The Pacesetter Frontier Magazine

Tag: #PacesetterFrontier

  • The Women Died – By Abdul Mahmud

    The Women Died – By Abdul Mahmud

    The photograph released by Amnesty International Nigeria of Mary Talmon, one of the women shot dead during a protest in Adamawa, confronts our country with a tragedy that demands collective introspection, if not accountability. The organisation posted her image on its X handle while calling for an impartial investigation into what it described as the horrific use of excessive force by the military.

    Her name symbolises a broader violence at the heart of state power. News reports offer conflicting figures. Some say seven women were killed. Others insist on eight or nine. The exact number remains disputed although the central truth stands firm. Defenceless women who invoked their constitutional freedom to assemble and speak were killed by armed soldiers in Lamorde Local Government Area on 8 December 2025. The lack of numerical certainty cannot dilute the moral gravity of the event. The killings echo a long and painful memory in Nigeria’s history.

    In 1929, British colonial police shot and killed scores of women during Aba Women’s protests. Those women took a courageous stand against oppressive taxation and unjust rule. They demanded dignity and fairness from a colonial system that viewed them as subjects rather than citizens. The colonial government responded with bullets. Nearly a century has passed since 1929, although the gulf in time has not weakened the thread that binds the past to the present. A similar instinct persists within the state’s reflexive reliance on force when confronted with dissent. The French writer Jean Baptiste Alphonse Karr famously captured this paradox with clarity when he wrote, “The more things change, the more they remain the same”. “Plus les choses changent, plus elles restent les mêmes”.

    Our country’s history presents an unbroken pattern that confirms this insight. The women of 1929 faced armed repression. The women of 2025 confronted the same logic. The protesters in Lamorde gathered to voice concerns over communal clashes that threatened their safety. Their protest sought state intervention and protection. They asked for peace. They demanded accountability. Their tools were words, bodies and solidarity. The military answered their calls with lethal gunfire. Such a response represents a profound inversion of purpose. State power should shield vulnerable communities. State power should support those who seek redress within lawful and peaceful means. State power should never turn its weapons against citizens who carry nothing but the weight of their fears and their desire for justice. When the machinery of force is unleashed against peaceful citizens, the social contract collapses. What remains is power stripped of legitimacy.

    The constitutional right to assemble and freedom of expression lie at the foundation of democratic society. Hannah Arendt described freedom as the capacity to begin anew and to act in ways that bring new possibilities into the world. Citizens engage in this creative act whenever they speak against injustice or join together in collective protest. Any state that responds to such actions with violence rejects this democratic potential. The freedom Arendt emphasised becomes meaningless when those who speak must weigh the possibility of death. A state cannot claim democratic credentials when its first instinct toward protest is to silence rather than listen. State violence against protesters continues to weaken public trust in institutions that should represent and protect citizens.

    Achille Mbembe offers a profound framework for understanding this descent through his concept of necropolitics, “the politics of death”. Mbembe argues that certain states organise power around the capacity to dictate who may live and who must die. This involves more than physical killing. It includes exposing specific groups to conditions where life becomes precarious and unsustainable. The women in Lamorde encountered this logic in its starkest form. They protested peacefully and were met with lethal force. Their deaths were not accidents. They were outcomes produced by a political order that continues to rely on violence as a method of governance. Mbembe’s argument deepens our understanding of the tragedy. He notes that modern states often treat marginalised communities as expendable. These communities exist in what he calls “death worlds”, zones where the state’s commitment to life becomes selective. The women of Lamorde lived in a region marked by communal conflict and insecurity. Instead of receiving robust protection, they encountered a state apparatus that met their vulnerability with indifference and force. Their deaths reflect a system where the distribution of security and dignity is unequal. Some lives receive the full protection of the state. Others are left exposed. The logic that allows soldiers to fire on peaceful women grows from this system of selective value.

    Wole Soyinka’s prison memoir, The Man Died, returns with sharp relevance. Soyinka warned that the death of the man begins with the suppression of truth. When the state silences voices through violence and intimidation, the moral fabric of society frays. A nation cannot flourish where fear outweighs freedom. The tragedy in Adamawa mirrors the environment that informed Soyinka’s reflections. The violence that confronted peaceful women in Lamorde follows the familiar path of repression that earlier generations knew. The uniforms have changed. The rhetoric has softened. The instruments of violence remain in place. The human cost of the killings extends beyond the headlines. Families must bury loved ones whose only act was to speak. Communities must learn to live with the absence of women who represented courage, solidarity and resilience. Their protest demanded that the government protect life. Their deaths reveal a painful truth about the fragility of that protection. Our country cannot claim progress when women die for exercising rights enshrined in the Constitution. A true constitutional order grows from respect for rights and from the consistent application of justice. Guns turned against peaceful protesters reflect disorder, not strength. The military’s role in national defence remains critical. This role does not extend to policing peaceful protests. Democracies rely on trained civil police, transparent rules of engagement and accountable oversight. When soldiers replace these mechanisms, boundaries collapse and abuses flourish. The tragedy in Lamorde represents not only a violation of rights but also a distortion of our constitutional purpose.

    Amnesty International’s demand for a transparent and independent investigation is not merely an institutional reflex; it is a constitutional imperative grounded in the state’s duty to protect life and secure accountability for its violation. The right to life in Section 33 of the Constitution is not couched in an aspirational language, it is a binding command on the state to refrain from unlawfully taking life while ineluctably establishing the culture in which state agents kill with impunity. When democracy loses the capacity to account for the blood spilled by its own security forces, it concedes moral authority. A credible investigation is therefore more than a procedural step; it is a test of whether Nigeria still aspires to constitutional government or has quietly surrendered to the normalisation of state-organised deaths. Accountability, in this sense, is not punishment alone; it is the architecture through which democratic legitimacy is renewed. Without accountability, institutions turn into self-serving bureaucracies insulated from oversight and indifferent to the citizens they exist to protect. The killing of unarmed women during a peaceful protest reveals, once again, how the distance between citizens and the state has widened into a chasm of fear. An unaccountable military becomes a killing machine rather than a constitutional instrument. Its failures, if unexamined, become dangerous precedents. Its abuses, if unpunished, become a doctrine. A democracy that tolerates this drift quietly teaches its security agencies that the Constitution ends where gun-a-blazing begins.

    This is why constitutional language must be understood not as an ornamental text but as a living discipline imposed on power. The guarantees of freedom of assembly, dignity, and expression are not decorative provisions; they are structural safeguards meant to restrain the arbitrary force of the state. When peaceful women are shot for gathering, the Constitution is not merely violated, it is humiliated. It becomes evident that constitutional promises are not self-executing; they require institutions willing to enforce them, leaders willing to be bound by them, and citizens determined to insist that they matter. A state cannot claim fidelity to constitutional order while presiding over a security culture that treats public protest as a threat to be neutralised rather than a right to be protected.

    The photograph of Mary Talmon thus becomes more than evidence of a crime; it is a moral and constitutional summon. It calls our country to confront the dissonance between the lofty ideals inscribed in itsconstitution and the lived experiences of its citizens. Her death, and the deaths of the women who stood beside her, forces a reckoning with what kind of country we desire Nigeria to become: one in which power is constrained by law and accountable to the people, or one in which violence by the state becomes a silent article of governance. Their memory demands truth; their courage insists on justice; their sacrifice challenges Nigeria to choose a future in which human life, dignity, and freedom are not theoretical aspirations but practiced commitments. Only then can the cycle of violence be broken, and only then can democracy claim to be worthy of its name.

    May the blood of the women of Lamorde haunt the killers. Amen.

  • The Ambassadorial Burden of a Failing Republic

    The Ambassadorial Burden of a Failing Republic

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Nigeria has finally plunged into the depths of morass. Deep and troubling depths, difficult to climb out. The new list of ambassadorial nominees tells a familiar story. It is the story of a country that refuses to rise. A country that recycles its worst. A country that decorates failure and calls it service. The President has sent a fresh batch of names to the Senate. Thirty two in all. They join an earlier set of three. It should be a moment of pride for our country. It should be a moment to showcase our best. Instead, it is an embarrassing parade of deadwood and political survivors who have little business representing a country in need of credibility. Look closely at the list. Former governors who left no mark at home. Former commissioners who are remembered only for patronage. Former legislators who saw public office as personal property. Election riggers who supervised the erosion of trust in the ballot. People rejected by their states but rewarded at the national level. This is not a diplomatic corps. This is a retirement home for the politically displaced persons of dubious interest and politicians of particular concern.

    The diplomatic service is the face of a country. It is the voice of a people. It is the place where competence matters. It is the place where integrity stands firm. Countries rise or fall on the quality of the people they send abroad. That is why serious countries take diplomatic postings seriously. They understand the weight of consular and diplomatic representations. Nigeria does the opposite. We treat embassies as political rehabilitation centres. We treat foreign missions as consolation prizes. We reward political loyalty. We punish merit. We sideline career officers. We insult the service. We diminish the country.

    Look at how other countries behave.

    The United States sends seasoned diplomats with years of service. Sometimes it sends political nominees but even those are men and women with serious achievements. They are people with policy minds. People nuanced in policy. People who can open doors abroad, and in promotion of their countries’ national interest. France sends its finest administrators. China sends disciplined technocrats who understand the world. India sends highly trained officers drawn from its foreign service elite. South Korea sends competent professionals who understand trade, investment and technology. These countries understand diplomacy as a strategic asset. They understand that ambassadors carry the weight of national interest. They know that representation is a serious business. They know that no country rises when mediocrities carry its passport across borders.

