Opinion

Farooq Kperogi: The 18-year-old age limit for school certificate

Published

2 years ago

August 31, 2024

Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: The 18-year-old age limit for school certificate

The directive by education minister Professor Tahir Mamman to the West African Examinations Council (WAEC) and the National Examinations Council to not register candidates who are below 18 for next year’s school certificate examinations is generating knee-jerk resistance from people who are obviously nescient of the psychology and philosophy behind age benchmarks in education.

In most countries of the world, children don’t start primary school until they are 6, and young adults don’t start university until they are 18. That used to be true in Nigeria, too—until parents chose to skirt the law, upend time-tested tradition, and commit mass child abuse in the name of fast-tracking the education their children.

In fact, contrary to what the Nigerian news media has been reporting, Professor Mamman has not created a new law; he is only implementing the existing law. He hasn’t “banned” under-18 students from taking school certificate exams; he has merely chosen to enforce an extant law, which has been serially violated by overeager parents who want their children to get ahead by any means.

The 1982 education policy, also called the 6:3:3:4 system, requires that children should be at least 5 years old to start pre-primary school and at least 6 years old to start primary school. If a 6-year-old spends 6 years in primary school, 3 years in junior secondary school, and another 3 years in secondary school, they would be 18 by the time they graduate from secondary school.

This is the global standard. In the United States, students apply to enter universities between the ages of 18 and 19 (because if you don’t turn 6 in September of the year you want to start First Grade, you have to wait until next year). In Finland, Canada, the Netherlands, Japan, South Africa, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, Denmark, etc. it is 18.

The age benchmark isn’t arbitrary. It is based on time-honored insights from developmental psychology and educational research, which examined the cognitive, social, and emotional developments of children.

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For example, Jean Piaget’s stages of cognitive development tell us that around age 6, children transition from what is called the preoperational stage to the concrete operational stage, at which point they begin to develop logical thinking, which is essential for learning the structured curriculum of primary school education, such as reading, writing, and mathematics.

Research also shows that children develop the social skills needed to interact with peers and teachers in a school environment and the attention span necessary to learn, absorb information, and stay engaged at 6, and that children who start school too early struggle with these skills, which can lead to long-term challenges in academic and social areas.

That was why the late Professor Aliu Babatunde Fafunwa was famous for saying any education of children before the age of 5 is a waste of time and even child abuse. From ages 1 through 5, children should be allowed to be children: sleep, play, laugh, and grow.

Of course, I recognize that because most mothers now work, enrolling children in schools earlier than is ideal is a necessity. But the busy schedule of parents is no excuse to buck science, ignore the requirements of a well-integrated childhood, and contribute to the mass production of maladjusted adults.

Similarly, research in developmental psychology shows that by age 18, most teenagers have reached a level of emotional and social maturity that enables them to live independently, make decisions, and handle the challenges of university life.

Neuroscientific research also shows that the brain continues to develop well into the early twenties, particularly the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for decision-making, impulse control, and planning. By age 18, the brain has typically matured enough to handle the complex cognitive demands of higher education.

Plus, in many countries, including in Nigeria, 18 is the age of legal adulthood, which aligns with the transition to university. This legal framework supports the idea that students are ready to take on the responsibilities associated with higher education, such as managing their own time, finances, and education.

Of course, as with everything, there are always exceptions. Precocious children can and do skip grades and start university earlier than 18 even in the United States and elsewhere. There are exceptionally gifted children who graduate from university as early as 11. But such students undergo rigorous tests to determine that they have intelligence that is far ahead of normal developmental schedules. They are also few and far between.

That’s not the situation in Nigeria. Just like our bad national habit of always wanting to jump the queue—what Americans call cut in line—Nigerian parents have, over the years, developed impatience for the normal development schedules of their children and want them to get ahead against the evidence of science, common sense, and even the law of the land.

