By Wole Olaoye

There is AI, and there is AI. The world uses the acronym to mean artificial intelligence. But it could mean other things too. Artificial Incompetence. Avoiding Inconvenience. Always Interested. Always Improving. Artificial insemination. Amazing Impact.

AI is only as good as how it is deployed. It can never (and may it never) be a replacement for the human experience.

ARTIFICIAL INSEMINATION

This is not the first time the world has had to contend with the troubling possibilities of an AI. Before artificial intelligence (AI), there was artificial insemination (AI), which was viewed as an existential threat to the sanctity of natural human reproduction. Both technologies provoked fascinating psychological and cultural parallels because they challenged deeply rooted definitions of human uniqueness and creation.

Just as critics of artificial insemination in the 19th and mid-20th centuries argued that it reduced the sacred act of procreation to a mechanical process devoid of the “soul” and biological intimacy of family creation, today’s anti-AI crusaders warn that artificial intelligence diminishes the sacred or unique aspects of art, writing, empathy, and problem-solving to mere statistics, pattern recognition, and mathematical weights. They argue that if a machine can take the place of human thought, human uniqueness is diminished.

Predictably, religious and conservative institutions vehemently opposed early artificial reproduction, often condemning it as “unnatural”, adulterous, or a dangerous usurpation of divine authority. Why, they asked, would man be playing God?

Some people expressed the fear that a child might be conceived without a husband’s knowledge or consent, shaking the foundational trust of the nuclear family and introducing profound anxieties about lineage, inheritance, and identity.

In the same vein, recent worries focus heavily on deepfakes, synthetic media, and algorithmic deception, where people can no longer trust whether an image, voice, text, or news report was created by a human or a machine. There are literally millions of examples of this on social media. In this political season in Nigeria, people will not know what to believe. It is not prophetic to say that deepfakes will be a standard fare of the electioneering menu.

BRAVE NEW WORLD

Critics recall that artificial reproduction was the first step down a slippery slope toward state-engineered production of “designer babies” and the total commodification of human life (fears later amplified by the advent of IVF and cloning, which echoed Aldous Huxley’s book, Brave New World).

In the celebrated book, Huxley creates a dystopian classic set in a futuristic World State where society is engineered for maximum stability, consumerism, and artificial happiness. Children are no longer born naturally; instead, they are incubated from hatcheries and chemically conditioned into a rigid, five-tiered caste system ranging from the intellectual Alphas down to the manual-labour Epsilons.

To prevent any emotional turmoil, individuality, family, art, and religion have been eradicated. Citizens are kept docile through mandatory conditioning, casual promiscuity, and soma, a legal, mood-altering drug that provides instant escapism. Can you imagine a world where you need mkpuru mmiri (meth) to function effectively?

Similarly, AI warnings frequently invoke dystopian sci-fi tropes where autonomous systems eventually subjugate their creators. Could anything be more dangerous than a robot that out-thinks its creator?

Once you start, you can’t predict where or how it will end. Remember Adolf Hitler’s eugenics programme that was aimed at engineering a “racially pure” Aryan society through a state-sponsored law for the Prevention of Hereditarily Diseased Offspring (1933), which mandated the forced sterilisation of hundreds of thousands of individuals with physical, mental, or psychological disabilities? This campaign escalated into Aktion T4, a clandestine mass murder operation that systematically killed institutionalised disabled children and adults using lethal injections and gas chambers. Ultimately, these pseudoscientific racial hygiene principles provided the ideological blueprint for the Holocaust and industrial-scale genocide.

PAPAL WARNING

In the current debate on artificial intelligence, Pope Leo XIV has made the governance, ethics, and societal impact of AI a major focal point.

In his first major encyclical titled Magnifica Humanitas (“Magnificent Humanity”), released in May 2026, the pontiff establishes a strict moral baseline for the digital age, drawing parallels between the rapid disruptions of modern automation and the Industrial Revolution. He warns against the “insidious” technocratic mindset that measures a person’s worth solely by their productivity, efficiency, or economic output.

Pope Leo contrasts the risk of unchecked AI development to the biblical Tower of Babel—representing a centralised, homogenising pursuit of absolute power—with the communalistic rebuilding of Jerusalem’s walls under Nehemiah.

He warns against delegating battlefield decisions to machines. He has called for the “disarming” of AI, noting that automated weapons systems lower the psychological threshold for conflict, make warfare easier to deploy, and can quickly move beyond human control. The ongoing war in the Middle East shows how quickly mass murder can become routine through the agency of unfeeling ‘thinking’ machines. The pontiff has emphasised that algorithms frequently prioritise conflict, sow societal divisions, and scale the distribution of misinformation. He also cautions that unbridled automation risks displacing workers on a massive scale.

Similarly, he has criticised the concentration of technological power in the hands of a few private entities or tech monopolies, arguing that data and digital tools should instead be managed as a common good.

He urges international leaders, policymakers, and tech executives to establish rigorous ethical constraints and global regulatory frameworks. Rather than viewing technology as inherently evil, he frames AI as an expression of human creativity that must be actively guided by “wisdom and charity” to foster solidarity, dialogue, and peace.

Islam, on its part, views artificial intelligence as a tool that is permissible (halal) when it benefits humanity but forbidden (haram) or restricted when it promotes deception, harm, or the erosion of human accountability.

On a global scale, there are fears that autonomous AI agents or advanced malware could be used to execute coordinated, zero-day cyberattacks on global power grids, water treatment facilities, and transportation networks simultaneously, leading to immediate societal paralysis. They could also be programmed to deliver highly transmissible and drug-resistant pathogens without adequate containment safeguards (the apocalyptic scenario which has inspired countless horror movies).

Autonomous drone swarms or automated nuclear command-and-control systems could run amok, thereby triggering uncontrollable warfare. Financial AI agents could bring the world to its knees by executing trades that drain liquidity, crash global stock markets, and wipe out fiat currencies. Ubiquitous deployment of multimodal AI for real-time mass surveillance, predictive behavioural policing, and social credit scoring could eliminate privacy and civil liberties completely and reduce the world to the iron-curtain state as portrayed in George Orwell’s 1984.

NEED FOR A WATCHDOG

The world is in real danger of a gradual over-reliance on artificial intelligence in place of critical thinking, governance, and infrastructure maintenance, leaving us unable to comprehend or run our own systems if technology fails.

There is, therefore, an urgent need for the United Nations to establish an AI watchdog (much like the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), to provide transparency and build trust by setting the ground rules and monitoring modalities for the fledgling monster before it reduces us all to helpless victims in its macabre pyrotechnics. If we don’t tame it with regulations, it will eventually game us.

And woe unto that land whose slave master is a robot!

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Africa’s digital economy is expanding across borders faster than many of the rules governing it. A cloud platform can serve customers in several countries without building a separate digital ecosystem in each one. Artificial intelligence can be developed in one market, hosted in another and deployed across several more. Data centres can support businesses far beyond the countries where they are located.

Regulation, however, remains largely organised around national and sectoral boundaries.

