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Nigeria’s Schools Closure and the Disease of Rhotacism

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By Prince Charles Dickson, PhD

The inability to pronounce the letter r is called rhotacism—a quiet irony in speech pathology, where sufferers lack the tongue to name their condition. Nigeria today appears afflicted by a similar policy disorder: an incapacity to articulate the real threats to learning, safety, and development, while endlessly announcing their symptoms. The reflexive closure of schools across states, often with the Federal Government’s blessing, is not merely a security response; it is a linguistic failure of governance. We cannot pronounce the problem, so we silence the classroom.

At surface level, school closures masquerade as prudence. No leader wants abducted children, grieving parents, viral outrage. But development practice teaches us to distrust surface logic. If classrooms are unsafe, what calculus deems campuses secure? If primary schools are closed in the name of vulnerability, why do lecture halls hum, convocation grounds fill, churches and mosques swell, markets bustle, and political rallies roar? The policy geometry is incoherent. Risk does not dissolve with age brackets or academic levels; it migrates along opportunity lines. Violence, like water, flows where barriers are weakest—not where regulations are loudest.

The headline figures tell a damning story. Over 42,000 schools categorized as vulnerable. A $30 million Safe School Initiative announced, lauded, and then largely evaporated into PowerPoint memory. What exactly has closure achieved in this arithmetic? If risk prompted closure, closure must prompt mitigation. Yet what we witness is substitution, not solution. Strategy is replaced by symbolism. Doors are shut to demonstrate action while the engines of threat, the logistics, financing, intelligence gaps, and ungoverned spaces remain scandalously intact.

The first ethical question is not poetic distrust; it is arithmetic ethics. How many days of learning are lost per closure? How many children drift permanently out of school into child labor, early marriage, recruitment pipelines, or migration traps? Empirical evidence across fragile contexts, from the Sahel to Northeast Nigeria, shows that prolonged closures fracture educational trajectories irreversibly. A classroom shut today becomes a livelihood foreclosed tomorrow. When education systems stall, insecurity does not retreat; it recruits.

Development is not administered by press statements. It is built through boring, relentless infrastructure—data infrastructure, trust infrastructure, and response infrastructure. Consider Community Early Warning Systems (CEWS). Where they exist and function, attacks are anticipated, routes mapped, and escalation interrupted. Where they are absent, closure becomes the blunt instrument of last resort. Yet how many states have meaningfully integrated CEWS into school security architecture? How many have empowered bodies to convene multi-actor protection coalitions that include women, youth, traditional leaders, transport unions, and faith networks? The chalk does not hold risk; the cheque does. And the cheque has been shamefully mute.

Security is not the absence of pupils; it is the presence of intelligence. Closing schools without opening data is policy rhotacism. We cannot pronounce “threat mapping,” so we mouth “shutdown.” We cannot say “transport node vulnerability,” so we say “holiday.” We cannot articulate “perimeter hardening and community interception routes,” so we declare “postponement.” The oxygen of risk—enrolment points, travel corridors, marketplaces abutting school fences requires monitoring in real time. If threat mapping did not intensify the moment schools closed, then the threat merely changed address, not behavior.

The contradiction deepens when worship spaces remain open. Christian Association of Nigeria congregations gather. Nigeria Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs convenes faithful. If the doctrine is crowd risk, the exemptions are indefensible. If the doctrine is youth vulnerability, then universities must not be exempt. If the doctrine is intelligence deficit, then closure is an admission of systemic failure. You cannot claim safety by relocating learning into chaos. Faith spaces recognize a truth policy forgets: protection flows from relationship density. The congregation knows its strangers. Does the school gate?