    Nigeria stands alone in its contempt for excellence. Its rulers insist that political actors who have failed at home somehow succeed abroad. They believe that those who ruined local institutions will protect national interests in foreign capitals. This is an illusion built on arrogance. It is a tragedy built on notoriously poor habits. The damage is visible. Many of our missions are weak. Some are directionless. Some are barely functional. They cannot protect citizens. They cannot attract investment. They cannot sell the country. They cannot build serious bilateral ties. They cannot speak the language of global diplomacy. They cannot engage because they do not understand the issues. The result? Our passport is treated with suspicion across the world. Our missions cannot help. They lack the skill. They lack the influence. They lack the respect. Nigeria is big but its diplomatic voice is small. It whispers at foreign tables where others speak loudly. It watches while others act. The new list promises more decline. Rapid decline.

    There are career officers in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs who have trained for decades. They understand protocol. They understand negotiation. They understand the UN system. They understand the African Union. They understand the slow and patient work of diplomacy. In pursuit of tokenism, a few career diplomats are thrown into the appointment mix, while many watch politicians with no knowledge of international diplomacy take positions meant for professionals. It is demoralising. It is destructive. It weakens an institution that is already fragile. But, there is a grave cost to mediocrity. Every bad envoy carries Nigeria’s weaknesses abroad. Every failed politician posted to a foreign capital worsens our country’s poor reputation. Foreign governments know who is serious and who is not. They know when a country sends its best. They know when a country parades deadwood and sends political handshake dealers abroad to man its missions.

    Nigeria keeps promoting payback tokenism. Nigeria keeps sending liabilities abroad.

    Worse still, Nigeria keeps sending men and women whose only qualification is their usefulness to the President. This is the tragedy of a country caught in the cycle of low expectations and low standards. There is a moral problem as well. Some of the nominees helped produce the electoral chaos that Nigerians now live with.  Some supervised flawed elections. Professor Mahmood Yakubu is one example. Some defended impunity with unmatched zeal. Reno Omokri and Femi Fani-Kayode stand as its most enthusiastic evangelists, men who turned public discourse into theatrics and acrobatics. They did not merely excuse the excesses of power. They flipped. They flopped. They flip-flopped. They somersaulted around truth, to the point of eating their vomits. They justified impunity. They amplified falsehoods as if truth were an inconvenience. They embraced propaganda as a vocation. In a country struggling to rebuild trust in its institutions, their voices have too often deepened cynicism and normalised the erosion of accountability. Some weakened public trust. To reward them with diplomatic postings is to endorse their conduct. It sends a message that the state has no ethical core. It signals that public office is not a service but a spoil of war.

    The world is changing. Diplomacy is now about technology, climate change, migration, security, trade and innovation. Nations that understand this are recruiting the brightest minds. They are building strong foreign services. They are investing in knowledge. They are preparing for a complex future. Nigeria is doing none of this. Nigeria is moving backward while others are moving forward. There are Nigerians who can serve well. Distinguished scholars. Former international civil servants. Former judges. Entrepreneurs who built serious institutions. Career officers who have risen through merit. Professionals who have excelled across the world. They are not on the list. They are not considered. They are not invited. They are not valued. They are simply not wanted by power. They are not listening to scholars and practitioners in the field. Even if they don’t want to listen to the former Indian diplomat and scholar, Kishan Rana, who has written extensively on diplomatic professionalism and appointment criteria, our country has the respected Professor Bolaji Akinyemi who has consistently argued that the selection of ambassadors should be grounded in merit, professionalism, and national interest rather than political patronage. In his view, diplomacy is a specialised field that demands competence, experience, cultural sensitivity, and a deep understanding of international affairs. He stresses that career diplomats, trained within the foreign service system, are best positioned to represent the state effectively and maintain continuity in foreign policy. While acknowledging that political appointments may sometimes be unavoidable, he warns that excessive politicisation weakens professionalism, erodes institutional memory, and diminishes a country’s global standing. His overarching position is that ambassadorial appointments must prioritise expertise and integrity to protect the country’s diplomatic credibility.

    These ambassadorial appointments are a mirror. They show us what our rulers think of Nigeria. They don’t take Nigeria seriously, as the poet, Odia Ofeimun highlighted with intellectual verve and flourish two decades ago. They show us how little is expected of our country. They show us how low the bar has fallen. A country that wants greatness must send great people to represent it. A country that sends its failures abroad will receive the respect such failure deserves. The Senate will confirm the nominees. It always does. It will ask a few questions. It will praise the list. It will claim that the nominees are qualified. Then, it will ask the ambassadorial nominees to “take a bow and go”. It will then move on. Nigeria will move on as well but in the wrong direction. Another opportunity for progress will be lost. Nigeria deserves better. Nigerians deserve better. The world deserves to see our country takes itself seriously. A country that knows that dignity and competence matter. A country that believes that representation is sacred.

    One day our country will rise above the needless elephantine burden it chooses to place on its own back. The weight is heavy. It is the weight of recycled failures. It is the weight of institutions drained of confidence. It is the weight of a country that keeps dragging the carcass of its worst habits into a future that demands clarity, courage and competence. No country grows by carrying the load of its own mediocrity. No Republic moves forward when it insists on hauling along with the same tired figures who helped slow its steps. Nigeria must learn to travel light. It must learn to shed the burdens that weaken its ambition. Only then can it walk with purpose among countries that have already learnt that progress begins with choices that honour the present and protect the future.

    Today is not that day for our failing Republic.

  • Nnamdi Kanu’s Case, The Nigerian State, And The Rule Of Law: Jurisdiction, Rendition, And The Politics Of Prosecution

    Nnamdi Kanu’s Case, The Nigerian State, And The Rule Of Law: Jurisdiction, Rendition, And The Politics Of Prosecution

    By Dr. Brian Vincent Ikejiaku

    Introduction

    The prosecution of Mazi Nnamdi Kanu, leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), remains one of the most complex intersections of law, politics, and international relations in contemporary Nigeria. His trial – originating from alleged acts of terrorism, secessionist agitation, and unlawful broadcasting – has become a crucible for testing Nigeria’s constitutional order, its commitment to the rule of law, and its approach to managing deep ethno-political divisions.

    Beyond its domestic significance, the case engages fundamental questions of jurisdiction, extraterritoriality, and international due process: whether a State may lawfully prosecute a person abducted from a foreign country without formal extradition, and whether prosecutions under repealed statutes remain valid under new laws with saving clauses.

    The issues raised mirror global tensions between State sovereignty and individual rights, resonating with precedents from the United States, United Kingdom, and India – all jurisdictions that have grappled with terrorism, unlawful rendition, and the reach of domestic law beyond borders.

    1. Background: Timeline of Acts, Arrests, and Legal Context

    Nnamdi Kanu’s legal odyssey began in October 2015, when he was first arrested and charged under the Terrorism (Prevention) (Amendment) Act 2013 and the Criminal Code Act. The counts included managing an unlawful society, importing radio transmitters, and committing acts amounting to treasonable felony.

    He was granted bail in 2017 but fled the country after a military operation at his residence in Abia State, later resurfacing abroad to continue his pro-Biafra broadcasts.

    In June 2021, Kanu was apprehended in Kenya and returned to Nigeria under circumstances widely described as extraordinary rendition – that is, an abduction and forcible return without following extradition procedures prescribed under the Extradition Act, Cap E25 LFN 2004.

    In May 2022, while his case was pending, Nigeria enacted the Terrorism (Prevention and Prohibition) Act 2022 (TPPA 2022), repealing the earlier 2011 and 2013 Acts. The new law introduced broader definitions of terrorism and explicit extraterritorial jurisdiction under Section 2(1)(c), covering acts committed abroad that threaten Nigeria’s security.

    The repeal raised a constitutional question: could Kanu’s ongoing trial, framed under the repealed 2013 law, validly continue under the new statute?

    2. The Legal Framework: Repeal, Savings Clauses, and Jurisdiction

    The TPPA 2022 addresses transitional issues in Sections 97 and 98, which expressly save ongoing prosecutions and subsisting charges under the repealed Acts. Section 98(3) provides that:

    “Any proceeding, prosecution, sentence, judgment, charge or cause of action pending or existing immediately before the commencement of this Act under any of the repealed Acts may be continued or commenced … as if this Act had not been made.”

    Thus, as of the repeal date – 12 May 2022 – Kanu’s prosecution was a “pending proceeding” within the meaning of the savings clause. The Federal High Court therefore retained jurisdiction to continue his trial, notwithstanding the repeal.

    This mechanism echoes Section 6 of Nigeria’s Interpretation Act, Cap I23 LFN 2004, which presumes that repeal of a statute does not extinguish rights, liabilities, or proceedings existing under it unless the repealing law expressly provides otherwise.

    3. Jurisdictional Challenges and Extraterritorial Reach

    Kanu’s defence team has repeatedly argued that some alleged offences – particularly the radio broadcasts advocating Biafra – occurred outside Nigeria’s territory, thereby stripping Nigerian courts of jurisdiction.

    However, both the repealed 2013 Act and the 2022 TPPA confer extraterritorial jurisdiction over terrorism offences. Section 2(1)(c) of the TPPA 2022 states that an offence may be tried in Nigeria where it is “committed partly in and partly outside Nigeria,” or where the offender is a Nigerian citizen abroad, or the act is directed at Nigerian interests.

    Under this provision, the Federal High Court may exercise jurisdiction over Kanu’s broadcasts – even those transmitted from the United Kingdom or Kenya – since the alleged intent was to incite violence within Nigeria.

    This model reflects global counter-terrorism statutes. The UK’s Terrorism Act 2006, the U.S. Patriot Act 2001, and India’s Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act 1967 all recognise extraterritorial competence for offences threatening national security.

