Opinion

War against Nigeria’s academic title fraud, By Farooq Kperogi

Published

2 months ago

May 9, 2026

Farooq Kperogi

War against Nigeria’s academic title fraud, By Farooq Kperogi

The federal government’s decision to prohibit recipients of honorary doctorates from prefixing “Dr.” to their names is one of the most unexpectedly sensible things to come from officialdom in a long while. It is a small decision with large symbolic consequences, which strikes at the heart of one of Nigeria’s most ridiculous epidemics: the vulgar worship of titles by vain, title-crazy, empty-headed “big men” and “big women” who use purchased honorary academic garlands to conceal the poverty of their intellect.

For years, I have called attention to this national embarrassment. In my October 13, 2012, column titled “Finally, Some Good News from Our Universities,” I praised the Association of Vice Chancellors of Nigerian Universities for its Keffi Declaration on honorary doctorates.

The declaration had four main resolutions: serving government officials should no longer be awarded honorary doctoral degrees, universities without PhD programs should not award honorary doctorates, honorary degrees should be limited to three a year, and recipients of honorary doctorates should not prefix “Dr.” to their names.

I wrote then that this gladdened my heart because honorary doctoral degrees had become cheap candies tossed at anybody with access to stolen public funds, political influence or obscene wealth. I also wrote that the hardest part to enforce would be the directive forbidding recipients of honorary doctorates from styling themselves “Dr.”

I ended the column by wishing the vice chancellors and the NUC good luck in enforcing the “don’t-call-yourself-a-doctor” declaration because, even then, I knew that the vanity economy in Nigeria was too entrenched to be defeated by a gentleman’s agreement.

I returned to the subject on June 7, 2025, in a column titled “Fight Against Vanity Academic Titles in Africa” and again in a September 27, 2025, column titled: “Rarara: There is No Such Thing as ‘Honorary PhD.’” In the June 7, 2025 column, I commended Ghana and Malawi for confronting this same disease.

Ghana’s Tertiary Education Commission had issued what it called a “final caution” to politicians, businessmen and businesswomen, men and women of God and other public figures to desist from publicly using honorary doctoral and professorial titles. It described the practice as deceitful and unethical, said it dilutes the integrity of higher education and warned that it would name and shame violators and take legal action against them.

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That was the right tone. Nigeria now needs the same hard-tackle approach.

The new federal directive, announced by the Minister of Education, Dr. Tunji Alausa, gives legal and executive muscle to what the Keffi Declaration lacked. Alausa said the recent trend in the award of honorary degrees revealed “a growing abuse and politicisation of this academic privilege.” He said honorary awards had become instruments of political patronage and financial gain, including the conferral of degrees on serving public officials, which he said should not happen.

He was right. In Nigeria, honorary doctorates have become ceremonial laundering machines for mediocrity. A man can pillage a state treasury, donate a fraction of the loot to a financially desperate university and emerge at convocation as “Dr.”

A politician who cannot compose a sentence in English can be decorated with an honorary doctorate in letters. A businessman whose only contribution to society is predatory proximity to power can become “Dr.” before the sun sets. A pastor or an imam can weaponize congregational awe by adding a fraudulent academic halo to ecclesiastical authority.

The tragedy is that the fraud works. In a country where titles can stand in for thought, the prefix “Dr.” confers instant solemnity on vacuity. It intimidates the unlettered, flatters the insecure and deceives the undiscerning. It allows intellectual lightweights to parade themselves as sages. It turns empty suits into “thought leaders.” It enables barely literate political hustlers to sit in front of television cameras and be introduced with the academic reverence they never earned.

Alausa’s directive, which he says has the backing of the Federal Executive Council, is emphatic that recipients of honorary degrees should not prefix “Dr.” to their names in official, academic or professional usage. They may use the proper post-nominal form after their names, such as D.Lit. (Honoris Causa), LL.D. (Honoris Causa), D.Sc. (Honoris Causa) or D.Arts. (Honoris Causa).

That is the established convention in most serious academic cultures. An honorary doctorate is ceremonial recognition. It is not an earned research degree. It is not a medical qualification. It is not a license to impersonate scholarship.

