Politics

By Ibrahim Yunusa 

Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf has relieved Alhaji Shehu Wada Sagagi of his duties as Kano State Commissioner for Investment, Commerce and Industry with immediate effect.

 The decision was announced in a statement issued on Thursday by the governor’s spokesperson, Sunusi Bature Dawakin Tofa.

According to the statement, Sagagi has been directed to hand over the ministry’s affairs to the Director of Commerce without delay.

 The move forms part of what the government described as an ongoing strategic realignment aimed at strengthening administrative efficiency and repositioning the state for sustainable growth.

Governor Yusuf expressed appreciation for Sagagi’s contributions during his tenure, particularly in the areas of politics, religion, and support for small and medium enterprises. 

He wished the former commissioner success in his future endeavours and reaffirmed his administration’s commitment to effective service delivery and good governance in Kano State.

This development comes amid ongoing suspicions that some key figures are undermining and backbiting the governor following his split from his former political godfather, Rabi’u Musa Kwankwaso.

Reports also indicate growing confusion within the cabinet and among several appointees in government parastatals, as uncertainty persists over loyalties, specifically on who remains aligned with the governor and who is still loyal to his former mentor.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

Recent signals from Washington suggest a growing impatience with Nigeria’s internal complexities, especially as they relate to religion, security, and political leadership. At the centre of this emerging posture is a troubling tendency to compress Nigeria’s layered crises into externally convenient labels—labels that risk doing more harm than good.

One of the clearest flashpoints in this evolving narrative is the renewed attention to former Kano State governor Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso. His name, along with those of Fulani-affiliated organisations and, by implication, Nigeria’s Muslim political class, has begun to feature in American policy conversations framed around religious freedom and accountability. What appears, at first glance, as principled concern deserves closer scrutiny.

Nigeria’s security breakdown is undeniable. Insurgency, banditry, farmer–herder violence, and organised criminal networks have torn through communities across the country. But these tragedies have never respected religious boundaries. Muslims and Christians, northerners and southerners, rural farmers and urban traders have all paid the price. To reframe this national trauma primarily as a story of religious persecution is to flatten reality into something politically useful but analytically false.

This framing did not emerge organically. It has been cultivated through persistent lobbying, selective reporting, and advocacy-driven briefs circulated within Western policy and faith-based circles. Many of these narratives rely on contested data sets and ideologically motivated interpretations that have been challenged by journalists and security analysts familiar with Nigeria’s terrain. Yet repetition has given them traction.

Under Donald Trump, the United States has shown a greater willingness to convert these narratives into policy instruments. Nigeria’s earlier designation as a “Country of Particular Concern” over alleged religious persecution, and the signals accompanying its reconsideration, reinforced the impression that Washington had settled on a moral script that leaves little room for nuance.

What is especially alarming is how this posture now intersects with Nigeria’s domestic political timeline. The proposal of punitive measures against figures like Kwankwaso—who has no public record of religious extremism—raises uncomfortable questions about motive and timing. Sanctions, visa restrictions, or terror designations do not occur in a vacuum; they shape reputations, constrain political options, and influence electoral perceptions.

Even more dangerous is the elastic use of terms such as “Fulani militia.” The Fulani are not a monolith, nor are they a security organisation. They are a vast, diverse population spread across West and Central Africa, encompassing professionals, farmers, scholars, politicians, and pastoralists. To collapse this diversity into a security label is not accountability—it is ethnic profiling with far-reaching consequences.

Those who defend this approach often argue that allowing clerics or religiously identified politicians into democratic space risks sanctifying power. That concern is not without merit. In plural societies, when political authority borrows the language of divine legitimacy, dissent can be recast as moral deviance. But that argument cuts both ways. External actors who cloak geopolitical interests in moral absolutism risk exporting the very instability they claim to oppose.

Nigeria’s democracy, imperfect as it is, rests on pluralism, negotiation, and the acceptance of politics as a human—rather than sacred—enterprise. When foreign policy instruments treat Nigerian political actors as symbols in a global religious drama, they undermine this fragile equilibrium. Worse still, they embolden local extremists who thrive on polarisation and grievance.

None of this is to argue against international engagement or concern for human rights. On the contrary, Nigeria benefits from cooperation with partners such as the United States in intelligence sharing, capacity building, and counterterrorism. But partnership must be grounded in evidence, context, and restraint—not in sweeping classifications shaped by advocacy pressure or domestic American politics.

