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Analysis

Now That Tinubu Has Listened … by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman

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Nigeria's Patriots Urge President Tinubu To Enact New Constitution

Now That Tinubu Has Listened … by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman

 

When President Bola Ahmed Tinubu announced, earlier in October 2025, that 175 individuals had been granted state pardon, clemency, or commutation of sentences, the news was framed as an act of justice, compassion, and correction. It was meant to mark a milestone in the President’s promise of a “renewed hope” administration, one that tempers justice with mercy, and offers a second chance to the reformed.

 

But in the days that followed, that noble gesture swiftly morphed into a national debate. The backlash was intense, the criticisms unrelenting, and the public mood unmistakably angry. What began as a constitutional exercise soon appeared, to many Nigerians, as a moral misjudgment. And by the end of October, the President was forced to reverse parts of the decision, trimming the list, clarifying the scope, and pledging a review of the process.

 

Now that Tinubu has listened, the question that must be asked is: What has he really done? And more importantly, what has the entire episode revealed about power, public trust, and governance in Nigeria?

 

Interestingly, the presidential clemency, announced on October 12, came through the Ministry of Justice and covered 175 individuals across various categories, including pardons, commutations, and reprieves. The list, compiled by the Presidential Advisory Committee on the Prerogative of Mercy (PACPM), included a mix of convicts serving jail terms for drug trafficking, illegal mining, fraud, and violent crimes, alongside some posthumous pardons for historical figures such as nationalist Sir Herbert Macaulay and military officer Major-General Mamman Jiya Vatsa.

 

The official statement from the Presidency said the exercise aimed to “decongest correctional facilities and promote restorative justice,” in line with Section 175 of the 1999 Constitution. It added that the beneficiaries were selected after “due consideration of factors such as age, ill health, good conduct, and evidence of reformation.”

 

But almost immediately, Nigerians began to ask: Who decides what qualifies as reformation? Were victims consulted? And how do you justify extending clemency to persons convicted of drug-related and violent crimes in a country still reeling under the weight of insecurity, substance abuse, and moral decline?

 

Social media erupted in outrage. Civil society groups issued statements condemning the exercise as tone-deaf and insensitive. Legal experts questioned the criteria used. Families of victims expressed disbelief that individuals convicted of offences like armed robbery and homicide could be released or have their sentences reduced without public consultation. The backlash was swift and brutal.

 

In a nation, moral-wise, already struggling with eroded trust in institutions, Tinubu’s clemency decision struck a nerve. Critics argued that mercy, though constitutional, must not be exercised in a way that undermines justice or public confidence.

 

For many Nigerians, the pardon list symbolised the very thing they feared about governance, a system that protects the powerful while ignoring victims.

 

Several high-profile inclusions stirred the controversy. Among those initially listed were convicts serving long sentences for drug trafficking, one for cocaine importation, and another for illegal mining, crimes that continue to destabilise communities and the economy. The perception was that Tinubu’s clemency ignored the gravity of the offences and the broader social harm they caused.

 

Public intellectuals and editorial boards joined the fray. The Punch editorial of October 24th described the move as “reckless leniency,” arguing that it “trivialises justice and weakens deterrence.” Others accused the government of seeking cheap populism through arbitrary mercy.

 

Facing a public rage, President Tinubu’s team scrambled to regain control of the narrative. On October 29, just over two weeks after the initial announcement, the Presidency issued a revised statement.

 

The revised list, according to The Cable and Channels TV, was trimmed from 175 names to about 120. Persons convicted of serious crimes, including kidnapping, armed robbery, human trafficking, large-scale drug trafficking, and unlawful possession of firearms were either removed entirely or had their full pardons converted into partial sentence reductions.

 

The Presidency clarified that the revision followed “a fresh security and legal review” by the Attorney-General of the Federation and that the decision was taken “to be sensitive to the feelings of victims and society at large.”

