Every election season in Africa, particularly Nigeria, echoes with a desperate cry for good leaders, redeemers, and miracle-working saviours to rescue the nation from despondency. Campaigns overflow with promises of integrity, reform, and transformation. However, the real power to shape leadership outcomes positively or negatively doesn’t lie solely with the candidates; it rests mainly with the followers. In a democracy, numbers rule, and the majority, if credible, enlightened, and politically conscious, can demand and drive real change. Yet, when this followership is misinformed, transactional, or complicit, even the best intentions collapse under the weight of a corrupt system. The brutal irony, however, is that followership most times is steeped in corruption, tribalism, and transactional politics, while hoping to birth saints from the very system it enables and defends. The question isn’t where the good leaders are; it’s whether the society that produces them even wants good leaders. This contradiction forms the paradox of Nigeria’s leadership crisis, a society riddled with broken values, expecting angelic leaders. It is like planting thorns and expecting roses to bloom. Democracy thrives not only on the legitimacy of elections but also on the vigilance of the electorate. Nations like Norway, Canada, and Germany exhibit strong, transparent leadership not because of extraordinary politicians, but because of the strength of their civic culture. In these countries, citizens are educated, engaged, and empowered. They demand policies, question authority, protest injustice, and vote on issues, not emotions. From local government offices to the highest rungs of governance at the centre, Nigeria is plagued by a leadership problem. But what’s less discussed is that these leaders are not aliens; they emerge from the same communities, where citizens bribe to get ahead, inflate figures to win contracts, or offer money to bypass due process. The same parents who lecture their children on integrity also pressure them to cheat in exams to secure the future. The hypocrisy is both cultural and systemic. The need for enlightened followership is more urgent than ever. For decades, Nigeria’s leadership failures have been attributed to a string of corrupt or incapable leaders. Yet, this diagnosis only scratches the surface. The deeper question is: Who enabled them? Who cheered them into power, turned a blind eye to their past, or demanded ethnic or religious allegiance over merit? The uncomfortable truth is that poor followership, characterised by ignorance, blind loyalty, and political illiteracy, has fertilised the ground from which subpar leaders emerge. The reality is that bad leadership is the fruit borne from the soil of society and shaped by its values, influenced by its culture, and moulded by its expectations. When society tolerates, even celebrates, es shortcuts, dishonesty, nepotism, and mediocrity, it should come as no surprise when those same traits show up in the corridors of power. Where over 150 million citizens live in multidimensional poverty, political awareness takes a back seat as people think first of survival. Politicians exploit this desperation with tokenistic handouts during campaigns. Many citizens view elections as transactions, not a democratic process with long-term consequences. And until this perception changes, power will always go to the highest bidders. Leadership is not merely the product of ballots, constitutions, or party manifestos; it is a mirror, a reflection of the collective values, knowledge, priorities, and moral fabric of its people. When nations are governed by enlightened, informed, and politically engaged citizens, the quality of leadership naturally rises. Conversely, where ignorance, apathy, and transactional relationships dominate the populace, leadership often degenerates into tyranny, corruption, and incompetence. Africa, and particularly Nigeria, offers a sobering case study of this reality. True reform rarely starts in government houses; it often begins with enlightened citizens. The civil rights movement in the U.S., led by ordinary but informed citizens, forced systemic change. In Tunisia, the Arab Spring was triggered by a single act of defiance from a frustrated vendor, but sustained by masses who had reached a tipping point and could not stomach bad leadership and the attendant suffering.  Even in Nigeria, rays of this civic light are emerging. The #EndSARS movement in 2020 signified a new wave of youth-led civic awakening. Though brutally suppressed, it illustrated the potential of an informed and organised followership to challenge the status quo. NGOs, investigative journalists, and youth-led platforms like BudgIT, Enough Is Enough, and SERAP are beginning to redefine the civic space, demanding transparency and people-centred governance. Every four years, many Nigerians cast votes not based on vision, character, or record but along lines of tribe, religion, or personal gain. Politicians, knowing this, do not offer substance. They offer stomach infrastructure, distribute wrappers, or promise to “carry the people along, a euphemism for patronage and favouritism”. The tragedy is that many citizens do not vote to hold power accountable, but to partake in it. The question then arises: Can a society that does not value excellence produce excellent leaders? Can a population that is largely uninformed, uncritical, and transactional hold leaders to standards it does not hold itself? One of the gravest misconceptions in African political discourse is the belief that a society can somehow stumble upon saintly leaders amidst a sea of moral