The NUC’s February 2026 guidelines reinforce this point. The commission said honorary doctorates are non-earned degrees awarded honoris causa to acknowledge distinguished merit, outstanding public service, scholarly impact, creative achievement or significant contributions consistent with the mission of the awarding institution.

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It also said recipients may use the approved title after their names, though they may not use “Dr.,” which is reserved for holders of earned doctorates and medical professionals. The NUC also barred recipients from using honorary doctorates to practice as scholars, supervise research or oversee academic units.

That is an important clarification because Nigeria’s title maniacs do not stop at social vanity. They convert symbolic recognition into institutional fraud. Some use honorary doctorates to join university governing councils as if they were scholars. Some supervise intellectual work they cannot understand. Some convert fraudulent professorships and honorary doctorates into political capital. The distinction between honor and qualification disappears.

Minister of State for Education, Professor Suwaiba Ahmad, supplied the missing link between 2012 and 2026. The Keffi Declaration, she explained, was originally a guide developed by vice chancellors, but it had no legal backing. The new federal approval gives it authoritative backing and makes implementation possible. That is the difference between wish and policy.

Still, policy without enforcement is mere decorative “grammar,” as we like to say in moments of joviality in Nigeria. But we do know that our country is a graveyard of beautifully phrased directives. If the government is serious, enforcement must begin immediately and publicly.

First, the Federal Ministry of Education and the NUC should issue a gazetted directive to all universities, polytechnics, colleges of education, ministries, departments, agencies, state governments, professional bodies, media houses and corporate institutions. The directive should make clear that honorary doctorate recipients cannot be addressed as “Dr.” in official correspondence, convocation brochures, government documents, event programs, university publications or institutional websites.

Second, the NUC should create a searchable national registry of honorary doctorate recipients. Each entry should include the recipient’s name, awarding institution, year of award, approved post-nominal title and a prominent warning that the award does not entitle the recipient to use “Dr.” This registry should be updated annually, as Alausa has proposed. It should also identify universities that violate the rules.

Third, every university should be required to send the names of proposed honorary degree recipients to the NUC before convocation. No pre-clearance, no award. A university that awards an honorary doctorate to a serving public official, exceeds the permitted number or fails to orient recipients on proper title usage should lose the right to award honorary degrees for a fixed period.

Fourth, the NUC should adopt Ghana’s name-and-shame method. There should be a public list of offenders: “Mr. X, recipient of an honorary LL.D. from Y University, continues to fraudulently use Dr. in official communication.”

Nigerians fear public disgrace more than they fear rules. Ghana understands this cultural psychology. Its Tertiary Education Commission did not merely whisper disapproval. It threatened legal action and public exposure. That is how to deal with vanity addicts. Soft persuasion will not cure people who have converted self-inflation into an identity.

Fifth, the media must be recruited as an enforcement partner. Alausa already hinted at this. Newspapers, television stations and online platforms should adopt a style rule that forbids the use of “Dr.” for honorary degree holders. When a politician sends a press statement as “Dr. So-and-So,” editors should strip the title. Television anchors should refuse to introduce honorary degree holders as doctors. News reports should use their earned titles or plain names.

Sixth, government institutions should reject documents that misrepresent honorary degrees as earned credentials. Nomination forms, procurement documents, board appointments, conference programs and official biographies should require credential accuracy. Anyone who lists an honorary doctorate as an earned doctorate should be treated as having made a false claim.

Seventh, the Corporate Affairs Commission, INEC and professional licensing bodies should update their templates to distinguish earned degrees from honorary awards. If a candidate’s public profile says “Dr.,” the source of the doctorate should be declared. If it is honorary, the prefix should be removed.

This might seem like pettifoggery. It is not. It is intellectual hygiene. Academic titles exist because they signify arduous training, disciplined research and certified expertise. When politicians with more money than mind rent those titles from compromised institutions, they degrade the labor of people who spent years earning them.

Nigeria has tolerated too many counterfeit majesties. We have fake prophets, fake patriots, fake democrats, fake philanthropists and now fake doctors. The federal government has made the right move. The harder task is to make the move bite.