If Washington’s objective is stability in West Africa, then the path forward lies in engagement rather than labelling, dialogue rather than designation. Nigeria’s challenges are internal, complex, and deeply rooted. They cannot be solved by reducing political figures to caricatures or entire communities to security threats.

Kwankwaso’s politics, like that of any public figure, should be judged by Nigerians through debate, scrutiny, and the ballot. External political labelling, however well-intentioned, risks distorting that process and deepening divisions within an already strained federation.

In the end, what Nigeria requires from its partners is not moral theatre but sober cooperation. Fairness, evidence, and respect for internal democratic processes remain the only sustainable foundations for international engagement.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu is a journalist and syndicate writer based in Abuja.

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

A Hausa proverb warns that you cannot run at full speed while scratching an itch. The saying captures, with striking simplicity, the dilemma now surrounding Sheikh Isa Ali Pantami as conversations about his political ambitions gain momentum.

Public life demands clarity of role and consistency of purpose. When an individual seeks to occupy two morally and structurally conflicting spaces simultaneously, momentum is lost, and credibility is strained. This is the core tension in Pantami’s current trajectory: the attempt to remain a preacher with clerical authority while simultaneously stepping into partisan politics.

The problem is not ambition itself. It is role conflict. Clerical authority depends on moral certainty and spiritual distance from power, while politics thrives on negotiation, compromise, and moral ambiguity. Attempting to inhabit both worlds simultaneously risks weakening the integrity of each.

This tension becomes even more consequential in a plural society like Nigeria, where religion carries deep emotional authority and political power must remain anchored in constitutional legitimacy. Once religious influence is injected into partisan competition, power risks acquiring a sacred character. Political disagreement can then be reframed, subtly or overtly, as moral failure or spiritual deviation rather than a contest of ideas and interests.

Some have argued, including respected commentators like Jaafar Jaafar, that religious clerics should avoid politics altogether because political space is inherently compromised by bargaining, corruption and ethical trade-offs. Others counter with a seemingly reasonable question: if the aim is to sanitise politics, why not allow upright clerics like Pantami to participate?

That question, however, misunderstands the core concern. The issue is not whether a cleric is personally virtuous. It is about the separation of religion and the state. Democracy relies on pluralism, persuasion and accountability. When religious authority enters partisan politics, votes may be influenced not by policy debate, but by guilt, fear, or claims of divine sanction. That is a dangerous precedent in any diverse society.

The concern deepens when the individual seeking political office has, in the past, described politics itself as immoral or ungodly. Such a record invites legitimate questions of coherence. Has politics suddenly become virtuous, or has it merely become useful? Citizens are entitled to ask not out of prejudice, but out of democratic caution.

More troubling still are historical associations with ideological currents that have openly viewed democratic participation not as a means of strengthening institutions, but as a strategy to hollow them out from within — the well-known shiga daga ciki a gyara argument. In societies that have suffered from extremism and institutional fragility, such histories cannot be brushed aside or dismissed as irrelevant.

None of this is about excluding religion from public life. Faith has always shaped values, ethics and social responsibility in Nigeria. But there is a difference between moral inspiration and political authority. When religion becomes a substitute for constitutional legitimacy, the democratic project itself is weakened.

Politics, by its nature, is a flawed human enterprise. It requires compromise, negotiation and accountability to citizens, not to spiritual hierarchies. Clerical authority, on the other hand, rests on moral clarity and trust. Mixing the two without a clear break risks eroding both.

If Professor Pantami intends to pursue politics, the burden before him is not merely electoral. It is moral and institutional. He must offer clarity, openly reckon with past positions, and demonstrate consistency over time. Nigerians are not asking for perfection. They are asking for coherence.

In the end, democracy survives not on sacred claims, but on transparent choices, accountable leadership and the acceptance that political authority derives from citizens, not sanctity. That distinction must remain clear — for the sake of both faith and the republic.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu is a journalist and syndicate writer based in Abuja.

Nigeria’s political arena has never been short of strong personalities, but few figures have remained as consistently relevant as Nasir El-Rufai. Love him or dislike him, it is difficult to ignore the fact that he has been one of the most consequential actors in Nigeria’s political journey since the return to civil rule in 1999. His recent confrontation with security authorities and the attempt to detain him without clear evidence speak less about law enforcement and more about the anxiety within the ruling establishment.