    4. The Extraordinary Rendition Controversy

    The more profound constitutional issue, however, arises from how Kanu was brought to Nigeria. He was not extradited under treaty procedures but allegedly abducted by Nigerian agents from Kenya – a method known as extraordinary rendition.

    Under Nigerian law, the Extradition Act requires a formal request, judicial hearing, and surrender order by the requested state. None of these steps occurred. Internationally, such conduct may breach the UN Charter (sovereignty of Kenya), the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (Article 12 on liberty and movement), and customary international law.

    The defence therefore contended that this unlawful rendition deprived the Federal High Court of jurisdiction to try him.

    5. Judicial Responses: The 2022 Court of Appeal Decision

    In October 2022, the Court of Appeal (CA/ABJ/CR/625/2022) agreed, holding that:

    “The extraordinary rendition of the appellant from Kenya to Nigeria is a gross violation of international law and the procedure under the Extradition Act … The trial court therefore lacks jurisdiction to continue his trial.”

    The court struck out the remaining counts and ordered Kanu’s release, declaring that the Federal Government could not “benefit from its own wrong.”

    That judgment marked a rare victory for procedural human rights in Nigeria’s anti-terrorism jurisprudence.

    6. The Supreme Court Reversal (December 2023)

    The Supreme Court of Nigeria (SC/CR/1361/2022) reversed that decision in December 2023, holding that although Kanu’s rendition was “unlawful and condemnable,” it did not oust the jurisdiction of the Federal High Court.

    The Court adopted the Ker–Frisbie doctrine, a principle from U.S. law (Ker v. Illinois (1886); Frisbie v. Collins (1952)) holding that the manner of a defendant’s capture does not preclude trial once he is physically before the court.

    By this reasoning, the illegality of rendition is a diplomatic or political issue, not a bar to criminal prosecution. The Supreme Court thus reinstated the trial, remitting it to the Federal High Court for continuation.

    7. The Nigerian Rule of Law Dilemma

    This ruling underscores a recurring tension in Nigeria’s legal order: the struggle to balance state security against constitutional due process.

    While the Court was doctrinally correct within common-law tradition, many critics argue it reflects an executive-centric conception of justice – one that prioritises state control over individual rights.

    The judiciary’s endorsement of Ker–Frisbie suggests that, in Nigeria, ends may justify means when national security is invoked. Yet this stance risks undermining public confidence in due process and further eroding the credibility of Nigeria’s human-rights commitments under the African Charter.

    8. Comparative Perspectives in Brief

    a) United States

    The Ker–Frisbie principle originates from U.S. jurisprudence. In Ker v. Illinois (1886) 119 U.S. 436, the Supreme Court held that a defendant abducted from Peru could still be tried in Illinois. Similarly, in Frisbie v. Collins (1952) 342 U.S. 519, the Court ruled that “due process of law is satisfied when one present in court is convicted of crime after being fairly apprised of the charges.”

    However, in later cases like United States v. Toscanino (1974) 500 F.2d 267, some U.S. appellate courts suggested that extreme governmental misconduct (e.g., torture) could deprive courts of jurisdiction. The standard remains narrow but shows a recognition of limits.

    b) United Kingdom

    In contrast, UK courts have increasingly emphasised procedural propriety. In Bennett v. Horseferry Road Magistrates’ Court, Ex p Bennett [1994] 1 AC 42, the House of Lords held that English courts could stay proceedings if the accused was brought by “a deliberate abuse of process,” such as illegal rendition.

    This approach aligns more closely with rule-of-law ideals, suggesting that unlawful conduct by the state can contaminate a prosecution.

    c) India

    India’s Supreme Court in D.K. Basu v. State of West Bengal (1997) 1 SCC 416 and Abu Salem v. Union of India (2011) emphasised that while extradition irregularities may not automatically vitiate trial, they can justify diplomatic intervention or limited judicial relief.

    India thus sits between the U.S. and U.K. positions – recognising jurisdiction but condemning state misconduct.

    d) Nigeria’s Position

    Nigeria’s Supreme Court has now aligned squarely with the U.S. model, privileging jurisdictional continuity over the integrity of extradition procedures. While doctrinally defensible, it reveals a security-state bias that risks normalising executive lawlessness in future cases.

    9. Repeal, Continuity, and the Saving Clause Debate

    A second strand of argument in Kanu’s case concerns charging under a repealed statute. Defence lawyers contend that since the Terrorism (Prevention) (Amendment) Act 2013 was repealed by the 2022 Act, prosecution under the old law is void.

    However, Sections 97–98 of the new Act create a robust saving clause preserving “ongoing cases in the courts.” This mirrors common-law interpretive presumptions (as codified in Section 6 of the Interpretation Act) that repeal does not extinguish vested proceedings unless the new statute clearly says so.

    Therefore, as long as the alleged offences occurred before May 2022 and prosecution was pending at repeal, the Federal High Court’s jurisdiction survives.

    This approach is consistent with decisions like A.G. Federation v. A.G. Abia State (2002) 6 NWLR (Pt. 764) 542, which affirmed that courts may not “breathe life into dead statutes” absent a saving clause – but where such a clause exists, it operates by legislative intent, not judicial invention.

    10. The Political Dimensions

    a) Ethno-Political Context

    Kanu’s prosecution is inseparable from Nigeria’s fragile federal structure and the enduring grievances of the South-East. IPOB’s agitation for self-determination echoes the historic Biafran secession (1967–1970), and Kanu’s popularity among Igbo youth reflects disillusionment with federal governance, economic exclusion, and militarised policing.

    Thus, the case is not merely about terrorism; it is a political crisis refracted through criminal law.

    b) Security vs. Legitimacy

    By insisting on prosecution despite procedural controversy, the Federal Government seeks to demonstrate state strength. Yet each procedural breach – unlawful rendition, indefinite detention, disregard of bail – undermines the very legitimacy the government seeks to assert.

    The politics of fear and selective justice risk transforming Kanu from an agitator into a symbol of resistance.

    c) International Implications

    Kanu holds dual Nigerian British citizenship, and the United Kingdom’s muted response to his rendition raised questions about the limits of consular protection when national security is invoked.

    Kenya’s government faced domestic backlash for alleged complicity in his transfer, highlighting how counter-terrorism cooperation in Africa can blur into violations of sovereignty and human rights.

    11. The Broader Rule of Law Question

    The essence of the matter lies in Nigeria’s constitutional self-image. The Supreme Court’s reliance on Ker–Frisbie may be doctrinally orthodox, but it also signals that executive illegality is tolerable if politically expedient.

    This risks eroding the constitutional guarantees of fair hearing (Section 36) and liberty (Section 35) of the 1999 Constitution, and Nigeria’s obligations under the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (domesticated by Cap A9 LFN 2004).

    A state cannot credibly claim to fight terrorism while disregarding the rule of law. The jurisprudence emerging from Kanu’s case will therefore shape not only Nigeria’s counter-terrorism regime but its broader constitutional morality.

    12. Table Illustration of Lessons from Comparative Jurisdictions

    Jurisdiction Approach to Unlawful Rendition Effect on Jurisdiction
    U.S. Ker “Frisbie: manner of arrest irrelevant    Trial proceeds
    U.K. Bennett doctrine: abuse of process may bar trial   Court may stay  proceedings
    India Mixed: jurisdiction continues but state censured   Limited relief, no dismissal
    Nigeria Aligns with U.S.; rendition condemned but jurisdiction retained   Trial proceeds under savings clause

    This comparative lens reveals a philosophical divide: whether law or sovereign power ultimately anchors justice. The UK model prioritises legality; the U.S. (and now Nigeria) prioritise prosecution.

    13) Political Reconciliation or Perpetual (Legal) Prosecution – ‘Similar Cases’?

    The persistence of Kanu’s detention despite multiple judicial orders for his release reflects the politicisation of justice. The government’s reliance on prolonged trial and national-security rhetoric has polarised public opinion, reinforcing narratives of marginalisation in the South-East.

    For sustainable peace, Nigeria may need to combine judicial accountability with political dialogue – a model seen in India’s handling of regional separatist movements, where amnesty and negotiation have at times been used in place of prolonged prosecution. This consideration is particularly relevant in light of the recent release of Sunday Adeniyi Adeyemo (aka Sunday Igboho) – another separatist figure (a Yoruba self-determination activist pushing for an independent ‘Yoruba Nation’ in Southwest Nigeria’) – and the President’s recent grant of amnesty to various offenders in Nigeria.

    Even though the cases of Nnamdi Kanu and Sunday are legally different in many ways and took place in different countries, they are both prominent regional agitators, representing two major ethnic groups (Igbo and Yoruba), and involved in separatist or self-determination rhetoric. Because of this, the different outcomes naturally cause comparisons.

    The contrasting cases of Nnamdi Kanu and Sunday Igboho highlight important legal and political tensions within the Nigeria’s federalism and democratic practice. Legally, Kanu’s prolonged detention and trial on charges including treasonable felony, alongside the government’s controversial handling of his extradition, raise questions about due process and the limits of federal power in confronting separatist movements. In contrast, Igboho’s release after detention in Benin Republic and the absence of ongoing prosecution in Nigeria illustrate a more restrained or inconsistent legal response to similar self-determination agitation. Politically, these divergent outcomes fuel perceptions of unequal treatment among ethnic groups, deepening debates about fairness, inclusivity, and trust in the Nigeria federation. They also expose the fragility of democratic governance when security concerns overshadow constitutional safeguard and when political considerations appear to influence the enforcement of law. Together, the two cases reveal how Nigeria’s multiethnic federal democracy continues to struggle with balancing national unity, regional grievances, and the rule of law.

