Feature/OPED
19 Paragraphs on My Disciplinary Case With University of Ibadan
By Kunle Adebajo
1. As with other things I have written, I write this in good faith. I write to educate, not to denigrate. I write to cast light, not out of spite. I write that things may get better, not because I derive pleasure in simply writing―whether or not it leads to an improved state of affairs.
2. I wish to sincerely thank everyone who has stood by me since the start of this saga. Everyone, from the members of the Union of Campus Journalists to students at large, from members of the university staff to the general community, from friends in need and indeed to my caring family—mom especially. Because of this case, many have not only sacrificed their time and resources, but have put their career on the line of risk. I thank everyone who has reached out since and before yesterday’s statement. My heart leaps with indescribable joy knowing that I am not alone.
3. Sometime in April 2016, while still in my third year, I noticed as I moved to the basement from Mellanby Hall’s C Block that bags of cement were being offloaded from a huge truck parked outside. I had thought the materials were for the hall’s renovation, especially toilets which have been a constant subject of debate and controversy. But upon enquiry, I realised I was wrong. Rather, they were to be deployed in tiling rooftops. Later that day, I was with Toheeb Arogundade, Speaker of the Students’ Representative Council and Ibrahim Oredola, President of the Union of Campus Journalists. And it was thought that this project was, if at all necessary, a misplacement of priorities. It was further agreed that something needed to be done―more specifically, something needed to be written.
4. I met with hall supervisors and porters. I spoke with building contractors. I interviewed men at the University Student Lodgings Bureau. I wrote and, yes, mailed my write-up to The Guardian’s Youth Speak Column which, it appears, is unfortunately now defunct [https://guardian.ng/…/ui-the-irony-of-fashionable-rooftops-…]. I must have been naïve at the time because when a colleague suggested, the day it was published, that the management might react unpleasantly, I simply shrugged it off.
5. That prophesied reaction came two days after. I received a letter of query from the Mellanby Hall Warden, saying I had 48 hours to give reasons disciplinary action should not be taken against me, because I had “put the name of the school into disrepute”—contrary to my matriculation oath. I penned a five-page response, wherein I stated among other things: “I did not contemplate this aftermath or that the school would be disturbed by the article; all I had in mind is a situation wherein issues raised in the article will be well received by concerned persons for the benefit of all.” I also quoted from Chapter V of the Student Information Handbook, where it is stated that “the legitimate expression of differing opinions and concerns is an essential part of the academic community…”
6. Months after, I received a letter of allegation of gross misconduct, this time from the Student Affairs Department, written and signed by the university legal adviser. The letter also alleged, with a long list of references, that my article was rude, defamatory and insubordinate. In response, I wrote and submitted a four-page response, restating my convictions and replying each sub-allegation. I was, however, advised against this by a senior and experienced lecturer whom I revere. Acting upon his recommendation, I withdrew this response and wrote two others, neither as statements of defence nor statements of apology. Finally, again acting upon wise counsel and personal convictions, I wrote a fourth and final response, where I said I am “regretful that my words come off as rude and insubordinate”, that “I had no intent whatsoever to insult or act with impudence” and that “I never contemplated that the article could be construed as defamatory or that it had the potential of bringing the school into disrepute”.
7. Following this, there was another long bout of silence, this time up to a year, before I was again contacted. I was not even contacted. My mom was. She got a text from my faculty inviting me to a sitting of the disciplinary panel. When I later asked why I was not contacted directly, I was given the excuse that my phone number was not found in the faculty’s records. The faculty, I understand, eventually recommended to the university that I be reprimanded.
8. Earlier this year, when the “Book of Life”, which contains the long list of graduates and their grades, was released, my name was visibly omitted. Rather, it was written alongside names of people with academic shortfalls or who were alleged to have committed examination malpractice among similar offences.
9. On Thursday, May 24 2018, I finally faced the Central Student Disciplinary Committee. With my plea taken, I was told: “The Committee has advised the Vice Chancellor and the Vice Chancellor has approved that you are rusticated for two semesters”. I was also told typically that I could appeal to the Council within fourteen days [of receiving the verdict in writing].