Without Ghana-style public humiliation, legal consequences and institutional refusal to dignify fraudulent prefixes, Nigeria’s vanity doctors will continue to swagger through public life with borrowed feathers. The country should strip them of the feathers. Let them answer their fathers’ names.

War against Nigeria’s academic title fraud, By Farooq Kperogi

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

Opinion

Mob Justice and the Death of Malama Ummulkhair: A Test for Nigeria’s Rule of Law

Published

11 hours ago

June 24, 2026

Trends Admin

MURIC Denounces Joint Statement With Fulani Group, Clarifies Identity Confusion With AMURIC

Mob Justice and the Death of Malama Ummulkhair: A Test for Nigeria’s Rule of Law

By Mallam Ibrahim Agunbiade

The brutal killing of Malama Ummulkhair, a respected Islamic teacher and mother of four in Maraban Jos, Kaduna State, is more than a tragic incident; it is a disturbing reminder of the grave dangers posed by mob justice, misinformation, and the erosion of the rule of law.

Reports indicate that Malama Ummulkhair was accused of attempting to steal children—an allegation that had not been verified before an enraged mob descended on her. Although security operatives reportedly rescued her and took her into police custody, the situation took a horrifying turn when the crowd allegedly overpowered security personnel, dragged her from custody, and killed her.

What makes this tragedy even more heartbreaking is the story behind the victim. A woman who left her home to attend an Islamic programme after exchanging farewell words with her husband never returned. A devoted mother and teacher who spent her life educating and nurturing children became a victim of the very society she served.

This incident raises profound questions that Nigerians must confront. How can an unverified accusation become a death sentence? Who granted ordinary citizens the authority to act as judge, jury, and executioner? Most importantly, how could an individual already under police protection become vulnerable to mob violence?

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Those responsible for this heinous act must face the full weight of the law. Every individual found to have participated in the attack should be identified, arrested, and prosecuted. Equally important, any security personnel whose negligence, compromise, or failure of duty contributed to the breach of custody must be thoroughly investigated and held accountable.

The protection of individuals in custody is a fundamental obligation of law enforcement agencies. If citizens can be forcibly removed from police custody and killed by a mob, it signals a dangerous breakdown in public security and threatens the very foundations of justice.

Beyond accountability, there is a compelling humanitarian responsibility. The government should consider providing comprehensive support for the children left behind by Malama Ummulkhair. Educational scholarships, welfare assistance, and opportunities that secure their future would not erase their loss, but they would demonstrate society’s commitment to standing with victims of injustice.

There is also a need to preserve her memory. Malama Ummulkhair should not become another forgotten name in a long list of victims of mob violence. Appropriate measures should be taken to honour her legacy and ensure that her story serves as a lasting reminder of the consequences of lawlessness and the importance of justice.

Sadly, this is not an isolated case. Nigeria has witnessed several instances where rumours, suspicion, and collective anger have led to the deaths of innocent people. The killing of Deborah Samuel, who was lynched following allegations linked to religious sentiments, remains one of the most painful examples of how mob action can destroy lives and undermine justice.

These incidents underscore a sobering reality: a society where accusations replace evidence is a society where no one is truly safe. Today, the victim may be someone falsely accused of a crime; tomorrow, it could be any innocent citizen caught in the tide of public outrage.

The fight against jungle justice requires a collective response. Government institutions, security agencies, religious leaders, traditional rulers, community elders, civil society organisations, and ordinary citizens must continue to condemn and resist mob violence in all its forms. Neither faith, culture, nor tradition justifies the taking of human life without due process.

Justice is a cornerstone of every civilised society. No allegation, regardless of its severity, gives anyone the right to kill. The law exists to investigate accusations, establish facts, and determine guilt or innocence.

Malama Ummulkhair’s death must not become another forgotten tragedy. Instead, it should serve as a turning point—a moment that compels Nigeria to choose law over lawlessness, justice over vengeance, and humanity over mob brutality.

May her soul rest in peace, and may her family find strength, comfort, and the justice they deserve.