    Conclusion

    Nnamdi Kanu’s case is a mirror held up to the Nigerian State: it reflects the contradictions between law and power, unity and federalism, nationalism and dissent. Legally, the 2022 Terrorism (Prevention and Prohibition) Act provides a saving clause validating ongoing prosecutions, and the Supreme Court has affirmed jurisdiction despite the illegality of rendition.

    Politically, however, the case exposes the fragility of Nigeria’s rule of law and the enduring mistrust between state and citizen. The government’s victory in court may prove Pyrrhic if it deepens alienation and delegitimises judicial institutions.

    In the end, the most important verdict will not be judicial but historical: whether Nigeria chooses to be a state governed by law, or a state that governs through law.

    Dr. Brian Vincent Ikejiaku Writes From The United Kingdom.

  • A Ruling Class That Eats Itself

    A Ruling Class That Eats Itself

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Contemporary Nigeria feels like a country pulling against itself. Every day brings shock and surprises. Every night brings deeper worries. The country moves, but it moves without directions. It is not collapse, yet it is not order. It is something in between. Something that drags Nigerians down and wears them out. It resembles a place that has lost itself and the centre that no longer holds. A place where authority exists only in name. A place where power speaks loudly but acts weakly. Many Nigerians now describe the country in images borrowed from history. One of those images is China during its Warlord Era. It is not a perfect comparison. It is not even a comfortable one. But it is a useful frame for understanding the tragic drift of a country that cannot govern itself with clarity.

    China of the early twentieth century lived under fractured authority. Regional strongmen carved out fiefdoms. Armies answered to personal loyalty rather than the nation. Rulers acted like emperors. But they were actually terrors. Chinese struggled to stay alive between the shifting lines of conflict. Hope became a fragile currency. Trust disappeared. Nigeria today is not China of 1916. Still, it mirrors some of the same anxieties, the same sense of mercenary leadership, the same feeling that ruling elites no longer serve the people, the same mood of desperation among a population forced to improvise its survival; and the same suspicion that the state has become a shell that echoes emptiness, but never protects. Everywhere you look, you see a ruling class that feeds on the very system it was meant to sustain. It is a ruling class that eats itself. And in doing so, it consumes the country.

    Across Nigeria, the sense of safety has thinned to a whisper. Entire regions drift into insecurity. Armed groups take advantage of the vacuum. Communities mourn losses that have become too frequent to shock. The government responds with promises, yet the reality remains unchanged. Nigerians are stampeded with announcements, the type Fela once famously sang about as “government magic”, and endless condemnations. They hear everything except real solutions. Nigerians die on highways. They die on their farms. They die in their homes. They die while waiting for leaders who refuse to lead. It is a tragedy that repeats itself so often that it feels like part of the national routine. In China’s Warlord Era, leaders fought for territory. Control was the only ideology. The state became a broken vessel. Yet, something unexpected happened. Even in the midst of chaos, the Chinese clung to the idea of a future China. They nurtured the dream of a unified republic. They preserved their cultural memory. They produced thinkers, writers, and reformers who refused to surrender to the disorder around them. And when the warlords finally exhausted themselves, the country began the slow process of rebuilding. It was messy. It was violent. It was painful. But the idea of China survived.

    The idea of China survived because its deepest institutions outlived the warlords who tried to overthrow them. Local communities kept their traditions intact. Teachers educated children in classical texts. Merchants maintained networks that tied distant regions together. Reformers in cities like Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou carried forward debates about national renewal. Newspapers, student groups, and emerging political parties kept alive a vision of a united republic, even when the country itself was fractured. These threads held society together when the state could not. The idea also survived because the Chinese never abandoned the belief that their destiny was collective. They experienced warlordism as a temporary betrayal of the national project, not its end. They protested fragmentation. They wrote against it. They fought against it. They imagined a future in which China would be whole again. This imagination created pressure that weakened the warlords’ grips, and when military exhaustion set in, the intellectual and cultural groundwork for rebuilding was ready. Out of that groundwork emerged the next phase of the Chinese state. As it was then, and as it had always been, the Chinese nation-state building was a fierce struggle for grounding visions and competing ideas, not a flippant appeal to sentiment or convenience. It required depth, conviction, and the hard labour of shaping a shared future rather than the easy pursuit of applause for the warlords.

    Nigeria is inching close to the point where it must reclaim itself from its own violent fragments. The danger of fragmentation continues to grow. The ruling elites continue to fight among themselves. They continue to chase influence and access while the country burns. They chase the next election cycle. They chase everything except the wellbeing of Nigerians. They do not confront the insecurity that terrorises ordinary Nigerians. They do not confront the poverty that reduces life to a miserable hustle. They do not confront the corruption that empties public coffers. They do not confront the decay of institutions that once held the country together. What they confront instead is each other: “Someone once said you are supposed be kept away in the zoo. Sincerely that’s where you belong”. And in that confrontation, they devastate the very system they claim to defend. The judiciary is hijacked. The legislature is compromised. The executive is swollen with power but thin on capacity. Agencies clash. Serving governors accuse past governors. They deflect; and when they are not deflecting on the real issues, they are busy abusing fellow Nigeria: “Go and die”. The federal state stumbles along as the subnational states burn. This is how a country eats itself. Not through dramatic implosion. But through constant erosion.

    China’s Warlord Era ended through exhaustion. Nigeria cannot afford such an ending. The cost in lives would be unbearable. The social damage would last generations. The economic ruin would push millions into irreversible poverty. Though the world is different now, populations are larger, weapons are deadlier, and the interdependence of communities is deeper, a Nigerian collapse would be disastrous. It would be a continental earthquake. So the question is simple. When will our ruling elite realise that it has consumed too much of the country’s vitality? When does it understand that its survival depends on the survival of the country? When does it learn that power cannot be sustained on the ruins of public trust? These lessons appear obvious. Yet they seem to escape those who hold office. A country cannot run on improvisation. It cannot survive on announcements. It cannot endure on propaganda. It needs a moral centre. It needs a political vision. It needs leaders who understand that governance is not performance. Governance is responsibility. It is a duty. It is courage. It is the ability to stand between citizens and danger. And it is the humility to know when the state is crumbling and must be rebuilt.

    China recovered because its people refused to let the idea of China die. Nigeria stands at a similar crossroads. Nigerians still believe in the idea of Nigeria. They show it every day. They show it in their stubborn resilience. They show it in their refusal to give up. They show it in their search for work, for safety, for dignity. They show it in their prayers. They show it in their grief. They show it even when the state ignores them. But belief is not infinite. Resilience is not eternal. Hope is not immortal. There comes a time when citizens look at their leaders and see nothing but hunger for power. There comes a time when they recognise that the ruling class feeds on the country like a parasite. There comes a time when they see that those who govern have no interest in building a future. At that point when the ruling class begins to devour itself, the people begin to chart a course of their own.

    If Nigeria is to avoid that fate, its ruling class must act now to save the country and itself. It must restore security. It must strengthen its institutions. It must clean its politics. It must rebuild public trust. These are not lofty ideals. They are basic responsibilities. They are the foundation of every functioning state. Without them, the country slips deeper into the logic of the Warlord Era. Disarray. Fragmentation. Fear. The tragedy of Nigeria is not that it lacks resources. It is not that it lacks ambition. It is that it lacks leaders who understand the moral weight of stewardship. Leadership is not enjoyment. Leadership is a burden. Leadership is sacrifice. Leadership is the understanding that every decision shapes the lives of millions. China’s past is a warning. Nigeria’s present is a plea. The ruling class can still step backwards from the path of self-destruction. It can still choose purpose over plunder. It can still rebuild the fragile trust that binds the country together. But it must act. It must reform. It must confront the insecurity, the corruption, the disorder, and the decay. A ruling class that eats itself leaves nothing behind. Nigeria deserves better. Nigeria deserves leaders who build. Nigeria deserves a state that protects. Nigeria deserves a future that is not swallowed by the failures of today.

  • New Week, More Abductions and More Deaths

    New Week, More Abductions and More Deaths

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Another week has opened in Nigeria with blood on the ground and fear in the air. The country wakes up each morning to new tragedies. Each day closes with fresh accounts of death, kidnappings, and retreats. Nigeria is living inside a vortex of violence. Nothing breaks it. Nothing interrupts it. The state has become pusillanimous, a timid spectator.

    The abduction of more than twenty five girls from Government Girls Comprehensive Senior Secondary School, Maga, in Kebbi State, is another grim reminder of how far the security collapse has travelled. The killing of the Vice-Principal in the attacks showed the brutality of the terrorists. These were girls preparing for a future that is constantly denied them. In that region, the education of girls has long been contested by extremists and patriarchal norms. The state promised to protect these children. It failed. Again.

    Across the north, the same story unfolds. In Tsafe Local Government Area of Zamfara State, entire families were taken. Women and children disappeared into forests controlled by terrorists. Homes were emptied without resistance. Communities now live under criminal rule. Citizens whisper not to provoke those who control their roads, markets, and farmlands. The state is absent. In the north east, the shock is deeper. The reported capture and killing of General Muhammed Uba, who the Army High Command assured the country was safe within his battalion, has shaken the country. A General of the Nigerian Army. Seized. Dragged away. Made to sit on the ground by his snatchers. Killed by terrorists who move on motorcycles. A military built on decades of training and investment was breached by a band that holds no formal command structure. It is shameful. It undermines morale. It raises a painful question. Is the Nigerian military still capable of fighting?