That contradiction is becoming harder to ignore as Africa moves deeper into cloud computing, artificial intelligence and large-scale digital infrastructure. At the ITW Data Cloud Africa 2026 event in Nairobi, Kenya, the Director General of the National Information Technology Development Agency, Kashifu Inuwa Abdullahi, called for a more unified regulatory approach across Africa, arguing that fragmented approval systems can delay projects and create uncertainty for technology investors.

His intervention goes beyond the question of faster licensing. It raises a more fundamental issue about how Africa intends to build a digital economy that is increasingly interconnected while its regulatory systems remain largely separate.

This is particularly important for infrastructure that requires significant capital and long-term planning. Data centres, cloud platforms and major digital networks cannot be deployed like ordinary software products. They require power, connectivity, specialised equipment, technical expertise and confidence that the regulatory environment will remain sufficiently predictable throughout the life of an investment.

This is where I cannot help but admire the European Union when it comes to regulatory alignment and development, particularly in technology.

The EU is far from having a perfect regulatory system, and its member states still retain significant national responsibilities. Yet its broader effort to establish common rules and standards gives businesses a framework for operating across a large integrated market. For technology, that kind of alignment matters because companies can build products and infrastructure with a clearer understanding of the rules governing their activities across member states.

Africa has a different political and economic structure, so the European model cannot simply be copied. But the underlying lesson is worth considering. A large digital market becomes more useful when its regulatory systems are capable of working together.

Artificial intelligence makes this even more urgent. AI does not fit neatly into one regulatory box. An AI service can involve data protection, cloud computing, cybersecurity, telecommunications, financial services and consumer protection at the same time. If each area is regulated without considering the others, businesses can face overlapping requirements while regulators may struggle to determine where one mandate ends and another begins.

Cloud infrastructure presents a similar challenge. A large data centre is not simply a technology facility. Its operation can involve energy, telecommunications, physical security, data governance, cybersecurity, investment and environmental considerations.

The problem, therefore, is not that Africa has too many regulators. It is that technologies have become interconnected while regulatory structures often remain compartmentalised.

NITDA’s proposed model of horizontal co-regulation offers one possible response. Under the approach outlined by Inuwa, a technology regulator establishes broad standards that sector-specific regulators can adopt and adapt within their respective areas.

That distinction is important. It does not require every regulator to surrender its mandate. Instead, it creates a common technological foundation that can be applied across sectors while allowing individual regulators to address the specific risks within their industries.

Nigeria’s National Sovereign Cloud Initiative provides an example of this thinking. NITDA has developed cloud standards and frameworks intended to support secure and interoperable cloud deployment, with the broader policy framework addressing issues including interoperability and data portability.

The pace of technological development also makes it difficult for static rules to remain adequate indefinitely. AI models, cloud architectures and digital infrastructure can change substantially within a short period. Regulatory frameworks therefore need mechanisms for review and adaptation rather than being treated as permanent solutions.

However, there is a difference between coordination and simply creating another layer of regulation.

A single regulatory interface would only be useful if it genuinely simplifies the experience of businesses. If a company submits its information through one portal but still has to repeat the same process separately with multiple agencies, the reform has only moved the paperwork rather than solving the underlying problem.

The more useful goal is regulatory interoperability. African countries do not necessarily need identical laws or a single continental regulator. National governments will continue to have legitimate responsibilities over security, privacy, financial stability and critical infrastructure. What is needed is greater compatibility between regulatory frameworks, standards and compliance processes.

Greater alignment could also strengthen Africa’s position in the global technology economy. The continent has a large and growing market, but its potential is spread across countries with different regulatory capacities, infrastructure and investment environments. More compatible rules could make it easier for companies to expand digital infrastructure across multiple markets and for African technology firms to scale beyond their home countries.

Africa’s digital future will depend on more than fibre networks, data centres, cloud platforms and AI systems. It will also depend on whether governments can create a regulatory environment that allows those technologies to connect, scale and operate across borders without unnecessary friction.

The continent does not need fewer regulators simply for the sake of reducing the number of institutions. It needs regulators that understand where their responsibilities intersect, share common standards where appropriate and give businesses a clearer path through government.
The digital economy is already crossing African borders. The real question is whether Africa’s regulatory architecture is ready to cross them too.

Shuaib S. Agaka is a tech journalist and digital policy analyst based in Kano. He can be reached via sshuaib328@gmail.com

The post Africa Cannot Build a Borderless Digital Economy With Borders Between Regulators, By Shuaib S. Agaka appeared first on Tech Digest News.

There is a point at which political contestation ceases to be an argument about ideas and becomes an assault on the very boundaries that make civil society possible. That point is reached when a private telephone conversation is allegedly recorded, extracted from its original context and released into the public domain as political ammunition.

The latest controversy surrounding an audio recording purported to be a telephone conversation between Senator Godswill Akpabio and Sandra C. Duru, a.k.a. Professor Mgbeke, therefore deserves to be examined beyond the personalities involved. It raises a much larger question: What happens to a society when private conversations become raw material for public propaganda?

Recent reports indicate that Sandra Duru released a nine-minute audio recording on social media and presented portions of it as a private conversation involving the Senate President. Yet, significantly, the recording has not been independently authenticated, and questions remain about the identity of the voices, the circumstances in which the conversation was recorded, and whether the excerpts constitute the complete conversation. Those uncertainties are not minor technicalities; they are at the heart of responsible public communication.

PRIVACY IS NOT A POLITICAL LUXURY
Nigeria’s Constitution is unequivocal in recognising privacy as a fundamental right. Section 37 guarantees and protects the privacy of citizens, including their homes, correspondence and telephone conversations. That constitutional safeguard does not disappear because the individuals involved are politicians, public officials, activists or controversial personalities. Indeed, public office should never be interpreted as a wholesale surrender of personal privacy.

The Nigeria Data Protection Act 2023 reinforces this principle by establishing a legal framework for protecting personal information and regulating its processing. Among its stated objectives are the protection of fundamental rights and freedoms, the safeguarding of personal data, and the requirement that personal data be processed in a fair, lawful and accountable manner.

The central question, therefore, is not whether an audio recording can generate political excitement; it obviously can. The question is whether private communication can be captured, processed, edited, reproduced and disseminated for political purposes without lawful justification, proper authorisation or regard for the rights of the people whose voices and personal information are involved. That is a much more serious question.

THE CYBER DIMENSION CANNOT BE IGNORED
The Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, as amended in 2024, also contains provisions concerning unlawful interception of non-public computer communications and judicially authorised interception of electronic communications. The legislation defines interception broadly enough to include listening to or recording communication data in specified circumstances. But legal precision matters, particularly when criminal liability is being discussed.

It would be premature for commentators to declare, without establishing the facts, that the mere existence or publication of this particular audio automatically constitutes a criminal offence under the Cybercrimes Act. If, however, the evidence establishes that a private electronic communication was intercepted or obtained without lawful authority, the circumstances could raise serious questions under the applicable constitutional, data-protection and cybercrime frameworks. That is precisely why an independent investigation matters: the law should determine the legality, not social media.