10. Strangely, I am at peace with this decision. Not that I am thankful or I think it was a just outcome. Not at all. But, I doubt I will feel this peaceful and driven if it had turned out otherwise, because this would not have reflected the true state of things. If I shall have two years of my life with a damning disciplinary case hovering above me, then let it end on the same path as it started. I do not want to be the proverbial chicken whose feathers were plucked by a set of fingers and who still lingered because the same fingers offered it cereal.
11. However, I plan to appeal to the University Governing Council as soon as I receive the letter of verdict from the Student Affairs. This I do for three reasons. One, to fulfil all righteousness, explore all internal mechanisms for remedy and leave little for posterity to say I didn’t do my best to get a fair trial. Two, because I have hope that the council shall determine the case fairly, having regard to the trite laws of the land and universal principles of justice. Three, because if my going to the Nigerian Law School never happens or gets delayed, I deserve to make that decision myself and not have it forced upon me.
12. Furthermore, there are two things I do not need: sympathy and hype.
13. Sympathy, I do not need, because I am not the sad, miserable victim that some reckon I would be. I was not “thrown into despair, and emotional trauma while awaiting my fate” as suggested by an article which surfaced days ago. It is not how I was and it is not how I wish to be seen. I am thankful for all that has happened. I have come out not only stronger, but wiser. Whatever decisions I made, I made because I believed they could achieve desired results. Whatever outcomes may have come my way, unpleasant as they may seem, have ultimately broadened my worldview and sharpened my senses.
14. Hype, I do not crave, for many reasons. I strongly believe that if I ever become deserving of fame, it should be because of something I have done, not for something that is done to me. Though necessary at times, I do not want the cheap publicity that comes with being a victim of circumstances. If, one day, my name is mentioned in remote places, I wish not to be remembered first as the student who was rusticated by his university. This is personal. There are also professional reasons, which are better not revealed. Being a journalist myself, I could have run to the media for attention as soon as the decision was pronounced. Yet, I restrained myself.
15. So why do I bother to write this at all? I write to clear the air. I write because I prefer to tell my story and not to have it told on my behalf. I write to make known the facts, that posterity may learn a lesson or two.
16. I do not have anything specifically against the University of Ibadan, because the same chain of events could as well have happened anywhere else. But I remain committed to the good of this country and every one of my countrymen. I remain committed, particularly, to helping improve her education sector. I remain committed to a future where our children do not have to choose between literacy and liberty, and one where our fathers will realise that the methods of old are not the only―or even the best—there are.
17. Once again, I thank everyone who has reached out to assist, and those who have even gone ahead using those methods they believe in. I am indebted to you all. Perhaps this request is already belated, but I will be even more grateful if you can spare me the two aforementioned things: sympathy and hype. By so doing, you have let down neither the cause nor myself. No, you have not. No, you have not.
18. Thank you all for reading.
19. Whatever remains untold of this story, I promise, will be told another day.
By Nafisat Damisa
Introduction
The proliferation of generative AI has transformed Nigeria’s cybercrime landscape, enabling deepfake fraud, automated social engineering, and AI-enhanced phishing at scale. In early 2024, scammers using AI-generated deepfake videos impersonating a company’s CFO defrauded a Hong Kong finance worker of $25.6 million. As similar threats emerge in Nigeria’s fintech sector, this article examines whether the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015 (as amended 2024) is legally adequate, or whether Nigeria’s evidentiary and accountability frameworks are too weak to support effective prosecution of AI-driven cybercrime
Current Legal Landscape
Nigeria’s primary legal framework on preventing cybercrime is the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015, amended in 2024 to address cryptocurrency transactions, cyberbullying and various forms of digital misconduct. Complementary frameworks include the National Information Technology Development Agency Act 2007, the Nigerian Data Protection Act 2023, and sectoral regulations such as the CBN’s Risk-Based Cybersecurity Framework. However, the majority of these frameworks were issued far before now, and emerging risks like AI-driven threats are not really being addressed. The Act nowhere mentions “artificial intelligence,” “algorithm,” or “autonomous system.” Notably, the National Artificial Intelligence Commission (Establishment) Bill, 2025, is currently pending before the Senate. If passed, it would establish a dedicated commission to coordinate AI strategy, research, and ethical deployment. However, the Bill in its present form focuses primarily on development and innovation promotion, with limited provisions on criminal liability, evidence handling, or enforcement against AI-facilitated cybercrime, leaving the core accountability and evidentiary gaps largely unaddressed.