    Everywhere Nigerians turn, the failures of the state stare back at them. The military is stretched. The police is overwhelmed. Intelligence gathering is weak. Communities report danger and no one comes. Criminals move from state to state. Terrorists set up camps. They impose taxes. They administer their own justice. The state protects no one. It barely protects itself. The government keeps promising a turning point. Instead, we watch a point that turns in on itself, spinning without direction, circling like the widening gyre of WB Yeats’s The Second Coming. The turning point never arrives. Operations are launched with loud declarations of victory. The terrorists regroup. They reorganise. Villages burn. Schools fall. Families mourn. The cycle continues.

    Our country has normalised tragedy. Nigerians now expect bad news. They wait for the next report of abductions. They wait to hear which community has fallen. Prophet Amos once asked, “When will the new moon be over, so we can sell our corn?” It was a lament about a society rotting from inside. It was an indictment of leaders who worshipped power but abandoned justice. Nigeria carries that lament today. Nigerians now ask when this cycle of death will end. They now ask when the government will act with urgency. They now ask when rulers will remember that the first duty of the state is protection. Instead of answers, Nigerians see a president who governs from behind high walls. The fortress of Aso Rock grows more secure while the rest of the country grows more vulnerable. Terrorists move freely. Terrorists spread across territories untouched by government authority. Villages have no police presence. Cities shrink into islands of guarded estates. Nigerians travel only by daylight. Even then, they travel in fear.

    Nigeria cannot continue this way. Our country cannot survive when its armed forces appear unsure of their own strengths. The military once carried the weight of national pride. It was the symbol of unity. It was the institution that projected the authority of the federal government. Today, Nigerians ask if it is still primed for battle. They ask how a General can be captured. They ask why battalions retreat. They ask why weapons fall into the hands of those who seek to destroy the republic.

    These questions are fair. They must be asked.

    The military needs honest scrutiny. This government needs accountability. Nigerians deserve truth. If the armed forces are under-resourced, Nigerians need to know. If corruption has weakened capacity, the offenders must be punished. If political interference has crippled operations, it must be exposed. The attitude of silence, denial, and deflection is no longer acceptable.

    Nigeria and Nigerians are now trapped between the rock and the hard place. Some cling to patriotism, patience, and faith in the government’s ability to defeat the terrorists, mocking any notion of foreign assistance. Others insist that the country must seek help from beyond its borders. When President Donald Trump promised that he would send troops to our country to wipe out terrorists wherever they found them, Nigerians wondered what such intervention would mean here. They now ask when he intends to send help, since their own President cannot secure the country. It is a question born out of despair. A question rooted in frustration with a state that has abandoned its duties.

    The despair is not only in the number of dead. It is in the absence of hope. A country loses part of its soul when children are stolen from classrooms. A country loses its dignity when Generals are captured. A country loses its direction when leaders stay silent or offer empty speeches. Nigeria is losing too much. The new week has already brought more deaths. More abductions. The next week may bring the same. Nigerians pray it does not. Nigerians ask for a leadership that understands the urgency of the moment. They ask for a military that fights back. They ask for a police force that responds. They ask for a country that feels like a country.

    Nigeria must reclaim its security. It must rebuild its confidence. It must restore the bond between the state and the citizens. It must treat every abduction as an assault on the republic. It must treat every killing as a national injury. It must confront the terror networks with strength and strategy. It must do these things because no country can survive on a wing and on a prayer. The clock is ticking. The country is bleeding. The Nigerians are watching. The world is watching. The Nigerian state must show that it still has the will to protect itself. It must show that it can defend Nigerians. It must show that it is not a defeated republic.

    A new week has begun. The country cannot afford another filled with grief. While Nigerians sink deeper into despair, the pressing question remains: when will President Trump act, if at all, so that Nigerians can once again tend their farms, sell their corn, and bring their wheats to the market without fear? Nigerians are weary of waiting for rescue, yearning for the day they can live without daily encounters with violence, abduction, and the absence of security.

  • Stop Appeasing Criminals, Abaribe Cautions Federal Gov’t

    Stop Appeasing Criminals, Abaribe Cautions Federal Gov’t

    Senator representing Abia South Senatorial District, Sen. Enyinnaya Abaribe, has urged the Nigerian government to end what he described as the appeasement of criminals, warning that the country has “lost its moral compass” and must urgently return to a path of civic and ethical responsibility.

    Abaribe made the remarks while chairing the 5th Frontier Discourse Annual Public Lecture and Awards on Tuesday, November 11, 2025, at the Nigerian National Merit House in Maitama, Abuja.

    He expressed concern over a growing trend of rewarding wrongdoers, citing the recent practice of granting amnesty to armed bandits who abduct children. According to him, such measures signal a dangerous collapse of moral standards.

    “We are in a state where bandits who kidnap children are rewarded with amnesty, which shows we have lost whatever morality we once had,” he said.

    The senator also condemned the reintegration of individuals responsible for killing soldiers in ambushes, noting that they often face no meaningful consequences.

    “You do not reward those who live on ransom and blood,” he said. “When you do, you embolden them. A government that chooses appeasement over justice signs a death warrant for its citizens. Those you appease will see you as weak and continue to perpetrate evil.”

    Turning to Nigeria’s political culture, Abaribe criticized recurring ego clashes among leaders, which he said often derail governance. “No more blame games,” he urged. “Buckle up and do what you were elected to do.”

    The event also featured awards recognizing outstanding individuals and institutions. Honorees included:

    Good Governance (Governor of the Year): H.E. Dr. Peter Ndubuisi Mbah

    Public Sector Person of the Year: Mallam Lanre Issa-Onilu

    Humanitarian Service Award: Mary Dinah Foundation

    Media Person of the Year (TV): Aaron Atsahyel

    Media Person of the Year (Radio): Maryann Okon

    Brand of the Year: Centre for Memories

    Promising Entertainer (Music): Ugochukwu Uneabunso (Une 50)

    Business Person of the Year: Chief Chukwudi Nnaji

    Frontier Person Award: Prof. Udenta O. Udenta, Dr. Ahmad Sajoh

    Literary Icon Award: Abuja Literary Society

    Tech Person of the Year: Gbenga Sesan

    Sports Icon of the Year: Barr. Amobi Ezeaku

    Lifetime Achievement Award: H.E. Dr. Okwesilieze Nwodo

    Other highlights were a saxophone performance and live musical entertainment.

  • Wike, Yerima; Clash of Values and Authority – By Oseloka H. Obaze

    Wike, Yerima; Clash of Values and Authority – By Oseloka H. Obaze

    Two wrongs never make a right. When two people stridently but wrongly assert their rights over an issue, something is systemically wrong. That was the circumstance surrounding the recent Wike-Yerima standoff that has become the greatest content asset for social media lampooners.  But this is a very serious matter relating to military-civilian relations in Nigeria.  For starters, Wike and Yerima took the already fraught military-civilian relations to a whole new subterranean level.

    One of the greatest ills bedeviling good governance in Nigeria is the use of the military for purely civilian police duties in a democracy.  Soldiers by orientation are not good policemen.  It’s not their orientation. It is not their training.  As such they should not be. Yet, because of the military’s long sojourn in Nigeria’s leadership politics, certain traits imbued on the psyche of Nigerians continue to reflect the negative influence of military anti-politics.

    The recent shameful public altercation between Nyesom Wike, the Abuja FCT Minister and a young naval officer, Lt. AM Yerima, speaks to and epitomizes the prevailing crises of our national clash of values and lack of respect for constituted authority.  Those, who like Wike, who occupy high public offices, have unwittingly contributed to the crisis, often by their conduct and their utterances.  Some may say minister Wike deserved his comeuppance.  That’s debatable.  But a minister berating a uniformed military officer, as “a fool” and a “small boy,” lends credence to how deep-seated the crisis has become.   It speaks also to the dearth of patriotism in Nigeria.

    The now viral altercation presented a Catch-22 situation.  Heads both parties lose; tails, both parties lose.  Both Wike and Lt. Yerima, represent by their official positions, constituted authority.   Yet, they both cancelled each other’s prerogative, and shamelessly so.   Today, political leaders take full delight in legitimizing the militarization of our politics.  They have police and military officers guarding them and standing or sitting behind them at public events. Our civilian leaders all covet having ADCs; a purely military culture.  Incidentally, had officer Yerima been assigned as part of the Minister Wike’s security detail, -such assignments which happen frequently-  he would have executed  Wike’s orders the very way he executed the orders of his principal; reportedly a retired three-star military officer.  That’s the irony that was lost on Wike, and his cloistered civilian mindset.  It’s worth recalling that in July 2020, Gov. Wike used his security details to rescue embattled former NDDC managing director Joy Nnuieh from a supposed house confinement. If the truth be told; soldiers are meant to obey the last command.  They follow orders. Moreover, due process in enforcing a purely civic matter, required modalities other than the one deploy routinely by the FCT Minister.

    Here is the sad paradox of that altercation.  In a democracy, the military is statutorily supposed to be subservient to civilian authority.  That respect derives operationally, from the commander-in-chief to his alter egos.  It matters little, if the official is elected or appointed.  Then again, in the order of protocol and official precedence, a minister ranks about the same as a military general.   Interestingly, well before Wike became the FCT minister, four of his predecessors as ministers of the FCT, were soldiers; Gen. Mamman Jiya Vatsa, AVM Hamza Abdullahi, Gen. Gado Nasko and Gen. Jeremaih Timbut Useni.   Now, would young Lt. Yerima, have responded the same way to them in a similar circumstance? I think not.   What this says is that our military has this mindset that every non-military Nigerian, no matter how highly placed, is a “bloody civilian.”   Someone forgot to remind Wike of that reality.  Just as someone forget to tell him that he was not a judge, a sheriff or a bailiff.

