Opinion

RKK holds a symposium in honor of Nigeria’s slain leader, Murtala Ramat Muhammad

Today marked a poignant and memorable milestone in Nigerian history as hundreds of students, dignitaries, scholars, veterans and guests from within and outside Kano converged at Bayero University, Kano for the 50-year Commemoration Symposium organised by Rundunar Kishin Kano (RKK) — also known as the Kano Patriotic Front. The event was held in honour and remembrance of the late General Murtala Ramat Muhammed, the former Head of State whose leadership left an indelible impact on Nigeria’s governance and national identity.
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The symposium, convened on the anniversary of General Murtala’s assassination on 13 February 1976, brought together a diverse audience, including university dons, students, political leaders, community figures and patriotic Nigerians who came to reflect on and celebrate the life, leadership philosophy and enduring legacy of one of the country’s most revered leaders.

In his opening remarks, the Convener of the event and National Coordinator of RKK, Major General Ibrahim Sani (rtd) received widespread praise for spearheading a well-executed and inspirational program that resonated deeply with all present. The event was noted for its meticulous planning, vibrant energy and strong turnout — a testament to both General Murtala’s continued relevance and RKK’s organizational capacity.

“General Murtala Ramat Muhammed remains one of the most powerful voices of integrity and reform in our national memory,” General Ibrahim declared. “Today, we do not only remember the man, but we recommit ourselves to the values he championed — patriotism, leadership with integrity and unwavering service to our nation.” The address set a reflective and aspirational tone for the day’s activities.

The symposium featured a range of speeches, video show, purposeful discussions and academic reflections on the late Head of State’s life and leadership. Distinguished speakers shared insights on his role in reshaping Nigeria’s civil service, tackling corruption, restoring national discipline and positioning the country as a principled voice on the global stage — contributions widely acknowledged as foundational to the modern Nigerian state.

Students from various faculties at Bayero University actively participated in the discussions, underscoring the relevance of historical leadership lessons for the country’s youth.

Special prayers were offered for the repose of General Murtala’s soul and for the nation’s continued unity and progress.

Guests attending from outside Kano described the symposium as “inspiring and deeply moving,” highlighting the significance of such platforms in preserving Nigeria’s historical consciousness and encouraging cross-generational dialogue.

As Nigeria commemorates this golden jubilee of General Murtala’s legacy, events like today’s symposium reflect a broader national effort to celebrate and critically engage with the leadership ideals that have shaped the nation’s trajectory.

About General Murtala Ramat Muhammed:
General Murtala Ramat Muhammed was Nigeria’s Head of State from July 1975 until his assassination in February 1976. Though his tenure was brief, his leadership remains celebrated for decisive reforms that revitalised the civil service, strengthened national governance and anchored Nigeria’s international stance on justice, Pan-African solidarity and anti-colonial advocacy.

The successful commemoration by RKK at Bayero University stands as a fitting tribute to a leader whose legacy continues to inspire Nigerians five decades after his passing.

AI disruption: Why Africa is missing from the conversation

By Abdulhameed Ridwanullah

This week, the article titled “Something Big Is Happening” was published on X by AI entrepreneur Matt Shumer. It became viral with around 80million views, 36k retweets, 105k likes and 5.7k comments at the moment of this writing. The virality stems from the central thesis of the post – AI disruption of white-collar jobs within years. Days later, the CEO of Microsoft AI, Mustafa Suleyman, while granting an interview to the Financial Times, claimed that the tasks undertaken by white-collar workers will be automated within 12 to 18 months (watch the details in the video). Previously, Dario Amodei predicted that up to 50% of entry-level white-collar jobs would be automated within one to five years in his January 2026 essay.


All week, the debate has been whether AI will take your job. The discourse is loud. Spoiler alert! The discourse is almost entirely about the West. The Global South is often an afterthought. So, when I read Shumer say, “the experience everyone else is about to have,” or Suleyman say, “most tasks fully automated in 18 months”, I ask: Whose experience? Automated for whom?


The West debates whether AI will take their jobs. Much of Africa is still waiting for the jobs AI is supposedly coming to replace.


Most importantly, studies have shown that automated AI moderation barely works in the Global South (read the CDT study by Mona Elswah and her colleagues here). In my PhD research, I study how AI content moderation systems fail in Nigerian languages. The failures are systematic, not incidental. Moreover, there are over 2000 languages in Africa. AI moderation seldom works in 3 major Nigerian languages. There is a wide gap between what Silicon Valley promises about AI and the deliverables to the world population. That is the story.


Moreso, this doomsday discourse about new technology is not new. The pattern is real. Connor Boyack’s rejoinder (AI isn’t coming for your future. Fear is) beautifully captures by invoking Bastiat’s insight about the “seen and unseen” changes brought by new technology. The debate all week has been focused on the “seen”, but the “unseen” invoked by Boyack are the new industries and possibilities that emerge when technology reduces costs and eliminates drudgery. No doubt, every major technology disruption has eventually created more than it destroyed. If anything, Africa’s unofficial content creation economy is a pointer to such an opportunity. 


However, the challenge is that the benefits are never evenly distributed. They are concentrated where infrastructure exists, languages are resourced, and capital flows. The boom and doom are not the same for a worker in London or Boston and someone in Cape Town, Lagos, Kano or Nairobi. One pays $20 ChatGPT subscription and enlists AI as a co-pilot. But the other is faced with the unseen failure of AI moderation, wreaking havoc in their community. This inequality runs in both directions: who benefits from AI’s capabilities and who is harmed by its failures.


So, the future of AI is not one story. It is two. While professionals in well-resourced economies leverage, adapt, upskill and thrive, billions of people in low-resource economies remain in the blind spot of a technology that was never designed for them.  


