Pantami’s BBC Interview: The Half-Truths and His Hollow Ambition

I watched the recent BBC interview with Isah Ali Pantami, and I could not help but find it deeply amusing.

First, I wish to state that I am glad Pantami has called for a direct primary election to be conducted. I am glad because this presents the perfect avenue to validate the point I have been making for some time now, that Pantami is, in actual fact, deeply unpopular in Gombe, within the party, and at the grassroots level. It also affords him the opportunity to test and prove, once and for all, whatever popularity he believes he possesses.

In the course of an interview that lasted over ten minutes, he raised numerous issues; an interview that was, expectedly, riddled with half-truths and outright falsehoods. I will share my thoughts on a few.

On the issue of his non-involvement in the consensus process, Pantami claimed that he attended only one meeting, at which it was agreed that consensus would be adopted in selecting the party’s flag bearer, and that should that process fail, a direct primary election would then be conducted. He proceeded to spin a rather elaborate tale about why he could not attend the second meeting, despite having been invited, citing the absence of flights to Gombe that Saturday and a vehicle breakdown upon attempting to travel by road. While that story may sound plausible to the uninitiated, it raises several pointed questions: given the vast resources at Pantami’s disposal, how could twenty hours be considered insufficient time to transport himself to a state he so passionately desires to govern, regardless of the logistical cost or inconvenience? Where was the private jet he has used to travel to Gombe on multiple occasions, the same one he deployed to attend a wedding in Borno State? Was there truly a more pressing use for that aircraft than this? And what was a man who aspires to govern Gombe State doing in Abuja throughout this period, rather than being on ground, engaging and consulting with the very people he claims to represent?

He also raised the issue of injustice, declaring his commitment to fight it to his last breath. I find this particularly hilarious, and for good reason. This is a man who witnessed various forms of injustice and endured episodes of controversy in the past, yet chose silence, presumably in anticipation of a reward for that silence, only to suddenly rediscover his voice the moment a process he willingly subscribed to failed to deliver the outcome he desired. The questions, therefore, are these: Pantami, why now? What has changed? Is injustice only injustice when it is directed at you and your ambitions? Would it have been injustice had you been the one selected, or would the end have simply justified the means?

The self-appointed crusader for justice then proceeded, in a characteristic episode of self-glorification, to claim that he is the most popular aspirant at the grassroots not only in Gombe, but across the entire North, going as far as challenging the journalist to go and verify this assertion. This statement, I believe, stems from one of two things: either a delusional sense of grandeur that has given rise to his habitual and tiresome self-adulation, or the preposterous presumption that his fame as a cleric translates directly into real and tangible political reach. Either way, this arrogant claim is not only politically naive, it is demonstrably false, and would be dismissed by anyone with even the faintest understanding of the political landscape in Gombe State. And he, more than most, knows this to be true.

As a politician, Pantami holds the worst record of grassroots engagement, human relations, and political outreach among the top contenders for this position in Gombe State. Here is a man who practically abandoned the state, its people, and the party, going as far as transferring his polling unit from Gombe to Abuja during his time as a Minister, only to return now, demanding the APC gubernatorial ticket as though it were his birthright. A man who refused to participate in the state congresses and the Zonal Convention, yet conveniently showed up at the APC National Convention. It is for these reasons that I am firmly convinced this noise he is making has nothing to do with fighting injustice or with any genuine expectation of winning a direct primary. It is, rather, a calculated and cunning attempt to position himself favourably enough to be compensated with a lucrative Federal appointment.

As many who know me will attest, I have never regarded Pantami’s governorship aspiration as serious, nor do I consider him a serious politician. This latest episode of political theatrics only deepens that conviction. For him, it is not about the office, it is about the attention, the spotlight, and ultimately, the spoils. He knows, full well, that whether primary elections are conducted once or a hundred times within the APC, he is certain to lose every single time. But losing, he can stomach. Being left out of the reward system, he cannot. When the direct primaries are held, and if there are three candidates on the ballot, Pantami will not only finish last, he will not come anywhere close to second place.