    Relatedly, an incident that happened in the late 1980s that is worth recalling, illustrates how our values and respect for constituted authority has been egregiously eroded. During President Ibrahim Babangida’s rule, late Ambassador George Dove-Edwin, one of Nigeria’s most astute and highly respected diplomats, was the High Commissioner in London.  Prior to that assignment he had served as Permanent Secretary in the Foreign Ministry.  At that time, late AVM Hamza Abdullahi, an air force general, was the FCT Minister, a member of the ruling military council and as a very close ally of President Babangida, belonged to his close-knit kitchen cabinet.

    AVM Abdullahi had travelled to Germany and was returning to Nigeria via London.  The High Commission was duly informed of his transit so as to facilitate his transfer after his short layover in London. When High Commissioner Dove Edwin was informed that the FCT Minister would be passing through, he had indicated that he intended to personally go to the airport, and await the Minister’s arrival at the Heathrow Airport protocol lounge. His plan to spend the transit time with the minister was not out of obligation, but as a matter of courtesy and diligence.

    On the appointed day, several hours before Dove-Edwin was to go to the airport, he was summoned to Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) at Whitehall.  Realizing that he might not make it to the airport on time, Dove-Edwin dispatched his Deputy Chief of Protocol to the airport to receive the minister and hold fort until he arrived, just in case he was delayed.  He went a step further.  He sent a personal handwritten note to the FCT Minister explaining his predicament.  The Deputy-Chief of Protocol received Minister Abdullahi, handed over the High Commissioner’s personal note, and reassured him that the High Commissioner would definitely arrive before his departure for Nigeria. AVM Abdullahi was visibly displeased; and made that known in very clear terms.

    When Amb. Dove-Edwin eventually arrived, and was already tendering his apologies as he entered the Protocol Lounge, an irate Minister Abdullahi publicly berated him, using expletives, despite the presence of other high ranking foreign dignitaries in the Lounge.  His grouse; he did not understand what was so important at the Foreign Office to warrant the High Commissioner not being on hand to receive him.  His ultimate faux pas was when he said; “We sent you here at great expense to serve us.”   It was not clear if the “us” was Nigeria, or Nigeria’s top military brass.  A totally stunned Dove-Edwin, though a civilian, stood erect, almost at attention, looked straight at the Minister, and said, “Honourable Minister, your language is most unbecoming and unacceptable. Have a good afternoon.”  He turned around and left.

    The postscript to that saga is that Amb. Dove-Edwin reported the incidence in a dispatch to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, with copy to the Chief of General Staff (CGS).  One point vehemently made in the demarche, was that traditionally, Ambassadors when at post, were only obligated to be present at the airport, when the Head of State, his Deputy or the Foreign Minister visited.  Any such presence, for other senior government officials, was simply, a matter of courtesy- a privilege, not a right.  The upshot is that Dove-Edwin was never queried and never sanctioned, even as some might have deemed his conduct insubordination.  The flip side is that the Minister’s conduct reflected a clash of values that also ridiculed constituted authority: his, and that of the High Commissioner.  In Nigeria, military-civilian relations are complex and fraught with imponderables.  Even when soldiers retire from active duty, and don agbada or kaftan mufti, most generally treat civilians with visible disdain, whenever there is a civil disagreement.  Officer Yerima exemplified that mindset. Also, in Nigeria, soldiers don’t submit to civilian police authority.  That’s a fact.

    The interface between Minister Wike and Lt. Yerima would have ended well, if Wike instead of publicly berating the officer had simply and civilly asked to speak to his principal or commanding officer.  That could have been done, without acrimony. No one appointed the FCT minister a law enforcement police officer or bailiff.  Wike should have also recognized and respected the officer’s obligation to carry out his orders by a constituted authority.  A proper and courteous interface would have also affirmed the Minister’s legitimate position and authority as someone, who was also carrying out his statutory duties at the behest of the commander-in-chief, without the engagement becoming vexatious.

    The Wike-Yerima face off, is a daily occurrence in Nigeria. What happens at military checkpoints across Nigeria is even more appalling. The only difference is that this incident involved a well known public official, whom most Nigerians already consider obtuse and very controversial.   But it was not just Wike that the soldier disrespected; it was the commander-in-chief, who appointed him and the senate that confirmed him. Likewise, it was not only Yerima that Wike called a “small boy” and “a fool”.  Indeed, it was the entire armed forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria that Wike abused. Admittedly, Lt. Yerima did professionally well, not to be provoked by the abuses and name calling. Two wrongs never make a right.

    Even though it is well and good that Lt. Yerima stood his grounds, some of his military superiors know too well that his conduct, despite being polite to Wike, perceptibly did not enhance military-civilian relations.  Often, perception is worse than reality. The messaging was visibly conflictual and condescending.  If a junior officer can publicly do that to a serving minister, what then, can they do to the common man? And on the flip side, can a junior civil servant do same to a serving or retired military general without agonizing reprisals?  I think not! Beyond right and wrong, the Wike-Yerima episode raises more questions than answers. One can only hope that this saga will prompt the urgent rethink and redress of deploying military officers to enforce law and order tasks that are within the statutory remit of the Nigerian police.

     

    ———-

    Obaze is MD/CEO, Selonnes Consult – a policy, governance and management consulting firm in Awka.

  • Gov. Mbah Honoured as Pacesetter’s ‘Governor of the Year’

    Gov. Mbah Honoured as Pacesetter’s ‘Governor of the Year’

    Enugu State Governor, Dr. Peter Mbah, has been has been bestowed with the Governor of the Year award at the 5th Frontier Discourse Annual Public Lecture Series and Awards, organised by Pacesetter Frontier Magazine.

    The 2025 edition of the Frontier Discourse Annual Public Lecture and Awards, which cognises individuals and institutions making outstanding contributions to governance and national development, was held in Abuja under the distinguished chairmanship of the lawmaker representing Abia South Senatorial District, Sen. Enyinnaya Abaribe, and co-chairmanship of the President of the Nigerian Union of Journalists, Comrade Alhassan Yahaya.

    According to the organisers, Governor Mbah was selected for his remarkable achievements in just two years in office, particularly his efforts in repositioning Enugu’s economy and transforming the state into a vibrant and premier investment destination.

    The Founder of the magazine, Onochie Igwesi, praised him for redefining the socio-economic landscape of the Coal City through visionary policies, infrastructure renewal, and a commitment to sustainable growth, describing him as one of the most impactful governors in Nigeria today.

    Upon assuming office, Mbah set an ambitious target to grow Enugu’s GDP from $4.4 billion to $30 billion.

    According to the organisers, that vision is already yielding results. They cited a recent BudgIT report ranking Enugu as Nigeria’s most fiscally viable subnational government, with the strongest capacity to operate independently of federal allocations.

    Mbah also earned commendation for his decisive action in ending the Monday sit-at-home order imposed by non-state actors, a move credited with restoring normalcy and economic activity across the state.

    “Governor Mbah has revived and rehabilitated moribund state-owned assets.

    “It is to his credit that Enugu became the first state in Nigeria to fully assume control of its electricity market, following the presidential assent to the Electricity Act of 2023,” Igwesi stated.

    Recollecting on Mbah’s administration’s mantra, ‘Tomorrow is Here,’ he described the governor as “a leader whose governance philosophy is rooted in transparency, traceability, and accountability.”

    “In just two years, Enugu has caught a full glimpse of tomorrow — today,” he added.

    The Magazine described him as a “Maverick doubly certified to be ahead of his time.”

    In his remark, Governor Mbah, while thanking the management and staff of Pacesetter Frontier Magazine for the honour, described the magazine as an unflinching promoter of democracy and good governance.

    The governor, who was represented by the Permanent Secretary, Enugu State Liaison Office in Abuja, Barr. Chuks Ugwu, said the award would only make him and his team to work harder to sustain the goodwill and confidence realized in him by the people of the state and Nigerians in general.

  • 5th Frontier Discourse Public Lecture: Stakeholders Examine Power Struggles Defining Nigeria’s Democracy

    5th Frontier Discourse Public Lecture: Stakeholders Examine Power Struggles Defining Nigeria’s Democracy

    Political stakeholders and citizens have examined the dynamics of power struggles between citizens and ruling elites in Nigeria’s democratic landscape at the 5th Frontier Discourse Annual Public Lecture Series and Awards, organized by Pacesetter Frontier Magazine.

    The event, held on Tuesday, November 11, 2025, at the Nigerian National Merit Award House, Abuja, focused on the theme, “Politics of Convergence and Collisions: Navigating Power Struggles in Shaping Democracy.”

    Delivering the keynote address, Prof. Udenta O. Udenta, Founding National Secretary of the Alliance for Democracy, argued that the state often represents an ideology rather than the people themselves.

    “It’s impossible to represent everyone. You represent your policies, your government, and the segment of people who buy into your ideology”, Udenta said.

    He said collisions are inevitable when the interests of different groups and classes clash, emphasizing the need for dialogue and inclusion in resolving societal conflicts.

    Also speaking, Dr. Ahmed Sajoh, Executive Director, FutureNow Initiative, and the second keynote speaker, lamented that democracy in Nigeria had become synonymous with elections rather than governance.

    “Our political parties have become revolving doors. People move from one party to another. How, then, do we hold them accountable?”

    He stressed the importance of mentoring young people before transferring power to them, warning that leadership without guidance could be disastrous.

    Chairman of the occasion and senator representing Abia South district, Sen. Enyinnaya Abaribe, expressed concern over the erosion of moral values in governance, criticizing leaders who prioritize appeasement over justice.