PUBLIC INTEREST IS NOT A BLANK CHEQUE
There is another important distinction that the Nigerian public must begin to make. A matter involving a public official may be of public interest without every private conversation involving that official becoming public property. Public interest is not the same thing as public curiosity.

A genuine public-interest disclosure ordinarily requires more than the ability to attract clicks, outrage or political engagement. It requires consideration of authenticity, context, provenance, relevance and the legitimate rights of the people involved. A fragment of an alleged private conversation, detached from the circumstances in which it occurred and presented to millions of people without independent authentication, can easily become something very different from responsible whistleblowing.

It can become narrative engineering, particularly when selected material is used to encourage the public towards a predetermined interpretation. When such narrative engineering is repeatedly used to shape public perception, it begins to resemble propaganda rather than public accountability.

THE MORAL QUESTION
There is also a moral dimension that no statute can completely capture. Politics is already a theatre of suspicion, rivalry and competing narratives. If every private conversation is potentially a future weapon, trust disappears from public life. People stop speaking candidly, officials become afraid of legitimate conversations, and citizens become unwilling to engage public figures.

Political communication then gradually degenerates into a marketplace where the most sensational fragment—not necessarily the most truthful account—commands the greatest attention. This is where the conduct surrounding the dissemination of private conversations raises profound ethical questions.

A society that normalises the conversion of private conversations into political weapons risks producing a culture in which nothing is private, context is disposable and reputation is collateral damage. That is not democratic accountability; it is the erosion of the ethical architecture upon which democratic accountability depends.

THE PROBLEM WITH THE “MERCHANT OF PROPAGANDA” MODEL
There is a growing phenomenon in digital politics in which controversy itself becomes a political commodity. The objective is no longer necessarily to establish facts, but to generate a continuous stream of allegations, recordings, screenshots, insinuations and counter-allegations until the public becomes emotionally exhausted and truth becomes indistinguishable from repetition.

The danger is particularly acute when the communicator becomes both the source of the allegation and the narrator of the evidence. That model creates an obvious credibility problem because the public is effectively being asked to accept not merely the allegation but also the interpretation supplied by the person disseminating it.

That is why independent verification is indispensable. A recording should be authenticated, its provenance established, its full context examined and any editing disclosed. The circumstances of its acquisition should also be investigated. Where there are allegations of unlawful interception or misuse of personal data, the appropriate regulatory and law-enforcement authorities should be allowed to do their work.

FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION HAS RESPONSIBILITIES
Freedom of expression is indispensable to democracy, but so is the right to privacy. These principles should not be presented as enemies. Responsible journalism, legitimate whistleblowing and public-interest disclosure have their place, but none of them should become convenient labels for every unauthorised exposure of private communications.

The democratic answer to disputed conduct is evidence, investigation and due process—not digital vigilantism. If the recording is authentic and contains evidence of wrongdoing, the proper response is to submit the evidence to the appropriate institutions and allow the facts to be tested. If it is unauthorised, manipulated, selectively edited or misleadingly presented, those facts should also be established through proper investigation. Either way, the truth deserves a process more rigorous than a Facebook post.

THIS IS BIGGER THAN AKPABIO
The most important lesson from this episode should not be about Senator Godswill Akpabio alone; it should be about the Nigeria we are creating. Today, it may be a conversation involving a Senate President. Tomorrow, it could be a judge, journalist, businessman, civil servant, academic, clergy member or ordinary citizen.

If the principle becomes that anyone who possesses a private recording is entitled to publish it whenever politically convenient, then privacy ceases to be a right and becomes merely a temporary privilege enjoyed by those who have not yet been recorded. That is a dangerous trend with implications extending far beyond the personalities involved in the present controversy.

The constitutional guarantee of privacy cannot be selectively defended, data protection cannot become a slogan deployed only when convenient, and cybercrime legislation cannot be invoked selectively. Political communication cannot be allowed to become a free-for-all in which reputations are tried and convicted on social media before evidence is examined.

LET THE LAW SPEAK
There is, therefore, a compelling case for the relevant authorities to establish the facts surrounding any purported private telephone recording now circulating. Who made the recording? How was it obtained? Was consent given? Was the communication intercepted? Was it edited? Who first disseminated it, and for what purpose? What personal data were processed? Was there a lawful basis for that processing? And does the dissemination violate any applicable constitutional, statutory or judicial protection? Those are questions for evidence, not conjecture.

There is, however, a broader principle worth defending: private communication should not become political ammunition merely because it can generate attention. A democracy requires trust, evidence, restraint and respect for the law. Public accountability is strengthened, not weakened, when allegations are subjected to verification and established processes rather than determined by the velocity of social-media circulation.

The real moral deficit in contemporary public discourse is not that people disagree. It is that the boundaries between legitimate scrutiny and intrusion can become dangerously blurred when private material is circulated without adequate attention to authenticity, context, provenance and applicable law. Once society becomes indifferent to those boundaries, everyone—not merely public officials—has reason to be concerned about the future of privacy.

Ken Harries, Esq., is an Abuja-based Development Communication Strategist.

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By Mumeenah Oyindamola Abdulrahman

We have all had that moment. You think about getting a bicycle without saying it out loud, and by the next day your Instagram feed is full of bicycle ads, with prices and shops in your own town. It feels less like advertising and more like someone read your mind. So you start to wonder: is the internet following my thoughts?

We are the generation that lives online. We scroll, we shop, we learn, we gist, and we build our dreams on our phones. But have we ever stopped to ask how much our phones know about us without us ever speaking?

The Microphone Myth

Let us start with the biggest myth. Many young people believe their phones secretly listen to their conversations to show ads. Facebook, Google and Apple have all denied this. Researchers who have spent months trying to catch phones secretly recording have found no evidence.

The technical reason is simple: always-on listening at a global scale would drain your battery fast, use suspicious amounts of data, and risk the app being banned from app stores. When US Senator Gary Peters asked Mark Zuckerberg, CEO of Meta, owners of Facebook, directly under oath in 2018 whether Facebook used phone microphones for ad targeting, he said no. The real villain is not your microphone.

What is actually at work is metadata. Not what you say, but everything around what you do.

The Real Engine: Metadata

How long you paused on a post. Whether you re-watched a TikTok. What you searched last week. Where your phone was at 6pm on a Tuesday. Who else was near you. What you almost clicked but did not.

One signal alone means nothing. But stitched together across thousands of interactions, they form a digital footprint that can predict what you want next, even before you fully admit it to yourself. Google reportedly checks hundreds of behavioural signals in a fraction of a second to decide which ad wins your attention. That bicycle ad was not magic. It was a prediction based on what people who behaved like you did next — and they bought a bike.

Then there are cookies. Cookies are the glue that holds this together. A cookie tags your browser with an identity, not your name, but a consistent fingerprint. It allows a site you visited on Monday to inform an ad you see somewhere else on Wednesday. Third-party cookies exist specifically to follow that fingerprint across the web, building one full picture from small pieces collected in different places.