Mob Justice and the Death of Malama Ummulkhair: A Test for Nigeria’s Rule of Law

Opinion

Oluwo, Elebuibon and Terror war

Published

3 days ago

June 22, 2026

Trends Admin

Oluwo, Elebuibon and Terror war

Lasisi Olagunju

The Oluwo of Iwo, Oba Abdulrasheed Adewale Akanbi, recently threw a challenge at Yoruba spiritual leaders. His target was the forest where terrorists are holding schoolchildren and teachers abducted from Oriire Local Government Area of Oyo State.

“All the Babalawo, Araba and Alfas who are always boasting of one charm or another, the time has come to use your powers to rescue the abducted children of Oriire. If money is the problem, I will provide it. Or are your charms effective only when it is time to afflict innocent people? Isé ti dé. War is here. The children are still in the bush.”

The oba did not stop there. He mentioned Chief Yemi Elebuibon and a few other prominent custodians of Yoruba spirituality by name. It was the sort of challenge that would earn applause in the marketplace. Many heard it and nodded in agreement; some clapped for the Oba. After all, if spiritual powers are as potent as their possessors claim, why should they not be deployed against kidnappers and terrorists?

But there was a problem. The challenge may have sounded attractive; it was not one that an Oba should throw.

Chief Elebuibon, like every able elder of Yorubaland, did not leave his vocal cords at the launderette. He responded with characteristic wit and lyrical force.

“What Oluwo said was not properly said,” he declared. “He should have called on pastors, mallams and babalawo alike to help. We know how things are done in Yorubaland. We do not invite farmers to deliberate on warfare, nor do we summon traders to teach farming. No one fights a war with a babalawo’s staff, just as no one uses an ìrùkèrè to sack a town.

“If you see a babalawo at the war front, he is there to prepare the ground for victory, not to fight the battle himself. Warriors fight wars; babalawo perform the duties assigned to them by tradition.”

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A professor friend listened to Oluwo. She listened to Chief Elebuibon. Then she exclaimed: “What stops the Oluwo himself from leading the war as the kings of old did?”

“That is true,” I replied.

Oduduwa came to Ile-Ife not as a social commentator but as a conqueror. His descendants inherited crowns and swords together. In old Oyo, Alaafin Ajaka lost his throne because he could neither confront nor defeat the enemies threatening his kingdom. Only after the death of his warlike brother, Sango, did he return to power and redeem his reputation on the battlefield.

If, therefore, the Oluwo believes the forests of Yorubaland are overrun by terrorists, perhaps the challenge should begin closer to home. Let the king do as his forefathers did. Let him enter the forest and emerge with victory. Ogun dé! The war drums are sounding.

Yet, that is precisely why an Oba should be careful with challenges such as the one the Oluwo threw at priests, pastors and mallams.

An Oba may possess the mystery of Ọbatálá, who “sits on the skin of an ant.” Yet he is not permitted to drag a priest about like a bag of beans. They should work together.

The Yoruba say that the crown is not merely worn on the head; it is carried in the mouth. Once a king speaks, his words cease to be ordinary words. They acquire the weight of the throne. That is why our fathers insisted that certain utterances belong to the marketplace and must never escape from the palace gates.

The palace and the street are not the same institution. The marketplace thrives on noise; the palace survives on measured dignity. An Oba may be criticised, but he must never sound like a critic. He may be angry, but he must never appear quarrelsome. The throne is diminished when it descends into the arena of everyday disputation.

As the Yoruba wisely observe, ọba kì í jà; aṣojú rẹ̀ ńii jà fún un (the king does not fight; his emissaries fight on his behalf). They also say: ọba kì í péjọ; ìjọ ni ń péjọ fun ọba (the king does not go seeking gatherings; gatherings come seeking the king).

The late economics historian, Professor Wale Oyemakinde, captured this ideal brilliantly in his ‘The impact of nineteenth century warfare on Yoruba traditional chieftaincy.’ He wrote that the Yoruba Oba was “distinct and distinguished.” He was Kabiyesi—one whose authority could not be casually challenged; Alaiyeluwa—the earthly representative of divine order. He was expected to be the eyes and ears of the people, the bridge between the living and their ancestors, the custodian of peace and, when necessary, the inspirer of war.