 

It was also announced that the Secretariat of the Presidential Advisory Committee on the Prerogative of Mercy would henceforth operate under the Federal Ministry of Justice, rather than the Office of the Secretary to the Government of the Federation, to ensure “greater legal oversight and due process.”

 

While the reversal calmed the outrage, it raised deeper questions about the integrity of governance processes. How did such a controversial list pass through layers of bureaucratic scrutiny before reaching the President’s desk? And why did it take public uproar for corrections to be made? Tinubu’s reversal, though commendable, underscored a reactive style of governance that bends to outrage rather than pre-empting it through consultation and moral foresight.

 

In fairness, listening to public sentiment is not weakness, it is a democratic strength. Tinubu deserves credit for acknowledging the outcry and acting promptly. But the larger issue is systemic. The episode exposed the opaque nature of Nigeria’s clemency system. The Presidential Advisory Committee on the Prerogative of Mercy operates largely behind closed doors, with minimal public oversight. There is no clear national framework defining who qualifies for mercy, how victims’ perspectives are integrated, or what accountability measures follow a pardon.

 

In contrast, countries like South Africa, Ghana, and Kenya have more transparent systems. In South Africa, for instance, clemency applications are published publicly, judicial advice is sought, and reasons for each decision are documented. These procedures protect both the President and the public from perceptions of bias or impunity. Nigeria lacks such guardrails, leaving presidential mercy vulnerable to political manipulation or poor judgment.

 

If Tinubu truly wishes to turn this episode into a learning moment, the next step must be institutional reform. A National Clemency Policy should be developed under the Ministry of Justice, detailing eligibility criteria, consultation procedures, and exclusions. Certain crimes such as terrorism, kidnapping, rape, large-scale corruption, murder, drug-trafficking and violent offences should be explicitly barred from pardon. Victims’ rights should also be central to the process, ensuring that their pain is neither ignored nor overridden by political convenience.

 

Moreover, post-pardon monitoring should be introduced to ensure that beneficiaries truly reintegrate into society as reformed citizens. Without such mechanisms, clemency risks becoming a revolving door for repeat offenders, weakening public trust and emboldening criminality. Mercy, when detached from accountability, is indistinguishable from impunity.

 

The deeper implication of Tinubu’s reversal lies in what it says about public trust. Nigerians are weary of governance that appears tone-deaf to moral and social realities. Every decision that seems to favour the powerful or the undeserving erodes faith in the system. For years, citizens have watched politicians, officials, and well-connected individuals escape justice through legal technicalities or political cover. The clemency controversy reopened old wounds, reminding many of a recurring theme: that justice in Nigeria is too often a privilege, not a right.

 

Tinubu’s decision to review the list, therefore, must mark more than damage control; it must signal a renewed commitment to principled governance. Listening is good, but leading is better. A president should not have to wait for outrage to do what is right. Leadership demands foresight, the moral clarity to anticipate public reaction and align decisions with the nation’s conscience.

 

The lesson from this controversy is clear. Mercy, when rightly exercised, strengthens justice; but when misused, it trivialises it. The prerogative of mercy was never meant to serve as a political tool or public relations gesture. It exists to balance the scales of justice when the law, in its rigidity, risks losing its humanity. For it to achieve that noble purpose, it must be guided by transparency, fairness, and integrity.

 

Now that Tinubu has listened, he stands at a crossroads. He can either let this controversy fade as another episode in Nigeria’s long history of public uproar and government retreat, or he can seize it as a turning point, one that ushers in a more accountable, morally grounded system of justice. The path he chooses will define not just his presidency but also the moral tone of governance in the years to come.

 

The clemency debate, at its core, was never about law alone. It was about values, about what kind of country Nigeria wants to be: one that prioritises compassion with conscience or one that mistakes pardon for weakness. The President’s reversal was necessary, but the journey toward reform has only just begun. Nigerians have spoken; Tinubu has listened. The next challenge is to act not for applause, but for posterity.