The real question is not whether AI will take your job. It is whether AI will equally serve everyone or continue to perpetuate historical inequality.
This is the conversation we should all be having.

Abdulhameed Ridwanullah is a doctoral researcher working on AI and platform studies in Nigeria at Media for Empowerment and Impact Lab, Northeastern University, Boston. He can be reached at olaitanrido@yahoo.com

CAC @ 35: Powering Nigeria’s economy in the digital age

By Abdullahi Danlami Hassan

The Corporate Affairs Commission (CAC) was established in 1990 under the provisions of the Companies and Allied Matters Act (CAMA) as an independent regulatory body responsible for corporate governance and business registration in Nigeria. The Commission formally commenced operations in 1991, marking a significant step toward institutionalising corporate regulation in the country.

In its early years, CAC services were largely centralised in its Abuja headquarters. Customers from across the federation travelled to the capital for business registration, often enduring long queues and extensive paperwork. Registration processes for Business Names, Companies, and Incorporated Trustees (such as Non-Governmental Organisations, religious bodies, and associations) were entirely manual and could take several days to complete. However, by the late 1990s and early 2000s, CAC expanded its operational reach by establishing state offices nationwide, thereby improving service accessibility.

A major regulatory transformation occurred with the re-enactment of the Companies and Allied Matters Act 1990 into CAMA 2020. The revised legislation strengthened the Commission’s mandate by enhancing its roles in business registration, corporate supervision, incorporation processes, and regulatory compliance. The new Act also modernised corporate governance structures and introduced reforms aimed at improving transparency, efficiency, and ease of doing business in Nigeria.

One of the most remarkable developments in CAC’s evolution has been its transition from manual operations to fully digitised services. The Commission has successfully developed a seamless online service delivery system that offers 24/7 accessibility to customers. This transformation expanded CAC’s service offerings from 33 operational services to over 109 digital service functionalities, significantly reducing processing time and improving customer experience.

As global economic systems increasingly integrate Artificial Intelligence (AI) into administrative and commercial processes, CAC reached another milestone with the deployment of the Intelligent Company Registration Portal (ICRP) on July 6, 2026. The AI-powered platform revolutionises company registration by offering automated name searches, smart name suggestions, alternative business name recommendations, and instant approvals for Business Name registrations. The system operates continuously with minimal human intervention while maintaining strict credential verification standards. Notably, it enables instant registration, electronic certificates, and status reports within approximately ten minutes.

The introduction of AI technology has dramatically improved registration efficiency. Business Name registration under the ICRP is reported to be approximately 336 times faster than the previous Company Registration Portal (CRP). Additionally, the system has enhanced CAC’s registration capacity, enabling up to 10,000 daily Business Name registrations. Based on current projections, CAC anticipates that by the end of 2026, Nigeria will record approximately three million registered business names, reflecting significant growth in the country’s formal economic sector.

Further technological advancement is evident in the introduction of the AI-Lawyer system within the CAC digital framework. This innovation provides customers with detailed guidance on registration procedures, legal compliance requirements, stamp duty processes, and other regulatory services. The AI-Lawyer simplifies complex legal procedures and improves customer engagement by offering real-time support.

Nigeria’s broader commitment to digital economic transformation also aligns with CAC’s technological innovations. At the 2025 World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, Nigeria’s Minister of Industry, Trade and Investment, Jumoke Oduwole, emphasised the country’s digital economic future during an interview with CNN Business correspondent Richard Quest. When asked to summarise Nigeria’s economic trajectory for the next four years, she boldly wrote “Digital,” highlighting the government’s strategic direction. CAC’s digital reforms clearly demonstrate alignment with this national vision, reinforcing its role in advancing Nigeria’s economic competitiveness through technology-driven solutions.

As part of activities commemorating its 35th anniversary, the Registrar-General, Ishaq Hussaini Magaji, SAN, announced several corporate social responsibility initiatives. These include free Business Name registration for 3,500 micro and small-scale enterprises, scholarships for six outstanding Corporate Law students across the six campuses of the Nigerian Law School, and enhanced staff welfare packages, including a 25 per cent gross salary bonus, housing loans, and vehicle support schemes.

In conclusion, the Corporate Affairs Commission’s 35-year journey represents a significant milestone in Nigeria’s economic and regulatory development. Through sustained institutional reforms, digital transformation, and technological innovation, CAC continues to play a pivotal role in strengthening corporate governance, promoting entrepreneurship, and facilitating economic growth. Its commitment to modern service delivery positions the Commission as a key driver of Nigeria’s participation in the global digital economy.

This is Abdullahi, writing from the Customer Service/Call Unit at the Headquarters in Abuja.

My battle with malaria parasites last year and the tenuous nature of our health

By Sadam Abubakar

I wish I could blow life into words. I wish the words could be woven to assume a shape and posture palpable to human beings.

My recent experience in bed with sickness made me long for words to have the ability to breathe, talk, and describe by themselves certain events that occurred to us in our lives. Some events and situations in our lives are beyond our ability to describe. The words should talk themselves.

The event that sparks my scribbling hand is a disease condition that turned me almost lifeless. It started as something not uncommon but metamorphosed into a thing of mystery and convolutions.

At a particular time of one day, my legs began to appear as if they didn’t belong to me. There was a slight headache and some traces of loss of appetite. These symptoms are common among people with malaria, an endemic disease in our region, especially this time of year. The next thing was the thought of taking P-Alaxin, a particular brand of antimalarial drugs, and some supporting drugs.