Globally, contexts plagued by school-related violence have moved in the opposite direction—not toward retreat, but toward smart hardening. Drone reconnaissance over school corridors. AI-assisted risk scoring that fuses incident data, weather, market days, and movement patterns. Platforms to defuse land, grazing, and community disputes before they metastasize into school-adjacent violence. Psychosocial resilience units embedded in schools. Community rangers trained, insured, and supervised, not as vigilantes but as guardians accountable to law. Transparent pilots with public dashboards. Sanctions for local leaders who ignore warning signals. None of this is theoretical.

Because closure is administratively convenient. It transfers responsibility from execution to explanation. Once schools are shut, failure becomes abstract. Metrics blur. When exactly did the risk reduce? Who measures it? At what threshold does reopening occur? Without benchmarks, closure becomes the chief KPI of insecurity governance. That is not security architecture; it is security bureaucracy—forms without force, memos without muscle.

Local Government Areas on volatile frontiers—whether in Niger State or Kogi are living laboratories of conciliation culture. Traditional dispute resolution, faith mediation, women-led early warning, youth intelligence networks; these are not weaknesses to be ignored until Abuja’s biro approves boots on the ground. They are strengths to be funded, trained, and supervised. Development practice demands co-design. Are LGA leaders co-authoring protection protocols, or passively awaiting circulars? Centralization kills time; time kills children’s futures.

The opportunity costs of closure are staggering and gendered. Girls pay first and longest. Distance learning fantasies collapse where electricity, devices, and safety at home are uneven. Boys drift into non-state labor or armed networks promising income and belonging. Teachers disengage. Trust between communities and state frays further. When schools finally reopen—if they do—the damage is cumulative. Closure does not pause risk; it compounds it.

There is also a moral hazard. Normalizing closure teaches adversaries what works. Disrupt learning to extract concessions. Threaten the symbol to paralyze the system. Deterrence requires resilience. A state that keeps schools open while hardening them sends a different signal: intimidation will not erase futures.

To be clear, this is not romantic defiance. There are moments when temporary closure is warranted. But temporary requires temporality: timelines, triggers, alternatives. Closure without an accompanying surge in intelligence, infrastructure, and accountability is futility dressed as care. It is rhotacism—the inability to name and thus cure the disease.

So, the unperfumed questions must persist. What exactly is being done differently today that was not urgent yesterday? Where are the transparent pilots funded by the Safe School Initiative? Who owns the dashboards? Which perimeters were hardened, which routes monitored, which sanctions enforced? Who measures risk reduction, and when is bureaucracy upgraded into architecture?

Shutting schools may shelter minds briefly. But without strategy that attacks the root—financing of violence, data blindness, local exclusion, and accountability gaps—it only shelters the conscience of policy. Until answers arrive with evidence of execution, Nigeria’s schools are not closed for safety. They are closed for convenience. And convenience, like rhotacism, leaves us unable to pronounce the truth. May Nigeria win.

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Political Uncertainty: Can the ADC Afford a Wolf Politician?

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By Abu Mahmud

The recent realignment within the African Democratic Congress (ADC) is a direct response to its founding promise of transparency, accountability, and people-centered politics, free from money politics, godfatherism, and elite domination. The party seeks to harness a powerful opposition coalition while safeguarding its founding ideals from elite capture. Success will depend on how rigorously the ADC enforces its transparency and accountability mechanisms as the 2027 race intensifies.

As the 2027 elections approach, that promise is being put to the test. The ADC’s realignment is a high-stakes balancing act. The party must decide whether to open its doors to opportunistic politicians whose primary currency is personal ambition. Such “wolves” may bring short-term numbers, but they threaten the party’s credibility, cohesion, and long-term legacy. The ADC’s true strength lies in shared values, not in the whims of any single individual.

If the ADC admits politicians driven more by personal ambition than by shared ideals, it risks undermining its very foundation. As electioneering draws nearer, the party stands at a crossroads: either remain faithful to its principles or sacrifice them for short-term political advantage. Its credibility, cohesion, and long-term relevance depend on choosing the former.

