In December 2023, an online medium published an investigative story revealing how a Nigerian journalist, working undercover, obtained a Cotonou university degree in just six weeks and even participated in the one-year mandatory National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) programme.
This was only one of many incidents exposing the alarming rise of certificate forgery and related crimes in the country. Before that, in November 2020, a national daily reported staggering statistics from screening exercises in Niger and Plateau States—so shocking that one could believe there are more forged certificates in circulation in Nigeria than genuine ones.
Disturbingly, the trend does not stop with junior workers or ordinary civil servants; it has become a recurring issue in the highest offices of the land.
In 1999, barely months into Nigeria’s new democracy, the nation watched in disbelief as the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Salisu Buhari, resigned in disgrace after lying about attending the University of Toronto. He had also falsified his age to contest for office. Initially, he refused to resign, even as evidence mounted against him. It was not until 2000, when the full truth came to light, that Buhari broke down in tears before the nation, confessing to forgery and perjury. “I apologise to you. I apologise to the nation. I apologise to my family and friends for all the distress I have caused them,” he said. “I was misled in error by my zeal to serve the nation. I hope the nation will forgive me and give me the opportunity to serve again.” His famous plea, “I am sorry,” became a moral punctuation mark in a generation that began to normalise deceit in high places.
Almost two decades later, another scandal emerged when the then Finance Minister, Kemi Adeosun, resigned after it was revealed that her NYSC exemption certificate was forged. Each episode provoked momentary outrage, moral sermonising, and promises of reform. Then silence—until the next scandal. Now, history repeats itself. Uche Nnaji, Minister of Innovation, Science, and Technology, stands accused of submitting forged academic credentials. The irony could not be darker: the custodian of innovation accused of innovating deceit. His admission that the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, never issued him a degree certificate is more than a personal embarrassment—it is a tragic symbol of Nigeria’s widening moral fracture. We have become a society where the fastest route to the top is a forged document, a bribe, or a borrowed credential.
This disease did not begin with politicians; it began in the classroom. Every examination hall where invigilators look away while students trade answers breeds tomorrow’s certificate forgers. Every parent who pays for “special or miracle centres” to guarantee their child’s success is grooming the next generation of fraudsters. We built this monster – from the neighbourhood cybercafés where WAEC results are “upgraded,” to the corridors of ministries where forged curriculum vitae (CVs) and fake NYSC certificates pass unchecked.
At the root of this national malaise lies a single destructive belief: that success can be achieved without merit. It is the same mindset that drives young people into “Yahoo-Yahoo” schemes, that leads civil servants and senators to pad budgets, and makes contractors abandon projects once the first tranche is paid. The collective effect is staggering – an economy built on deceit, a civil service infected with incompetence, and a country where integrity is mocked as naïveté.
We must stop treating these scandals as isolated sins; they are symptoms of a moral epidemic. When the highest offices in the land can be penetrated by forged certificates, it means our institutions of vetting—the Directorate of State Services (DSS), the Senate, the Secretary of the Government of the Federation (SGF’s) office—have become complicit in failure. When a minister can confess to submitting a fake degree, resign quietly, and go home, we send a message that dishonesty carries no cost. That is how nations collapse—not through wars, but through the slow corrosion of their moral values.
As a newspaper, we insist this must be the last era of credential fraud in public service. The National Assembly should immediately mandate a full verification of all academic and NYSC records of serving ministers, heads of agencies, and legislators. Universities and the NYSC should publish verifiable online registers accessible to the public. Any public official found guilty of forgery must face criminal prosecution, not political forgiveness.
But beyond institutions, the deeper task is cultural reformation. We must restore pride in honest labour. Schools should teach integrity as rigorously as mathematics. Parents must stop teaching shortcuts as survival strategies. Success, in a sane society, should be earned, not faked.
Nations rise by the truth degrees represent. Degrees are earned through learning and character. Until Nigeria learns that there is no shortcut to success, it will keep tripping over its own lies. And as long as we continue to celebrate wealth and position without interrogating character, we will keep replacing one fraudster with another—and wondering why our country refuses to grow.