Finally, on the matter of challenging the process in court, that is entirely within his rights. The law will be tested, and I can assure you that my learned colleagues at the Bar will have no objections whatsoever to the juicy brief.

Isiyaku Ahmed Danlawan, Esq.

6th May, 2026

Kebbi: A Look At Gov. Nasir’s Humanity-First Leadership Model

By Faruk Adamu

Across Nigeria’s political landscape, it rarely takes long for public office holders to assume an air of untouchability. Almost instinctively, many begin to carry themselves as figures to be revered rather than servants to be held accountable. This tendency, what I describe as the deification syndrome has become so entrenched that citizens now see it as part of the political culture.

From councillors in local wards to governors in state capitals, the pattern is familiar. Relationships shift almost overnight. The same individuals who once walked freely among friends and neighbours begin to withdraw, measuring interactions as though accessibility diminishes their stature. Greetings that once came naturally are now acknowledged with calculated restraint. In some cases, even old friends must navigate layers of protocol to secure the simplest audience. Ironically, where power is expected to deepen human connection, it now erodes it.

Understandably, Nigerians have adjusted their expectations. Familiarity with public officials is quickly abandoned once those officials ascend to higher office. It is seen as unrealistic, perhaps even naïve to expect that personal bonds will survive political elevation. That is why the experience in Kebbi State under Governor Nasir Idris has stood out in a way that feels almost disruptive to this long-standing norm.

There is something profoundly striking about a sitting governor who still recognises faces from his past, who pauses his convoy to acknowledge old acquaintances, and who engages them not as distant beneficiaries of power but as equals in shared history. For many in Kebbi, these are not rehearsed political gestures; they are extensions of a personality that predates public office. It is a style of leadership that firmly rejects the notion that authority must come at the expense of humanity.

More telling, however, is what follows these encounters. Evidence abounds to confirm that they are not fleeting moments of nostalgia or symbolic handshakes designed for optics. They often translate into immediate, tangible interventions. A child’s education supported through scholarships here, a struggling trader empowered with capital there or even a farmer assisted ahead of a planting season. In some instances, even the culturally significant responsibility of supporting marriage rites has not been overlooked. When a leader abandons deification to deal in these actions that are deeply personal acts that resonate within the social fabric of Kebbi, where communal responsibility remains a defining value, he stands out as a model of humanity.

What is clear, and what emerges from these patterns of engagement by Gov. Nasir is that he’s a leader who has refused to sever ties with his past. In doing so, he has also resisted the subtle but powerful pull of the deification syndrome. The testimonies of those who have encountered him in such moments are telling. Many speak not just of the assistance received, but of the dignity with which they were treated. As always, this is an often overlooked currency in governance.

Yet, to reduce this approach to personal kindness alone would be to miss the broader picture. The same disposition that shapes these individual interactions appears to inform the governor’s response to collective challenges. When tragedy strikes, the instinct is not to govern from a distance but to be physically present with the people in their moment of grief, to share in their pains.

This was evident during the bandit attack on a girls’ school in Danko-Wasagu Local Government Area. Gov. Nasir could easily have those like many other governors out there, to easily manage the situation through official briefings and delegated authority, but he chose a different path. He returned immediately, heading straight to ground zero. There, he addressed the community, shared in their grief, and called for calm. His actions, immersed in the pain of the people showed his presence was not just a political response; it was humanity deeply wrapped in empathy and presence.

A similar pattern played out in another incident, recently when the governor, en route to the airport, encountered a school dormitory in flames. Rather than proceed with his scheduled engagement, he halted his journey. Even then, where many would have preferred to supervise from a safe distance, he chose active coordination with firefighters and the rescue effort. His priority shifted entirely to ensuring the safety of the students, overseeing their evacuation, and confirming that the injured received prompt medical attention. Even after stability was restored, the trip was shelved just to monitor the situation.

These moments, while dramatic, are consistent with Gov. Aliyu’s broader governing philosophy that places people at the centre of his decision-making. As we have seen, this is reflected not only in emergency responses but also in policy choices that directly affect everyday life.

