President Muhammadu Buhari

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) has officially declared the former Minister of Humanitarian Affairs, Disaster Management, and Social Development, Sadiya Umar Farouq, wanted.

The anti-graft agency issued the declaration on Friday following Farouq’s repeated failure to appear for a scheduled arraignment. She is facing 21 counts of alleged criminal conspiracy, abuse of office, and the diversion of public funds totalling billions of naira.

Central to the investigation is the alleged laundering of over N37 billion through a contractor, James Okwete, during her tenure under the Buhari administration. While Farouq had previously honoured some invitations for questioning, the EFCC moved for her arrest after she reportedly stopped complying with summons and became unreachable.

In April, a Federal Capital Territory High Court issued bench warrants for both Farouq and the ministry’s former Permanent Secretary, Bashir Nura Alkali, after they failed to appear in court.

The EFCC has urged anyone with information regarding her whereabouts to contact the nearest police station or commission office, as the manhunt for the former cabinet member intensifies.

By Mohammed Bello Doka 

History is a stubborn thing. It does not bend to the whims of revisionists, nor does it dissolve under the weight of repeated falsehoods. For some time now, a particular narrative has been carefully cultivated and spread across social media platforms and traditional dinner tables. This narrative suggests that during the eight years of Muhammadu Buhari’s presidency, the North maintained a conspiratorial silence, shielding itself while the country drifted. It paints an entire region as a monolith of blind loyalty. But as the saying goes, a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes. Today, the truth is fully dressed and ready to walk.

If the people making these claims are truly ignorant of the facts, this record will serve as a much-needed education. If they are speaking from a place of hypocrisy, then this record will serve as a mirror to their own intellectual dishonesty. To suggest the North was silent is to erase some of the most daring, scathing, and consequential political and intellectual battles fought against the Buhari administration from within its own base.

Let us begin with the most intimate of critics. On October 14, 2016, through the BBC Hausa Service, the First Lady of Nigeria, Aisha Buhari, stunned the world. She did not just offer a mild critique; she declared that her husband’s government had been hijacked by a few people who did not even know the party’s vision. She stated plainly that out of fifty people the President had appointed, he probably didn’t know forty-five of them. 

This was not a Southern critic or an opposition politician speaking; this was the President’s own wife. She followed up on December 4, 2018, as reported by Punch and Premium Times, during a leadership summit in Abuja, where she challenged Nigerian men to stand up to two or three people dominating the government. On May 25, 2019, as reported by Channels TV and Daily Trust, she attacked the administration’s Social Investment Programme, labelling it a failure in the North and questioning the procurement of mosquito nets. If the North was silent, was the First Lady’s voice not Northern enough?

The intellectual and traditional pushback was equally fierce. As the Emir of Kano, Sanusi Lamido Sanusi used his platform to deliver economic lectures that the presidency found deeply uncomfortable. On August 24, 2016, during the 15th meeting of the Joint Planning Board in Kano, as reported by Punch Newspapers, he warned that the Buhari administration was on the path of the Jonathan government if it did not end its flawed foreign exchange policies. Years later, as reported by Vanguard on August 20, 2023, he provided a post-mortem, stating that the administration had decimated the economy and left a thirty trillion naira debt through illegal central bank borrowing.

Then there is the Northern Elders Forum. For years, this group acted as a stern watchdog. On June 14, 2020, as reported by The Guardian and The Cable, the Chairman of the forum, Professor Ango Abdullahi, issued a statement titled Life has lost its value under Buhari. He described the administration as a total failure in the face of escalating banditry and insurgency. He noted that the North was completely at the mercy of armed gangs. 

This sentiment was echoed repeatedly by the forum’s spokesperson, Doctor Hakeem Baba Ahmed. In April 2022, following the Zabarmari massacre, Baba Ahmed appeared on Channels TV and was quoted in Daily Trust stating that in any civilised nation, a leader who failed so spectacularly to provide security would have resigned. He was one of the most consistent voices debunking the myth that the North was satisfied with the status quo.