Two days later, my disease condition appeared to be getting worse, even though it didn’t cripple me in bed. I rushed to a particular medical lab for diagnosis, and after a rapid test for malaria, it appeared that the malarial parasite was still in my blood, running through my veins. The P-Alaxin drug didn’t kill the parasite in my blood? Maybe I needed to take more for a couple of days. I continued with the medication with P-Alaxin the next day, but to my surprise, the malarial parasite was still in me—perhaps even more active, since the disease succeeded in stagnating me at home for the whole day.

Combining therapeutics to treat a particular disease is arguably one of the best strategies to eliminate a disease that appears intractable. Thus, I received an intramuscular injection of chloroquine, continued with the P-Alaxin, and some supporting drugs. That day was the beginning of more suffering from the disease. I sustained a severe headache, and my body temperature kept alternating between high and low. I also occasionally shivered, and fatigue became my friend. I kept telling myself that today I would beat the malarial parasite in me, considering the combinatorial therapy. Was I right?

After a brief respite from the pain, I felt I could go out to the Masjid to pray Asr. I whispered to myself, no matter what, go and pray—who knows if it would be your last Asr to offer. I crawled to the bathroom, performed my wudu, and headed to the Masjid. I was walking while holding my head, as I could still feel the hammering of the disease in my head. I thought I could surmount that pain, and I kept going. Halfway to the mosque, the pain intensified, and I succumbed to the idea that I could only proceed to the mosque.

I managed to return home. But then another episode of the disease set in. My neck started bending, and my head followed. At some point, I had to ask my wife to straighten my neck to mitigate my pain. Meanwhile, I could feel my teeth gnawing at themselves, and some were abrading. I continued shivering while my wife still tried to cover me with a blanket. The situation escalated. The guy running the best medical lab in our town came. One of the best community health practitioners in our town, who is also my good friend, was summoned. They did what they could and assured things would be alright.

It seemed like they were right, given the temporary relief I had, but then things escalated around Isha prayer time. My mum came and prayed to me profusely. Almost all my family members came and offered their prayers for a speedy recovery, but things appeared to stand still. No progress in my health whatsoever! Finally, they all admitted I should be rushed to Ahmadu Bello University Teaching Hospital (ABUTH).

I already succumbed and felt I was going to die. My beloved brother, Alhaji Garba, shouted that his car should be driven out of the garage and that they should rush me to ABUTH. We started the journey, but before driving out of Soba, it started raining heavily. Musbahu, who was not only my good friend and neighbour, was the driver. He wanted to turn on the long-distance light, but he couldn’t because of confusion. He phoned Alhaji Garba to say the car’s lighting system was faulty. Another car was sent with another driver, and we journeyed to Zaria.

The road from Soba to Zaria is in poor condition. So many potholes on the main road, and the shoulder is no longer in existence in most parts of the road. I was lying with my head on the lap of my wife, in extreme pain. With every bump into an unavoidable pothole on the road, the incessant pain in my head increased. I lost hope. I started whispering Kalimatus Shahada, hoping it would be my last word, since I already knew we couldn’t reach the hospital while I was still alive.

With the pain still sustained, we reached Zaria while it was still raining. Instead of going to ABUTH, some argued that with the urgency of my situation, we should head to a private hospital, and that the bureaucratic process of ABUTH before my treatment could worsen my situation. We headed to Pal Hospital. They quickly examined me while I was telling the doctor I knew I couldn’t make it. The doctor, from my history, suspected immediately that I was suffering from cerebral malaria. He argued that because I was out of Nigeria for a very long time, my immune system might not be robust against malarial parasites, and that worsened my situation.

Alhamdulillah. I am writing this because I survived. After the medication, I finally recovered. But this whole experience has reminded me again that it doesn’t matter our age; we can die anytime. Our health is pretty tenuous, and death is always around the corner. May we live our lives with God consciousness so that we go to paradise in the hereafter.

Sadam Abubakar wrote via sadamabubakarsoba@gmail.com.

The Pantami experiment: Morality in the politics of grime

By Ibrahiym A. El-Caleel

Given his profile as an Islamic scholar and public servant, Imam Dr Isa Pantami’s aspiration for the Gombe State governorship continues to attract attention from multiple quarters. What caught my attention yesterday were the closing lines of Jaafar Jaafar, the publisher and editor of Daily Nigerian, in a brief social media post on the candidature. Jaafar remarked:

“Nigerian politics is grimy. You cannot work in a sewer line and expect to come out clean. Mallam (Pantami) should prepare to mudsling, dip his paws in a cookie jar, dance to the tune of Rarara songs, shake hands with female foreign investors and diplomats, visit churches, steal some billions from security vote, divert public funds for political activities, hire thugs during rallies, lie during campaign, rig during election, take kickbacks after contract award, etc.”

Jaafar is clearly not endorsing these practices; he is only highlighting the grime and immorality that dominate Nigerian politics. Yet I disagree with the implicit suggestion that Mallam Pantami must get his hands dirty simply because he is now in frontline politics. No, he does not.

Pantami does not need to embrace corruption to win elections, nor must he compromise his morals to win or govern successfully after victory. These practices do not constitute the winning formula for elections even in Nigeria. Their dominance in our politics are symptoms that our political system has been hijacked by the morally bankrupt over the years.

Unfortunately, many Western philosophers and some Eastern philosophers have theorised a political thought that sidelines morality. They present it as if power must always be ruthless and corrupt. Niccolò Machiavelli, in his famous work The Prince, famously separated politics from conventional morality. He argued that the end justifies the means and that a ruler should be prepared to use deception, force, or cruelty to consolidate power. Better to be feared than loved, he asserted, if both cannot be achieved.