From the prompt implementation of the new minimum wage to reforms aimed at ensuring retirees receive their entitlements without prolonged delays, there is a visible effort to align governance with human impact. Pensioners, often the most vulnerable in the public service chain, are no longer left to navigate uncertainty indefinitely. Workers, on their part, experience a system that recognises the value of their labour through timely compensation.

In addition, palliative measures introduced to cushion the effects of wider economic adjustments signal an awareness of the pressures facing ordinary citizens. While such interventions may not fully eliminate hardship, they represent a government that acknowledges it and attempts to respond within its capacity.

Conclusively, these actions point to an neglected fact, and it is that governance is most effective when it remains grounded in the realities of the people it serves. Policies gain meaning when they are felt, not just announced. And, with the example of Kebbi, it is clear that leadership humanity and visibility earns leaders legitimacy, giving them more power than the secrecy that characterises deification.

It is within this context that one begins to understand the organic support the governor appears to enjoy. When opposition voices wonder at the level of public investment in his re-election, they may be overlooking a fundamental dynamic. People tend to defend what they can relate to. They rally behind leadership that reflects their values, speaks their language, and remains accessible in both ordinary and extraordinary moments.

In contrast to leaders who, at the height of their influence, became increasingly detached from their constituencies, the current approach in Kebbi suggests a deliberate effort to remain connected to the people at the grassroots. It should be noted that rootedness, both symbolic and practical has shaped public perception in ways that no campaign slogan can easily replicate.

Of course, no administration is without its challenges. Governance, by its nature, involves trade-offs, limitations, and the constant negotiation of competing priorities. But even within these constraints, the manner in which leadership is exercised matters. It shapes trust, influences participation, and ultimately determines whether citizens see government as an extension of themselves or as a distant authority.

What Gov. Nasir and Kebbi presents, at this moment, is an example of leadership that leans toward the sustenance of relationships rather than separation. It challenges a deeply ingrained political culture that equates power with distance. And in doing so, it offers a reminder that public office need not strip away the very humanity that makes leadership meaningful.

In the end, the conversation is not just about one governor or one state. It is about the kind of political culture that Nigerians are willing to accept or reject. If leadership with a human face continues to resonate as strongly as it appears to in Kebbi, then perhaps the deification syndrome, long becoming the new normal across the nation can begin, gradually, to lose its hold. The Kebbi example will always be around to guide conversations in this regard.

Faruk writes from Abuja.

Malami And The Curse Of History

By Sani Faruk

In what appears to be his first visit to Kebbi State since the corruption allegations against him began to gain traction, Abubakar Malami, the erstwhile Minister of Justice and Attorney General of the Federation, was treated to a reception that sent the internet into overdrive.

In the viral video, his convoy was allowed through the heart of Birnin-Kebbi, the state capital of Kebbi state, before groups of young people reportedly gathered along the route, chanting “barawo bai mulki”, a Hausa expression loosely translated as “a thief cannot govern.” The chants, captured in viral videos circulating on social media, have been interpreted by many observers as a reflection of growing public frustration with political figures facing serious corruption allegations who dare to imagine they could run for public office.

This incident, coming at this time when Malami is facing intense scrutiny following investigations by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) into a vast portfolio of properties allegedly linked to him, is not a coincidence.

This is more so considering, just around the same period that the video of the protest hit the internet, another video surfaced online, this time, an interview granted by former Jigawa State governor and prominent PDP stalwart, Sule Lamido. In the interview aired by DCL Hausa, Lamido revisited what he described as the political persecution he faced during Malami’s tenure as Attorney General.

Lamido alleged that he was targeted for investigation primarily because he refused to abandon the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) during the height of the political realignments of Buhari and Malami’s era. In a tone that combined frustration and irony, the former governor contrasted the modest properties attributed to him, for which he was harassed on trumped up corruption charges, with the vast portfolio that investigators say is linked to Malami.

The contrast, Lamido suggested, raises troubling questions about power, accountability, and the use of state institutions for political ends. Yet, for Lamido, the battle was swift, transparent and without the every drama that has characterised Malami’s cat and mouse game with the EFCC.