Why Doomscrolling Makes You Vulnerable

This is where doomscrolling stops being just a bad habit and becomes a vulnerability.

When you are actively browsing — searching, comparing, choosing — you are in control. But doomscrolling is different. It is low-friction, semi-automatic, and you have no control over what comes next. That lack of control is the point.

In that state, two things happen quietly. First, psychology comes in. There is something called the mere exposure effect — the tendency to start liking something simply because you have seen it many times, even without really thinking about it. You do not need to be convinced; you just need to see it enough times while your guard is down.

Second, the platform is running a constant experiment on you. Every pause, skip and rewatch is data. It quietly discards what did not work and doubles down on what almost worked. You never see the failed attempts. You only remember the one time it “got you right.” That is not mind-reading. It is survivorship bias — you forget the dozens of wrong ads and remember the one accurate hit.

That is why your feed feels like a mirror you did not ask for. It feels like a discovery you made yourself, but it is not personal. The system does not need to know you. It needs to know people statistically similar to you, and it borrows their behaviour and hands it back to you as coincidence.

So What Can Be Done?

If the danger is not one company spying, but an economy of small data points, a pause here, a location ping there, then protection must also be intentional.

First, manage your digital footprint. Check your app permissions. Turn off unnecessary location tracking and microphone access.

Second, tame cookies. Make it a habit to not click “accept all” blindly. Go to your browser settings and clear third-party cookies regularly. Use private browsing when you can.

Third, break the doomscrolling cycle. Set screen time limits and be deliberate about what you consume. When you control the sequence, you control the input.

Finally, be mindful of what you feed the system. Likes, pauses and comments are not harmless — they are data. Curating what you engage with is now part of protecting your future.

The mind-reading myth is comforting because it gives us a clear villain to blame. The real mechanism has no such villain. It is an accumulation of mundane behaviours that leaves a trail, and behaviour, unlike thought, leaves a trail that can be tracked.

The next time your feed feels eerily accurate, do not ask “how did they know what I was thinking?” Ask a harder question: how much of what I think is still mine, after it has been reflected back at me long enough?

Mumeenah is a Computer Science student at Kwara State University (KWASU). She can be reached at rahmanmeen206@gmail.com

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By Emmanuel Nnadozie Onwubiko

What Is Ethics?

To begin this reflection, the best way to proceed is to first understand the philosophical concept of ethics, which is generally defined as the set of moral principles that helps each of us determine what is right or wrong in our actions.

Furthermore, ethics, according to moral philosophers, serves as what can commonly be described as our individual moral handbook—a framework that guides us on how to treat others and make decisions in our daily lives.

For the avoidance of doubt, ethics, as the moral governor of our actions as human beings, comprises the principles that help determine whether we are being truthful, choosing fairness over selfishness, and acting justly. Ethics therefore shapes the kind of person each of us ultimately becomes, as judged by our actions.

Whether you realise it or not, ethics quietly guides our actions and influences how we treat others. From small choices, such as returning extra change, to major decisions, such as standing up for what is right, ethics is always at work behind the scenes.

This writer has gone to some length to define ethics because those moral principles have become particularly relevant at a time when members of the human race are discussing the future of humanity in an era in which Artificial Intelligence (AI) has emerged as one of the fastest-growing areas of scientific and technological development.

We will consider some of the approaches that have been offered to the scientific community concerning the responsible development of AI, including perspectives attributed to the Holy Father, Pope Leo XIV, and one of the world’s most prominent monarchs, King Charles III of the United Kingdom.

Since succeeding the late Pope Francis as the Vicar of Christ on Earth, Pope Leo XIV has articulated guidelines on how humanity should approach and regulate the development of Artificial Intelligence. His theological, scholarly and philosophical reflections have included discussions about how ethical principles should guide technological advancement and protect human dignity.

According to Vatican News, the Pope has emphasised the importance of ensuring that technological progress remains directed towards the common good of humanity. His reflections raise fundamental questions about whether scientific inventions should merely advance human capabilities or whether they must also be governed by moral principles that protect human dignity, social justice and the natural environment.

‘Gravely Immoral’ to Subjugate a Nation

Pope Leo XIV, in his reflections on Catholic social teaching, identified principles concerning the common good and the dignity of every human person.

The common good can be understood as the social expression of the dignity recognised in every person. The Pope has also emphasised the importance of respecting the right of peoples to exist, preserve their identities and contribute their unique qualities to the family of nations.

From this perspective, any attempt to eliminate or subjugate a nation raises profound moral questions and conflicts with the principles of human dignity and the common good.

Technology Must Not Be in the Hands of a Few

The Pope has also emphasised the importance of the universal destination of goods. In this context, he has highlighted the need to ensure that technological advancement does not become concentrated in the hands of a small number of individuals or corporations, thereby widening the gap between those included in the digital revolution and those excluded from it.

The principle of subsidiarity similarly requires societies to avoid excessive centralisation and paternalistic approaches to social life, while encouraging shared responsibility.

Solidarity, another important principle of Catholic social teaching, is both a principle and a virtue. It challenges indifference and requires societies to consider not only those living today but also future generations.

Closely following the broader ethical questions surrounding technological advancement, King Charles III of the United Kingdom has also expressed concern about the potential dangers of Artificial Intelligence if the technology falls into the wrong hands.

The King warned AI executives about the “existential dangers” posed by the technology being misused.

He made the comments at a summit convened at Dumfries House in Ayrshire to discuss how technology can be used to benefit society.

Those gathered at the meeting reportedly included Kanishka Narayan, the UK’s AI Minister, the Pope’s adviser, and representatives from major AI companies such as Nvidia, OpenAI and Anthropic.

The King’s intervention came amid a series of warnings from people within the technology industry about the rapidly evolving capabilities of advanced, or “frontier”, AI models and the need for regulation to ensure that such technologies remain under appropriate safeguards.

“Those who have created these technologies are now increasingly warning that AI risks developing darker capacities—perhaps even to take life,” the King told executives.

He said there appeared to be an “urgency” in adequately considering the existential dangers of such technologies falling into the wrong hands and being used in potentially catastrophic ways.

“The task before you is not merely to advance technology, but to ensure that it remains firmly in the service of humanity, community and the natural world,” he told the gathering.

The summit was convened to consider whether a “shared set of principles” could be developed to help guide the future application of AI.

‘Keep Engineering’

Jensen Huang, chief executive of Nvidia, was among the leading technology executives attending the summit.

Nvidia is a major player in AI infrastructure, supplying chips to leading AI developers, including OpenAI and Meta.

Huang told the gathering that he believed safety was “paramount”, adding that companies should hold back a product and “keep engineering” if it was not sufficiently safe.

The Nvidia chief executive also highlighted the potential value of open models—systems that give users direct access to the underlying technology—as a way of ensuring that people and countries are not left behind.

He said such systems must also be protected so that “researchers, universities, start-ups and countries” can develop applications that “none of us would have imagined alone”.

“Let us lead with responsible optimism, build AI safely and securely, open it to more people, expand our ambition and solve the problems that matter to the world,” Huang said.