For that reason, the Oba’s conduct was governed by restraints as much as by privileges. Oyemakinde reminds us that while all roads led to the king’s palace, the king hardly travelled. While subjects visited him, he did not go about visiting subjects. While others paid homage, he paid homage to no one. Distance preserved dignity; restraint protected majesty.

William Shakespeare understood this burden of kingship. In Henry IV, Part II, as the king broods over the burdens and anxieties of office, he contrasts his own restless nights with the tranquil sleep of his lowliest subjects and concludes: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” The crown is heavy not because it grants power but because it demands discipline and sacrifice. A king must often resist saying what every other person is free to say.

That is why Oluwo’s challenge, though entertaining, sounded misplaced. There are words that may come from a warrior, a politician, a priest or a columnist. There are words that should not come from the throne.

The Yoruba compare the king to the eagle perched atop the iroko tree. From that lofty height, the eagle sees farther than every other bird. Yet it does not, like the restless ẹyẹ ẹ̀ga (weaver bird) or the ever-chattering ibaka (canary), flutter noisily from branch to branch advertising its presence. The eagle’s authority lies in its stillness; its majesty in its composure.

The throne is diminished when it competes with the marketplace or the cyberspace. Whenever a king abandons the elevated language of the palace for the rough-and-tumble of public controversy, he risks exchanging majesty for momentary. But applause is like the crackle of dry leaves in harmattan—briefly loud, then gone with the first dews of dawn.

Oluwo, Elebuibon and Terror war

Opinion

Tinubu proved me wrong in Kwara, By Farooq Kperogi

Published

5 days ago

June 20, 2026

Trends Admin

Tinubu proved me wrong in Kwara, By Farooq Kperogi

My April 18, 2026, column titled “Tinubu’s Yoruba Agenda Risks Deep Rupture in Kwara” used privileged information I received from a self-described Yoruba irredentist to advance a narrative that President Bola Ahmed Tinubu had planned to impose a Yoruba candidate from Kwara South as Kwara State’s APC governorship candidate at the expense of the Borgu people in the state, who are found in Baruten and Kaiama local governments and of whom he is the Jagaba, that is, champion.

Well, after surviving several fits and starts, maneuvers, negotiations, disappointments and unpleasant surprises, a Borgu man from Baruten, Yakubu Danladi Salihu, who is the current Speaker of the Kwara State House of Assembly, emerged as APC’s governorship candidate.

Since it is difficult to imagine anyone emerging as APC’s governorship candidate in today’s party structure without at least Tinubu’s acquiescence, several Tinubu supporters privately wrote to challenge me to openly admit that I was wrong in my assumption that he would impose a certain Bashir Omolaja Bolarinwa on the state in furtherance of his “Yoruba agenda.”

They alleged that I wrote my column out of “hate” for Tinubu. I do not “hate” Tinubu. Hate is a mental and emotional burden that I have no capacity to carry for anyone. As much as I have been his critic, I have also defended Tinubu in the past, even when no one else did, when I was convinced that he was unfairly attacked. My impassioned, consistent defense of the validity and legitimacy of his Chicago State University certificate, which drew false accusations that I had been compromised, is a case in point.

And anyone who has followed my public commentary for more than two decades will concede that I am never shy about publicly owning up to my mistakes, apologizing when I err and correcting my assumptions when irrefutable, overwhelming evidence contradicts them. I recognize that I am only human and that my imperfections are the biggest proof of my humanity. So, I was going to write this column even if I wasn’t prompted by private, angry messages challenging me to do so.

Of the several messages I received after Malam Yakubu Danladi Salihu was announced as the winner of the Kwara APC primary election, the one by Pastor John Dara, former presidential candidate in the 2011 and 2019 election cycles and chairman of the African Development Investment Limited, was the most conciliatory.

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“Please do a follow up article to thank President Tinubu and Governor Abdulrazaq for supporting the emergence of a Kwara North Governorship Candidate. They both did,” Pastor Dara, who is Yoruba from Kwara South, wrote on May 22. “We also need to call on the people of Kwara State to support this just and positive development.”

I hesitated to write straight away because of the uncertainties that attended the primaries and the resistance, however feeble, that Salihu’s emergence appeared to be generating in a few places. What if I wrote and his victory was reversed?