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It is not because their children are exceptional. In fact, they are often mediocre. For example, my brother’s son, who is only 14 years old and with average intelligence, registered to take his WAEC exam this year. I told my brother that was inexcusable child abuse.

Nigeria has a bad reputation across the world for sending underage children not just to domestic universities but also to foreign universities. People who work at the International Student and Scholar Services at the university where I am a professor have asked me multiple times why only Nigeria sends underage students here.

The consensus is that such students often lack maturity, have difficulty engaging in adult conversations, and struggle to fit in and get the best of the opportunities they have.

Several Nigerians who teach at other U.S. universities share the same stories. As I pointed out earlier, here in the United States, like in most other countries of the world, students don’t begin their undergraduate education until they are 18, which also happens to be the age of consent. A student who is under 18, by law, can’t attend several extra-curricular activities undergraduates typically take part in.

They need waivers signed by their parents to participate in certain activities, but since their parents are often in Nigeria, they pose logistical nightmares for universities.

For example, in the United States, by law, you can’t sign a lease agreement (to rent an apartment) if you are not at least 18 years old. Many underage Nigerian undergraduates at my school require an adult to co-sign for them. Since their parents are in Nigeria, the burden often falls on Nigerian professors and staff, who are understandably reluctant to co-sign leases of underage strangers who could break their agreements and put us in legal jeopardy.

Dating is also a treacherous legal minefield for the American classmates of underage Nigerian undergraduates in American universities. Having intimate relationship with anyone who is under 18 is statutory rape, even if it is consensual. I am aware of the story of a 17-year-old second-year Nigerian undergraduate girl who had a disagreement with her boyfriend who was from another African country.

Neighbors called the police to intervene. When the police asked for their ID cards, they discovered that the Nigerian girl was underaged. It led to the imprisonment—and later deportation— of the man for statutory rape even when their relationship was consensual. Stories like this are not unique.

Unless someone is exceptionally gifted, which should be proved conclusively with special tests, they should not start university earlier than 18. Fortunately, that is already the law, which is informed by the consensus of research findings in developmental psychology, neuroscience, and social research. Professor Mamman has only signaled his readiness to apply the law. He has my full support.

I read that the National Parent Teacher Association of Nigeria (NAPTAN) said they would sue the federal government for indicating readiness to implement a law that has been in the books for more than 40 years. Good luck with that!

Farooq Kperogi: The 18-year-old age limit for school certificate

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Opinion

ON THE IMPLEMENTATION OF THE ASUU-FGN 2025 AGREEMENT

Published

18 hours ago

July 6, 2026

Trends Admin

ON THE IMPLEMENTATION OF THE ASUU-FGN 2025 AGREEMENT

Jeff Godwin Doki

It has become very necessary to clear some of the innumerable misconceptions surrounding the implementation of the ASUU-FGN Agreement which was signed on December, 23, 2025. Without doubt, this clarification shall be for the benefit of the General public, the Nigerian Media, Students, Parents and other stakeholders in the Education sector who have overtime been fed with all manner of untruths and a litany of lies by the Ministry of Education. Below is a true and honest account of the whole issue. Recall that the negotiation of this agreement lasted for eight good years punctuated essentially by many hiccups and false starts. But first, let us historicize this. The ASUU- FGN 2025 Agreement started in 2006 and stretched to 2009. In 2009, the FGN signed the agreement with ASUU made up of all Federal and State Universities. The Government team was headed by Chief Gamaliel Onosode while ASUU was represented by Dr. Abdullahi Sule who was later replaced by Prof.Ukachukwu Awuzie, himself a Professor from a State University in Nigeria. Over the years, ASUU made series of efforts to get the government to renegotiate this very agreement. The efforts of ASUU bore some kind of fruit in March, 2017 when the government constituted a committee to renegotiate the 2009 Agreement.