 

Alabidun is the Editor of Diaspora Watch Newspapers and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com

 

 

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Analysis

The Politics of Akara and Kuli-Kuli Empowerment, by Boniface Ihiasota 

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The Politics of Akara and Kuli-Kuli Empowerment, by Boniface Ihiasota 

 

In a country battling one of its worst economic crises in decades, every statement and public programme from those in positions of leadership carries enormous symbolic weight. Nigerians are not only listening to what their leaders say; they are also measuring whether government actions reflect the daily struggles of ordinary citizens. That is why the recent empowerment initiative championed by Nigeria’s First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu, has generated widespread criticism across the country.

 

The initiative, which encouraged women to embrace small-scale ventures such as akara frying, corn roasting and similar petty businesses, may have been conceived as a grassroots poverty alleviation programme. Across Nigeria, countless women have built respectable livelihoods through food vending and other micro-enterprises. There is dignity in honest labour, and no profession should be ridiculed.

 

However, the criticism is not directed at these occupations themselves. Rather, it is about the apparent disconnect between the scale of Nigeria’s economic challenges and the kind of empowerment being promoted by the nation’s highest office dedicated to women.

 

Since President Bola Ahmed Tinubu assumed office on May 29, 2023, his administration has implemented sweeping economic reforms, including the removal of petrol subsidy and the liberalisation of the foreign exchange market. While these policies were presented as necessary for long-term economic recovery, they have also contributed to soaring inflation, rising transportation costs and an unprecedented increase in the prices of food and essential commodities. Millions of Nigerian households have seen their purchasing power eroded.

 

According to the National Bureau of Statistics, food inflation has consistently remained among the highest components of the country’s inflation figures over the past two years. For many families, survival has become a daily struggle rather than a long-term economic plan.

 

Against this backdrop, many Nigerians expected empowerment programmes that would focus on access to affordable credit, vocational training in technology and manufacturing, agricultural value chains, digital entrepreneurship and medium-scale business development. Such interventions would not only provide immediate relief but also create pathways for sustainable wealth creation.

 

Instead, the emphasis on traditional petty trading has been interpreted by many as lowering the aspirations of Nigerian women at a time when countries across Africa are investing heavily in innovation, digital skills and industrial development.

 

The First Lady’s office occupies a unique position in Nigeria’s governance structure. Although it is not a constitutional office, it has historically been used to champion major social causes. Previous First Ladies have led campaigns on maternal health, education, HIV/AIDS awareness, women’s rights and humanitarian interventions. Consequently, every initiative launched from the office inevitably attracts national scrutiny.

 

Critics have also pointed to previous public engagements involving the First Lady, including the distribution of vehicles to party women leaders at periods when the country was grappling with serious security concerns, including the abduction of schoolchildren in different parts of northern Nigeria. Whether fair or not, such images reinforce a perception that political elites remain insulated from the hardships confronting ordinary Nigerians.

 

Perception matters in governance. Leadership is not merely about implementing programmes; it is equally about understanding the emotional pulse of the people. At a time when many women are university graduates, professionals, innovators and entrepreneurs seeking access to finance, markets and modern business opportunities, public messaging should inspire ambition rather than reinforce subsistence.

 

Constructive criticism should not be mistaken for ethnic or partisan hostility. Democratic accountability requires citizens to question public officials irrespective of tribe, religion or political affiliation. Holding leaders accountable strengthens democracy rather than weakens it.

 

The challenge before Nigeria is not whether women should sell akara, roast corn or produce local snacks. Many successful businesses have humble beginnings. The real question is whether government should limit its vision of women’s economic empowerment to survival-level enterprises while millions seek opportunities to participate meaningfully in a modern economy.

 

Nigerian women deserve policies that match their talents, education and aspirations. Empowerment should not simply help citizens survive poverty; it should equip them to escape it permanently. That is the standard by which every government initiative should be measured.

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Analysis

The Economics of Terrorism in Nigeria, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman 

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The Economics of Terrorism in Nigeria, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman 

 

The Nigerian state has spent well over a decade chasing terrorists through forests, mountains and isolated villages. Thousands of soldiers have been deployed, billions of naira have been committed to military hardware, while countless gallant officers have paid the supreme price in the battle against Boko Haram, the Islamic State West Africa Province, ISWAP and other violent groups. Yet, amid these sacrifices, one question has remained unanswered: how do these terrorists continue to fund their operations despite sustained military offensives?

 

It is a question that has become increasingly difficult to ignore. Terrorism is not sustained by ideology alone. It thrives on money. Every attack carried out in Borno, Yobe, Adamawa, Kaduna, Niger or Zamfara is financed somewhere. Every rifle procured, every motorcycle purchased, every informant recruited and every explosive manufactured has a financial trail. The insurgent carrying an AK-47 in the bush is merely the visible face of a sophisticated financial network stretching from local collaborators to international facilitators.

 

This reality explains why the Federal Government has, over the last three years, shifted considerable attention from merely confronting terrorists on the battlefield to dismantling the financial ecosystem that keeps them alive. It is perhaps the least celebrated but arguably the most strategic aspect of Nigeria’s counter-terrorism policy.

 

The legal foundation had already been strengthened with the signing of the Terrorism (Prevention and Prohibition) Act, 2022, by former President Muhammadu Buhari. The legislation consolidated previous anti-terrorism laws, expanded the definition of terrorism financing, strengthened the powers of investigators and prosecutors, and established clearer procedures for freezing assets linked to terrorism. It also empowered the Nigeria Sanctions Committee to designate individuals and entities involved in financing terrorist activities.

 

President Bola Tinubu inherited this framework in May 2023 and, rather than allowing it to gather dust, has encouraged greater institutional coordination among the Office of the National Security Adviser (ONSA), the Department of State Services (DSS), the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), the Nigerian Financial Intelligence Unit (NFIU) and the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN). The emphasis has become unmistakable: if terrorists cannot access money, their operational capacity will gradually diminish.

 

The results are becoming evident as security agencies have intensified investigations into suspicious financial transactions, illicit cash movements, informal money transfer networks and businesses suspected of serving as conduits for terrorist funds. Financial institutions have come under greater pressure to report unusual transactions, while designated non-financial institutions have equally been subjected to stricter compliance requirements. The Nigerian Financial Intelligence Unit (NFIU) has become more proactive in analysing suspicious transaction reports and sharing intelligence with both domestic and international security agencies.

 

One of the strongest indications that Nigeria’s campaign has acquired an international dimension came with increased cooperation between Nigeria and foreign governments on terrorism financing investigations. The arrest of separatist agitator Simon Ekpa by Finnish authorities in November 2024 over allegations connected to terrorist activities demonstrated that financial and operational support for violent groups can no longer be viewed as purely domestic matters. International law enforcement agencies are increasingly collaborating to monitor financial flows across borders.

 

Equally significant has been Nigeria’s determination to improve its standing under the Financial Action Task Force, the global body responsible for setting standards against money laundering and terrorist financing. Nigeria’s inclusion on the FATF grey list in 2023 served as a diplomatic embarrassment and an economic warning that weaknesses in financial regulation could undermine investor confidence. Since then, the country has implemented several reforms aimed at strengthening anti-money laundering and counter-terrorism financing mechanisms. Those efforts culminated in Nigeria’s removal from the grey list in October 2025 after the FATF acknowledged substantial progress in addressing identified deficiencies.

 

That achievement deserves more public attention than it has received. Countries placed on the FATF grey list often face increased scrutiny by international banks, higher compliance costs for businesses and reduced investor confidence. Exiting the list therefore represents more than a diplomatic success; it signals growing confidence in Nigeria’s capacity to detect, investigate and disrupt illicit financial flows.

 

Yet, despite these gains, the challenge remains enormous because terrorism financing in Nigeria has become increasingly decentralised.

 

Gone are the days when insurgent groups depended almost exclusively on foreign sponsors. Boko Haram and ISWAP have developed self-sustaining financial models that resemble organised criminal enterprises. They generate revenue through kidnapping for ransom, illegal taxation of farming communities, cattle rustling, extortion of traders, smuggling, illegal mining, fishery activities around the Lake Chad Basin and cross-border commercial transactions. Some communities living under insurgent control reportedly pay levies not because they support terrorism but because survival demands compliance.

 

This evolution has complicated the work of security agencies. Financial transactions supporting terrorism are no longer confined to formal banking channels. Cash dominates rural economies where banking infrastructure remains weak. Informal value transfer systems operate outside conventional financial regulations, while technological innovations have introduced new risks associated with digital assets and online financial platforms.

 

The uncomfortable truth is that terrorism survives not only because of hardened extremists but also because ordinary citizens sometimes become willing collaborators. Transport operators who knowingly move weapons, traders who supply logistics to insurgents, businessmen who facilitate illicit financial transfers and corrupt officials who compromise security operations all become silent partners in sustaining violence. Their motivations are often economic rather than ideological, yet the consequences remain equally devastating.

 

It is here that Nigeria’s counter-terrorism strategy must become even more courageous.

 

Arrests alone cannot substitute for successful prosecutions. Nigerians have witnessed numerous announcements of suspects apprehended for alleged terrorism financing, only for many cases to disappear into the slow wheels of the justice system. The deterrent value of arrest diminishes significantly when prosecution is uncertain or endlessly delayed. The judiciary must therefore recognise terrorism financing cases as matters requiring exceptional urgency.

 

Another area demanding greater attention is border security. Nigeria shares long and porous borders with Niger, Chad, Cameroon and Benin Republic. These frontiers have facilitated not only the movement of fighters but also the trafficking of cash, fuel, livestock, food supplies and weapons. Effective border management requires stronger intelligence sharing, modern surveillance technology and closer collaboration with neighbouring countries.

 

Political neutrality is equally indispensable. Counter-terror financing cannot become selective depending on the influence, ethnicity, religion or political affiliation of suspects. Once credible evidence exists, investigations should proceed without fear or favour. Nothing undermines public confidence more than the perception that powerful individuals enjoy immunity while less influential suspects face the full weight of the law.

 

There is also the question of financial literacy within vulnerable communities. Many Nigerians remain unaware that seemingly harmless commercial activities can inadvertently support terrorist operations. Accepting suspicious payments, facilitating anonymous cash transfers or ignoring reporting obligations may ultimately strengthen violent organisations. Public education must therefore become an integral component of national security policy.

 

Equally important is economic development. Terrorist organisations flourish where legitimate economic opportunities disappear. Unemployment, illiteracy, weak governance and chronic poverty create fertile recruiting grounds for extremist groups. Countering terrorism financing must therefore go beyond freezing bank accounts to expanding access to education, agriculture, infrastructure, healthcare and youth employment. A young man earning a decent livelihood is far less susceptible to recruitment by insurgent organisations promising quick financial rewards.

 

Perhaps the greatest lesson from Nigeria’s experience over the last three years is that modern terrorism is sustained less by ideology than by economics. Terrorists may preach religion, ethnicity or political grievances, but they cannot wage war without money. Every disrupted financial transaction, every frozen asset, every suspicious transfer intercepted and every financier successfully prosecuted weakens the operational capability of violent groups far more quietly than military offensives ever could.

 

The war against terrorism will not be won solely on the battlefield. It will also be won inside banks, courtrooms, intelligence centres, border posts, regulatory agencies and financial institutions. Soldiers may neutralise terrorists, but investigators who follow the money prevent the next generation of attacks.

 

Nigeria has made commendable progress in recognising this reality. The challenge now is consistency. Financial investigations must become more sophisticated, prosecutions more decisive, institutions more coordinated and political commitment more unwavering. Terrorism is ultimately an expensive business. The day Nigeria permanently cuts off the flow of money into the hands of violent extremists is the day the guns will begin to fall silent.