AI as a Double-Edged Sword
AI paradoxically enables both defence and attack. Nigerian financial institutions deploy AI for real-time fraud detection and pattern recognition. Conversely, cybercriminals exploit generative AI for deepfake creation, automated credential stuffing, and convincing phishing tailored to Nigerian English and Pidgin. The same technology that powers fraud detection systems can be weaponised to evade them. Take justice delivery as an example, the Evidence Act 2011 (as amended 2023) admits computer-generated evidence under Section 84, but remains silent on AI’s capacity to seamlessly generate or alter electronic records, creating “doctored AI-generated evidence”. These and many more issues await Nigeria’s digital space in the coming years.
The Legal Gaps
There are multiple critical gaps that undermine AI governance. For this article, three are considered. First, no framework attributes criminal liability when an autonomous AI commits an offence. The question of whether the developer, user, or owner should bear criminal responsibility for the acts of an autonomous system remains entirely unanswered under Nigerian law, leaving prosecutors without a clear legal theory of culpability.
Second, Section 84 of the Evidence Act 2011 governs computer-generated evidence but does not address AI-generated outputs. The Act’s definition of “computer” excludes AI’s cognitive processing capabilities, creating a statutory blind spot where evidence produced by generative or autonomous systems falls outside the existing admissibility framework.
Third, Nigeria lacks any framework for mandatory AI-generated content labelling, impeding deepfake traceability. Computer-generated evidence under Section 84 of the Evidence Act 2011 remains admissible if unchallenged at trial, a dangerous precedent for AI evidence, as opposing parties may lack the technical capacity to mount any challenge at all.
Comparative Jurisdictions: Rich Laws, Tangible Results
Jurisdictions with advanced AI laws demonstrate clear outcomes. The EU AI Act (Regulation 2024/1689) mandates transparency obligations, requiring synthetic content labelling and informing individuals when interacting with AI systems; non-compliance triggers significant penalties. The US Algorithmic Accountability Act of 2023 is a proposed Act that will require impact assessments for high-risk AI systems in housing, credit, and employment, with FTC enforcement and a public repository. China implemented mandatory measures for the Identification of AI-generated (Synthetic) content. These rules, mandated by the Cyberspace Administration of China (CAC) and others, require explicit (visible labels) and implicit (watermarks/metadata) identification for all AI-generated text, images, audio, video, and virtual scenes to ensure transparency, traceability, and combat disinformation. These laws contribute to measurable results: forensic traceability, expedited prosecution of deepfake fraud, and clear liability chains. Nigeria has none of these.
Hope or Illusion?
Without legislative intervention, AI’s promise against cybercrime remains an illusion. Nigeria requires the following to boost its hope:
- Amendment of the Cybercrimes Act to include AI-specific offences and mandatory content provenance standards;
- Revision of Section 84 of the Evidence Act 2011 to address AI-generated evidence credibility, not merely admissibility;
- Investment in digital forensic capabilities is currently hampered by inadequate enforcement, weak forensic capabilities, and a lack of specialised personnel; and
- A risk-based framework drawing from EU and US models.
- Review of both secondary and tertiary education curricula to address the knowledge gap in AI and prepare the next generation for the AI-driven future.