We see the same philosophy from the likes of Friedrich Nietzsche, Max Weber, Henry Kissinger and even the famous Robert Greene of our age. Their common premise is that politics is about power and domination; that stability and the balance of power matter more than moral ideals; that leaders may employ force, deception, and unethical means to maintain authority; and that some, like Nietzsche, even suggest that morality is a human invention of the weak.

The consequences are visible across the globe. Leaders who internalise these philosophies often govern through ruthlessness, corruption, and moral compromise. In so doing, they have soiled their hands in blood, sex scandals, human rights abuses, economic sabotage, and corruption. This is why, for example, several prominent world leaders have skeletons in Jeffrey Epstein’s wardrobe. They have abandoned morality in their pursuit of power. Today, they are prisoners of their actions.

In contrast, Islamic political philosophy teaches that a ruler must be powerful yet morally accountable, serving as a role model for society. Consider Umar ibn al-Khattab (Umar I), the rightly guided caliph, whose governance was a masterclass in combining justice, authority, and compassion. Umar I punished governors publicly, enforced the law even on the elites, maintained military discipline, and ensured state stability. Yet he was profoundly compassionate: during a famine, he refused to eat butter or meat until the people were fed, and he personally delivered food to the hungry. This was not a democracy; it was a caliphate, yet moral leadership reinforced his authority rather than undermined it.

Umar ibn Abdulaziz (Umar II), the Umayyad Caliph, provides another striking example. Before his ascension to power, the Khutbah (Friday sermons) were often laden with political propaganda, and some rulers ordered preachers to insult and curse Caliph Ali bn Abi Talib from the pulpit in political rivalry. They turned the khutbah into a tool for political rivalry rather than moral guidance. Umar II stopped this vile practice immediately he became the Caliph. He banned curses and political abuses from the revered pulpit of sermons and replaced them with Qur’anic verses. This was exemplary moral courage.

However, Umar II returned the stolen wealth of his predecessors and officials to the national treasury. He reformed corrupt systems gradually because he believes moral change is institutional, not emotional. He abolished oppressive taxes and unjust land confiscations, redistributed state wealth to reduce inequality, and institutionalised meritocracy. Under this meritocracy, he appointed governors and officials based on competence rather than family or tribal loyalty. He removed corrupt and incompetent officials even from his own Umayyad family. Therefore, he revived Islamic ethics in governance.

The last example I will cite here is the famous Abbasid Caliph Harun al-Rashid, who was cited by Chinua Achebe in his book, The Trouble with Nigeria. Harun al-Rashid is another classic example of a leader who combined political power with moral conscience. He was known to travel incognito at night among Baghdad’s citizens to hear complaints directly and make amends where needed. Despite his moral inclinations, the Abbasid dynasty reached its political and cultural peak under Harun al-Rashid. His reign kicked off what later became known as the “Islamic Golden Age”, which gave the world an intellectual gift, the Baytul Hikmah (House of Wisdom).

These examples make one point crystal clear: moral corruption is a choice, not a prerequisite for leadership. The more the world internalises Machiavellian philosophies, the more it empowers the ruthless and morally bankrupt. For Imam Dr Isa Pantami, his candidature is a litmus test. Should he compromise his ethical standards, he risks tarnishing decades of personal integrity. Yet he also has the opportunity to carve out a niche in Nigerian politics by leveraging his clean record, focus, and moral credibility. If he can win ethically and govern without succumbing to corrupt pressures, he could make history, embodying the same fusion of power and moral conscience exemplified by Umar ibn al-Khattab, Umar ibn Abdulaziz, and Harun al-Rashid.

I wish him success and look forward to observing whether he can translate his reputation into leadership that blends authority with moral responsibility, setting a new standard for governance in Nigeria. He is a specimen we should observe; let us see how morally upright people swim against the black tides of our politics. If he succeeds, more morally upright people need to enter politics and help us fix this broken country as early as possible, before it’s too late.

Ibrahiym A. El-Caleel wrote from Zaria, Kaduna State, via caleel2009@gmail.com.

The menace of Sara Suka and the effects of drug abuse : The way forward 

By Isyaka Laminu Badamasi

Recently, an Imam at Kurmin Dorawa in Karofin Madaki, Bauchi state, led a joint Maghrib and Isha’i prayer due to credible fears of a possible attack by suspected thugs in the area. This decision, though unusual, was taken as a precautionary measure in response to rising insecurity—either as retaliation for earlier clashes involving local youths or as part of the resurging menace of ‘Yan Sara Suka’.

Ordinarily, the combining of prayers occurs during the rainy season, while travelling, during festivities, or for other lawful reasons as permitted in Islam. That such a step was taken purely for security reasons speaks volumes about the level of fear and uncertainty now confronting residents.

These mobs, largely composed of young people between the ages of 15 and 25, move around armed with dangerous weapons. Contrary to popular belief, they are not street children, nor are they sponsored by politicians, cult groups, or gang leaders. Rather, they are products of deeper structural failures: poor parental care, societal decay, government neglect, weak application of criminal justice, and, most critically, the widespread abuse of drugs and other narcotic substances openly sold in our neighbourhoods.

In recent years, decisive actions by security agencies, vigilante groups, and community committees have significantly reduced Sara Suka’s activities, creating a relatively safer environment. Unfortunately, the problem has resurfaced with renewed intensity, spreading across almost all parts of the state, including both old and newly established settlements. As a result, some neighbourhoods have become partially or completely inaccessible due to the violent activities of these groups.

This piece does not seek to introduce a new narrative. Rather, it aims to draw attention to existing academic research that examines the role of drug abuse in expanding the frontiers of thuggery. These studies consistently highlight how narcotics fuel aggression, lower inhibition, and sustain cycles of violence among vulnerable youths. More importantly, the literature proposes evidence-based policy frameworks and intervention strategies for addressing the menace through inclusive, humane, and logical approaches.

Only by grounding our responses in research, strengthening social institutions, enforcing the law fairly, and confronting the drug economy within our communities can we hope to stem the resurgence of ‘Yan Sara Suka’ and restore lasting peace.

Academic literature proposes several multidimensional strategies to address the drug abuse crisis in Nigeria, focusing on prevention, management, and systemic reform. These papers advocate the integration of compulsory drug education into secondary and tertiary institution curricula to enlighten students on the physiological and social dangers of substance misuse.

The literature also suggests establishing associations and clubs to promote healthy lifestyles at the community and family levels. Additionally, several studies highlight the critical role of effective family communication and proactive parental monitoring in reducing children’s exposure to drugs, as well as leveraging traditional and religious institutions for grassroots mobilisation and public sensitisation.

While these measures are critical in addressing the menace of drug abuse, the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA), as the regulatory body charged with combating this serious social problem, must be more proactive. For decades, the agency has engaged in efforts to curb drug abuse, including supply and distribution control; however, the situation continues to deteriorate. This reality calls for serious policy adjustments to enable a multisectoral approach involving relevant ministries, Departments, and Agencies (MDAs), such as the NDLEA, the Pharmacists Council of Nigeria (PCN), NAFDAC, security organisations, and host communities, alongside the honest and consistent application of criminal justice.

Governors, on the other hand, should, as a matter of public interest, establish platforms that complement the efforts of the NDLEA through innovative initiatives aimed at eradicating drug abuse in our communities. This can only be achieved through strong political will and sincerity of purpose.

Isyaka Laminu Badamasi is of No 555 Ajiya Adamu Road, Bauchi, Bauchi State.

The old playbook is broken: Emerging markets must navigate the new, polarised global economic disorder

By Ahmed Usman

The global economic order is no longer merely under strain; it is fragmenting in ways that are particularly costly for countries like Nigeria and much of the Global South. Across continents, economic anxiety is feeding political instability, geopolitics is reshaping markets, and institutions once designed to stabilise the world are struggling to remain relevant. What we are witnessing is not a temporary downturn or a cyclical adjustment, but a deeper structural breakdown, driven by forces once assumed to guarantee global stability. For many emerging and developing economies, this moment is not just about global disorder; it is about survival within it.

Global economic power is shifting rapidly. Liberal market-oriented democracies are facing unprecedented domestic turmoil, and the deep integration of trade and finance that defined recent decades is steadily unravelling. From supply-chain fragmentation to trade wars, sanctions, and tariff escalation, the global economy is retreating from openness toward fragmentation. The question is no longer whether the post–World War II economic order is weakening, but how it reached this point and what, if anything, can replace it.

Ironically, the very country long believed to anchor global stability is now fueling its destabilisation. Globalisation was supposed to spread prosperity, deepen interdependence, and reduce the likelihood of conflict. Instead, it has widened inequality within countries, eroded the middle class in developing economies, and concentrated gains among a narrow elite. These imbalances have stoked political backlash, empowered populist movements in developed economies, and turned trade into a political weapon rather than a shared economic good.

This shift became unmistakable during the Trump administration, when tariffs, once viewed as relics of a protectionist past, returned to the centre of global economic policy. The imposition of broad tariffs on China and other trading partners signalled a decisive break from the rules-based trade order. What began as “America First” protectionism quickly reshaped global behaviour, legitimising unilateral trade actions, encouraging retaliation, and accelerating the erosion of multilateral discipline. Trade policy, once anchored in cooperation, became openly confrontational, and the precedent has proven difficult to reverse.

Nowhere is this erosion more evident than in the weakening of trust in liberal democracies themselves. Economic dislocation has bred social resentment. In developing countries, repeated external shocks such as oil price shocks, global interest rate hikes, and pandemic disruptions have led to inflation, currency depreciation, and shrinking real incomes. Rising living costs, youth unemployment, and fiscal austerity have weakened trust in democratic institutions and fueled social unrest.

Domestic politics, in turn, have become more constrained, limiting the policy space needed to pursue long-term development strategies. Political polarisation has weakened governments’ ability to sustain coherent economic policies. As domestic politics grows more volatile, foreign economic policy becomes reactive and confrontational. Trade barriers rise, industrial policy replaces market openness, and economic nationalism becomes a political necessity rather than an exception in many Western countries.

At the same time, the global institutions meant to manage these tensions have failed to evolve. The International Monetary Fund, the World Bank, and the World Trade Organisation, the cornerstones of the post–World War II economic architecture, were designed for a world dominated by a small group of advanced economies. Today, they struggle to respond to capital-flow volatility, technological disruption, climate risk, and the growing power of emerging markets. Their rules remain largely intact, but their legitimacy and effectiveness are increasingly questioned. Their frameworks are still anchored in assumptions that often underestimate social costs in developing countries. Conditionality, delayed financing, and inadequate attention to inequality and structural transformation have weakened their credibility across the Global South. The World Trade Organisation, meanwhile, has struggled to prevent powerful economies from bending trade rules in their favour through subsidies, tariffs, and industrial policy practices that have become more entrenched since the normalisation of tariff-based trade conflict under Trump.

For a time, the rise of emerging markets such as India, Brazil, Nigeria, and Turkey seemed to promise a more balanced and stable multipolar world. These nations benefited from globalisation without fully aligning with any single power bloc, acting as bridges between North and South, East and West. But today, that space is narrowing. Intensifying rivalry between the United States and China has turned trade, technology, finance, development assistance, and even currency choices into tools of geopolitical competition, forcing emerging market economies to pick sides in a contest they did not create.

For countries like Nigeria, this strategic squeeze is especially critical. Dependence on imported technology, foreign capital, and external energy markets makes neutrality costly. Sanctions regimes, supply-chain fragmentation, tariff escalation, and financial market volatility now transmit geopolitical tensions directly into domestic inflation, exchange rates, and public finances. What appears as global disorder at the international level is experienced as household hardship at home.

What emerges from this landscape is a destructive feedback loop between economics, domestic politics, and geopolitics. Economic shocks fuel political instability; political instability drives inward-looking policies; those policies heighten geopolitical tensions; and geopolitical tensions, in turn, further destabilise the global economy. Each turn of the loop reinforces the next, making disorder self-perpetuating.

This is why familiar prescriptions no longer suffice. Calls for more trade liberalisation, fiscal discipline, or institutional reform are not wrong, but are no longer enough. The world has changed too profoundly. Technology is reshaping labour markets faster than institutions can respond. Climate change is imposing costs that markets alone cannot price. Capital moves instantly, while political accountability remains national. Old solutions were built for a slower, more predictable world.

Breaking out of this cycle requires abandoning the comforting illusion that existing global arrangements will eventually self-correct. Calls for more liberalisation, deeper financial integration, or stricter fiscal discipline ignore the lived realities of developing economies. The old playbook was written for a world of expanding trade, cheap capital, and geopolitical cooperation. That world no longer exists.

What is needed instead is a fundamentally new approach. For Nigeria and the Global South, this means redefining integration on terms that prioritise resilience over efficiency. It means reforming global financial institutions to provide faster, more flexible support during shocks. It means investing in domestic productive capacity, regional trade, and human capital rather than relying on volatile external demand. And it means recognising that economic policy must be politically sustainable to endure.

The global economy is spiralling into disorder, not because globalisation failed entirely, but because it evolved without fairness, adaptability, or legitimacy. For countries like Nigeria, the stakes could not be higher. Remaining trapped in the doom loop will deepen vulnerability. Escaping it demands new thinking, new institutions, and a development model rooted in resilience rather than dependency.

The future of the Global South will not be secured by waiting for the old order to return. It will be shaped by how boldly countries confront the reality that the old solutions can no longer solve today’s problems.

The world is not spiralling into disorder by accident. It is doing so because the systems governing it have failed to adapt. Recognising this is the first step. The harder task of building a new framework for global cooperation in an age of rivalry, inequality, and uncertainty is now unavoidable.

The choice ahead is unambiguous: continue circling the doom loop, or accept that the old economic order cannot save us and begin the difficult work of inventing something new.

Dear Donald Trump, we are not apes

By Muhsin Ibrahim

We could not sleep one night in 2008. Instead, we sat in front of the TV, watching and praying for ‘our’ favourite candidate to coast to power and be declared the winner of the election. We wanted to witness history, not of any relative winning any election in Nigeria, but of Barack Obama winning the United States presidential election.

Of course, we witnessed the history of the first non-white man becoming the president of the most powerful country in the world. We were delighted. We thought that, henceforth, black people would be more respected globally. Henceforth, our race would not be associated with backwardness. Henceforth, we would have more opportunities not only in the US but far beyond.

We also thought President Obama would do more for Africa (where his father came from) and for Muslims (his father’s ‘relatives’), especially in the Middle East. Again, his association with towering academics, such as Edward Said and Rashid Khalidi, gave us some extra hope. No, we got it all wrong. Obama was like the rest of them.

Obama’s role in destabilising Libya is still felt not only within the country but also far beyond, including in Nigeria. Obama authorised more drone strikes in the Middle East than any other US president. He did not bring peace anywhere, though he controversially won the Nobel Peace Prize.

Despite the above and more, I was disturbed to see President Donald Trump sharing the infamous Obamas’ “meme”, depicting them as apes. This was Trump’s new low. Its implications are also broad, extending beyond the Obamas. It, among other things, risks normalising racism, especially in the West, towards black people.

Trump is unlike any leader anyone has ever seen in the White House. Yet, we should not overlook this brazen attack on us; we must call him out for this naked racism towards black people. We are not apes. We are human beings like him, if not better. We deserve respect. He owes us an apology.

Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano as a Social Repair

By Abubakar Muhammad

Crime is a prominent feature of the city. The mitigation of crime and other social vices is a responsibility that falls not only on the government. The health of society is a responsibility that spans multiple dimensions, from authorities with direct power to families and residents of the community as a whole. The social health of the city is also the work of architects and planners. 

Physical planning is an important factor in influencing the social health of society and its inhabitants. Respected voices in urban planning note how a great urban environment, in terms of design and social services, can enhance people’s quality of life and foster a sense of community. In this piece, I set out to use Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano as a social repair tool and a planning theory for combating crime and other social ills in our society. 

We have recently heard the gruesome murder of an entire family in Kano, first in Tudun Yola and then in Ɗorayi, by the same alleged criminals. Cities are characterised by petty and violent crimes. The job of residents and governments is to implement policies that prevent crime to ensure the safety of inhabitants and the prosperity of the city. Sustainable urbanism involves governments at various levels, as well as city residents. 

I was particularly happy weeks ago when I learned that communities around Dala have mobilised to construct a police station around Kuka Bulukiya cemetery to combat persistent phone snatching that has cost countless lives of innocent passersby. The idea of constructing security outposts in crime hotspots has been a productive strategy for combating crime. It is not only about fighting crime; it also replaces crime with security and constant human presence and activity. It not only prevents crime and protects lives but also brings life and economic activity to beleaguered areas.

My friend once took me to an area of the ancient city to pay my condolences. It was a long time ago I cannot remember the name of the neighbourhood. Those who know Kano intimately can piece together snippets from my narration to figure out the area. I can vaguely say that the area was around Mandawari, Yar Mai-Shinkafi, Gyaranya, Baƙin Ruwa, or Gwauran Dutse. We walked through the alleys after the condolence and appeared at the Aminu Kano Way. 

The neighbourhood has a shelter christened Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano. It is an open pavilion in the heart of the neighbourhood. I was intrigued not only by the discovery but also by the place’s name and social function. This was the first time I had ever heard of the place, or any shelter named Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano in the city. I began to think about the connection between the place and the famed radical politician. 

I did not ask the naming history behind the shelter, but my imagination wagered that this must be the spot where Mallam Aminu Kano hung out with friends and conducted his public life. It must be the local context where he started his political career, a gathering place for the nightly schooling and political organising. My guess was supported by my assumption that the place is located within the ancient city, and not far from his initial dwelling at the Aisami/Sani Mainagge axis. I was intrigued by the place for its great potential to build a community.

The Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano is a mini square and public space for the community. It enables the residents to perform social and religious functions. Residents of the neighbourhood, particularly the elderly and retirees, use the pavilion to hang out. The community uses the open space to perform the funeral salat for the deceased. The main street around the space serves as a collector road, receiving people from nearby alleys and neighbourhoods. Thus, the open space becomes vibrant with life. Residents and visitors use the space to park their vehicles. Around the square, activities sprang up: informal people, vendors, and small entrepreneurs set up stalls offering services, various wares, delicacies like tsire and awara, and other household items that cater to the neighbourhood’s hospitality and social needs. The shelter becomes a living room of the community. My reading is that Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano is an open space that allows residents to do things that they cannot perform in the narrow alleys of their neighbourhood.

Part II

For this reason, Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano stays with me. I want to suggest an expanded version of this space be built in as many places as possible in the ancient city, its suburbs and major towns across the state. This is based on key spatial ideas for sociability and security of communities and neighbourhoods. 

Ancient cities like Kano had been built around their traditional institutions. The city spread out from the Emir’s Palace, surrounded by other civic buildings such as the court and the central mosque, which eventually formed the city centre. Spreading in a radial pattern, subsequent expansions and settlements of the city and major towns followed the same tradition. All roads lead to the city centre. And the civic centre, or city centre, is almost always located in the vicinity of the traditional ruler’s dwelling. Outside the city, the Maigari’s or Dagaci’s house sat at the centre of the settlements.

The best location for the Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano is to look for the ugliest and most dangerous part of the neighbourhood and tear it down to create a large enough open space to build the shelter. This place should be the heartbeat of the area by consolidating basic services in one building: a small local clinic, a school, a library, administrative offices for Mai-unguwa, Dagaci, and security agents, and a conference room for important community meetings and non-partisan civic engagements.

A strong civic component and social life are essential. The idea is to overwhelm crime, blight and unsightly facades. The building can serve as a venue for adult literacy classes, mass education and public orientation centres for social mobilisation and political awareness. As a multipurpose building, the place can host activities such as elections, immunisation campaigns, skills and personal development training for local youth. 

A mosque can be located close to the shelter. Around the mosque, the elderly sit, dine, and eat. It is where they enjoy calm, festive hours by day and night. Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano should be the agora and living room of the community. Clusters of civic buildings, residential and commercial uses can create sociability. This is not new; it is something that needs to be consciously improved upon existing traditions. Several Hausa villages have a santa or tsakar gari, which serves mixed purposes and brings people together. Since the shelter is located near the mosque, it should also serve as an open space for conducting funeral prayers. Commercial activities can be encouraged around the area to provide a more vibrant economic life. In Kano city, many neighbourhoods have ƴar kasuwa within walking distance, allowing residents to make purchases for their daily needs. 

The small clinic located in the centre should offer first-aid services and cater to the health needs of the most vulnerable. It should deliver basic drugs and inexpensive medications, medical advice and other services that might not require a trip to the hospital. Local people with training in medical fields can volunteer to operate the place. They can also request NYSC corps members to be posted there. Funding can come from donations from wealthy residents of the community. People who have retired from active service in various walks of life can participate. Skilled individuals can also ask to set up offices and contribute their services to the community. Community services can serve as a clear benchmark for future political leaders. People can see what potential representatives have contributed to their local communities before they enter politics – what they have done for the people before asking for their votes.  

It would not be a bad idea to allow car owners to park their vehicles in and around the shelter. Community-owned assets, such as donated vehicles for transporting the deceased, a power transformer, and water sources like a borehole, can be sited there. The underlying assumption is that communities would actively work to protect their assets and improve their neighborhood. Their commitment or otherwise to safeguarding their assets is clear proof of their collective responsibility, leadership, accountability and readiness for sustainable development. 

The idea is to use Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano to make the targeted area active and vibrant with human activity. The dwelling of the traditional ruler should be sited there to continue to facilitate administrative functions and liaison with various levels of governments for record-keeping, issuing birth certificates and documents, and other civic engagements. The closest idea to this is Ofishin Wakili, which can be upgraded where they already exist. If built with magnificent architecture, places like this can become historic sites that represent the community and its traditions.  