Even the clergy did not stay silent. Sheikh Ahmad Gumi, once considered a supporter of the President’s integrity, became a vocal opponent. In an interview with Punch on July 7, 2018, Gumi stated that he knew Buhari would make Nigeria worse than it was when Jonathan left. He accused the administration of being worse than its predecessor and criticised what he called the deification of the President.

When we turn to the political theatre, the evidence of Northern opposition is even more undeniable. Consider Buba Galadima, one of the original signatories to the formation of the APC. On July 4, 2018, as reported by Punch and Premium Times, Galadima led a faction to form the Reformed APC. He held a press conference in Abuja where he described the party’s leadership as a charade and the government as a disappointment. In an exclusive interview with Premium Times on July 22, 2018, he accused Buhari of betraying the loyalists who built his political career to empower a clannish inner circle.

Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, the former Governor of Kano, also broke ranks early. On July 24, 2018, he was among the senators whose defection was reported by Punch and Premium Times as part of a mass exodus from the APC to the PDP. Throughout 2018 and into the 2023 election cycle, Kwankwaso was a relentless critic. 

On August 27, 2018, as reported by Punch, he stated in Owerri that Buhari lacked the capacity to improve the economy. Later, on April 15, 2022, as reported by Channels TV, he expressed deep worry that a retired General could allow insecurity to reach such levels, calling the administration’s second term a missed opportunity.

The most dramatic phase of Northern criticism occurred in the build-up to the 2023 general elections. 

This was not just rhetoric; it was a legal and constitutional war. Nasir El-Rufai, the then Governor of Kaduna State, became the face of internal resistance. Long before the currency crisis, El-Rufai’s critical stance was documented in a 30-page memo dated September 22, 2016, which was eventually leaked by Sahara Reporters on March 16, 2017. In that memo, he warned the President that the APC was losing its supporters’ trust and that the government was adrift. 

By 2023, the tension culminated in a Supreme Court lawsuit. On February 3, 2023, as reported by Channels TV and The Punch, El-Rufai, along with Governors Yahaya Bello and Bello Matawalle, sued the Federal Government over the naira redesign policy. On February 16, 2023, after Buhari’s national broadcast, El-Rufai issued a counter-broadcast in Kaduna, which was transcribed by Vanguard and The Cable, where he told his citizens to continue using the old notes, effectively challenging the President’s authority in a way no Southern governor dared at the time.

Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, the then Governor of Kano, was equally confrontational. On January 28, 2023, as reported by The Niche and Daily Post, Ganduje officially asked the President to postpone a visit to Kano because the people were too angry over the currency policy to guarantee a peaceful reception. 

In early February 2023, a viral video reported by Daily Trust and Sahara Reporters showed Ganduje mocking the President’s political history, noting that Buhari only won after a merger was formed for him and was now trying to destroy the party on his way out. On February 14, 2023, as reported by The Cable, Ganduje threatened to demolish any bank in Kano that refused to accept the old notes, promising to replace such banks with schools.

How then can any honest person say the North was silent? We have the names, the dates, and the publications. From the First Lady’s BBC interview in 2016 to the Supreme Court case in 2023, from the intellectual rebukes of Sanusi Lamido Sanusi to the scathing memos of Nasir El-Rufai, and the open defiance of Abdullahi Ganduje, the North was a hotbed of criticism. Those who claim otherwise are either victims of a deep ignorance or are intentionally peddling a hypocritical double standard.

The North is not a monolithic political entity that blindly follows a leader. It is a region with a rich tradition of debate, dissent, and internal correction. When the Buhari administration faltered, it was the Northern elders who first called for his resignation. When the economy drifted, it was Northern intellectuals who provided the most data-driven critiques. When the currency policy threatened to trigger a social crisis, it was Northern governors who took the President to the Supreme Court.

To repeat the lie that the North never criticised Buhari is an insult to the courage of those who risked their political standing to speak truth to power. It is an attempt to rewrite history to fuel division and promote a false narrative of regional complicity. But the records are in the archives of Daily Trust, Punch, Vanguard, Premium Times, and Sahara Reporters. 