The first attempt was by the committee headed by Wale Babalakin which was botched and replaced by the committees by Jibril Munzali and Emeritus Prof. Nimi Briggs both of which produced agreed documents but, sadly, the Federal Government turned down the two draft agreements especially the one headed by Emeritus Prof. Nimi Briggs. At the end of the day, it was the Agreement submitted by the Alhaji Yayale Ahmed committee in February, 2025 that was renegotiated and signed in December 2025.

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Then on January 14, 2026, the FGN decided to publicly unveil the agreement in Abuja with much mumbo-jumbo and fanfare that smacked of hypocrisy and deceit. As a matter of fact, some commentators called the unveiling ceremony a cynical and mischievous one. The question that such fanfare surrounding the unveiling of an agreement raises in such a timely fashion is straightforward: is this public show of patriotism not one of the whims and chicanery of the Education Minister? Why draw the attention of the entire world to the unveiling of an agreement between the Government and the University teachers? Has the signing of an agreement become some national victory? But more worrisome is the fact that after the whole shebang of that public show, the FGN did not find it necessary to match its words with action by inaugurating an Implementation Monitoring Committee (IMC) with the responsibility of ensuring that all the terms spelt out in the 2025 Agreement were implemented.

More disturbing is that the same FGN did not find it necessary to provide the solvent or cash-backing to University administrators to implement the Agreement and in a letter in the month of February, 2026, the Education Minister had requested University authorities to go ahead and pay the three major components of the Agreement namely: Consolidated Academic Tools Allowance (CATA), Earned Academic Allowance (EAA) and Professorial Allowance (PA) using their Internally Generated Revenue (IGR). It could be perceived that mischief and deceit were clearly at work here. The reasons trumped off for Government’s inability to implement the Agreement at that time was that the 2026 Budget was awaiting approval by the National Assembly. And what happened when the budget was eventually approved? Silence! No action!

When by May 2026, it became apparent that both the Federal and State Governments have not demonstrated serious and sincere commitment to implementing the Agreement, the National Executive Council of ASUU at its meeting held at the at Modibbo Adamawa University Yola, resolved to engage the Press by drawing the attention of the general public to the imminent crisis in the Nigerian universities should governments fail to urgently honor the Agreement. Perhaps, it was this Media option that compelled the Federal Government to release about 80 billion Naira to take care of the monetary component of the Agreement. The FGN also set up an Implementation Monitoring Committee saddled with the responsibility of developing an equitable formula for fund allocation among beneficiary institutions, in this case, both Federal and State Universities.

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In all fairness, the Implementation Monitoring Committee (IMC) allocated the sum of Seventy -four billion six hundred and ten million naira (#74,610,000,000.00) to be shared to both Federal and States universities. The committee also identified a total of seventy -nine universities in Nigeria as eligible beneficiaries. Out of this number, forty-four are Federal universities and thirty-five State universities. But most importantly, Federal universities were allocated 70% of this sum amounting to fifty-one billion, eight hundred and forty two million seven hundred thousand naira (#51, 842,700,000,00), while State universities received 30% amounting to (#22,218,300.000.00).
Apart from states that have more than two or more universities (namely Kano, Ondo, Bayelsa,) each state university received a uniformed sum of six hundred and fifty three million, four hundred and seventy nine thousand four hundred and eleven naira seventy six kobo(#653,479,411.76).

Now to the point: many state governments are yet to commence the implementation of the Agreement. Some even claim that the Agreement was signed between the Federal Government and ASUU alone. Some outrightly deny that they were not aware of such an Agreement. But mark this: the Federal Government of Nigeria has, times without number, told Nigerian citizens that since the removal of fuel subsidy in 2023, gargantuan sums of money are being released on a monthly basis to all state Governors in the country and for that reason, state Governors have no excuse but to bring the much-needed development to the people and give them a better life and education. And from the figures quoted above it could be perceived that the Federal Government has released money to both Federal and state universities in Nigeria. Let us concede that in this regard, some state Governments namely: Bauchi, Benue, Ekiti, Osun, Ogun, and Sokoto States, deserve commendation for taking the lead to implement this agreement in their state universities. The obvious implication is that the Vice chancellors of these state universities have demonstrated abundantly that they are genuine and patriotic citizens concerned with the development of the education sector.
From the foregoing argument, it could be deduced that any State Governor or visitor who has not released money meant for the implementation of the ASUU-FGN Agreement is an unpatriotic nation-wrecker whose desire is to derail our country and, in fact, the entire Nigerian university system from its chosen path of orderly progress into renewed crisis and anarchy.