Conclusion
AI can help curb cybercrime in Nigeria, but only if legal capacity catches up with technical capability. The Cybercrimes Act 2024 amendments were a step forward, but they did not address AI accountability, algorithmic transparency, or evidentiary credibility. The pending National Artificial Intelligence Commission Bill, 2025, signals legislative awareness, but without substantive provisions on liability, evidence, and enforcement, it cannot fill the existing gaps. The effectiveness of existing frameworks remains a question. An optimistic but cautious path exists, but until Nigeria enacts AI-specific legislation, whether through amending the Cybercrimes Act, revising the Evidence Act, or strengthening the pending Bill, weak laws will remain unable to support strong technology.
Nafisat Damisa is a Legal Research Associate in Olives and Candles – Legal Practitioners. For further information, enquiries, or clarification, please contact Nafisat via: [email protected] or [email protected]
By Isah Kamisu Madachi
As of April 30, 2026, the crude price is said to have reached $125 in the global market. The all-time high price per barrel was recorded in 2008, when it surged to $147. It is obvious that the price is heading in that direction or even towards what experts have predicted — crude reaching a new all-time high of $150 in the near future if crude passages remain closed in the Middle East, which would ultimately come with several disproportionate challenges for businesses and households.
In Nigeria, what began as a mild adjustment in the price of gasoline and other refined crude products has not stopped anywhere until it reached N1,400 per litre of petrol at filling stations. When the price was surging, experts in energy, economics, marketing, business and other relevant fields tried to come up with explanations for how Nigeria, despite housing the largest petrochemicals refinery in Africa and being one of the largest oil-exporting countries on the continent, would continue to absorb this shock.
Despite our advantages, Nigeria recorded the world’s second-highest surge in petrol prices following the escalating geopolitical tension in the Middle East. In Africa, Nigeria has the highest spike, with many sources citing it at 39.5% and above. Even non-oil-producing countries in Africa, and countries that do not refine a drop of oil, did not experience this surge. Also, African countries like South Africa at 1%, Morocco at 2.1%, and Tanzania at 2.7% experienced far smaller increases that are nowhere near Nigeria’s.
To put it in context, South Korea, Japan, and China are among the foremost dependents on the Strait of Hormuz, whose closure escalated the crude price, but none of these countries has recorded even a 20% increase in their petrol prices. Nigeria does not import its crude through the Strait of Hormuz. Yet, as an oil-exporting nation, we have suffered some of the sharpest petrol price increases in Africa.
What went wrong in Nigeria to warrant this surge is not the primary focus of this piece. What lies ahead is. As a result of the increase in petrol prices, Nigerians have been disproportionately affected. Life has become unbearably difficult, with sharp increases in transportation costs, rising food prices, and higher costs of goods and services. Even charging points that used to collect N150 for charging a phone or battery now charge N300 or more.
As it stands, the gap between the current crude price and the predicted new all-time high is about $25. This means that if the passages continue to remain closed, we are not far from another historic price peak. It is even said that reopening the passages may not immediately stabilise prices, as crude tankers would still take time to reach their destinations.
What this means for Nigeria is another sharp increase in refined petroleum product prices, which could trigger another wave of stagflation. Already struggling, Nigerians do not deserve this. They are only just adapting to the post-subsidy era, yet are being hit again by another round of global geopolitical tensions. Many are already in deep energy poverty, with businesses struggling due to unstable electricity supply.
Therefore, as crude oil prices hover above $125 per barrel and threaten to reach the predicted $150 if disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz persist, Nigeria must act decisively to shield its citizens. The Dangote Refinery exists. Nigeria refines oil. What the federal government owes Nigerians at this point is a deliberate policy decision to make that the refinery serve domestic needs first, with pricing that does not mirror whatever is happening in the global market. That is not complicated; other oil-producing countries do exactly this.
The NMDPRA has the authority to act on this. The question is whether there is a political will to act before another price wave hits and Nigerians are once again left to absorb what their counterparts elsewhere never have to.
Sub-national governments also have something to do. Commercial motorcyclists and small business owners are the people who feel every petrol price increase the hardest and the fastest. Pushing CNG and LPG adoption among this group beyond the FCT and Lagos, with genuine support, would cushion a significant part of the next shock. Expanding solar access in underserved communities would do the same. A shop owner running on solar is not at the mercy of the next diesel price spike.