The records are in the transcripts of the BBC and Channels TV.

Let this be a final answer to those who peddle this falsehood. The facts do not just speak; they shout. The North did not just criticise Buhari; it provided some of the most formidable and effective opposition his administration ever faced. Whether it was on the pages of newspapers, in the chambers of the Supreme Court, or from the pulpits and palaces of its traditional leaders, the North spoke up. To ignore this is to choose a lie over the truth, and to repeat it after reading these facts is to move from the camp of the ignorant to the camp of the hypocritical. The truth has been told, the evidence has been presented, and the myth of Northern silence is hereby destroyed.

Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via bellodoka82@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Umar Shehu

Once again, the federal government is threatening the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) with its usual tactic, no work, no pay. It’s the same tired strategy used by previous administrations whenever the union pushes for the full implementation of agreements that were voluntarily signed. But history has shown that this policy does not resolve issues; it only increases mistrust, diminishes morale, and further weakens our universities.

During President Muhammadu Buhari’s administration, the no-work-no-pay policy was enforced after the 2022 ASUU strike, which lasted eight months. Lecturers were unpaid despite the government’s failure to fulfil promises that caused the strike. Buhari’s approach focused on punishment rather than dialogue, leading to resentment and strained relations with academics. The key issues- poor funding, unpaid allowances, and decayed infrastructure- remain unresolved.

Education is not like any other sector. ASUU is not just another pressure group that you can intimidate or silence with threats. This is a body of intellectuals, people whose weapon is knowledge and whose struggle is for national development. You can’t use the same tactics that might work on transport unions or political protesters on an organisation built on principles, history, and intellectual resistance.

Globally, similar unions in countries such as South Africa, the United Kingdom, and even the United States have stood their ground when governments have failed to meet academic demands. In 2016, for instance, the South African “Fees Must Fall” movement forced the government to rethink its policies and increase education funding. In the UK, university staff have repeatedly gone on strike over pay and working conditions, yet the government has had to return to the negotiating table rather than threaten them. These examples show that dialogue and respect for agreements are the only sustainable paths, not coercion.

In Nigeria’s own history, ASUU has endured decades of intimidation and threats. From the military era to the present democratic dispensation, their fight has remained consistent to protect public universities from total collapse. They have been banned, unbanned, and blacklisted, yet they stay because they represent something more profound than just salary negotiations. They represent the conscience of our educational system.

The government’s repeated use of the “no work, no pay” policy is not just short-sighted; it is a confession of leadership failure. Instead of fixing the root causes of the strikes, those in power prefer to silence those who expose their neglect. The result is what we see today: poor learning conditions, brain drain, and a generation of students whose academic lives are constantly interrupted.

It’s time the government understood that ASUU’s strength lies in its moral ground. Their struggle is not for personal gain but for the survival of education in Nigeria. Threats won’t work; intimidation won’t help. Only commitment, dialogue, and respect for signed agreements will bring peace to our universities.

If we truly want to equip our education system for the poor and the future, we must stop treating teachers as enemies and start treating them as partners. A nation that punishes those who fight for education has already given up on its future.

Muhammad Umar Shehu wrote from Gombe and can be reached viaumarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The Federal Government has removed the 5% excise duty on telecommunications services in Nigeria.

The tax, introduced under the administration of former President Muhammadu Buhari, was to be applied on both voice and data services. It drew strong opposition from telecom operators and consumer groups.

Executive Vice Chairman of the Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC), Aminu Maida, said President Bola Ahmed Tinubu ordered its removal during discussions on the recently passed Finance Act.

The decision is expected to provide relief to over 171 million active telecom subscribers, who have also faced a 50 per cent tariff increase earlier this year.

By Abdullahi Muhammad Yalwa

As Nigerians lay their former president, Muhammad Buhari, to rest, a lively yet insightful debate has ignited on social media. Buhari’s death on the evening of Sunday, 13 July, has sparked a wave of polarised reactions across Nigeria and beyond. These responses, though all too familiar to ignore, are nonetheless difficult to tolerate either.