Meanwhile, Sir Demis Hassabis, co-founder of the British AI research laboratory DeepMind, which was later acquired by Google, offered a more cautious assessment of the pace of technological development.

He said artificial general intelligence—systems that could potentially equal or surpass humans across multiple tasks—could be only a few years away and could have an impact many times greater than that of the Industrial Revolution.

A Wave of Warnings

If you think you have heard the most alarming warnings about the unbridled and insufficiently regulated evolution of Artificial Intelligence, then the debate is far from over.

Sir Demis Hassabis acknowledged that the chance of something going wrong was “definitely non-zero”. However, he advocated what he described as “a sensible middle way”, arguing that humanity could address the risks if collectively given the space and time necessary to mitigate them.

“The future is not yet written,” he told the King’s delegates.

Sarah Friar, OpenAI’s chief financial officer, said AI had the potential to solve some of society’s “hardest problems”, but acknowledged that its growing capabilities raised questions about safety and how to ensure that the technology always serves people.

“We need to address those questions together,” she said, adding that no single company or government could address them alone.

The wider debate over AI has intensified, with discussions about its potential power, social consequences and regulation increasingly dominating public discourse, technology forums and social media.

However, some critical observers have argued that the focus on hypothetical future risks could distract attention from more immediate concerns surrounding AI, including its environmental impact, energy consumption, employment consequences, privacy implications and potential use in surveillance and misinformation.

The BBC has reported on concerns among people working in the field about the speed of technological advancement and what it could mean for humanity.

Anthropic scientist Evan Hubinger has also expressed concerns about the possibility of human extinction resulting from AI, assigning a significant probability to such an outcome in his personal assessment.

AI industry leaders have similarly weighed in on the debate. OpenAI’s Sam Altman has acknowledged that people are right to be concerned about AI risks while arguing that AI companies must work to ensure that the technology is developed safely.

Ironically, critics argue that AI companies cannot simply be relied upon to regulate themselves.

Some political figures and technology critics have therefore called for stronger government oversight, while others have dismissed some AI safety concerns as exaggerated.

The central question, however, remains the same: how can humanity encourage technological innovation while ensuring that innovation does not undermine human dignity, safety and the common good?

The Moral Responsibility of AI Development

To be on the safe side, there is an immediate necessity for the advancement of AI to be adequately regulated, bearing in mind the critical need to safeguard humanity.

The concerns raised by religious leaders, political figures, scientists and technology executives demonstrate that AI is no longer merely a question of technological innovation. It is increasingly a question of ethics.

Artificial Intelligence should therefore be developed within common ethical frameworks that emphasise the common good of humanity. Its development should not become a race driven exclusively by commercial interests among technology companies.

The fundamental question should be whether AI ultimately serves humanity or whether humanity becomes increasingly subordinate to the technological systems it creates.

Technology must remain a servant of humanity and not become its master.

The ethical responsibility of our generation is therefore to ensure that scientific advancement is accompanied by moral responsibility. The extraordinary power of Artificial Intelligence requires extraordinary responsibility from those who design it, regulate it, finance it and deploy it.

The future of AI should not be determined solely by what technology makes possible. It should also be determined by what humanity considers morally acceptable.

Emmanuel Nnadozie Onwubiko is the founder of the Human Rights Writers Association of Nigeria and a former National Commissioner of the National Human Rights Commission of Nigeria.

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By Abbas Badmus,

For a Nigerian entrepreneur trying to sell beyond the confines of a local market, digital transformation is no longer a luxury. It is increasingly the difference between remaining invisible and becoming globally competitive.

A small manufacturer needs digital tools to reach customers. A farmer needs technology to connect with markets. A retailer needs e-commerce platforms to sell beyond physical storefronts. A young innovator needs skills, networks and investment to turn an idea into a scalable enterprise.

Yet, across Nigeria, the journey from traditional business practices to a technology-driven economy remains uneven.

It is against this backdrop that a new alliance between the National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA) and the Nigerian Association of Chambers of Commerce, Industry, Mines and Agriculture (NACCIMA) is attracting attention.

On the sidelines of GITEX Nigeria, the two institutions signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) aimed at accelerating digital transformation, stimulating innovation and helping Nigerian businesses harness technology for growth.

Signed by NITDA Director-General, Kashifu Inuwa Abdullahi, and NACCIMA National President, Engr. Ibrahim Jani, the agreement seeks to build a stronger bridge between Nigeria’s digital policy architecture and the businesses expected to drive economic growth.

But beneath the ceremony, handshakes and formalities lies a much bigger question: Can Nigeria turn its digital ambition into practical opportunities for millions of businesses?

For NACCIMA, the answer requires moving decisively.

“It is an excellent arrangement to have this type of protocol on digitisation and digital transformation, especially for the private sector,” he said.

“NACCIMA is the umbrella body of the organised private sector in Nigeria, and digital transformation is a necessity. There is no better partner to work with than NITDA, and we are happy to sign this MoU and move the partnership forward.”

His argument reflects the reality confronting businesses in an economy increasingly shaped by technology.

Markets are becoming digital. Consumers are changing how they discover and purchase products. Financial transactions are becoming more technology-driven, while artificial intelligence, cloud computing, data analytics and digital platforms are altering how companies operate.

For Nigerian businesses, particularly MSMEs, remaining outside this transformation carries its own risks.

The challenge, however, is that technology adoption requires more than telling businesses to “go digital”.

It requires skills. It requires infrastructure. It requires access to appropriate technology, finance, markets and technical support.

This is where the NITDA-NACCIMA partnership becomes significant.

For years, Nigeria’s digital transformation conversation has largely been driven by government policies, technology companies and the rapidly expanding startup ecosystem.

The new collaboration seeks to push that conversation deeper into the organised private sector.

At the centre of the agreement is the development of a collaborative digital ecosystem platform, alongside initiatives targeting enterprise digital transformation for Micro, Small and Medium Enterprises.

The partnership will also promote digital innovation and technology adoption while creating opportunities for capacity building among Nigerian businesses.

The objective is not simply to put more businesses online. It is to help them use technology to become more productive, innovative and competitive.

For an MSME, that could translate into something as practical as adopting digital accounting, establishing an online presence, using data to understand customers, deploying e-commerce or finding new markets through digital platforms.

In other words, digital transformation is being presented not merely as a technology agenda but as a business survival and growth strategy.

The focus on MSMEs is particularly important.

Nigeria cannot build an inclusive digital economy if digital transformation remains concentrated among large corporations and technology startups.

The real test lies in whether ordinary businesses can participate.

The neighbourhood retailer, small-scale manufacturer, agricultural processor, professional service provider and emerging entrepreneur all form part of the ecosystem that must be connected to Nigeria’s digital future.

NITDA’s partnership with NACCIMA offers a potential mechanism for reaching these businesses through the latter’s extensive network within the organised private sector.

It could also create a stronger feedback loop between businesses and policymakers—allowing the private sector to articulate its technology needs while government institutions design more responsive interventions.

Across the country, young Nigerians are building businesses, developing technology solutions and experimenting with new digital models.

Many young entrepreneurs need mentorship, technical capacity, investment, market access and institutional support to move from promising ideas to sustainable enterprises.

Ibrahim Jani believes Nigeria’s youthful population should be positioned not simply as consumers of technology but as creators and exporters of digital solutions.

“Digitalisation is the way to go. As you can see, we have a youthful population, and they are the ones driving this process,” he said.

“We should encourage them and give them all the necessary support to go beyond Nigeria and compete on the global stage.”

Nigeria’s digital economy will ultimately be judged not only by how many people are connected to the internet, but by how many businesses can use that connectivity to create value, generate employment and compete internationally.

One of the potentially important features of the agreement is its emphasis on building linkages among government institutions, private-sector organisations, technology companies, academia, investors and development partners.

That ecosystem approach recognises a problem that has often confronted innovation efforts: good ideas can struggle when the institutions, capital, expertise and markets required to develop them remain disconnected.

Bringing these actors closer together could create new opportunities for collaboration and investment.

For NITDA, it also provides a channel to take its digital economy mandate closer to the business community.

For NACCIMA, the partnership offers an opportunity to ensure that the private sector is more deeply embedded in Nigeria’s digital transformation agenda.

The agreement also includes strategic cooperation toward the successful development and institutionalisation of the Digital Nigeria International Conference (DNICE) 2026 and subsequent editions.

The significance of this component goes beyond another annual gathering of technology stakeholders.

If properly connected to investment, policy dialogue, business matchmaking and innovation, such platforms can help transform conversations about digital transformation into concrete economic relationships.

The challenge, as always, will be implementation.

Nigeria has no shortage of policies, strategies, conferences and agreements. What businesses often need is the translation of these initiatives into practical support and measurable outcomes.

The NACCIMA President appears conscious of that expectation.

He disclosed that both organisations were prepared to begin implementing the agreement immediately.

“We are going to hit the ground running as soon as we return to our offices for the implementation of this agreement. Nigerians will begin to see things happen almost instantaneously,” he said.

The signing ceremony may have provided the headline, but implementation will provide the story.

The real indicators will be found in the businesses that receive support, the MSMEs that adopt technology, the entrepreneurs who gain access to markets and capital, and the innovations that move from prototypes to commercially viable enterprises.

Nigeria stands at an interesting point in its digital journey.

It has a large and youthful population, an expanding technology ecosystem and an increasing recognition that digital capabilities will shape the competitiveness of its economy.

But potential does not automatically translate into prosperity.

The country must build the bridges between policy and enterprise, innovation and investment, skills and opportunity.

That is the space the NITDA-NACCIMA partnership seeks to occupy.

Its promise lies not in the MoU document itself, but in the possibility of transforming the relationship between government and the private sector around a shared digital agenda.

For Nigerian businesses, the hope is that the partnership will mean fewer barriers to technology adoption, greater access to digital skills and stronger connections to the markets and resources needed to grow.

For young Nigerians, it could mean more pathways to transform digital creativity into scalable businesses.

And for Nigeria as a whole, the larger prize is an economy in which technology is not confined to conference halls, technology hubs and policy speeches, but becomes a practical tool in the hands of millions of businesses.

The photographs from the GITEX Nigeria signing may eventually fade into the archives.

What will matter is whether, months and years from now, Nigerian businesses can look back at that moment and point to the opportunities it helped create.

The post Beyond the MoU: How NITDA, NACCIMA Seek to Put Nigerian Businesses on the Digital Fast Lane appeared first on Tech Digest News.

As expected, the announcement sparked excitement among technology enthusiasts and Apple loyalists worldwide. Yet beyond the impressive specifications lies a deeper question, particularly relevant in Nigeria: when does owning the latest smartphone stop being about technology and start becoming a quest for social validation?
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‎There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting a new iPhone. Technology evolves, consumers upgrade, and people naturally gravitate toward better products. For content creators, photographers, business owners, or professionals who genuinely need enhanced cameras, processing power, or battery life, purchasing a new device can be a sensible investment. The problem begins when the phone is no longer purchased for its utility but for the message it sends to others.
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‎In Nigeria’s increasingly image-conscious social-media environment, expensive possessions often serve as symbols of success, beauty, and social status. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok constantly expose young people to curated images of luxury lifestyles. Research has shown that such exposure fosters social comparison, materialistic values, and conspicuous consumption.

This is where the conversation around young Nigerian women becomes important. It would be unfair to generalize or claim that Nigerian girls are obsessed with iPhones. Many are not. Some buy Apple products because they genuinely need them for work, business, photography, or personal preference. But there is also a growing culture in which owning expensive items becomes part of one’s public identity.
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‎A young woman may already have a smartphone capable of handling her daily communication, business, and social-media activities. Yet the moment a newer iPhone arrives, she may begin to feel her current device is inadequate—not because it has stopped working, but because someone else now has something newer. That is the trap of comparison. The danger is not the iPhone itself but allowing a product to define one’s sense of worth.
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‎Nigeria’s economic reality makes this even more concerning. When individuals cannot comfortably afford luxury products but feel pressured to own them anyway, the financial consequences can be severe. Money that could have gone toward education, savings, business capital, rent, or professional development may instead be diverted to maintain an appearance of affluence. Research among Nigerian undergraduates has even documented cases where expensive phones and other luxury possessions feature in transactional sexual relationships. A 2025 study reported that some respondents associated cross-generational sexual relationships with acquiring luxury items, including phones, clothing, and jewellery. This evidence should not be used to label Nigerian women as immoral or materialistic. Rather, it should force society to ask a more uncomfortable question: why are some young people willing to take serious personal risks to maintain an image of wealth?
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‎The answer goes beyond gender. Young men also participate in status competition through cars, designer clothes, watches, nightlife, and other displays of wealth. Social media has simply made this competition more visible. However, young women often face additional pressures surrounding appearance, lifestyle, and social expectations. The intersection of beauty culture, social media, relationships, and consumerism can create an environment where possessions become tied to perceived attractiveness and social class.
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‎This is why the conversation should not be framed as “Nigerian girls should stop buying iPhones.” That is the wrong lesson. The real lesson is to buy according to one’s capacity and purpose, not according to pressure. If the iPhone 18 genuinely improves your business, photography, filmmaking, or productivity, and you can afford it without jeopardizing your finances, then buy it. If your current phone serves you well, there is nothing shameful about keeping it. Your phone should serve your ambition; your ambition should not become a servant to your phone.
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‎Influencers and content creators also bear responsibility. Social media users must remember that the lifestyles displayed online are often carefully curated. A person may post a new phone, luxury restaurant, or expensive holiday without showing the debt, sponsorship, family support, or business income behind it. Comparing your entire life to someone else’s highlight reel is an unfair competition.
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‎The iPhone 18 is a remarkable technological achievement, and Apple deserves recognition for pushing smartphone technology forward. But technological advancement should never become a measure of human worth. A new phone can upgrade your camera, but it cannot upgrade your character. It can improve your productivity, but it cannot create discipline. It can make your pictures sharper, but it cannot make your life more meaningful.
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‎For young Nigerians, the real status symbol should increasingly be what we are building, businesses, careers, skills, investments, character, and meaningful lives. Buy the phone if you need it. Upgrade when it makes financial sense. But never sacrifice your peace, reputation, or future simply to convince society that you are doing well. Validation is expensive when you have to pay for it with your future.
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‎Haris Muhammad Bashir is a corps member serving at PRNigeria. harismuhammadbashir@gmail.com
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Few traditional institutions in northern Nigeria carry the historical depth and distinctive character of the Gumel Emirate. Founded in the 18th century, Gumel has survived more than two and a half centuries of political, social and cultural change while retaining its identity and the authority of its traditional leadership. Its history predates modern Nigeria, reflects the influence of the Kanem‑Borno world, and evolved through interactions with Hausa states and the wider northern region.