From the figures quoted above, one can say with considerable justification that the Federal Government of Nigeria has partly kept its own terms of the ASUU-FGN 2025 Agreement and it is left for visitors of state universities in Nigeria to simulate the example of the six other visitors of states universities cited above.
Lest we forget, Education, whether at the Federal or State levels, remains a basic human right as outlined in article 26 of the Universal Declaration of Human rights, article 28 of the Convention on the rights of the child and article 11 of the African charter of the rights and welfare of the child. All these Conventions emphasize the need for the state to provide free and compulsory basic education.

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Another challenge in the higher education sector is the incessant establishment of universities in Nigeria. We find ourselves in a situation where universities are established not for pragmatic reasons but just to score some cheap pollical points. As a matter of fact, the idea of the university as the ‘ivory tower’ has been completely eroded in Nigeria and we fear that one day every Nigerian Senator shall have a university located at his very backyard. Just look at this: Nigeria hosts 312 universities (77 federal, 67 state, and 168 private). By contrast, the United Kingdom, a nation with a far stronger economy and a firm commitment to educational quality, has approximately 163 universities. South Africa, the continent’s most developed economy, has only 26 public universities. Kenya has 64 universities (37 public and 27 private). And this explains why foreign universities are considered among the best in global university rankings. Is it surprising that many Nigerian students flock to foreign universities to acquire higher education? Here again, the National Universities Commission (NUC), has played a quisling role.

It seems clear that the Commission lacks the capacity to effectively perform its role as a regulatory body saddled with the responsibility of enhancing quality in the university system. Rather, the Commission encourages the establishment of private universities charging extortionate fees which are not commiserate to the services offered and which are essentially profit-driven. ASUU’s demand for a review of the laws governing the NUC and JAMB, therefore, is truly justified. In Nigeria, private universities consider their students as customers because of their financial capacity to pay exorbitant school charges.
But apart from the signed Agreement, there are other outstanding issues like the release of withheld three and half months salaries, sustainable funding of public universities, revitalization of public universities, cessation of the victimization of ASUU members in LASU, Kogi State University and FUTO, payment of outstanding 25-35 % salary arrears, payment of promotion arrears and the release of withheld third party deductions.
Looking back, it seems clear that the FGN has treated ASUU so monstrously.

From the regime of Babangida to Obasanjo, to that of Yaradua, to Jonathan and Buhari to Tinubu it has been the same farcical drama of sham, indifference and disdain. Promises were made but not fulfilled, negotiations began and were stopped only to begin again and stop. For the past three decades, no Nigerian leader has dealt with the ASUU- FGN agreement seriously, sincerely, honestly and honorably. It is expected that the Nigerian leadership should prioritize education and burnish our universities up to international standards.

From 1992 to date, the rot in the University system has continued unabated. Nigerian Universities hold up their decaying buildings and potholed roads as physical emblems of a deeper malaise. Nigerian University teachers have embarked on several warning strikes and sometimes indefinite strikes all in an attempt to press the Nigerian government to tread the path of honor by respecting its promises. But strikes could be avoided in our ivory towers if the Nigerian leadership lives up to its social responsibility of providing education for all its citizens. How can posterity believe that their parents were responsible for the present rot in the education sector? It is common knowledge that in Nigeria students do not pass through the Universities anymore, they merely survive through them. In Nigerian universities, graduation is not a dream come true, it is the other end of a long chaotic nightmare because the facilities that could make learning a pleasure are non-existent.