Ruling one of the most ethnically heterogeneous populations, the name BUHARI means different things to different people. For some, his death marks the end of a revered statesman’s journey, a disciplined military man turned democrat who embodied integrity and sacrifice. As such, religious apologists and loyalists have rushed to sanctify his legacy, cloaking his tenure in a veneer of divine purpose and moral uprightness. Yet, beneath the watershed emotions, lies a more sobering narrative, an impersonal truth which is hard to accept as it’s bitter to swallow.

For history and to serve as a springboard of truth, Buhari’s legacy is one that history will not so easily forgive nor forget. It’s a force that will be reckoned with in Nigeria’s history. A turmoil journey that lumbered from one crisis to another and finally ended in an overwhelming sense of failure. The truth, though uncomfortable, is therefore that Buhari’s legacy is a tale of squandered goodwill, unfulfilled promises, and a nation left more fractured than he found it.

In 2015, when the Saviour proclaimed his campaign, which would finally mark his ascension to power, Buhari, in a boisterous voice, chanted the “CHANGE” mantra, and citizens across the nation’s divides chanted CHANGE, and so the sound echoed. Hailed as a man of discipline, Buhari, in his usual austere demeanour and military pedigree, promised a break from the corruption and mismanagement that had plagued previous administrations. Equally, he promised to tackle insecurity, root out corruption, and stabilise a faltering economy. We saw in him a Messianic figure who would finally weed Nigeria of its bad seeds and breed a new garden for the poor. Sadly, however, the euphoria that greeted his election was a sad, fragile foundation of selective memory.

Buhari’s economic legacy is perhaps the most damning indictment of his tenure. Although he inherited an economy already strained by falling oil prices, his policies exacerbated the crisis, plunging Nigeria into two recessions within five years. By 2023, inflation had soared from 9% to over 22%, unemployment surged from 10.4% to 33.4%, and the naira lost 70% of its value against the dollar. Nigeria, once Africa’s largest economy, became the world’s poverty capital, with 133 million citizens living in abject poverty by the end of his tenure.

His economic interventions, such as the 2019 border closure to boost local production, backfired spectacularly, spiking food prices and straining relations with neighbouring countries. The naira redesign policies, implemented in 1984 and again in 2022, caused widespread hardship, with long queues and economic disruption for ordinary Nigerians. These measures, while framed as anti-corruption tools, were poorly executed and lacked strategic foresight. The ballooning national debt, reaching $150 billion by 2023, forced Nigeria to allocate 96% of its revenue to debt servicing, a fiscal albatross that continues to choke the economy.

Though it might be argued that Buhari inherited a comatose economy from Jonathan, riddled with corruption scandals like the $2 billion arms deal misappropriation, he promised to come and make a change, not to make excuses. Equally, his infrastructure projects, such as the Enugu-Port Harcourt Expressway and the Nigeria Air initiative, might be cited as evidence of progress. Yet, these achievements pale in comparison to the scale of economic devastation. The reality is that Buhari’s economic policies were not just misguided- they were catastrophic, leaving Nigerians poorer and more desperate than ever.

On the side of security, Buhari’s campaign promise to defeat Boko Haram and restore security was a cornerstone of his 2015 victory. Though there may be some early gains against Boko Haram, including the reclamation of territories, which briefly bolstered Buhari’s credentials, these victories were fleeting. By the end of his presidency, Nigeria was grappling with an unprecedented wave of insecurity, with over 63,000 deaths recorded from violent incidents between 2015 and 2023—an average of 22 deaths per day.

The rise of banditry, kidnappings, and farmer-herder clashes compounded the Boko Haram threat. The #EndSARS protests of 2020, sparked by police brutality, exposed his administration’s heavy-handed approach to dissent. Buhari’s silence during these crises, a hallmark of his leadership style, only deepened public distrust.