The throne has passed through generations of rulers, from Dan Juma I, regarded as the founder of the emirate, to Maina Muhammad Sani II, who ruled from 1944 to 1981. His son, Ahmed Muhammad Sani II, succeeded him and went on to become one of the longest‑serving first‑class traditional rulers in Nigeria. The late Emir Ahmed Muhammad Sani II did not merely inherit the throne; he arrived with a rich background in public administration and politics. He worked with the Gumel Native Authority, served in the Nigeria Immigration Service, and later became Commissioner for Information, Internal Affairs and Culture in the old Kano State. He played a role in establishing the Triumph newspaper, CTV67 and expanding Radio Kano—institutions that shaped media development in the region. When he ascended the throne in 1980, he brought that experience with him, guiding Gumel through decades of change.

That history matters because it sets the stage for the arrival of his successor. Following the death of Ahmed Muhammad Sani II on September 3, after 46 years on the throne, the question of succession was not simply about filling a vacant stool. It was about finding someone capable of carrying forward an institution defined by long service, education, public engagement and stability. On September 6, the Jigawa State Government approved the appointment of Dr. Lawan Ahmed Muhammad Sani as the 17th Emir of Gumel, following recommendations from the kingmakers and the Jigawa State Council of Chiefs. Until his appointment, he was the Chiroman Gumel and served as Director of Cybersecurity at the National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA).

Dr. Lawan’s professional background brings a distinctive dimension to the historic throne. He holds a PhD in Computer and Communication Systems Engineering from Universiti Putra Malaysia, an MSc in Computing from De Montfort University in Leicester, and a bachelor’s degree from Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. His career spans academia, research and public administration. He spent more than a decade in Saudi Arabia, serving as Chairman of the Computer Science and Engineering Department at the University of Hafr Al‑Batin. He previously lectured at Swinburne University of Technology in Australia, where he headed a smartcard research group. His research interests include computer and network security, smart cards, cloud computing and wireless communication systems. He has supervised postgraduate students, examined research work, published internationally and participated in funded projects.

This combination of traditional leadership and extensive experience in technology presents Gumel with an opportunity to connect its heritage with the demands of a changing world. Dr. Lawan’s reign should not be viewed as an attempt to match or surpass that of his father. Every reign is shaped by its own moment. His father led Gumel through a different Nigeria; Dr. Lawan inherits the throne at a time that calls for new ideas and priorities while preserving the values that have sustained the emirate.

Education offers one of the clearest opportunities. An Emirate Education and Skills Initiative could identify promising young people and provide scholarships, mentorship and practical digital training. Beyond university admission, such a programme could connect students with professionals and institutions that help them develop employable skills in software development, data analysis, cybersecurity, digital communications and other areas of the growing digital economy. The palace does not need to become a technology institution; it only needs to use its influence to bring together universities, professionals, government agencies and development organisations.

Dr. Lawan could also support a community cybersecurity and digital literacy programme. With online fraud, identity theft, scams and misinformation increasingly affecting Nigerians, communities need practical knowledge about protecting themselves online. Schools, small businesses, civil servants and young people could benefit from periodic training delivered in partnership with universities and technology organisations.

His research background could contribute to a more evidence‑based approach to community development. The emirate could work with universities to collect basic data on education, agriculture, youth employment, health and local businesses. Such information would help leaders understand local needs and identify areas where intervention would have the greatest impact.

Agriculture should remain central to the development agenda. Gumel and its surrounding communities have strong agricultural roots, and technology can help farmers access market information, weather updates, extension services and potential buyers. A practical pilot involving local farmers, agricultural institutions and technology partners could provide a useful starting point.

Yet his most important responsibility will remain the human side of traditional leadership. A modern Emir’s influence cannot be measured only by initiatives introduced during his reign. People will come to the palace with family disputes, economic difficulties, questions about education, concerns about security and requests for support. The strength of traditional leadership lies in its ability to listen, mediate, provide guidance and build trust.

Dr. Lawan inherits more than a throne; he inherits a tradition of service. His father’s long reign leaves him with a significant legacy and a strong foundation upon which to build. If more children remain in school, if young people acquire useful skills, if farmers gain better access to markets, if entrepreneurs find new opportunities, if digital safety improves and if the emirate becomes better connected to its professionals at home and abroad, then his journey from the university laboratory to the royal palace will have acquired a deeper meaning.

The crown should not mark the end of Dr. Lawan’s professional journey. It should be the point at which the knowledge, experience and networks he has accumulated over the years are brought to bear in service of a much larger community. His task is not to replicate the reigns of his predecessors, but to honour what they built, preserve what must be preserved and bring fresh ideas to the challenges facing his people.

That may be the most fitting way to carry forward a throne that has endured for centuries.

Shuaib S. Agaka is a tech journalist and digital policy analyst based in Kano.

The post Dr. Lawan Sani: When a Cybersecurity Expert Becomes the Emir of Gumel, By Shuaib S. Agaka appeared first on Tech Digest News.

By Mumeenah Oyindamola Abdulrahman

We are the generation that has the internet at our fingertips. Information moves at lightning speed and the world has become a global village. Almost every young person now has access to information daily through tools ranging from social media to e-learning. It is a luxury older generations did not have. One must wonder, how did they survive without it?

Young people are leveraging the internet to position themselves globally. Some are content creators in fashion, tech, travel and lifestyle. Others curate moodboards on Pinterest to map out their dream lives. Even scrolling through memes can brighten a gloomy day. The internet has become our workspace, our classroom, and our playground.

But as much as the internet has its upsides, it has downsides too. This brings me to ask a fundamental question: how much of our lives exists online? The pictures we share, our passwords, location, details about friends and family, social media accounts and other Personally Identifiable Information (PII) all create digital footprints.

So while young people are keen to stay ahead of trends, are we putting the same energy into protecting ourselves from risks in the digital space? The truth is, many of us are not, perhaps because the information to do so is not readily at our disposal. This piece intends to offer just that.

The most common threats we know are scams, catfishing, where people pretend to be someone they are not and cyberbullying, that is the use to technology to harm, harass or embarrass someone. But beyond these, there are quieter dangers that catch many young people off guard.