To understand the current political tension, one must first understand El-Rufai’s place in the system. From his early role in the administration of Olusegun Obasanjo to his strategic alignment in the political transitions that produced Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, Goodluck Jonathan, and later Muhammadu Buhari, El-Rufai has repeatedly demonstrated a rare understanding of how power works in Nigeria. Few politicians can claim to have operated so close to multiple presidencies across different political eras.

His experience is not accidental. As a former Minister of the Federal Capital Territory and later governor of Kaduna State, El-Rufai built a reputation for being both strategic and outspoken. That combination has earned him loyal supporters and fierce critics. Yet even his opponents concede that he understands the inner workings of Nigerian politics better than most of his contemporaries.

What makes the present situation intriguing is the reaction of the current government under President Bola Tinubu. Political watchers note that the administration appears unusually sensitive to El-Rufai’s moves and statements. The attempted arrest at the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport in Abuja, which was resisted by supporters who had gathered to welcome him, has only deepened public suspicion that political motivations may be at play.

In any democratic society, the rule of law demands that allegations be backed by evidence. Detaining a prominent political figure without a clear justification risks sending the wrong message to the public. It creates the impression that state institutions are being deployed as political tools rather than impartial guardians of justice. Such actions can weaken public confidence in democracy at a time when many Nigerians are already questioning the direction of the country’s governance.

Beyond the immediate controversy, El-Rufai’s political relevance lies in his networks and influence. In Northern Nigeria, he maintains relationships with traditional leaders, religious authorities, and political elites. His connections with groups such as the Arewa Consultative Forum and his standing among many northern political actors make him a figure whose voice carries weight in national conversations.

This is also why his reported involvement in strengthening the African Democratic Congress has attracted attention. In a political environment where alliances and coalitions often determine electoral outcomes, any figure capable of mobilising political forces across regions automatically becomes a strategic concern for those in power.

El-Rufai himself has long argued that political dominance in Nigeria can be challenged through direct engagement with voters. During a public lecture in Lagos years ago, he pointed out that millions of registered voters often stay away from the polls. His argument was simple. If a politician can mobilise even a fraction of those disengaged citizens, entrenched political structures can be defeated. That message resonates strongly in today’s political climate.

The lesson from his remarks is that Nigerian democracy still holds untapped potential. Electoral participation remains one of the most powerful tools available to citizens. When politicians connect directly with voters rather than relying solely on elite political arrangements, the balance of power can shift dramatically.

The current political drama surrounding El-Rufai, therefore, reflects a deeper struggle within Nigeria’s political system. It is not merely about one individual. It is about the anxiety that emerges whenever established power structures sense the rise of alternative political forces.

Whether one agrees with his politics or not, attempting to silence a figure like El-Rufai through intimidation or questionable legal action does not strengthen democracy. If anything, it elevates his profile and reinforces the perception that he represents a genuine challenge to the status quo.

Nigeria’s democracy should be strong enough to accommodate dissent, criticism, and competition. The country has endured decades of political turbulence and should have learned by now that suppressing political voices rarely solves problems. Open contestation, debate, and accountability are the true pillars of democratic progress.

As the political landscape gradually shifts toward the next electoral cycle, figures like Nasir El-Rufai will continue to shape conversations about leadership, power, and the future of governance in Nigeria. The real question is not whether he will remain relevant. The real question is how Nigeria’s political system will respond to voices that challenge the existing order.

If democracy means anything, it must allow strong political actors to participate freely without fear of intimidation. The strength of a nation’s democracy is measured not by how it treats its friends, but by how it treats its critics.

Interesting time ahead.

Muhammad Umar Shehu wrote from Gombe and can be reached via umarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.

In governance, performance should naturally translate into greater responsibilities. Since his appointment as Special Adviser on Youth and Sports, Hon. Sani Musa Danja has demonstrated capacity, commitment, and a people-oriented approach that has delivered visible impacts on youth development and sports advancement in Kano State.

Within his first month in office, over 3,000 youths were empowered through food-related initiatives such as Nija Food. This early intervention reflected responsiveness to the economic realities facing young people and set the tone for a tenure driven by action rather than mere rhetoric.