The only peaceful solution is for all visitors of State Universities in Nigeria to direct the immediate implementation of the 2025 FGN/ASUU Agreement, and to address all other lingering issues in their respective universities. The FGN has released funds to both Federal and state universities and for any state Governor to refuse to implement the FGN-ASUU 2025 is , to say the least, the height of criminality. Finally, this is also the right time for all well-meaning Nigerians, parents, traditional rulers, the clergy, the Press and other stakeholders to mount pressure on state governments to do the needful in order to ensure industrial peace on university campuses in Nigeria.
But it is left to be said that, from all indications, the Federal Government has only scorched the snake, it is yet to kill it.

ON THE IMPLEMENTATION OF THE ASUU-FGN 2025 AGREEMENT

Opinion

Can a School Founded by a Public University Truly Be Called Private?

Published

18 hours ago

July 6, 2026

Trends Admin

Can a school founded by a public university truly be called private?

By Maroof Asudemade

The recent Court of Appeal judgment on the International School, Ibadan (ISI) hijab case has reopened a constitutional debate that extends well beyond school uniforms. At the heart of the controversy lies a fundamental question: Can a school established by a public university legitimately be regarded as a private institution for the purpose of limiting constitutional rights?

This intervention is not intended to question the wisdom of the Court of Appeal’s decision or to relitigate the merits of the hijab controversy. Rather, it seeks to examine the broader constitutional and legal implications arising from the court’s reported characterisation of International School, Ibadan (ISI) as a private school.

According to reports, the Court of Appeal held that ISI is a private institution and that parents and students who voluntarily accepted the school’s code of conduct are bound by its provisions, including restrictions on the wearing of the hijab. While contractual obligations deserve respect, the broader constitutional question remains unresolved.

The University of Ibadan (UI) is not a private enterprise. It is Nigeria’s premier public university, established by law, owned by the Federal Government of Nigeria, and funded through public resources. International School, Ibadan, founded by the university in 1963, was created as part of the institution’s educational mission. It was not established by private investors, a religious organisation or an independent educational trust, but by a public institution acting in the public interest.

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This raises an important legal question. If a public university establishes a school, appoints its governing authorities, determines its policies and exercises ultimate oversight, on what legal or constitutional basis does that school become a private institution? Does the collection of tuition fees automatically transform a publicly established institution into a private one? If that reasoning is accepted, should fee-paying public universities themselves also be regarded as private institutions? The answer is far from obvious and deserves careful legal scrutiny.

The significance of this issue extends well beyond the ongoing ISI hijab case. It raises broader questions about the constitutional responsibilities of institutions created, owned and controlled by the state. If publicly established institutions can avoid constitutional obligations simply by being described as private entities, then the protection of fundamental rights may become increasingly dependent on administrative policies rather than constitutional guarantees.

This argument should not be interpreted as suggesting that schools should be stripped of the authority to maintain discipline or prescribe dress codes. Uniform policies remain an essential aspect of school administration, helping to promote order, equality and institutional identity. However, where such policies intersect with constitutionally protected rights, particularly freedom of religion, the law should strive to achieve a careful balance instead of assuming that contractual consent automatically overrides constitutional protections.

The central constitutional issue is therefore not whether International School, Ibadan has the authority to regulate its students. Rather, it is whether a school established, owned and supervised by a public university should simultaneously enjoy the legal privileges associated with a private institution while benefiting from the public status, legitimacy and authority of its parent institution.

The conversation may now need to move beyond the courtroom. The National Assembly, education policymakers, constitutional scholars and the wider public should consider whether Nigeria’s laws provide sufficient clarity regarding the legal status of schools established by public universities. Greater legislative certainty would help prevent future disputes and ensure that the constitutional rights and responsibilities of such institutions are clearly defined.

The ISI hijab controversy may ultimately reach a final legal resolution. However, the broader constitutional question is likely to remain relevant long after the current dispute has ended.