Take phishing and social engineering. This is where an attacker sends an email, text — smishing — or makes a call — vishing — to impersonate a trusted organisation. Young persons and students are likely to receive an email titled “Alert! Your account is in danger” supposedly from Google, or “Click the link below to get 80% off” from a brand you patronise, or even “Congratulations! You have been selected” for a job you applied for.

These messages seem harmless enough to click but that is exactly what the attackers thrive on because they know many of us do not pay close attention.

Then there is password and account security. Many of us are guilty of using passwords that are easy to guess — birthdays, middle names, pet names. These open the door to compromise. Some of us do create strong, random passwords but then fail to protect them properly, reusing them across different platforms or saving them carelessly.

We also cannot ignore malware and unsafe downloads. We all love free things. Who doesn’t? But there must be discretion when it comes to “free” downloads. Malware is code written to perform unauthorised or harmful actions, and one of the most common ways it spreads is when people download files, movies or apps from untrusted or illegal sources because they are cheaper or free, instead of from authorised sources.

Perhaps the most overlooked is digital safety and our digital footprints. How many of us find it boring to read “terms and conditions” and just click “agree and continue”? Or click “accept all cookies” because we want to move on quickly? As inconvenient as it is, it is a crucial step. You need to know what you are agreeing to, and what rights you are giving a website to store files on your device or track your online activities.

A digital footprint is the trail of data left behind when you use the internet. For young people, a negative footprint, evidence of bad behaviour, immorality or sensitive information, may never be fully erased even after deletion. Worse still, attackers can study your footprint to profile you if it is not managed properly.

So what can be done? First, we must learn to check for red flags. If an email creates urgency or promises an irresistible reward, we should be suspicious. Second, we must use strong passwords that combine letters, numbers and special characters, and enable Multi-Factor Authentication on all important accounts. Changing passwords regularly, especially for accounts with sensitive information, and using a password manager also helps.

We must also be wary of “freebies” from unverifiable sources, and make it a habit to read the fine print before agreeing to terms and conditions. Above all, we must be intentional about what we post. Curating a positive digital footprint is no longer optional; it is part of protecting our future.

Bottom Line

The internet is a powerful tool, but with great access comes great responsibility. Youths must learn to browse smart, click wisely, and protect what matters.

If we do not take ownership of our online safety now, we risk paying for it later.

*Mumeenah is a Computer Science student at Kwara State University (KWASU). She can be reached at rahmanmeen206@gmail.com*

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The Nigerian Tribune editorial of September 1, 2026, titled “These New Varsities,” raises a concern that anyone who has watched Nigeria’s tertiary education sector expand faster than its capacity should immediately recognise. I agree with the writer that approving new universities while existing ones remain underfunded, understaffed and in many cases barely functional is a poor way to solve the real problem of limited admission spaces. But the contradiction the editorial identifies deserves even sharper scrutiny, because the issue is not only inconsistency — it is a pattern Nigeria has seen repeatedly, and one that demands a different solution than simply adding more institutions.

The contradiction is straightforward. In August 2025, the Federal Government announced a seven‑year moratorium on new federal universities, polytechnics and colleges of education, citing proliferation, overstretched resources and declining academic quality. The Tribune endorsed that decision at the time. Yet barely a year later, the National Universities Commission approved 33 new universities — seven of them federal — bringing Nigeria’s total to 309 licensed universities, reportedly one of the largest higher‑education systems in Africa by institution count. Whether or not each of these new universities technically satisfies the “operational standards” exception built into the moratorium, the optics are impossible to defend: a regulator that diagnosed proliferation as the problem is now the author of more proliferation.

This is not just inconsistency; it is a familiar Nigerian pattern. Moratoriums and tightened standards are announced with fanfare, only to be quietly eroded by exceptions granted to politically connected applicants. The editorial hints at this when it suggests the government “most probably acted under pressure from influential individuals.” That deserves to be stated plainly. Nigeria’s state and federal governments have a long history of approving universities and siting federal projects based on political loyalty and geopolitical balancing rather than institutional readiness. Until the NUC publishes the criteria used to assess each of the 33 new universities — and makes those assessments available for public scrutiny before licences are issued — “operational standards” will remain a phrase used to justify decisions the public cannot independently verify.

Where the conversation must go further than the editorial is in answering what Nigeria should do instead. The editorial rightly notes that hundreds of thousands of qualified candidates fail to secure admission each year due to limited spaces. This is not a minor detail. JAMB has consistently reported that Nigerian universities admit only a fraction of candidates who pass UTME, leaving many young Nigerians without a pathway into higher education. A moratorium that simply freezes institution numbers without addressing capacity is not a solution. The real failure is not that Nigeria is creating new universities; it is that Nigeria keeps choosing quantity over capacity — first by underfunding existing institutions, and now by adding more institutions to underfund.

Other countries facing surges in demand for tertiary education chose a different path: expanding capacity within existing, quality‑assured institutions before licensing new ones. South Korea dramatically expanded university enrolment during its development era by growing capacity at existing institutions and investing heavily in vocational and technical alternatives. Germany’s dual education system remains a global example of how vocational and apprenticeship pathways reduce pressure on universities. Nigeria’s polytechnic system was designed to play a similar role, yet polytechnics remain chronically underfunded and treated as inferior to universities, pushing more candidates toward university admission than the system can handle.

The editorial also understates how directly institutional quality is connected to the “japa” phenomenon. Graduates who feel their degrees carry little weight — because their institutions are under‑resourced or instruction quality was poor — are among the most motivated to leave the country. Every new university licensed without corresponding investment in laboratories, libraries, qualified staff and research funding adds another cohort of graduates into a labour market that already struggles to absorb them, and adds another push factor toward emigration. A tertiary education strategy that asks only how many students can be admitted, without asking how many can be admitted into institutions capable of producing employable graduates, is solving the wrong problem.

None of this means expansion should never happen. Nigeria’s population is young and growing, and demand for tertiary education will continue to rise. The question is sequencing. Before approving new universities, the NUC and the Federal Ministry of Education should publish — institution by institution — the funding, staffing and infrastructure benchmarks each existing public university is failing to meet, along with a costed plan for closing those gaps. New institutions should be licensed only when readiness is demonstrated and independently audited, not through provisional licences that leave open the question of whether operational standards have truly been met. Private university licensing, where profit motives can conflict with quality assurance, deserves a genuinely independent accreditation and monitoring regime with the authority to withdraw licences from underperforming institutions.

The editorial is right that both the Federal Government and the NUC deserve blame for the confusion in Nigeria’s tertiary education policy. But the deeper failure is not simply that Nigeria keeps announcing new universities. It is that Nigeria has never treated tertiary education capacity as an infrastructure problem requiring sustained, multi‑year investment — the way it at least nominally treats roads, power or healthcare. Until that changes, every new wave of university approvals, moratorium or no moratorium, will produce the same outcome: more institutions, no more capacity, and a widening quality gap that neither existing nor new universities are funded to close.

Joel Maina is a Strategic Communication student at the University of Abuja.
Email: joelmaia280@gmail.com

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