Indeed, the EFCC’s ongoing probe has uncovered what investigators describe as a complex network of high-value assets allegedly connected to Malami. According to court filings and investigative reports, the anti-graft agency has traced dozens of properties to the former Attorney General across Kebbi State, Kano State, and the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja.

Among the properties reportedly under investigation are luxury residential estates, hotels, commercial complexes, schools, factories, and a printing press. One of the most prominent assets mentioned in the investigation is a private university project identified as Rayhaan University in Birnin Kebbi, which investigators claim is linked to the former minister.

Investigators have also reportedly identified multiple luxury hotels and residential estates in Birnin Kebbi, extensive landed properties and mansions in Abuja, as well as commercial buildings and industrial facilities in Kano. In total, the EFCC says it has traced over 41 high-value properties valued at roughly ₦212 billion to Malami and entities believed to be connected to him. Court documents further allege that some of these properties were acquired through proxies and companies used to conceal the origin of funds.

In addition to the asset investigation, the Federal Government has filed multiple counts of money laundering against Malami, his son Abdulaziz Malami, and an associate, Hajia Bashir Asabe. The charges stem from alleged laundering of funds exceeding ₦1.014 billion, which prosecutors claim were routed through corporate entities to disguise their origin. For many observers, these revelations present a stark contrast with the image Malami projected during his years in office.

As the nation’s chief law officer between 2015 and 2023, Malami wielded enormous influence over Nigeria’s justice system. His office supervised high-profile corruption prosecutions, initiated legal actions against political opponents, and often positioned itself as a defender of the anti-corruption agenda of the administration he served.

However, revelations now show that his tenure was also marked by controversies, ranging from allegations of selective prosecution to claims that political considerations sometimes influenced legal decisions. It is within this context that Lamido’s recent remarks resonate with many Nigerians.

The former governor’s reflections paint a picture of a once-powerful official who aggressively pursued political adversaries while allegedly accumulating immense wealth behind the scenes. Whether those allegations ultimately stand in a court of law remains a matter for the judiciary to determine. Nevertheless, the political optics are already damaging for Malami’s obsessive pursuit of power in Kebbi.

Not even Malami’s desperate attempt to frame the investigations against him as politically motivated has been of any help to him. If anything, his insistence that he is being persecuted for leaving the All Progressives Congress (APC) and aligning himself with opposition political forces seems to be chugging away at whatever little credibility he has left.

While such claims are not uncommon in Nigeria’s political landscape, especially where corruption probes are often interpreted through partisan lenses, the weight of the allegations against Malami makes the argument difficult for many citizens to accept at face value. After all, the justice system may operate strictly on evidence and legal procedure, but the court of public opinion operates on memory. And as we know, memory is often unforgiving.

For many Nigerians, it appears contradictory that a man who once presided over the nation’s legal machinery, and who oversaw the prosecution of numerous political figures, now finds himself in the position of defending his own actions under similar scrutiny. This is precisely why the reception he received in Kebbi struck such a symbolic chord.

Although, politics in Nigeria can be remarkably forgiving. There are evidence of public figures accused of wrongdoing managing to reinvent themselves, return to the political stage, and sometimes even win higher office. But that forgiveness usually requires time, humility, and a convincing demonstration that lessons have been learned. None of these can be said in the case of Malami.

This is what the recent episode suggests. The message is that many young people in Kebbi state and indeed across Nigeria, are no longer willing to extend such indulgence so easily. Their chants, spontaneous or otherwise, reflect a deeper frustration with a political culture in which powerful figures appear untouchable while ordinary citizens bear the consequences of systemic corruption.

If anything, the unfolding saga surrounding Malami illustrates a timeless political truth that power is temporary, yet the consequences of actions taken while in power often linger far longer than expected.

For a man who once stood at the apex of Nigeria’s legal system, the irony is difficult to ignore. The very machinery of accountability that he once controlled is now the same system examining his own conduct.

In the end, the real verdict will not only come from the courts. It will also come from history, and from the citizens whose trust public officials are sworn to protect. Let the Malami fall from grace be a lesson, that power is nothing without control.

Faruk writes from Abuja