When does an institution created, owned and controlled by the public cease to be public?

Until that question receives a clear legal answer, debates over the constitutional status of schools established by public universities are likely to continue.

Can a school founded by a public university truly be called private?

Opinion

The Phantom Presidential Council scandal, By Farooq Kperogi

Published

3 days ago

July 4, 2026

Trends Admin

The Phantom Presidential Council scandal, By Farooq Kperogi

I first received a WhatsApp forward about the scandal from notable University of Texas history professor Toyin Falola. I didn’t read it. I thought it was just another corruption scandal, the sort I have become tragically inured to.

A few days later, my friend Professor Moses Ochonu forwarded another version of it to me. I told him Professor Falola, mentor to both of us, had already sent it to me but that I didn’t bother to read it because I had become jaded on issues like that. But social media soon became suffused with different tidbits of the scandal, and I could no longer ignore it.

I am now suspending the travelogue I had planned to write on my recent visit to Trinidad and Tobago where I was invited to deliver a keynote address at an international conference on media and communication. Nigeria, as it often does, has imposed its madness on my literary itinerary.

The story is almost too insane to be true. A certain Prince Adeniyi Adeyemi Mathew, also written in official statements as Adeyemi Adeniyi Matthew, presented himself as Director-General of the Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council, sometimes twinned with the Presidential Economic Advisory Council.

The Presidency now says the body does not exist. In a June 11 disclaimer and a fuller July 1 statement, the State House said Adeyemi was an impostor, that his appointment letter was forged, that he falsely paraded himself as a presidential appointee and that the police had already filed criminal charges against him.

According to the Presidency, the drama began when the Nigerian Investment Promotion Commission complained in October 2025 that another supposed government body was operating in its orbit. Foreign Affairs also reportedly grew uneasy after Adeyemi held meetings with ambassadors. The Chief of Staff, Femi Gbajabiamila, then wrote the DSS and the Police to investigate what he described as forged appointment letters.

Adeyemi was later arrested at an office in the Federal Secretariat Complex in Abuja. Police reportedly searched his office and residence, found documents they characterized as forged and accused him of operating 34 bank accounts, including nine in the names of allegedly fictitious entities.

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The Presidency says he even used his papers to open a CBN account by misleading the Office of the Accountant-General of the Federation, although no government money was transferred into the account.

If that were all, this would be a straightforward story of a brazen con man who found a costume in the wardrobe of power and decided to wear it. But that is not all.

Before the Presidency disowned him, Adeyemi and his council were not anonymous. He led a management team to the EFCC headquarters. Premium Times reported that the visit was part of a partnership to strengthen Nigeria’s investment climate ahead of a proposed World Investment Summit.

PM News similarly reported that EFCC Chairman Ola Olukoyede received him and his team. In the images and accounts that circulated later, the EFCC encounter took on even more symbolic weight because of claims that Adeyemi received an EFCC plaque. Whether or not every detail of that ceremonial exchange survives independent verification, the larger fact is that a supposed fake agency gained access to the nation’s foremost anti-corruption institution, among several prominent institutions.

Perhaps the most curious is the council’s appearance in the national budget. ICIR and Channels TV reported that the council was captured in the 2026 budget with more than N1.3 billion. That single fact turns this from a case of impersonation into a study in state porosity.

An impostor can print a fake letter. He can design a fake letterhead. He can borrow solemn English from government circulars and paste a coat of arms on a document. But how does a nonexistent presidential council find its way into the budget?

The .gov.ng domain controversy deepens the absurdity. Nigeria’s .gov.ng domain is not supposed to be bought from roadside web designers. It is reserved for government institutions and requires official authorization and verification.

If pfipc.gov.ng existed, and if it passed through the required government gatekeeping protocols, then somebody either forged papers successfully through a sleeping verification system or someone within the state gave it a helping hand. Either possibility is damning.