Buhari’s anti-corruption crusade was perhaps his most touted promise, yet it remains his most glaring failure. Though some positive outcomes were recorded, Buhari’s administration’s selective prosecution of opponents, such as Dasuki’s, raised questions about its sincerity. High-profile cases, such as the trial of former Central Bank Governor Godwin Emefiele, who’s one of the key figures during Buhari’s administration, continue to grab headlines, but systemic corruption persists. When the then Kano Governor Umar Ganduje was caught on video stuffing dollars into his robe, Buhari dismissed the evidence as doctored, undermining his anti-corruption credentials. The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), which he helped lay the groundwork for, became a tool for political vendettas rather than a beacon of reform. Many prominent figures were either pardoned or overlooked due to their political leanings or personal interests. As such, on anti-corruption, Buhari’s promises were a hoax.

Overall, Buhari’s cold, distant, arrogant air — that rigid, dry, unbothered, “I’m above you” type of character — which pervaded his leadership, remains deeply painful in the minds of his subjects. The fact that he spoke to his citizens during their tough times as if he was doing them a favour by acknowledging their existence is a poor record to reckon with as part of Buhari’s terrible legacy as a leader. There should be warmth and humility in public relations.

In the end, history is the most invisible phenomenon. As President Buhari is laid to rest, religious and regional loyalists should not seek to sanctify his legacy, framing him as a patriot who served Nigeria with unwavering dedication. Such eulogies, while expected, gloss over the harsh realities of his tenure. Equally, claiming that Buhari’s policies were sabotaged by external forces or inherited challenges ignores his role in exacerbating Nigeria’s woes. Instead, the uncomfortable truth is that Buhari’s legacy is one of missed opportunities and disappointment. He entered office with unprecedented goodwill, yet left Nigeria more divided, poorer, and insecure. His rigid, authoritarian style stifled dissent and eroded judicial independence, as seen in the prolonged detention of figures like Sambo Dasuki despite court orders. His failure to communicate effectively, evidenced by his silence during crises like #EndSARS and the ASUU strike of 2022, alienated a generation of young Nigerians.

History will remember Buhari not as the saviour Nigeria hoped for, but as a leader who squandered a historic mandate. His presidency teaches a bitter lesson: discipline without vision, and integrity without competence, cannot redeem a nation. As Nigerians mourn his passing, we must also confront the cost of his failures-a fractured nation, a struggling economy, and a generation of youth disillusioned with governance, standing on the brink of a precipice.

Abdullahi Muhammad Yalwa hails from Azare. He’s a graduate of Law from the University of Maiduguri, looking forward to serving his Country.

By Abubakar Musa Idris

I will never forget the 2015 elections. The chants of “Sai Baba!” were everywhere. We had fallen in love with a man. To us, he wasn’t just Muhammadu Buhari—he was Baba, the man who had captured the imagination of a weary nation. 

In those moments, Nigerians didn’t just vote for a candidate; they believed in a symbol, a promise that something better was possible. As the election results came in, I sat glued to the television, pen and paper in hand. 

Each state collation felt like history unfolding. There was electricity in the air—a kind of national awakening. It wasn’t just that we were watching a man become president; it was the quiet miracle of a peaceful democratic transition. We believed we were witnessing the rebirth of our nation.

Baba had his flaws, like every human being. But I will never forget what he did for agriculture, for infrastructure, and most especially for security. As a son of Yobe, I saw firsthand the fear that once gripped our people—the empty markets, the shuttered schools, the silence that replaced the sound of daily life. 

But I also saw how things slowly began to change. Soldiers came. Communities began to breathe again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. It was hope. In agriculture, the Anchor Borrowers’ Programme lifted countless farmers. The vision of feeding ourselves, of restoring dignity to rural life, started to take root. 

In infrastructure, we saw roads, rails, and power projects long spoken about finally begin to materialise. You didn’t need a policy paper to understand it—you just had to look outside your window. But what stayed with me most was his integrity. In a land where power often corrupts, Baba remained astonishingly simple. No long convoys, no palatial estates. 