One of Hon. Danja’s most commendable achievements is his grassroots engagement across all 44 Local Government Areas of Kano State. Through open consultations with the youths, he listened to concerns on welfare, unemployment, insecurity, and inclusion. This initiative brought governance closer to the people and helped rebuild trust between the government and youth.

To strengthen coordination and sustainability, he worked closely with Senior Special Assistants on Youth across the 44 LGAs, fostering cohesive leadership and unified strategies for youth development across the state.

Understanding the strong link between unemployment and insecurity, Hon. Danja adopted a preventive empowerment approach. Over 300 youths previously involved in thuggery and phone snatching were redirected into productive ventures, including popcorn-gurguru production, fast-food services, shawarma preparation, and baking. This intervention not only provided livelihoods but also contributed to crime reduction and social reintegration.

His tenure also saw institutional support for voluntary youth and security organisations, including the Nigerian Boy Scouts and other community-based groups such as the Civilian JTF Kano. Through the provision of working materials and encouragement, discipline, and volunteerism, community service among young people was strengthened.

In addition, a statewide Youth Symposium Day was organised to promote dialogue, leadership, and civic engagement, involving participants from all 44 LGAs. Hon. Danja also paid visits to youth training and skills acquisition centres across the state, encouraging trainees and reassuring them that government support remains within reach (kusa da gwamnati).

Beyond programs, compassion has remained a defining feature of his leadership. Financial assistance was extended to youths facing serious health challenges, including those with spinal cord-related disabilities, demonstrating an inclusive and humane approach to governance.

In sports development, Hon. Danja contributed to the revival of neglected sports such as volleyball, encouraging youth participation and talent development. Administratively, he reorganised and strengthened his office to ensure efficiency, transparency, and effective service delivery.

Currently, his office is coordinating a large-scale youth empowerment initiative under YEIDEP, targeting over 1.2 million youth participants in skills acquisition and entrepreneurship, reflecting executive-level vision and readiness.

Given his performance, statewide reach, and ability to connect with young people, Hon. Sani Musa Danja is well-positioned to deliver even greater impact.

A passionate appeal is therefore made to His Excellency, Engr. Abba Kabir Yusuf, to consider appointing Hon. Sani Musa Danja as the Commissioner for Youth and Sports and nominate him to the Kano State Executive Council. Such a decision would ensure continuity, consolidate gains, and further strengthen Kano State’s youth and sports development agenda.

Shamsuddeen Muazu (AbuMuhd) wrote from Kano State. He can be reached via abumuhdpress@gmail.com.

By: Malam Khalid Imam

The appointment of Hajiya Bilkisu Maimaita, undoubtedly one of the finest Kano female technocrats, as the Acting Head of Service, by His Excellency, the Executive Governor of Kano State, Alhaji Abba Kabir Yusuf, on 10th March, 2026, is both historic and a strategic move in the right direction.

The esteemed Hajiya Bilkisu Maimaita, who hails from Yakasai Quarters in Kano Municipal LGA, is a true doyenne of public service, an astute policy maker, a seasoned public administrator, and a well-trained personnel who has been in active public service for over three decades, and now serving as the Permanent Secretary.

She is quite famed as a respected, tested, and trusted administrator. Maimaita is well known as one of the reliable wheels moving the vehicle of seamless public service sector, having served in different capacities over the decades. Her new appointment as the Acting Head of Service by His Excellency, Governor Yusuf, is indeed a strategic move to entrust the daunting task of ensuring the continuous function of the heart of Kano’s public service to the right hands.

Her trademarks in the service are trust, resilience, assiduity, capability, and reliability. Before her new role as the female Acting Head of Service, she has been serving as the Permanent Secretary, Administration and General Services (AGS) in the Cabinet Office.

No doubt, Hajiya Bilkisu Maimota’s appointment is a confirmation to her unwavering commitment to duty, unmatched experience and exemplary service. Sure, her wealth of experience and proven track record make her an ideal fit for this role.

In another light, Maimota’s appointment is a bold testament to Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf’s commitment to empowering more Kano professional women and recognizing their invaluable contributions to Kano State’s development. And without emphasizing, this shows that the governor values the impact of women in leadership positions and is willing to give them the platform to shine as he dedicates energy in pursuing the realization of his government’s Kano First Agenda.

A big kudos to Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf for this right move, which, without denying, is an astounding milestone, showcasing the government’s unwavering dedication to inclusivity and gender equality. Counting on her fabulous experience, Bilkisu Maimota’s leadership in this new role will undoubtedly inspire more women to take on key roles in the state.

Once more, kudos to Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf for this strategic move of entrusting in Maimota this task as well as opening windows to Kano professional women to serve their state with distinction. Indeed, Hajiya Bilkisu Maimota’s leadership is sure to propel Kano State’s public service to greater heights.

At this juncture, on behalf of the Yakasai Community, where she hails, I wish her Allah’s continued guidance and success in the service of our dear state. Wishing our Acting Head of Service sound health and prosperity in all her personal endeavours.
Congratulations to our very own reverential Hajiya Bilkisu Maimota, a true doyenne of Kano public service.

Khalid Imam is a Kano-based bilingual writer, educator and a Deputy Director at the Monitoring and Evaluation Unit, Science and Technical Schools Board, Kano, who also serves as the President of Kano Literary Space. He can be reached via: 07075403774 or khalidimam2002@gmail.com

By Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu

In Kano today, politics is no longer whispered in corridors; it is argued loudly in markets, mosques and on social media timelines. Since Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf’s reported decision to part ways with the NNPP, the city has become a theatre of competing loyalties, sharp sarcasm and deeper constitutional questions. Supporters have reduced complex political choices into street labels—Abba’s camp being teased as ’yan a ci dadi lafiya, while the Kwankwasiyya faithful wear wuya ba ta kisa as a badge of honour. Beneath the banter, however, lies a serious national issue: who truly owns a political mandate?

Governor Abba Yusuf did not emerge from a vacuum. His ascent to the Kano Government House was inseparable from the Kwankwasiyya political machinery, a movement painstakingly built by Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso over two decades. From red caps to ideological messaging, the movement transcended party platforms and became a political identity. In the 2023 elections, many voters did not merely vote for a party; they voted for Kwankwasiyya as a symbol of continuity, defiance and populist appeal.

Yet, Abba Yusuf is no ceremonial beneficiary. He contested, won, survived legal battles and now governs with all the constitutional powers vested in an elected governor. His mandate, in law, is personal. Once sworn in, no political godfather—however influential—can legally issue directives from outside the Government House. This is where the tension lies: the clash between moral ownership of political capital and constitutional authority of office.

Those derisively tagged ’yan aci dadi lafiya by opponents argue that governance is about pragmatism, access to power and delivering dividends to the people. From their perspective, a sitting governor must build alliances beyond sentiment, protect his administration and ensure stability. Politics, they insist, is not a monastic vow of hardship but a strategic exercise in survival and results.

On the other side stand the wuya bata ƙi sa faithful—Kwankwasiyya loyalists who believe political struggle must be endured to preserve ideology. To them, Abba Yusuf’s move is not strategy but betrayal. They see it as an attempt to reap the fruits of a movement while discarding its architect. In their view, suffering with the movement, even outside power, is preferable to comfort without loyalty.

This divide exposes a recurring Nigerian dilemma: the uneasy relationship between political movements and the individuals they propel into office. From Awolowo’s disciples to Aregbesola’s rupture with Tinubu, Nigerian politics is littered with fallouts between founders and beneficiaries. Kano’s current drama is simply the latest chapter.

Kwankwaso’s influence in Kano politics is undeniable. Beyond elections, he represents a moral compass for millions who see him as a symbol of resistance against elite dominance. His supporters’ anger is therefore not merely partisan; it is emotional and ideological. To them, Abba Yusuf’s political identity was inseparable from Kwankwaso’s shadow.

However, governance demands autonomy. A governor who appears perpetually tethered to an external authority risks administrative paralysis and legitimacy questions. Abba Yusuf’s defenders argue that Kano cannot be governed from outside its constitutional structures. They insist that the electorate voted not just for Kwankwaso’s endorsement but for Abba Yusuf’s promise to lead.

The real casualty in this contest, unfortunately, risks being governance itself. When political energy is consumed by loyalty tests and factional supremacy, policy focus suffers. Kano’s challenges—urban congestion, youth unemployment, educational deficits, and security concerns—require a governor fully immersed in administration, not in constant political firefighting.

There is also the electoral implication. While Kwankwasiyya remains a formidable grassroots force, incumbency is a powerful weapon. State resources, visibility, and administrative control can quickly reshape political narratives. The assumption that loyalty automatically translates into electoral dominance may underestimate the pragmatism of Nigerian voters, especially when power dynamics shift.

Yet, Abba Yusuf’s path is equally fraught. Detaching from a movement that delivered his victory carries political costs. Kano’s electorate is emotionally invested, and symbols matter. If his administration fails to convincingly outperform expectations, the narrative of ingratitude could harden into electoral punishment.

Ultimately, this is not just a Kano story; it is a Nigerian one. It forces a national reflection on whether mandates belong to parties, movements, godfathers or the individuals elected by the people. The Constitution is clear, but politics rarely is.

Perhaps the wisest outcome lies not in triumph or humiliation but in recalibration. Political movements must learn to institutionalise beyond personalities, while elected officials must acknowledge the moral debts that brought them to power. Neither absolute loyalty nor total independence offers a sustainable path.

As the dust settles, the sarcasm of ’yan a ci dadi lafiya and wuya ba ta kisa may fade, but the questions will linger. In Nigeria’s democracy, mandate is both a legal instrument and a moral contract. Kano’s unfolding drama reminds us that ignoring either side of that equation comes at a cost—sometimes higher than any political suffering.

Abdulhamid Abdullahi Aliyu is a journalist and syndicate writer based in Abuja

By Zayyad I. Muhammad

Nigeria’s Fourth Republic, which commenced in 1999, introduced a distinctive political culture that has since become entrenched in the nation’s democratic practice. Governors automatically emerge as leaders of their political parties in their respective states.

Although this arrangement is not expressly written into the 1999 Constitution or party constitutions as a rigid rule, it has evolved into an accepted political convention. In practical terms, once a governor belongs to a political party, he becomes the undisputed leader of that party in the state.

This “default” leadership status flows from the enormous constitutional powers, financial control, and political influence vested in state governors. Under the 1999 Constitution, governors are the chief executives of their states, control significant public resources, influence appointments, and play central roles in policy direction. These powers naturally position them as dominant actors within the political structure of their states. Political parties, being vehicles for acquiring and exercising power, inevitably gravitate toward the governor as their rallying point.

Critics often argue that this arrangement departs from earlier republican experiences. During Nigeria’s First, Second, and even Third Republics, governors and presidents were not automatically regarded as the formal leaders of their parties at the state or national levels. Party structures were often more independent, with clearer institutional separation between party leadership and executive office holders. However, Nigeria’s political system has evolved significantly since then. The current democratic framework places far greater burden, administrative authority, fiscal control, and political leverage in the hands of governors than was previously the case. It’s about the position!

The emergence of governors as de facto party leaders is not accidental but a result of political evolution shaped by key realities. The 1999 Constitution centralises executive authority in governors, making them the most powerful figures in their states. They also control critical political resources, finances, networks, appointments, and patronage, which are essential for party survival and electoral success. In a competitive electoral environment, incumbency provides structure, visibility, and mobilisation strength that few others can match.

Above all, political parties require unified command; without clear leadership at the state level, factionalism and instability can easily arise.

Imagine the chaos and unhealthy rivalry that could engulf a political party if a sitting governor chose to remain indifferent to party affairs. Competing factions would struggle for supremacy. Conflicting directives could weaken party cohesion. Such fragmentation could easily cost the party elections and governance effectiveness.

Furthermore, when it comes to interfacing between the executive arm at the federal level and party structures within the states, particularly in matters relating to appointments, political negotiations, federal-state collaboration, and reward systems, the governor’s role becomes indispensable. Governors serve as the bridge between national party leadership and grassroots political actors. In fact, Presidents often rely on Governors to win a state 

Just as the President functions as the leader of his party at the national level, governors serving as party leaders in their states create symmetry within the political order. This structure promotes stability, clarity of authority, strategic coordination, and internal discipline.

It is therefore not surprising that across Nigeria’s 21 registered political parties, this practice is widely accepted. Once a governor joins a party, he naturally assumes leadership of that party in the state, not necessarily by proclamation, but by political reality.