Adeyemi, for his part, has not gone quietly. He says he had a genuine appointment. He has accused Gbajabiamila of collecting N400 million through a proxy, demanding another N200 million and asking for 48 percent of a purported N27.4 billion take-off grant. He says his refusal to surrender the share caused his troubles.

These are grave allegations, but they are still allegations. So far, the public has not seen bank records, messages, recordings and receipts that would independently establish them.

Adeyemi is not a neutral witness in his own cause, so we can’t assume the facticity of his claims on face value. The Presidency and TheCable have drawn attention to his earlier public self-fashioning as a leader of the World Youth Organisation, which Nigerian newspapers once reported as an affiliate of the United Nations.

That claim later came under challenge because no such UN youth organ existed in the form he presented it. In other words, the man at the center of the PFIPC scandal appears to have a prior history of manufacturing proximity to grand institutions.

But the Presidency should not celebrate too quickly. Adeyemi’s credibility problems do not absolve the state. A thief who steals police uniform is a criminal. But if he uses the uniform to sleep in police barracks, command patrol vans, receive salutes from officers and collect allowances from the police budget, the scandal no longer belongs to the thief alone. It belongs to the police.

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That is why the most plausible explanation is not a tidy binary. It is not simply that Adeyemi beat the system. Nor is it yet proven that Gbajabiamila co-designed the scheme and later turned on him after a quarrel over loot sharing.

The evidence available to the public supports a more troubling middle ground. Adeyemi was likely the prime mover of an elaborate institutional fraud, but he almost certainly benefited from either complicity, negligence or the habitual stupidity of Nigerian bureaucracy.

There are global parallels, but none is an exact twin. In Gujarat, India, a man named Sandeep Rajput allegedly created a fake Irrigation Project Division office, forged seals and signatures, submitted official-looking proposals and got more than 40 million Indian rupees in government grants released. That is probably the closest parallel because it involved not just impersonation but entry into public finance.

Also in India, Kiran Patel allegedly posed as an official of the Prime Minister’s Office and enjoyed official security and hospitality in Jammu and Kashmir before his arrest. His case resembles Adeyemi’s use of proximity to the presidency as a password to bureaucratic reverence.

In China, Zhao Xiyong posed as a State Council official, toured provinces, gave speeches and was received by local leaders who apparently lacked the courage or curiosity to ask basic questions.

In Ghana, a fake U.S. embassy operated for years, issued counterfeit visas and survived partly because corrupt officials were reportedly paid to look away.

These cases tell us something universal about power. Bureaucracies worship symbols. A seal, a title, a convoy, a letterhead, a foreign-sounding summit, a grandiose acronym and a confident fool in a well-cut suit can suspend institutional reason. In societies where hierarchy is fetishized, verification is often treated as disrespect or, as we like to say in Nigeria, “rudeness to constituted authority.”

The Nigerian state is at once overbearing and absent, performative and incompetent, obsessed with protocol but contemptuous of process. It will ask a poor widow for a sworn affidavit before paying her pension arrears but will allow a phantom council to stroll through elite institutions with the swagger of presidential legitimacy.

The question Nigerians should insist on is not merely whether Adeyemi forged documents. The Presidency has made that case and the court will decide. The bigger question is who opened the doors.

Who gave him office space? Who received his letters? Who cleared his delegation? Who processed his domain? Who inserted or failed to remove the budget line? Who saw the words “Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council” and did not ask, “Which law created this body?”

The scandal is not that Nigeria produced a man audacious enough to impersonate the state. Every country produces such men. The scandal is that the Nigerian state, with all its security agencies, protocol offices, budget departments, domain regulators and anti-corruption theatrics, may have been too hollow to notice that it was being impersonated from within its own shadow.

Adeyemi may yet be shown to be a lone con artist. Gbajabiamila may yet be vindicated. Or an independent investigation may uncover something darker. But what the public already knows is enough to indict the system. A government that can be mimicked this successfully has already confessed to being indistinguishable from its counterfeit.

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism.