bBy Prof. M. K. Othman
For some of us, Ahmadu Bello University Zaria, the great ABU, is a paradise on earth, as it modeled our lives from our teenage years to the 60s to be the best in serving God and humanity for the admiration of others. That is why, when ABU sneezes, we not only catch a cold but also develop insomnia until the problem is addressed.
Today, ABU is under intense pressure to lose its treasured over three billion Naira held in the Central Bank for research, training, community service, and the purchase of essentials. No thanks to the ruling of the Court of Appeal in Abuja, 6 February 2026, in favor of its sacked 110 workers 30 years ago.
The situation is worrisome. The university is being transformed by dynamic leadership from its vice chancellor, Prof. Adamu Ahmed, an admirable and pleasant personality, and by seasoned technocrat Pro-Chancellor, Alhaji Yayale Ahmed. Both and their teams have earned the goodwill of the university’s vast alumni, who are generously funding infrastructure. Visit ABU and see the environmental beautification, a conducive learning environment, cultural unity, staff and student friendliness, and romantic affairs that often lead to marriage. ABU is unique: staff and students represent all 774 local government areas in Nigeria.
As mentioned in this column, today ABU Zaria is where Nigerians from across the nation come together to study, live, argue, celebrate, and dream, as the university not only admits students but also welcomes Nigeria itself, serving as an undeniable icon of nation-building. While the ABU peers are serving as regional universities, ABU is a national in its blood, spirit, and breath.
Walking through the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, one finds Igbo language and culture prominently displayed at every turn. University of Ibadan and Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, immerse visitors in Yoruba culture and tradition. ABU Zaria truly reflects the federal character principle that Nigeria has struggled to nurture for decades—bringing together students and staff from diverse ethnic, religious, and regional backgrounds in a genuine melting pot of ideas and aspirations.
On 6 February 2026, the Court of Appeal in Abuja delivered a major judgment. It may be one of the most significant rulings in Nigerian higher education. In two unanimous decisions, Justice Okon Abang led the court to reject ABU’s and the Central Bank’s applications to halt enforcement of an earlier judgment. The court ruled in favor of 110 former staff whose appointments ended in 1996. It ordered the immediate release of over ₦2.5 billion in outstanding payments and warned of further delays. This ruling reaffirmed the National Industrial Court’s earlier verdict, declaring the disengagement unlawful and awarding workers their lost salaries and benefits.
For many Nigerians unaware of this long-running dispute, it may appear sudden or surprising. Yet its roots go back three decades to a tough period in ABU’s history. In 1996, during institutional turmoil and national uncertainty, the military Head of State intervened. He dissolved the university management and council, named a sole administrator, and allowed the senate and other managers to continue academic work. All this was done under military law, specifically Decree 29 of 1996.
The sole administrator, General Mamman Tsoho Kontagora (Rt), of blessed memory, took major restructuring steps that led to the closure of many sub-degree programs and the disengagement of over 110 staff members. When the university returned to normal a decade later, the sacked workers went to court. Nearly 20 years later, in November 2015, Justice Peter Lifu of the National Industrial Court ruled in favor of the affected group. He ordered their reinstatement and payment of entitlements—about ₦2.585 billion. This sparked a lengthy legal battle, including multiple enforcement actions, garnishee orders, and repeated appeals. The Court of Appeal’s February 2026 decision has largely brought the legal phase to an end, turning attention to the practical challenges ahead.
Recent commentary distills this complex issue into a shallow binary: side with the dismissed staff who seek justice, or with the university struggling to survive. This reduction misses the main point: both respect for judicial decisions and ABU’s operational stability are vital. The issue is not about choosing sides, but about recognizing that enforcing legal judgments must take into account the long-term consequences for critical national institutions like ABU Zaria.
It is crucial to affirm the fundamental rights and hardships of the disengaged staff, many of whom have endured decades of uncertainty. However, the bigger issue is this: while the courts must be respected, the fallout from their decisions imposes high financial and societal costs on ABU. The priority must be to address the dilemma of achieving justice without destabilizing a national institution essential to Nigeria’s future.
First, legal correctness and smart public policy do not always match. Ahmadu Bello University is not a typical commercial body. Established in 1962, it has grown to be one of the largest universities in Africa. Today, it has over 70,000 undergraduate and postgraduate students from across the nation and continent. Its alumni are prominent in government, business, academia, medicine, engineering, and every major field, both in Nigeria and abroad. ABU’s stability, therefore, is a matter of real national importance that cannot be compromised without grievous consequences.
Second, ABU Zaria is not a private enterprise with flexible revenue streams; public universities operate with layered, often rigid finances: personnel costs, statutory government allocations, student fees, research grants, utility bills, maintenance obligations, and long-term infrastructure commitments. Liquidity is frequently precarious. The sudden withdrawal of approximately ₦2.6 billion from the university’s accounts would immediately raise pressing practical questions.
How would the institution sustain electricity supply to lecture halls, laboratories, and hostels, which typically cost over 200 million Naira? What would happen to essential municipal services, student accommodation, ongoing research projects, postgraduate training programs, and the thousands of young Nigerians currently pursuing their dreams on that campus? These are not abstract or sentimental concerns—they reflect the daily operational realities of Nigerian public universities today. What are the immediate and long-term consequences of implementing the court ruling? Should the ABU of today, operating under the University Miscellaneous Act, be held responsible for the ABU operated 30 years ago under a sole administrator governed by Decree 29 of 1996? What is the best way forward? To be concluded next week.