Just his home in Daura, another in Kaduna, and a reputation built not on wealth, but on character. He reminded us that leadership doesn’t have to be loud or luxurious to be meaningful. Now that he’s gone, we mourn not just a man, but an era. Baba showed us that leadership could be humble, disciplined, and deeply patriotic. 

He may have left Aso Rock, but his footprints remain in our fields, our roads, our memory. May Allah forgive his shortcomings and grant him al-jannah firdaus. Nigeria will never forget Sai Baba.

By Zayyad I. Muhammad

The passing of former President Muhammadu Buhari marks not just the end of an era but also a significant political loss for two of the three key political parties in Nigeria, the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC) and the rising coalition force, the African Democratic Congress (ADC).

For both parties, Buhari represented more than just a former head of state; he was a political symbol with immense influence. His mere presence at a campaign rally, no matter how brief, would have carried tremendous weight, particularly among his loyal base, which is estimated to be over 12 million strong. These supporters, often described as a “cult-like” following, have remained fiercely committed to him since his early political days under the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC) and the Buhari Organisation. However, the number may have decreased by now.

In recent times, many former CPC loyalists and Buhari-era political operatives have appeared to find a new home in the ADC, reshaping its structure and lending it a dose of national relevance. This quiet but strategic realignment has positioned the ADC as a potential beneficiary of some of the Buhari political legacy, especially in northern Nigeria, where his influence remains deeply rooted. However, a good number of the CPC bloc and the Buhari Organisation have remained in the APC.

Had Buhari lived to make even a symbolic appearance at an APC campaign event, it would have significantly dampened the ADC’s momentum and reinforced the APC’s claim to his enduring political capital. Conversely, had he chosen to lend his image, even silently, to the ADC, it would have sent shockwaves through the APC, raising questions about its hold over his base.

Now, with his passing, both parties are left in a competitive vacuum, each scrambling to appeal to the millions who revered Buhari for his perceived integrity, simple lifestyle, and northern populist appeal. The political battlefield is wide open, and neither the APC nor the ADC can confidently claim to be the rightful heir to Buhari’s legacy.

However, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu may have gained an early edge. His respectful and dignified handling of Buhari’s death, marked by prompt tributes, state honours, and symbolic gestures, may resonate with many of Buhari’s followers. In Nigerian politics, such symbolic acts are never underestimated. They signal alignment, loyalty, and shared values, all of which matter deeply to a base that is emotional, ideological, and still seeking a new political anchor.

As the 2027 election cycle approaches, the real question becomes: Who will inherit the Buhari political machinery? The answer may shape the future of both the APC and ADC, and by extension, Nigeria’s political landscape.

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

By Ibraheem Muhammad Mustapha

The passing of former President Muhammadu Buhari on July 13, 2025, presents a fascinating and troubling paradox for the information ecosystem. Instead of closing a chapter, it appears to have reopened a well-worn, debunked narrative that the “real” Buhari died during his medical trip to London in 2017, and was replaced by a clone or body double named “Jibril” from Sudan. 

As a fact-checker who has previously addressed and debunked this claim, this moment is a sobering litmus test for me and other fact-checkers, as it poses an elementary question of whether classical fact-checking is effective. My analysis leads me to a disquieting conclusion: we are not merely fighting a deficit of information, but a surplus of emotionally resonant, identity-affirming mythology.

Motivated Reasoning and the Psychology of Belief

To grasp the tenacity of the “Jibril” theory, we must first dispense with the simplistic notion that its believers are merely ignorant or unintelligent. The phenomenon is far more complex, rooted in predictable and well-documented psychological mechanics. The primary force at play is what political scientists Milton Lodge and Charles Taber have extensively studied as motivated reasoning. This framework posits that humans, especially in politically charged contexts, behave less as impartial judges and more as motivated attorneys seeking to arrive at a conclusion that aligns with their pre-existing beliefs and identities. For Nigerians whose political identity was defined by opposition to or deep disappointment with the Buhari administration, the “Jibril” narrative was never a hypothesis to be tested; it was a conclusion to be defended.

This dovetails seamlessly with the basic cognitive dissonance theory as was first postulated by Leon Festinger in the 1950s. From the perspective adopted by Festinger, an individual suffers great mental discomfort when they hold contradictory beliefs or are confronted with new information that challenges their existing beliefs. For a citizen who felt alienated, disenfranchised, experienced worse economic conditions or insecurity under a leader they may have once supported or hoped would succeed, the psychological stress is immense. It is far less dissonant to embrace a radical conspiracy that the “real,” competent Buhari is gone than to accept the more painful and complex reality that his administration, for a host of intricate reasons, fell short of expectations. The “Jibril” theory, therefore, is not a failure of logic but a psychological coping mechanism, a path of least resistance to resolve an otherwise unbearable internal conflict.

The Power of Narrative and the Poverty of Facts

Furthermore, fact-checkers fundamentally misunderstand the nature of the battle when we arrive armed with a dossier of facts and data to a war of narratives. Human cognition is not optimised for data points; it is wired for stories. The “Jibril” theory is a masterclass in narrative potency. It contains a villain (the cabal that orchestrated the switch), a victim (the Nigerian populace), a tragic secret (the president’s death), and a mystery to be solved. It transforms the believer from a passive citizen into a heroic truth-seeker, possessing gnosis —a secret, elevated knowledge unavailable to the deluded masses. In contrast, what does the truth offer? It offers the mundane and often unsatisfying complexity of economic policy, security logistics, and bureaucratic inertia. The conspiracy narrative is simply a better, more emotionally gripping story. It provides a scapegoat, assigns clear blame, and creates a sense of intellectual superiority in the believer.

For its most ardent believers, “Jibril” is a symbol of how distant, disconnected, and unrepresentative Buhari’s government felt. Claims that he no longer spoke Fulfulde fluently or looked physically different were not weighed as forensic evidence; they were experienced as embodied metaphors of alienation.

 The Core Crisis is Institutional Distrust

This entire dynamic is supercharged by a catastrophic collapse of institutional trust, which I see as the true Achilles’ heel of fact-checking as a profession. Our work as fact-checkers is predicated on the assumption that a trusted, authoritative third party can adjudicate truth claims. The “Jibril” case demonstrates the collapse of this assumption. The theory gained traction in an environment of profound distrust in public institutions. When citizens do not trust the government to tell the truth about policy or the economy, why would they trust it to tell the truth about the president’s identity? The fact-check is DOA (Dead on Arrival) because the source is already deemed compromised. Therefore, in an environment of deep-seated cynicism towards government, media, and experts, any attempt at debunking is easily reframed as part of the cover-up. Hence, the more forcefully an official source denies a conspiracy, the more it can convince believers that the conspiracy is real. This phenomenon was documented by researchers Brendan Nyhan and Jason Reifler, who identified the backfire effect: each denial is interpreted as a sign of panic from those trying to hide the “truth.” President Buhari’s own need to address the rumour in 2018 (“It’s the real me, I assure you”) was, for many believers, served not as a refutation but as high-level confirmation that they were indeed onto something big.

Reassessing the Role of the Fact-Checker

Therefore, I am forced to reassess our role as fact-checkers and the efficacy of our traditional methods. The “Jibril of Sudan” case study demonstrates that reactive debunking is akin to trying to unring a bell. The path forward must be a paradigm shift towards what social psychologist William J. McGuire pioneered as Inoculation Theory. Rather than merely correcting falsehoods after they have taken root, we must pre-emptively “vaccinate” the public by exposing them to weakened forms of misinformation and deconstructing the manipulative techniques being used. The goal is to build cognitive antibodies against emotional manipulation, conspiratorial thinking, and logical fallacies.

Also, we need to learn how to fight a narrative war, not a Factual Skirmish, because we cannot defeat a powerful story with a list of facts. We must counter it with a more compelling, truthful narrative. This involves storytelling that explains complex realities in an accessible and empathetic way.