    “You do not reward those who thrive on ransom and blood. A government that chooses appeasement over justice signs the death warrant of its citizens.”

    During the panel session, Journalist, Laolu Akande, urged citizens outside the political system to “invade” it, warning that complacency equated complicity.

    Activist, Aisha Yesufu, highlighted how poverty has been weaponized to suppress dissent in Nigeria. She emphasized education as a critical foundation for sustaining democracy.

    “We cannot fully access democracy without education. Children must be taught early about good governance and the power they hold to demand accountability.”

    Catholic priest and social commentator, Rev. Fr. John Chinyere Oluoma, condemned what he described as Nigeria’s “politics of convenience,” insisting that true change must come through civil action. Echoing Udenta’s call for ideology-driven politics, he said:

    “Let political parties be founded on ideology. State clearly what system of government you represent in your manifesto, so voters know they’re choosing ideas, not tribes, religions, or personalities.”

    Mr. Ademola Oshodi, Senior Special Assistant to the President on Foreign Affairs, reminded citizens of the importance of institutions that hold the government accountable. He urged Nigerians to focus less on complaints and more on understanding the slow but steady evolution of governance, encouraging active engagement in the electoral process.

    Speaking to newsmen on the choice of the theme, the Founder of Pacesetter Frontier Magazine, Onochie Igwesi, noted that the idea behind the initiative was in line with the duties of the press as the fourth estate of the realm. He stressed that conversations geared towards the 2027 elections had begun and it was necessary for citizens to make their decisions in 2027 based on data, not sentiments.

    The event also featured awards recognizing outstanding individuals and institutions. Honorees included:

    Good Governance (Governor of the Year): H.E. Dr. Peter Ndubuisi Mbah

    Public Sector Person of the Year: Mallam Lanre Issa-Onilu

    Humanitarian Service Award: Mary Dinah Foundation

    Media Person of the Year (TV): Aaron Atsahyel

    Media Person of the Year (Radio): Maryann Okon

    Brand of the Year: Centre for Memories

    Promising Entertainer (Music): Ugochukwu Uneabunso (Une 50)

    Business Person of the Year: Chief Chukwudi Nnaji

    Frontier Person Award: Prof. Udenta O. Udenta, Dr. Ahmad Sajoh

    Literary Icon Award: Abuja Literary Society

    Tech Person of the Year: Gbenga Sesan

    Sports Icon of the Year: Barr. Amobi Ezeaku

    Lifetime Achievement Award: H.E. Dr. Okwesilieze Nwodo

    Other highlights were a saxophone performance and live musical entertainment.

  • Misreading Realities -By Abdul Mahmud

    Misreading Realities -By Abdul Mahmud

    There are times when ideas become prisons. When ideology blinds those who hold it. When conviction turns into a wall that shuts out reality. This is what has happened to some of the comrades on the Nigerian Left. They have chosen to see the world only through the prism of anti-imperialism. So much so that they can no longer see the blood that stains the Nigerian earth in Benue, Plateau, and Taraba. Two Comrades stand as examples of this blindness. Femi Falana, a lawyer and long-time human rights advocate. Owei Lakemfa, a trade unionist and columnist. Both men have done admirable work in the past. Both have fought the military. Both have defended the weak. But, on the question of the slaughter of Christians in northern Nigeria, they have become prisoners of old dogmas. Falana says Donald Trump’s claim that Christians are being exterminated in Nigeria is false. Lakemfa goes further. He says the killings are not genocide but the outcome of land grabbing. Both Comrades take comfort in argument. They seek refuge in needless semantics. They forget that while they debate definitions, human beings are being wiped out in their ancestral homes. Perhaps not referring to both, Tunde Aremu, a respected member of the Nigerian Left who has devoted much of his adult life to development work, captures what is essentially a cry of moral frustration at the intellectual dishonesty of denial. Hear him: “You understand now, my brother, why some of us grow infuriated when people paid to deny the reality of our people sit behind their computers, in air-conditioned comfort, spreading falsehoods”.

    There is a difference between skepticism and denial. The Left generally thrives on skepticism. It questions power. It exposes imperial propaganda. But when skepticism becomes denial, it becomes cruel. When Falana dismisses the idea of genocide, he denies the testimony of survivors. He denies the bones of the dead. He denies the evidence that lies scattered across the valleys of the Middle Belt. Lakemfa too misreads the tragedy. He sees it as a struggle for land. As though land, not faith, is the reason villages have been emptied out and churches burned. As though northern Christians are being violently turned on without the ideological poison of jihadism. To call it land grabbing is to flatten reality. It is to erase the religious hatred that fuels the violence.

    The Nigerian Left once prided itself on standing with the oppressed. But some of its comrades now stand not with the people but with rhetoric that is ideologically dishonest, slogans that serve dogma rather than truth. Everything America says must be wrong. Everything the West condemns must be exaggerated. So, when Trump or Western observers describe the killings of Christians as genocide, the instinct of some members of the Left is to dismiss it outright. They would rather defend their ideology and be wrong than confront the enemies of the people and be right. This is not new. A few scholars of the Left have long called out this intellectual arrogance. The late Polish philosopher, Leszek Kołakowski, wrote that the tragedy of Marxism was not only political but moral. He argued that the Left had become so fixated on its struggle against capitalism that it lost the ability to see evil elsewhere. Terry Eagleton, the Marxist literary critic, later warned that the Left’s obsession with imperialism made it blind to new forms of domination, whether religious, cultural, or ethnic. In the same way, Falana and Lakemfa display what the prominent US political theorist and philosopher, Michael Walzer, once described as “the moral blindness of the sectarian Left”. They see imperialism everywhere except where it is absent. They read northern Nigeria as a chessboard where America moves pieces and fabricates narratives. They cannot accept that local actors masquerading as ethnic militias, religious fundamentalists, and entrepreneurs of religious conflicts can produce violence on their own.

    But they are wrong. The massacres in Benue, Taraba, Plateau, and southern Kaduna are not Western fiction. They are not stories written by the CIA. They are realities witnessed by those who bury their dead in mass graves. Reporters, missionaries, aid workers, and local NGOs have documented the killings. Satellite images have shown razed villages. Survivors tell of attacks that begin with chants of Allahu Akbar and end with burning crosses. These massacres are not mere accidents of land disputes. They are the result of deep-seated religious hatred fueled by a violent ideology.

    To call the massacres anything less than genocide is to play with words. Raphael Lemkin, who coined the term genocide, defined it as the destruction of a group in whole or in part. He did not say that the group must be annihilated completely. Nor did he say the motive must be purely political. He said it is enough if the intention is to destroy the group’s existence, culture, or faith. By that standard, the targeted killings of Christians in northern Nigeria fit the definition. The Marxist suspicion of religion adds another layer to the blindness. For many on the Left, religion has always been the opium of the masses. A distraction from material struggle. So, when Christians are killed, they see not believers but pawns. They reduce faith to false consciousness. They cannot imagine that people might die for belief, not for land. They forget that even Marx, in his later writings, softened his stance on religion as he observed the social sufferings of real people. There is also an element of moral cowardice. To acknowledge genocide would require confronting the failure of the Nigerian state. It would mean admitting that ideology cannot explain away every atrocity. It would mean standing with victims who may not share the Left’s worldview.

    The Nigerian Left has not always lacked empathy. It has long combined careful analysis with genuine compassion, dissecting suffering while identifying with those who endure it. So what has gone wrong? Some of its leading cadres seem to have ignored Mark Lilla, who, in The Reckless Mind, warned that intellectuals who subordinate morality to ideology become servants of abstraction. These intellectuals defend ideas at the expense of real people. That is where Falana and Lakemfa now stand. They frame every argument through the lens of anti-imperialism, even when the subject at hand does not warrant such a perspective. They cling to a narrative that has become disconnected from the immediate suffering it ought to address.

    But, one must ask: what does it profit some cadres of the Nigerian Left to win an argument against Trump but lose its moral compass? Trump may be cynical. He may exploit Christian persecution for political gain. But his cynicism does not erase the truth of the persecution. To reject his statement simply because it came from him is to mistake the messenger for the message. It is to allow hatred of the West to become hatred of truth. The violence in northern Nigeria has roots in history, religion, and state failure. Colonial boundaries, demographic pressures, desertification, and elite manipulation all play their part. But to deny the religious dimension is to deny the essence of the conflict. When priests are beheaded at the altar, when worshippers are burned inside churches, when attackers shout Islamic slogans, the motive speaks for itself. Some Comrades on the Left must learn to see, and learn to glimpse realities. They must learn that reality is not what ideology permits it to see. The poor and oppressed they claim to defend are not abstractions. They have names. They have graves. Falana and Lakemfa have misread this reality. In their zeal to challenge imperial narratives, they have joined the list of Comrades who confuse skepticism with denial. The result is a moral failure. It is time for them, and others like them, to lay down the old dogmas and face the facts. The truth is simple. People are being killed for their faith in northern Nigeria. That is not a Western script. It is a Nigerian horror. The Nigerian Left once called on society to speak truth to power. Today, it must speak truth to its own ideology.