While debates may continue about whether this system strengthens internal party democracy or concentrates excessive influence in one individual, its practical utility in maintaining order, direction, and electoral viability cannot be ignored.

The emergence of governors as party leaders in their states reflects the reality on the ground, political necessity, and democratic evolution in Nigeria’s Fourth Republic.

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

By Muhammad Sulaiman

The Alumni of the Kashim Ibrahim Fellowship have called for the immediate release of former Kaduna State Governor, Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai, describing his continued detention as unlawful and a violation of his fundamental human rights.

In a press statement issued on Monday, the group expressed “deep concern” over what it termed the illegal detention of El-Rufai, arguing that it contravenes constitutional guarantees of personal liberty, dignity and due process under the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

The alumni further criticised the Department of State Services (DSS) for failing to produce the former governor before the Federal High Court on February 25, 2026, stating that this action infringes his right to a fair hearing within a reasonable time as provided under Section 36 of the Constitution.

According to the statement, the right to be brought promptly before a court is “not discretionary but an essential safeguard of personal liberty and justice.” The group urged all relevant authorities to ensure strict adherence to constitutional provisions and uphold the rule of law.

The fellowship alumni also highlighted El-Rufai’s record in public service, particularly his tenure as governor of Kaduna State, where they said he implemented institutional reforms and socio-economic development programmes with measurable impact. They noted that the establishment of the Kashim Ibrahim Fellowship was among his initiatives to encourage youth participation in governance and leadership.

Reaffirming their solidarity, the group called on well-meaning Nigerians to support their demand for justice and due process. They insisted that every citizen is entitled to protection from unlawful detention and urged authorities to grant El-Rufai full rights to defend himself without prejudice.

The statement concluded with a renewed demand for his immediate release, emphasising that adherence to democratic principles and the rule of law is critical to strengthening public trust in national institutions.

By Umar Sani Adamu (Kawun Baba)

The defection of Kano State Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf from the New Nigeria Peoples Party, NNPP, to the All Progressives Congress, APC, has exposed more than a political shift. It has laid bare the fragility of slogans elevated above reason and the contradictions within Kano’s dominant political movement.

For years, the phrase “Mayiyan Kano” was used by followers of Senator Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso whenever events did not go their way. It served as a blanket response to court rulings, electoral outcomes, and opposing views. What began as a casual expression gradually hardened into a political shield used to dismiss criticism rather than engage it.

Ironically, Governor Yusuf was once celebrated as the ultimate proof of loyalty to the Kwankwasiyya structure. A report by The Daily Reality during the early phase of his administration went to remarkable lengths to present him as a devoted disciple of his mentor and political godfather. His actions, his rhetoric, and even his body language were framed as evidence of unquestionable allegiance. At the time, loyalty was portrayed as a virtue, and Yusuf was held up as its finest example.

That narrative has now collapsed under the weight of political reality. Following his defection, the same voices that once applauded his loyalty have rushed to brand him disloyal. The sudden moral outrage is striking not because politicians change camps but because of the selective memory at play. If loyalty were absolute, then it should have been defined beyond convenience. If it were conditional, then honesty demands admitting that politics is transactional, not sentimental.

The revival of Makiyan Kano, that’s “The enemy of Kano” or “One who works against the interests of Kano”. In this context reveals its emptiness. Rather than interrogate why a sitting governor would abandon the platform that brought him to power, some loyalists have retreated to slogans. It is easier to chant than to reflect. Easier to accuse than to accept that political authority ultimately rests with individuals, not movements.

What this moment exposes is a deeper problem within Kano politics: the attempt to freeze loyalty in time while ignoring changing realities. Governance is not sustained by personal allegiance to a mentor but by navigating power structures, resources, and national relevance. To pretend otherwise is to confuse political romance with political responsibility.

Supporters of the governor argue that his decision was informed by pragmatism and the pursuit of Kano’s broader interests. Whether one agrees or not, it is a position that deserves debate, not dismissal. Slogans do not govern states. Decisions do.

Makiyan Kano has returned to public discourse, but its meaning has shifted. It no longer signals confidence. It now sounds like frustration. In the end, movements that rely on chants instead of ideas often struggle when reality refuses to cooperate. Kano politics appears to be learning that lesson the hard way.

Umar Sani Adamu (Kawun Baba) wrote via umarhashidu1994@gmail.com.