the collateral damage in a densely Christian populated state, then you are good to go with your celebration.

On the flip side, the cost of the war is what I don’t understand. The US is known for fetching available mineral resources after striking nations. I do not know how they plan to tap into Nigeria’s resources because the most liquid resources are located in the South-South (Niger-Delta) region, which is far away from the sites of the so-called “Christian genocide”.

Already, a US politician and advisor of Donald Trump, named Dr Walid Phares posted earlier today that he is advising Donald Trump to establish an emergency base in Port Harcourt, in order to “deter Boko Haram and other jihadist” (his words). He posted this through his handle @WalidPhares on X (formerly, Twitter), see screenshot below.

I am not interested in the conspiracy theories since there must be a background story to the choice of Port Harcourt as a military base. Port Harcourt is considered to be the commercial center of the Nigerian oil industry. It has vast reserves of oil and natural gas, and produces more than 50% of the Nigerian crude oil and gas. It is the chosen location for establishing the US base, and from there will Trump be launching attacks on Boko Haram and other jihadists that are killing Christians.

Trump shouldn’t have much business to do with the South West, except for access to the sea. For South East, may be with Gov Soludo’s recent remarks that Christians are killing Christians in Anambra, Trump might want to go and help out there too. Otherwise, the South East should be okay too. But I looked across the core Muslim North, and I am afraid it might not really be attractive to Trump. There’s really nothing there to take back to Washington, except swathes of farmlands which Bello Turji and his brothers in terror haven’t allowed innocent Muslim farmers access to cultivate.

Additionally, I don’t see any serious Nigerian economy structure that would interest Trump. If he’s coming to the core Muslim North, then it’d be the usual false flag operation as the US did in Iraq. It’d be a cover up to the war crimes it’d commit and the oil benefits it’d get through its Port Harcourt military base. For the gold mines in Zamfara, Sokoto, Kaduna and co, the villagers in those locations have already flew away since the bandits intensified their attacks on those villages. When Trump’s army arrives there, it’d be an engagement with the bandits, and that’s really a good one. The bandits should have a taste of their medicine.

Whenever I see a Nigerian cheering Trump’s arrival, I have to wonder if they’ve really thought it through. Muslims and Christians live side by side across our major cities; both faiths are present virtually everywhere. If a foreign intervention comes, nobody is guaranteed safety. The collateral damage will be real, and I fail to see what’s worth celebrating. And please rest assured, the political elite in Abuja would know in advance and would pack up and leave the country with their families. They would abandon you and the rest of us here with Trump. Maybe after 20 years of foreign involvement, as happened in Iraq and Afghanistan, some of us will finally get a little bit of sense.