As Nigeria moves toward the 2027 general elections, the country needs leaders of integrity—visionary, unifying, and committed to national development above sectional or personal interests. Such leaders must be accountable, open to competent new talent, and committed to institution-building, job creation, poverty reduction, and national cohesion, rather than divisive, self-serving politics.

At this critical moment, Nigerians cannot afford leadership captured by individuals who exploit poverty and emotion through populist rhetoric while pursuing narrow ambitions. Citizens must distinguish between politicians who seek power and wealth for themselves and those who serve with integrity, transparency, and a genuine commitment to community development.

A political party is bigger than any individual. It is built on shared values and collective purpose, not personal ownership. When individuals attempt to dominate a party, democracy weakens and godfatherism thrives.

Even before the election season, there is a real possibility that the ruling establishment could attempt to weaken opposition forces through proxy infiltration, sowing discord within emerging coalitions.

This concern is heightened as the PDP faces what may be its weakest moment since inception.

Atiku Abubakar has emerged as a central figure in a new opposition coalition that has adopted the ADC as its platform for 2027.  The coalition includes figures such as former Senate President David Mark (interim national chairman), former Osun State Governor Rauf Aregbesola (interim secretary), Nasir El-Rufai, Rotimi Amaechi, and others. They have held consultations on party structure and strategy, advocating transparent primaries and urging members—including Peter Obi—to fully transition into the ADC. Atiku’s exit from the PDP and registration with the ADC signal a coordinated effort to challenge the APC government.

This context raises a critical question: can the ADC afford to admit politicians whose entry is conditioned on personal guarantees?

One recurring feature of some Kano-based politicians is the tendency to conflate local dominance with national relevance. Through emotionally charged rhetoric, such figures mobilize loyal supporters while mistaking regional popularity for nationwide appeal. More troubling is the practice of setting conditions even before joining a party.

Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, has openly stated that he would only defect to another party if offered the presidential or vice-presidential ticket for 2027. He argued that his decades-long political career entitles him to such consideration, insisting that his supporters would accept nothing less. Yet this posture contrasts sharply with the conduct of other coalition members who have subordinated personal ambition to collective negotiation. To demand special concessions while others make sacrifices raises serious questions about motive, sensitivity, and commitment to a shared cause.

This article is not rooted in personal animosity or partisan loyalty. Rather, it examines a political style defined by populism, personality-driven movements, and frequent party migration motivated by immediate ambition rather than ideology. Kwankwaso commands a loyal base in Kano, where he is celebrated as a champion of the masses.

Beyond that stronghold, however, his career is marked by serial defections—from PDP to APC to NNPP—each aligned with personal calculations rather than consistent principles. Supporters describe this as pragmatism; critics call it political nomadism.

Recent developments in Kano have punctured the myth of Kwankwaso’s invincibility. Political ruptures within the state have exposed a reality long obscured by propaganda: his influence depends heavily on access to state power.

Without control of institutional machinery, his dominance diminishes. Electoral outcomes reinforce this limitation. In the last presidential election, Atiku Abubakar secured over seven million votes, Peter Obi over six million, while Kwankwaso garnered just 1.14 million—nearly all from Kano.

Governor Abba Yusuf’s anticipated defection to the APC further signals a shift in Kano’s political landscape. While the Kwankwasiyya movement remains relevant, its grip on state power is weakening. This moment calls for recalibration, not confrontation. Politics is not a do-or-die affair, and clinging to power at all costs risks eroding both dignity and legacy.

Reports of behind-the-scenes meetings involving Kwankwaso and former President Olusegun Obasanjo, along with speculation that he could be used to destabilize opposition parties, only deepen concerns about his role in any coalition. As his influence wanes, he increasingly portrays himself as a victim of betrayal, rallying supporters with narratives that elevate personal loyalty above political evolution.