decay. But history shows that great leaders often emerge in societies that demand greatness. They are held accountable by institutions, pressured by informed electorates, and challenged by vibrant civic cultures. Countries like Finland, New Zealand, and Denmark are nations lauded for transparent, people-centred governance. Their leaders are not superhuman. They are products of systems that reward honesty, competence, and public service. These societies don’t just hope for integrity; they demand it, enforce it, and live it. In Nigeria, the pattern is disturbingly predictable. A new leader emerges with a promise to change everything. For a while, hopes soar, but then, the system swallows him, either through compromise or confrontation and the cycle of disillusionment resumes. Meanwhile, the same citizens who decry corruption are often complicit in the very acts they condemn when given the chance. Until the people undergo an inner reformation, leadership will remain a tragic reflection of society: flawed, self-serving, and stuck in a loop of failure. The real transformation, therefore, must begin from the ground up: with the family, in classrooms, through the media, and in everyday interactions. Being an enlightened citizen goes beyond formal education. It encompasses civic literacy, ethical reasoning, historical awareness, media literacy, and the ability to question, critique, and engage power structures constructively. Such citizens do not wait for the government to change their lives; they initiate, innovate, and influence it from the bottom to the top. In Rwanda, for instance, post-genocide recovery wasn’t achieved by leadership alone. A culture of discipline, self-reliance, and civic duty was reignited among the people. Community-based justice systems like Gacaca courts and citizen-driven development efforts helped rebuild trust and accountability. The success of this model underscores the truth: leaders cannot act beyond the consciousness of the people they serve. Leadership, no matter how well-intentioned, will always mirror the values, awareness, and resolve of the people. If followers are passive, uninformed, and ethically compromised, leaders will exploit that void. Nigeria and Africa’s hope lies not in a few saviours, but in millions of torchbearers who, with clarity and courage, light the path of accountability and progress. When the people rise in knowledge and conviction, even the most obstinate regimes must listen. As the 2027 elections approach, what Nigeria needs is not just a change of guard at the top, but a change in the moral compass at the base. A new kind of followership, enlightened, informed, ethical, and courageous, has to emerge. We must stop expecting saints from the same society that excuses corruption as “being smart” or claps for fraudsters because they brought the money home. We must teach integrity not just as a concept, but as a culture. We must build systems that reward merit, punish wrongdoing, and give power back to the people, not through slogans, but through consistent civic action. It is time to flip the script from asking who will lead us to asking how we will lead ourselves. Only then can we move from the shadows of dysfunction into the light of lasting transformation. In the end, leadership is a mirror. What it reflects is the true image of the people it leads. If we want better leaders, we must become better citizens and followers. The tragedy is not that saints are rare in leadership; the tragedy is that our society has stopped producing them. Until that changes, we will continue to elect not the leaders we need but the ones we deserve. Okoronkwo, a leadership and good governance advocate, writes from Lagos via [email protected]

Industries around the world are facing a paradox: talent shortages in key sectors and rising unemployment in others. Developed nations struggle with ageing populations, while emerging markets grapple with youth unemployment. Artificial Intelligence is seen as a potential solution, improving productivity and job matching, but concerns remain about if it can be sustainable and inclusive. Across industries, employers are having trouble finding the necessary talent at the right time, while millions remain underemployed or excluded. AI also risks displacing jobs, reinforcing bias, and widening inequality, benefiting developed nations and large firms over small businesses and developing economies. The challenge is ensuring AI addresses labour gaps ethically, inclusively, and in ways that strengthen the global workforce. ManpowerGroup’s 2025 Talent Shortage report reveals that for the first time in 10 years, businesses are reporting a decrease in skills shortages, with 76 per cent of employers reporting difficulty in filling roles due to a lack of skilled talent. The challenge is structural, affecting healthcare, logistics, engineering, and fast-growing digital fields. The global talent crunch is driven by converging forces: skills mismatches as qualifications are becoming irrelevant in evolving market demands, demographic shifts such as ageing populations in developed nations and youth unemployment in emerging economies, changing worker expectations: the desire for flexibility, purpose, and personal growth and the rapid technological disruption transforming job requirements. As companies scramble to keep pace with rapid change, the demand for future-ready talent is quickly outstripping the capacity of traditional education and workforce development models. What’s needed is investing in lifelong, modular learning that evolves with market needs; leveraging AI to enable dynamic skills mapping and personalised