These solutions are quite feasible. Nigeria has attempted versions of them before. Where we often seem to get it wrong is in execution, and Nigeria has to treat this with the same urgency and seriousness as given to elections, for the well-being of its citizens. The only thing that has never matched the problem is the seriousness of the response.
Isah Kamisu Madachi is a policy analyst and development practitioner. He writes via [email protected]
By Gbolahan Oluyemi
In 2025, the National Pension Commission (PenCom) directed all Licensed Pension Fund Operators (LPFOs) to demand a Pension Clearance Certificate (PCC) from service providers before engaging their services. This new policy typically affects various types of entities, including small and medium-scale enterprises, most of which are not usually compliance-driven. Following this directive, the PCC has become an essential compliance document for both large, medium and small-scale firms. This article provides a guide on what a PCC is, why it matters, and how it can be obtained.
What is a Pension Clearance Certificate (PCC)?
A Pension Clearance Certificate (PCC) is an official document issued by PenCom confirming that an organisation has complied with the provisions of the Pension Reform Act. It is an annual document that must be renewed every year at no cost. The yearly renewal is intended to ensure that organisations treat compliance as a continuous activity rather than a one-off act.
Why is a PCC Important?
The PCC is important because it demonstrates that an organisation is compliant with the provisions of the Pension Reform Act, especially as it relates to employee pension contributions under Section 4 (1) of the Pension Reform Act and subscription to group life insurance under Section 4 (5) of the Pension Reform Act. It is also required for certain transactions, such as government contracts and engagements with compliance-sensitive partners. In essence, a PCC assures investors, partners, and clients that your business is properly structured and compliant with regulatory requirements.
Who Needs a Pension Clearance Certificate?
Under Nigerian law, companies with three or more employees are required to participate in the Contributory Pension Scheme (CPS). If your organisation employs at least three staff members and provides or intends to provide services to Licensed Pension Fund Operators (LPFOs) or other regulated entities, you are expected to obtain a PCC annually.
How Do I Obtain a PCC?
PenCom issues the PCC electronically and at no cost through its web portal: https://pcc.pencom.gov.ng/. Please note that Applicants who are just beginning compliance and remitting employees’ pensions are required to first obtain an employer code from a Pension Fund Administrator (PFA). This code is necessary to initiate the PCC application on the PenCom portal.
Upon logging into the portal, you will be required to complete your company profile by providing your date of incorporation, contact details, and website (if applicable), as well as uploading your CAC documents.
Next, you will upload an Excel schedule (using the template provided on the website) containing your employee list. After this, you will be required to upload Excel sheets detailing pension contributions. You will also need to upload your organisation’s group life insurance documentation and payment instrument.
Finally, you will review your application and submit it for further processing by PenCom. Before commencing an application, ensure you have the following:
- Certificate of Incorporation (CAC documents)
- Group Life Insurance Policy for employees
- Evidence of Pension Fund Administrator (PFA) registration for employees
- Three years’ proof of monthly pension remittances, including penalties for any defaults (where applicable). For companies less than three years old, provide proof of remittances from the date of incorporation
- A valid Tax Identification Number (TIN)
- An employee schedule showing staff details and contributions (usually in Excel format) Templates are available on the PenCom portal
Also note that for the portal to accept employee details and remittance records, employees must have completed their data capture with their respective Pension Fund Administrator and updated their records to reflect their current employer.
Conclusion
Obtaining a Pension Clearance Certificate in Nigeria may seem technical at first, but once proper processes are established, it becomes routine. The key is consistency in remittance, maintenance of accurate records and prioritisation of compliance in overall operations.
For many Nigerian businesses, the PCC is more than a regulatory requirement; it is a mark of credibility. In a competitive environment, that credibility can make all the difference.
Gbolahan Oluyemi is a Legal Practitioner and currently leads Olives and Candles – Legal Practitioners. For further information, enquiries, or clarification, please contact Gbolahan via: [email protected] or [email protected]
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