Then we need to embrace the method of empathy before evidence. The first step in engaging a believer is not to present a fact-check but to acknowledge the underlying grievance. A conversation that starts with, “I understand the frustration with the country’s direction that leads people to seek drastic explanations,” is more likely to open a door for dialogue than one that starts with, “You are wrong, and here’s why.”

Lastly, the ultimate antidote to misinformation is trust. This is a generational project, not a short-term fix. It requires sustained efforts from the media, government, and civil society to operate with transparency, accountability, and a genuine commitment to public welfare.

The persistence of the “Jibril of Sudan” theory, even in the face of death, is not an indictment of our work as fact-checkers. It is a diagnosis of a deeper societal condition where trust has eroded, and narratives have become more powerful than reality. It signals that the core battle is not over facts, but over trust. Until we can begin the long, arduous work of rebuilding faith in the institutions that serve as arbiters of reality, we will remain locked in this frustrating cycle. The work of a fact-checker, I now believe, must evolve from being a mere verifier of claims to becoming an architect of a more resilient, critical, and trust-based information ecosystem.

By Muhammad Sulaiman

Alumni of the University of Maiduguri have voiced strong opposition to reported plans to rename the institution after former President Muhammadu Buhari. In a statement issued by Muazu M. Dikwa, a 2004 LLB graduate, the alumni group described the move as “ill-advised” and one that fails to reflect the university’s unique heritage and regional significance.

The group emphasised that the University of Maiduguri has long stood as a symbol of resilience and academic excellence in Nigeria’s North-East. They argued that changing its name would undermine its historical identity, which is deeply tied to its geographic location and the challenges the region has faced.

The statement also pointed out that former President Buhari has already been honoured with the naming of the Federal University of Transportation in Daura, Katsina State—his hometown. The alumni maintained that this existing tribute is more appropriate and sufficient in recognising Buhari’s contributions.

“We urge the relevant authorities to reconsider any such proposals,” the statement read. “Focus should instead be on strengthening the university’s capacity and supporting its mission in the region.”

The alumni group called on all stakeholders—students, faculty, community members, and especially the people of Borno State—to resist any attempt to alter the name of the institution.

The University of Maiduguri, established in 1975, has played a crucial role in advancing education in Nigeria’s North-East, despite the security challenges it faces.

By Zailani Bappa

In the last few days, we have been engaged in a debate over whether it was right or not for President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to rename the University of Maiduguri (UNIMAID) after the late President Muhammadu Buhari. I want to add my voice to this as well.

I am a staunch fan and supporter of the late President, and I cherish his exemplary qualities, which are truly uncommon among our present-day crop of active politicians. I respect him alive and in his death. I am also a graduate of UNIMAID.

Despite the above, I strongly disagree with Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s decision to rename my alma mater after President Muhammadu Buhari at this time. The move, to my understanding, is self-serving, dishonest and, obviously, unpopular. And if the President has to do it, there are so many other things available to manipulate for achieving political ambition. 

Just imagine renaming the University of London, or the Oxford University or the Harvard University to another name at this hour. These names have become top brand symbols worldwide and are synonymous with the excellence the Universities are demonstrating.

So is UNIMAID. Its service of excellence has become synonymous with this name for more than five decades. Universities with names of persons, such as Ahmadu Bello University and Bayero University, built their present reputation from the outset, along with those names.

In truth, if President Bola Ahmed Tinubu wanted so desperately to seize the demise of President Muhammadu Buhari to advance his political opportunities in the Northern part of Nigeria ahead of the upcoming elections, he should have renamed the University of Ibadan or the University of Lagos after the late President which will prove to the Northerners more of his nationalistic and unbiased posture. 

After all, the latter of the above Universities was reportedly saved from this kind of unwholesome political decision by his active participation when it was to be renamed after the late MKO Abiola. I will sign and urge everyone to sign the petition currently circulating, which opposes this highly offensive decision.