But Oloriewe Raheem Adedoyin, former Kwara State Information Commissioner and veteran journalist, implied in a June 17 article in the Vanguard that Salihu’s victory is sealed. It is typical in any political contest for people who lose out to discredit the outcomes and for those who win to acclaim them. “The primaries in Kwara are no less credible than those conducted in Lagos or elsewhere,” wrote Adedoyin, who is from Kwara South.

Now that it is fairly certain that both the Kwara State governor and President Bola Ahmed Tinubu are committed to course correction, representational equity and inclusivity, I won’t mince words in saying they deserve plaudits. Kwara North (and Borgu in particular) would never have produced APC’s governorship candidate without them.

It would be too self-important to assume that the president had a change of mind after reading my column, which he probably didn’t even read. But on the off chance that he or the people close to him did and decided to change course partly because of it, it demonstrates admirable sensitivity to public opinion and reasoned arguments.

It didn’t matter to me who between Senator Sadiq Suleiman Umar, Kwara North’s senator who hails from Kaiama, and Yakubu Danladi Salihu, who is from Baruten, won the APC nomination. They are both sons of Borgu in Kwara who are as qualified as anyone who has ever been governor of the state. I am glad that in thanking President Tinubu after his announcement as the winner of the APC governorship primary, Salihu acknowledged that Tinubu has lived up to his title as the Jagaba of Borgu.

Both the governor and the president were obviously under competing pressures from several constituencies, but they resisted them and chose to throw their weight behind a candidate from a part of the state that has never produced a governor since the state’s creation in 1967 and that has remained in its geographic, political and symbolic margins ever since.

It is gratifying that a wide swath of people from the state recognize the imperative of the inclusion of its most peripheral part into the mainstream. After the publication of my April 18 column, countless people from Ilorin Emirate reached out to me to say they saw merit in my arguments and were committed to remediation.

It still honestly and pleasantly shocks me that so many people from Ilorin Emirate concede that the remainder of Borgu in Kwara State should produce the next governor of the state.

My pleasant surprise springs from my knowledge that it takes conscious effort to acknowledge that you are the beneficiary of unfair advantages and to willingly let go of those advantages. Of course, it would be unrealistic to expect everyone to be on the same page on this issue, but my sense is that the vast majority of people in both Ilorin Emirate and Kwara South are sold on this.

Perhaps it’s not altogether out of place that most people in Ilorin Emirate support the shift of power to the North. After all, they have produced the governor for 19 of the 27 years since the restoration of civilian rule in 1999.

Plus, many Ilorin indigenes, my younger sister’s husband being an example, have distant Borgu ancestral roots, even if they are now, for all practical purposes, Yoruba people, and therefore may have some emotional investment in the emergence of a Borgu person as governor.

But the fact that many prominent and not so prominent people from Kwara South are on board is the bigger pleasant surprise for me. Kwara South has had only one 8-year shot at the governorship since 1999. That many of them think conceding the governorship to a part of the state that has never produced a governor for even a split second is worthwhile is commendable.

You won’t appreciate what I am driving at until you realize that there are many multi-ethnic states in Nigeria where just one ethnic group dominates the governorship in perpetuity.

An example that stands out like a sore thumb is Benue State. Since the state’s creation in 1976, every elected civilian governor has come from the Tiv-speaking part of the state. The governorship has never gone to Idoma, Igede or any other non-Tiv group in a civilian election. So, every child in Benue who isn’t Tiv has little reason to imagine that they could someday become governor.

In complex, transitional, multi-ethnic and plural countries like Nigeria, conscious efforts should be made to formalize strategies for the symbolic inclusion of all collective identities in governance structures. That is the only way people can relate to governance and feel a vicarious identification with power and authority.

It obviously is not a substitute for good governance, accountability, transparency, performance and improvement in the lot of the people, but it’s an indispensable precondition for getting every citizen invested in the business of government.

Kwara has now shown that even in a country where exclusion often masquerades as democracy and “meritocracy,” power can still be made to travel to the margins when conscience, pressure and enlightened self-interest meet.

Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based professor of journalism.