upskilling; strengthening partnerships between industry, education, and government; and expanding access to non-traditional and underrepresented talent pools. Ultimately, solving the talent crunch requires reshaping workforce systems for the jobs of tomorrow. AI is emerging as a transformative solution to global workforce challenges, offering tools to match, upskill, and mobilise talent. Beyond automating routine tasks, AI enables intelligent talent matching by analysing vast data on candidates, job descriptions, labour trends, and hiring outcomes. It considers hard skills, transferable capabilities, learning agility, and values alignment to deliver more inclusive and efficient hiring. However, this potential requires transparent implementation, bias audits, and integration into human-centred strategies to enhance, not replace, human judgment. AI also revolutionises personalised upskilling. Traditional one-size-fits-all training no longer meets evolving industry demands. AI-powered learning platforms assess current competencies, identify skill gaps, and deliver adaptive, modular content aligned with individual goals and shifting job requirements. This approach benefits employers by developing internal talent pipelines, reducing reliance on external recruitment, and increasing workforce agility. For employees, especially underrepresented groups, it democratises lifelong learning by making reskilling affordable, flexible, and accessible beyond traditional education barriers. At scale, personalised upskilling fosters resilience, adaptability, and career confidence amid disruption. Workforce planning and predictive insights represent another critical application. AI leverages predictive analytics to model workforce trends, aligning talent supply with future demand, mitigating economic shocks, and strengthening labour market resilience. By analysing technology adoption, demographic shifts, and economic indicators, AI anticipates emerging skill needs, guiding long-term talent strategies. Policymakers and educators can also use these insights to redesign curricula, improve vocational training, and target upskilling programmes for vulnerable populations. Healthcare exemplifies how predictive AI can avert crises by forecasting regional shortages of medical professionals, enabling proactive interventions like expanding training capacity or adjusting immigration policies. Similarly, sectors like manufacturing, logistics, energy, and public services can prepare for automation, sustainability transitions, or large-scale retirements through targeted retraining and recruitment strategies. Economically, AI-driven workforce planning reduces unemployment and job vacancies while supporting sustainable growth. Socially, it creates more equitable opportunities by helping workers prepare for future changes. However, ethical deployment is essential, with safeguards for transparency, fairness, data privacy, and bias mitigation. Ultimately, AI-powered talent matching, personalised upskilling, and predictive workforce planning shift decision-making from reactive to proactive. By combining technology with inclusive strategies, AI can build a more adaptable, equitable, and future-ready global workforce Artificial Intelligence holds great potential but is not a universal solution, and overreliance poses serious risks. Bias in training data can replicate or worsen inequalities, leading to discriminatory hiring and further marginalising disadvantaged workers. Automation threatens routine and lower-skilled roles, often without generating enough alternative employment. Additionally, digital divides exclude those lacking access, connectivity, or necessary digital skills. While AI can help address labour gaps, it may also deepen social and economic inequality unless equity, transparency, and fairness are intentionally built into its design, deployment, and workforce integration strategies. A sustainable AI talent strategy must prioritise people over technology, using AI to enhance human creativity, problem-solving, and decision-making rather than simply replacing jobs. Organisations should invest in tools that foster employee growth, engagement, and continuous learning. Equally vital is building inclusive AI ecosystems through collaboration between developers, HR leaders, and policymakers. This means ensuring AI systems are transparent, explainable, and fair by auditing algorithms for bias, protecting worker data, and making tools accessible across different languages, abilities, and education levels. Addressing the digital divide is crucial, requiring joint efforts from governments and organisations to expand access to infrastructure, education, and upskilling, particularly in underserved communities. AI can also support flexible work models: remote, hybrid, or gig-based, broadening access to talent and accommodating diverse needs. However, such flexibility must come with fair pay, safe conditions, and career growth for all workers. Ultimately, a sustainable AI workforce strategy balances technology, equity, and human potential. AI is a powerful tool, but cannot solve global workforce challenges alone, as talent shortages stem from human challenges of education, inclusion, access and opportunity. A sustainable solution requires integrating AI into a broader strategy for human capital development that prioritises equity, adaptability, and dignity at work. When used responsibly, AI can shift us from scarcity, unfilled roles and disengaged workers to alignment, where everyone has the skills, tools, and support to contribute meaningfully to the economy. Alika is an experienced human resources and business strategy professional