The building should house an office for joint security agencies, including the police and Hisbah. This is where disputes will first be reported. It will enhance coordination and timely reporting of suspicious activities to support early crime prevention. Emphasis is placed on civil matters and on preventing violent crimes. The activities and involvement of the security should be largely civil and minimal. The point is to increase safety through informal supervision. Security agents, the elderly, and small business operators are public figures who keep an eye on the neighbourhood. Retirees and the elderly also fill the void and silence when others are at work or school. They can alert parents – and the security agents – to what is happening in the neighbourhood. Sustainable urbanism can be achieved by densifying social life in hitherto dark corners without militarising the neighbourhood. The refurbishment of the neighbourhood is a valued alternative to blight, providing security through communal social space. Services and buildings can be distributed according to the community’s needs and resources. The purpose is to chase away the thugs from the heart of the community and bring light to the dark corners and crevices. In the process, services are brought closer to the people. Traditional institutions are involved more closely and meaningfully in public service for their immediate communities.

Stakeholders – government, traditional institutions, and community members – should work together to realise the Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano as a state-supported, neighbourhood-funded civic infrastructure across Kano State. Zauren Mallam Aminu Kano should be conceived as a community and family resources centre for the neighbourhood’s residents. It should be designed as a crime-prevention tool through visibility, social life, and shared spaces that strengthen grassroots governance and access to basic services.  It is also an embodiment of the spatial practice of good neighbourliness, the warmth, and the communal character of the Mutumin Kirki society. 

 Abubakar Muhammad is from Kano, Nigeria. 

BOOK REVIEW: Between Hearts and Homes

Author: Aisha Musa Auyo

Number of Pages: 184

Date of Publication: 2025

Publisher: Erkan Publishing-Nigeria

I just finished reading Dr Aisha Musa Auyo’s book, Between Hearts and Homes: Reflections on Faith, Love, and Everyday Life. It sure leaves a lasting impression…

The book feels like a heart-to-heart conversation with someone who has literally ‘lived life’, not just studied it.

What stands out immediately is how relatable it is. The tone used is not from a high or detached pedestal. It’s more like the tone of an older sister, a friend, or that person who tells you the truth whether you’re ready for it or not. From body image and self-awareness, to marriage, motherhood, perfume, clothes, and even shawarma cravings, using your cuisine as a comic relief… Everything feels real-life. It’s so easy to see oneself in the stories.

For example, the shawarma story hits hard. We’ve all said things like “I’ll do it tomorrow” or “next time.” But here, “next time” never came. That simple moment teaches a powerful lesson: don’t delay kindness or small acts of love, because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. That’s something everyone can relate to; whether it’s postponing a visit to a parent, delaying a call to a friend, or putting off saying “I love you.”

It’s also commendable that you used practical examples instead of abstract advice. It doesn’t just say “be kind”, it shows kindness through cooking for someone, helping neighbours, respecting professionals, and being intentional in relationships. It doesn’t just say “take care of yourself”; it talks about specifics, perfume, grooming, clothes, and your living space. Even something as simple as keeping your house smelling nice can be a lesson in self-respect and in creating a pleasant atmosphere. That’s everyday wisdom.

Another strong point is how brutally honest you were at some point without sugarcoating things. For instance, pointing out things like:

Openly talking about body shapes and dressing realistically.

Telling people to stop pretending body realities don’t exist.

Warning couples with an AS genotype to reconsider marriage, not out of cruelty, but out of concern for future pain.

That kind of honesty might make some people uncomfortable, but it’s refreshing. It’s not about trying to be politically correct; it’s about trying to be helpful.

Yet, despite the bluntness, the book still keeps a beautiful balance. It blends faith and daily life while tactfully fusing serious medical topics with soft emotional reflections. It also successfully blended romance with responsibility, self-care with modesty and so on.

If I’m being honest, I never knew that the inability to recognise people was a medical condition with a name (prosopagnosia), but that’s one thing I’ve also learnt from your book.

There were interesting discussions about prosopagnosia, sickle cell disease, parenting, and marriage, alongside perfume tips and fashion advice. That balance makes it feel complete, like life itself.

There’s also humour sprinkled throughout. Lines like “Don’t smell like a flower while the house smells like Daddawa” will make you laugh because it’s so true. Or when you mentioned dressing badly makes you look like Muciya da Zani at home, funny, but the message lands. The humour keeps the book light, even when it’s talking about heavy topics like death, genetics, or emotional struggles. Most importantly, the book carries serious ideas beneath the laughter, which made it more fun to read.

Most of all, you were able to pass key messages like: 

Be intentional in love.

Respect your neighbours, you never know when you’ll need them (the button incident was so scary to read. As a mother, I could relate so well).

Take care of your appearance for yourself and your partner.

Understand medical realities before making lifetime decisions.

Be patient with people who behave differently; they might be dealing with invisible conditions (the ID Card scenario of the lady with hearing impairments was quite touching). The personal stories, motherhood, interactions with neighbours, and dealing with loss make the lessons stick. It wasn’t about boring theory but more about fun and practical experiences.

I could go on and on…

In short, the book teaches without preaching, corrects without insulting, and entertains while educating. It’s funny in places, deep in others, and honest throughout. I laughed at some points and reflected at others. It will even make you start rethinking a few habits.

I just love how it generally reminds you that life is made of small moments, how you dress, how you speak, how you love, how you treat people, and that those small things matter more than we realise.

P.S- Meanwhile, I noticed two pages with small errors: one had a typographical mistake, and another contained a repetition. However, these are mere observations and don’t detract from the book’s powerful messages. A more thorough proofreading in future editions would help polish the work and make the reading experience even smoother.

Overall, these are very minor concerns in such an otherwise thoughtful and impactful book as yours. I look forward to more of this. Kudos and more power to your elbow, Ma’am!

Reviewed by:

Eunice Johnson (Southpaw), a UK-based media broadcaster, musician, actor, media consultant, and public relations expert, wrote via eunicejohnson001@yahoo.com.