In a political maneuver aimed at self-preservation, reports claimed that the former NNPP presidential candidate sought the intervention of Chief Bisi Akande to arrange a direct meeting with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to negotiate his defection. Akande reportedly declined, stressing that he could not bypass established party structures, and instead referred Kwankwaso to the party’s official high-level negotiation committee.

The NNPP has also stated that, according to its constitution, the Kano State governor is the party leader, being its only sitting governor. Kwankwaso, they noted, was merely the party’s 2023 presidential candidate—an arrangement that ended after the election when the Memorandum of Association between the party and the Kwankwasiyya Movement expired.

Despite his anxiety about his political future, Kwankwaso has been unable to explain to the youths—whose blind loyalty he still relies on—why many long-standing allies dating back to 1999 have walked away. Absent from his narrative is any reckoning with his habit of discarding those who helped build his career: Senator Hamisu Musa, Musa Gwadabe, Abubakar Rimi, among others. Political independence is not betrayal; it is a legitimate pursuit.

When Abdullahi Ganduje parted ways with Kwankwaso, he endured ridicule and abuse. In my view, Kwankwaso and his supporters should at least appreciate Abba Gida-Gida’s restraint in not publicly recounting the unpleasant experiences surrounding his emergence as governor under the NNPP. While the Kwankwaso–Abba conflict is fundamentally political—a struggle for solutions and self-determination—there remains a clear distinction between betrayal, the pursuit of solutions, and the quest for independence from total submission. Madugo’s recent speeches, laden with symbolism and coded language aimed at Governor Abba Yusuf, reflect nothing more than a troubling lack of restraint.

For Atiku, other heavyweight politicians, and the ADC, the lesson is clear: no serious political party should mortgage its future on conditional loyalty or personal ambition. The party’s strength lies in its principles, not in accommodating politicians who seek to bend its vision to their own ends.

At this stage, Kwankwaso’s political control appears to have reached its limits. History shows that successful politicians understand timing, terrain, and temperament. They fight when the cause is just, support is solid, and victory is achievable. They retreat when the odds are stacked, when emotion outweighs reason, or when temporary withdrawal can prevent permanent defeat. It may be time for him to step aside gracefully, preserve his dignity, and protect his legacy. When an ant becomes arrogant, it grows wings.

Power is not bestowed by any individual; it is granted by Allah alone, who gives and withdraws authority as He wills. Both Islam and Christianity affirm this truth: power is a divine trust, not personal property. Any posture that suggests authority flows from personal will contradicts both faith and reality.

Mahmud writes from Hadejia Road, Kano

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Anthony Chiejina: Africa’s Quiet Architect of Global Corporate Reputation

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Anthony Chiejina

By Abiodun Alade

In a year shaped by geopolitical tension, technological disruption and intensifying scrutiny of corporate conduct, Anthony Chiejina has once again secured a place among the world’s most influential communications leaders.

In the orchestration of influence, some leaders make themselves heard; others, like Chiejina, make themselves felt. As Group Chief, Branding and Corporate Communications, Dangote Industries Limited, Africa’s largest industrial conglomerate, he operates not in the glare of the spotlight, but in the rarified space where strategy, trust and perception converge. Influence, in Chiejina’s world, is not performative. It is deliberate, calibrated and sustained.

His inclusion on the 2025 Influence 100 for the fifth consecutive year confirms his standing as one of the most consequential in-house communicators globally—and the only Nigerian on this year’s list.

Now in its 13th year, the Influence 100 has become a benchmark for leadership at the intersection of reputation, strategy and power. Compiled annually by PRovoke Media’s senior editorial team, the list recognises communications, corporate affairs and marketing executives whose judgement shapes organisational credibility, agency relationships and public trust. Selection is based on organisational influence, strategic remit, thought leadership and the capacity to lead through complexity.

Chiejina’s sustained presence on the list signals something deeper than recognition. It reflects a style of leadership defined not by volume, but by judgement.