 

Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com

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Analysis

Donald Trump at 80: Assessing His Impact on Africa and Africans, by Boniface Ihiasota 

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Donald Trump at 80: Assessing His Impact on Africa and Africans, by Boniface Ihiasota 

 

On June 14, 2026, President Donald J. Trump marked his 80th birthday, becoming one of the most consequential and controversial figures in modern American political history. Born on June 14, 1946, in Queens, New York, Trump has served as both the 45th and 47th President of the United States, returning to office on January 20, 2025, after winning the 2024 presidential election.

 

As Africans and members of the global African diaspora reflect on Trump’s legacy at 80, opinions remain sharply divided. Yet beyond the political debates, there are measurable developments in his administrations that have had direct implications for Africa and Africans.

 

Perhaps the most significant Africa-related achievement associated with Trump’s current presidency is the United States-brokered peace agreement between the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda. Signed in Washington, D.C., on June 27, 2025, the accord sought to end decades of instability and violence in eastern Congo, a conflict that has claimed millions of lives and displaced countless families across Central Africa.

 

The agreement involved key African leaders, including Congolese President Félix Tshisekedi and Rwandan President Paul Kagame, with mediation support from U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and presidential envoy Massad Boulos.

 

For many Africans, the significance of this diplomatic intervention cannot be understated. For over three decades, eastern Congo has remained one of the world’s deadliest conflict zones. While the long-term success of the peace accord will ultimately depend on implementation by the parties involved, the willingness of the Trump administration to invest diplomatic capital in resolving an African conflict represented a notable moment in U.S.-Africa relations.

 

Economic engagement has also featured prominently in Trump’s approach to Africa. Throughout both his first and second administrations, he emphasized private-sector investment over traditional aid models. His admirers argue that this philosophy encouraged a shift toward trade, entrepreneurship, infrastructure development and business partnerships rather than perpetual dependency on foreign assistance.

 

Several African governments welcomed greater American interest in strategic minerals, energy resources and manufacturing opportunities as competition intensified between the United States and China for influence on the continent.

 

Trump’s supporters further point to his administration’s emphasis on national sovereignty and bilateral partnerships. Many African leaders, particularly those advocating stronger national control over economic resources and immigration policies, found aspects of Trump’s political philosophy relatable. His “America First” doctrine, though designed for U.S. interests, sparked conversations across Africa about self-reliance, economic nationalism and the importance of prioritizing domestic development agendas.

 

For African entrepreneurs in the diaspora, Trump’s broader economic policies, including tax reforms during his first administration and deregulation efforts, were seen by some as creating a business environment that rewarded investment and wealth creation. African-owned businesses in the United States benefited from periods of economic expansion and lower corporate taxation, though economists continue to debate the overall impact of those policies.

 

Nevertheless, an honest assessment requires acknowledging that Trump’s relationship with Africa has not been without controversy. His immigration policies, visa restrictions and remarks about certain countries generated criticism across the continent and among African diaspora communities.

 

Critics argue that some policies negatively affected African students, professionals and families seeking opportunities in the United States. Others have questioned reductions in certain aid programmes and humanitarian initiatives.

 

Yet history often judges leaders not solely by rhetoric but by outcomes. At 80, Trump remains a central figure in global affairs. His role in facilitating the Congo-Rwanda peace process, his administration’s focus on trade and investment, and his influence on debates surrounding sovereignty and economic development have all left an imprint on Africa’s contemporary story.

 

As Africa continues its rise in the twenty-first century, the continent’s relationship with the United States will remain important regardless of who occupies the White House. Donald Trump’s eightieth birthday provides an opportunity not for partisan celebration or criticism alone, but for thoughtful reflection on a leader whose policies, decisions and diplomacy have shaped conversations far beyond America’s borders.

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