  • The Ambassadorial Burden of a Failing Republic

    The Ambassadorial Burden of a Failing Republic

    -By Abdul Mahmud

    Nigeria has finally plunged into the depths of morass. Deep and troubling depths, difficult to climb out. The new list of ambassadorial nominees tells a familiar story. It is the story of a country that refuses to rise. A country that recycles its worst. A country that decorates failure and calls it service. The President has sent a fresh batch of names to the Senate. Thirty two in all. They join an earlier set of three. It should be a moment of pride for our country. It should be a moment to showcase our best. Instead, it is an embarrassing parade of deadwood and political survivors who have little business representing a country in need of credibility. Look closely at the list. Former governors who left no mark at home. Former commissioners who are remembered only for patronage. Former legislators who saw public office as personal property. Election riggers who supervised the erosion of trust in the ballot. People rejected by their states but rewarded at the national level. This is not a diplomatic corps. This is a retirement home for the politically displaced persons of dubious interest and politicians of particular concern.

    The diplomatic service is the face of a country. It is the voice of a people. It is the place where competence matters. It is the place where integrity stands firm. Countries rise or fall on the quality of the people they send abroad. That is why serious countries take diplomatic postings seriously. They understand the weight of consular and diplomatic representations. Nigeria does the opposite. We treat embassies as political rehabilitation centres. We treat foreign missions as consolation prizes. We reward political loyalty. We punish merit. We sideline career officers. We insult the service. We diminish the country.

    Look at how other countries behave.

    The United States sends seasoned diplomats with years of service. Sometimes it sends political nominees but even those are men and women with serious achievements. They are people with policy minds. People nuanced in policy. People who can open doors abroad, and in promotion of their countries’ national interest. France sends its finest administrators. China sends disciplined technocrats who understand the world. India sends highly trained officers drawn from its foreign service elite. South Korea sends competent professionals who understand trade, investment and technology. These countries understand diplomacy as a strategic asset. They understand that ambassadors carry the weight of national interest. They know that representation is a serious business. They know that no country rises when mediocrities carry its passport across borders.

    Nigeria stands alone in its contempt for excellence. Its rulers insist that political actors who have failed at home somehow succeed abroad. They believe that those who ruined local institutions will protect national interests in foreign capitals. This is an illusion built on arrogance. It is a tragedy built on notoriously poor habits. The damage is visible. Many of our missions are weak. Some are directionless. Some are barely functional. They cannot protect citizens. They cannot attract investment. They cannot sell the country. They cannot build serious bilateral ties. They cannot speak the language of global diplomacy. They cannot engage because they do not understand the issues. The result? Our passport is treated with suspicion across the world. Our missions cannot help. They lack the skill. They lack the influence. They lack the respect. Nigeria is big but its diplomatic voice is small. It whispers at foreign tables where others speak loudly. It watches while others act. The new list promises more decline. Rapid decline.

    There are career officers in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs who have trained for decades. They understand protocol. They understand negotiation. They understand the UN system. They understand the African Union. They understand the slow and patient work of diplomacy. In pursuit of tokenism, a few career diplomats are thrown into the appointment mix, while many watch politicians with no knowledge of international diplomacy take positions meant for professionals. It is demoralising. It is destructive. It weakens an institution that is already fragile. But, there is a grave cost to mediocrity. Every bad envoy carries Nigeria’s weaknesses abroad. Every failed politician posted to a foreign capital worsens our country’s poor reputation. Foreign governments know who is serious and who is not. They know when a country sends its best. They know when a country parades deadwood and sends political handshake dealers abroad to man its missions.

    Nigeria keeps promoting payback tokenism. Nigeria keeps sending liabilities abroad.

    Worse still, Nigeria keeps sending men and women whose only qualification is their usefulness to the President. This is the tragedy of a country caught in the cycle of low expectations and low standards. There is a moral problem as well. Some of the nominees helped produce the electoral chaos that Nigerians now live with.  Some supervised flawed elections. Professor Mahmood Yakubu is one example. Some defended impunity with unmatched zeal. Reno Omokri and Femi Fani-Kayode stand as its most enthusiastic evangelists, men who turned public discourse into theatrics and acrobatics. They did not merely excuse the excesses of power. They flipped. They flopped. They flip-flopped. They somersaulted around truth, to the point of eating their vomits. They justified impunity. They amplified falsehoods as if truth were an inconvenience. They embraced propaganda as a vocation. In a country struggling to rebuild trust in its institutions, their voices have too often deepened cynicism and normalised the erosion of accountability. Some weakened public trust. To reward them with diplomatic postings is to endorse their conduct. It sends a message that the state has no ethical core. It signals that public office is not a service but a spoil of war.

    The world is changing. Diplomacy is now about technology, climate change, migration, security, trade and innovation. Nations that understand this are recruiting the brightest minds. They are building strong foreign services. They are investing in knowledge. They are preparing for a complex future. Nigeria is doing none of this. Nigeria is moving backward while others are moving forward. There are Nigerians who can serve well. Distinguished scholars. Former international civil servants. Former judges. Entrepreneurs who built serious institutions. Career officers who have risen through merit. Professionals who have excelled across the world. They are not on the list. They are not considered. They are not invited. They are not valued. They are simply not wanted by power. They are not listening to scholars and practitioners in the field. Even if they don’t want to listen to the former Indian diplomat and scholar, Kishan Rana, who has written extensively on diplomatic professionalism and appointment criteria, our country has the respected Professor Bolaji Akinyemi who has consistently argued that the selection of ambassadors should be grounded in merit, professionalism, and national interest rather than political patronage. In his view, diplomacy is a specialised field that demands competence, experience, cultural sensitivity, and a deep understanding of international affairs. He stresses that career diplomats, trained within the foreign service system, are best positioned to represent the state effectively and maintain continuity in foreign policy. While acknowledging that political appointments may sometimes be unavoidable, he warns that excessive politicisation weakens professionalism, erodes institutional memory, and diminishes a country’s global standing. His overarching position is that ambassadorial appointments must prioritise expertise and integrity to protect the country’s diplomatic credibility.

    These ambassadorial appointments are a mirror. They show us what our rulers think of Nigeria. They don’t take Nigeria seriously, as the poet, Odia Ofeimun highlighted with intellectual verve and flourish two decades ago. They show us how little is expected of our country. They show us how low the bar has fallen. A country that wants greatness must send great people to represent it. A country that sends its failures abroad will receive the respect such failure deserves. The Senate will confirm the nominees. It always does. It will ask a few questions. It will praise the list. It will claim that the nominees are qualified. Then, it will ask the ambassadorial nominees to “take a bow and go”. It will then move on. Nigeria will move on as well but in the wrong direction. Another opportunity for progress will be lost. Nigeria deserves better. Nigerians deserve better. The world deserves to see our country takes itself seriously. A country that knows that dignity and competence matter. A country that believes that representation is sacred.

    One day our country will rise above the needless elephantine burden it chooses to place on its own back. The weight is heavy. It is the weight of recycled failures. It is the weight of institutions drained of confidence. It is the weight of a country that keeps dragging the carcass of its worst habits into a future that demands clarity, courage and competence. No country grows by carrying the load of its own mediocrity. No Republic moves forward when it insists on hauling along with the same tired figures who helped slow its steps. Nigeria must learn to travel light. It must learn to shed the burdens that weaken its ambition. Only then can it walk with purpose among countries that have already learnt that progress begins with choices that honour the present and protect the future.

    Today is not that day for our failing Republic.

  • Music Sensation, Une 50, to Perform at 5th Frontier Discourse Public Lecture and Awards

    Music Sensation, Une 50, to Perform at 5th Frontier Discourse Public Lecture and Awards

    Nigerian musician and convener of the Nigeria Music Industry Climate Change Summit, Une 50, born Ugochukwu Vitalis Uneabunso, has been officially announced as a headline performer at the 5th Frontier Discourse Public Lecture and Awards, set to take place on November 11 in Abuja.

    A proud native of Iwollo Oghe in Ezeagu Local Government Area of Enugu State, Une 50 wears many hats: he’s a practicing lawyer, a climate change advocate, the leader of D’Eagles Band, and an artist whose sound fuses highlife, Afrobeat, and “green music”, a genre he is pioneering to promote climate awareness through art.

    As the convener of the Nigeria Music Industry Climate Change Summit, Une 50 has carved a unique niche at the intersection of music and advocacy. His landmark Une 50 Concert and the inaugural 2025 Climate Change Summit in Abuja brought together artists like Johnny Drille, Slow Dogg, and other top creatives, alongside government stakeholders, in a groundbreaking effort to raise climate awareness through sound.

    Known for his soul-stirring lyrics and socially conscious themes, Une 50 delivers messages that resonate deeply. His latest single, “My Guy,” is streaming across all major platforms, adding to a growing catalog of compelling tracks.

    On November 11, Une 50 will bring his signature blend of rhythm and advocacy to the stage at the 5th Frontier Discourse, delivering not just a performance, but a message that matters.

    The 5th Edition of the initiative, with the theme “Politics of Convergence and Collisions: Navigating Power Struggles in Shaping Democracy”, promises an engaging and star-studded gathering of thought leaders, policymakers, development advocates, captains of industry, among others, as delegates.

    Keynote speakers include Prof. Udenta O. Udenta, Founding National Secretary of the Alliance for Democracy (AD), and Dr. Ahmad Sajoh, former Adamawa State Commissioner for Information and Executive Director of the FutureNow Initiative.

    Former Vice presidential spokesman, Laolu Akande, OON; Activist, Aisha Yesufu; Senior Special Assistant to Nigeria’s President on Foreign Affairs and Protocol, Ademola Oshodi; and Fiery Catholic Priest, Rev. Fr. John Chinenye Oluoma (Fada Oluoma), are part of the panelists.

    The event will be anchored by Broadcaster, Ruth Obozeghie and live streamed across social media platforms. Partners include Human Development Center, Horizontal City Property Developers, LEAD Network Africa, One Stewart Ventures, AnchorNews Media, and Otu Oka Iwu.

    Seat reservations can be made here.