Leadership Beyond Messaging

In today’s corporate environment, communications is no longer a support function. It is a leadership discipline. For Chiejina, that evolution has long been reality. His remit extends from strategic counsel at the highest level to internal alignment across a vast workforce, crisis navigation, regulatory engagement and long-term brand stewardship across sectors.

Dangote Group’s footprint spans cement, energy, agriculture, manufacturing and infrastructure—sectors that sit at the heart of national economies and global supply chains. Every decision, every word, carries weight beyond the corporation itself.

That responsibility has intensified as Dangote Group has undertaken some of the most ambitious industrial projects in Africa, drawing global attention and regulatory scrutiny. Managing reputation at this scale demands more than messaging. It requires institutional memory, political literacy and an acute understanding of how public legitimacy is earned and sustained.

Under his stewardship, Dangote Group has maintained its position as Africa’s most admired company while navigating periods of heightened public debate and international visibility. His work consistently connects corporate ambition with public confidence, ensuring that growth is matched by credibility.

Institutional Memory and Strategic Calm

More than 15 years within the Dangote Group have given Chiejina a rare asset: deep institutional memory. That continuity has proven invaluable during periods of expansion, regulatory change and market volatility. While others respond to headlines, he focuses on coherence, consistency and long-term trust.

Those who work with him describe a leader who privileges preparation over performance and clarity over drama. His approach is measured and analytical, grounded in the belief that reputation is not built in moments, but through years of disciplined engagement.

Chiejina’s fifth consecutive appearance on the Influence 100 places him among a peer group that includes communications chiefs from Apple, Google, Coca-Cola, Nike, Ford, Emirates, Reliance and other global giants. Yet he remains the only Nigerian on the 2025 list and one of the few Africa-based executives consistently recognised.

That distinction reflects both the scale of his responsibility and the growing global relevance of African corporate leadership. As Africa’s industrial champions assume a larger role in global supply chains and energy markets, the standards by which they are judged have become unmistakably international. Chiejina has helped ensure that Dangote Group meets those standards not through imitation, but through coherence, transparency and confidence in its own narrative.

Before joining Dangote Group, Chiejina built a career across banking, manufacturing and journalism, with senior roles at Zenith Bank, Oceanic Bank, Seven Up Bottling Company, African Economic Digest and African Concord—publications from the famed Concord Group that shaped a generation of African journalists. That breadth of experience continues to inform his leadership: commercially grounded, media-literate and alert to the political and economic realities that frame corporate action in emerging markets.

Quiet Authority

Anthony Chiejina’s leadership is marked by restraint. He is not a public-facing executive in the conventional sense, yet his counsel influences decisions at the highest level. In an era where reputations can be destabilised overnight, his value lies in foresight, discretion and strategic calm.

As global business becomes more exposed, more questioned and more accountable, leaders like Chiejina represent a new model of executive authority—one rooted in trust, institutional credibility and long-term thinking.

In that sense, his continued presence on the Influence 100 is not merely a personal milestone. It is a signal: that African enterprise, guided with discipline and clarity, belongs confidently at the centre of global leadership.

And in a world that increasingly confuses noise for power, Chiejina’s career offers a reminder: the most enduring influence is rarely the loudest.

Abiodun, a communications specialist, writes from Lagos

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From Convenience to Culture: How Streaming Will Shape Entertainment in Nigeria in 2026

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Streaming Will Shape Entertainment

Not too long ago, streaming in Nigeria was seen as a convenience, an alternative to traditional television, used mostly to catch up on missed shows or explore international content. Today, it has evolved into something far more ingrained. Streaming is now a culture: a daily habit that shapes conversations, influences pop culture, drives fandoms and even dictates how stories are told.

From late-night binge sessions and group watch parties to live-tweeting reality shows and football matches, streaming has become woven into how Nigerians experience entertainment. As mobile devices, smart TVs and affordable data options continue to expand access, the platform has moved from the fringes to the centre of everyday life. In 2026, this cultural shift will become even more pronounced.

Here’s what to expect as streaming continues to evolve in Nigeria and across Africa.

Value Will Define Loyalty in an Overcrowded Streaming Market: As streaming becomes mainstream, Nigerian audiences are becoming more discerning. Subscription fatigue is real, and users are no longer impressed by platforms with limited libraries or infrequent updates.

In 2026, loyalty will belong to platforms that offer sustained value, not just headline titles. This means:

  • Deep content libraries that go beyond a handful of popular shows

  • A healthy mix of live TV, sports and on-demand entertainment

  • Regular content refreshes that keep audiences engaged month after month

  • Viewers now understand value, and they will gravitate towards platforms that consistently deliver variety and relevance.

Local Stories Will Drive Cultural Relevance: Streaming has amplified the power of Nigerian storytelling, giving local productions the scale and visibility once reserved for traditional TV. Viewers are showing a clear preference for stories that feel familiar, authentic and culturally grounded.

In Nigeria, titles like Omera, Glass House, Italo, The Real Housewives of Lagos, Nigerian Idol and Big Brother Naija have become shared cultural moments, driving online conversations and real-world buzz. These shows are not just being watched; they are being experienced.

Across the continent, similar patterns are emerging, reinforcing the role of hyperlocal content in building loyalty and identity. In 2026, investment in African creators will remain central to streaming growth.

Streaming Becomes Personal and Predictive: As streaming matures, platforms will increasingly rely on AI to understand viewers on a deeper level. In 2026, Nigerian users can expect:

  • More intuitive recommendations tailored to individual tastes

  • Smarter content discovery that reduces the time spent searching

  • Interactive experiences that respond to viewer behaviour

Beyond content, AI will also enhance advertising relevance and customer support, creating a smoother, more personalised user journey.

Live Sports Will Continue to Anchor Streaming Culture: While binge-worthy series drive daily engagement, live sports remain one of streaming’s biggest cultural anchors. Football, in particular, continues to command passionate followership in Nigeria.

With the 2026 FIFA World Cup scheduled for June–July, live streaming will dominate viewing behaviour once domestic leagues conclude. Nigerian football fans demand quality, reliability and immediacy, making official platforms with full broadcast rights, such as SuperSport, essential destinations during major tournaments.

In 2026, sports will further reinforce the value of legitimate, high-quality streaming experiences.

Security Becomes Non-Negotiable: As streaming cements its cultural relevance, content protection will take on greater importance. Premium sports and entertainment remain prime targets for piracy, but the response is becoming more sophisticated.

Technologies from cybersecurity firms like Irdeto now enable real-time monitoring, rapid takedowns and legal action against illicit streaming networks. These measures protect not just platforms, but creators and the broader creative ecosystem, a critical consideration as local production continues to grow.

Innovation Makes Streaming More Inclusive: One of the most significant shifts in Nigeria’s streaming landscape is how inclusive it has become. Platforms are innovating around:

  • Flexible pricing

  • Bundled services that combine TV and streaming

  • Multi-device access, including mobile-first options

Whether premium or entry-level, users can now find options that suit their lifestyle and budget, reinforcing streaming’s position as an everyday entertainment staple.

A More Conscious Streaming Audience Emerges: As streaming culture matures, so does audience awareness. Nigerian viewers are increasingly able to identify illegal streaming platforms and understand the long-term damage piracy causes to the industry.

In 2026, conscious viewing will continue to gain ground, with users learning to avoid red flags such as “free” premium streams, unofficial apps, VPN-only access and excessive pop-up advertising.

Streaming is no longer simply about watching content, it is about belonging to moments, communities and conversations. In Nigeria, it has evolved into a cultural force that shapes how stories are told, shared and celebrated.

As 2026 unfolds, streaming will continue to thrive at the intersection of technology, culture and creativity, offering entertainment that is accessible, relevant and deeply local.

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