If any individual embodies sustained excellence in Nigeria’s healthcare, business, public service, opinion and thought leadership, it is Prince Julius Adewale Adelusi-Adeluyi, the man affectionately referred to across generations as My Lord, Pharmaceuticals. As he turns 85 on August 2, 2025, Nigeria pauses to honour a man who has remained a steady flame of integrity, versatility, and national consciousness for over six decades. He is more than a pharmacist. More than a lawyer. More than an opinion moulder. More than a businessman. Prince Juli, as he is fondly known, is a national institution, a conscience in white apparel, a visionary who lives simply but thinks deeply about the challenges and possibilities of our nation. We have so many things to say and celebrate about him: A mind forged by curiosity, guided by purpose: Prince Julius Adelusi-Adeluyi was born into royalty in Ado-Ekiti in 1940, but he chose the path of knowledge and service, not privilege. His brilliance became evident from his teenage years. At Aquinas College, Akure, he completed his secondary education ahead of his peers and emerged with a Grade One certificate and five distinctions, securing both federal and Western Region scholarships for his Advanced Level studies. In 1965, he graduated from the then University of Ife (now Obafemi Awolowo University) as one of Nigeria’s first set of Pharmacy graduates. That alone was a pioneering achievement. But for Prince Juli, the thirst for excellence is unending. In 1987, at the age of 47, he stunned the nation when he emerged as the best overall graduating student at the Nigerian Law School, proving once again that discipline and vision know no age or limitation. Today, he has published over 40 articles and policy papers across the fields of Pharmacy, Law, Health Policy, and Education. His intellectual curiosity is boundless; his mental acuity remains sharp, even at 85. Leadership on every stage: Prince Juli’s journey is a study in transformational leadership, leadership that doesn’t shout, but shapes destinies. He started early, becoming: President of the Pharmacy Students Association at the University of Ife, Vice President of the National Union of Nigerian Students  in charge of International Affairs, Secretary for Africa of the World Student Movement in the 1960s. His influence extended beyond borders. As Secretary-General of the World Student Movement, he led a delegation of African students to Nigeria during the civil war, holding talks with then Head of State, General Yakubu Gowon, a testament to his diplomatic tact and visionary clarity. In professional circles, Prince Juli has worn many caps, each with distinction: Secretary and later President of the Pharmaceutical Society of Nigeria; Founding Secretary-General of the West African Pharmaceutical Federation (now WAPCP); Founding President of the Nigerian Academy of Pharmacy; Composer of the Pharmacy Anthem still sung with pride today. His tenure at PSN was particularly impactful. He redefined the role of professional associations, making the PSN not only a community of pharmacists but a thought-leadership platform for healthcare advocacy and professional ethics. In 1993, he made history as the first and only pharmacist to serve as Minister for Health and Social Services in Nigeria. His tenure, though brief, remains a reference point for intelligent policy direction and professional decorum in governance. A career built on enterprise and integrity: In 1968, after a stellar early career with Pfizer as an Assistant General Manager, Prince Juli struck out on his own. By 1971, he had founded Juli Pharmacy Nigeria Limited, which later became Juli Pharmacy Plc, the first indigenous pharmaceutical company to be quoted on the Nigerian Stock Exchange. Juli Pharmacy was more than a company; it was a bold declaration that Nigerians can build world-class enterprises without cutting corners. Under his watch, Juli Pharmacy won the President’s Merit Award of the NSE in 1997 and 2004, and set new standards in ethical marketing, quality assurance, and local investment. He is not just a businessman. He is a builder of institutions. The conscience of a nation: Prince Juli’s philosophy of life is captured in his favourite Yoruba expression: “Mi ò yó, ṣùgbọ́n ebi ò pa mí”— “I’m not full, but I’m not hungry.” It reflects a life of balance, contentment, and principled living. Yet, beneath his elegant simplicity lies a restless soul—restless not for self, but for Nigeria’s unrealised greatness. At 85, his concerns remain urgent and sincere: That Nigeria remains rich in resources but poor in results. That millions of youths roam the streets without jobs or hope. That the pharmacy profession, despite its potential, is yet to be fully mainstreamed into public health policy. That drug distribution remains disorganised, with public safety at risk. That corruption continues to eclipse competence. These are not just passing worries. They are the pillars of his continued advocacy, the driving force behind his vision for the Nigerian Academy of Pharmacy as a hub for policy reform, innovation, and ethical rebirth. Prince Juli is not the one to give up on these issues and he will often admonish us: “Focus on your focus and you will become the focus”, a piece of advice that many of us have kept close to our hearts. The man beyond the titles: To meet Prince Juli is to encounter humility wrapped in nobility. Clad often in immaculate white, he is calm, articulate, reflective, and deeply spiritual. He is a devout Catholic, happily married to Princess Julia, and blessed with accomplished children, one of whom is also a pharmacist. He is multilingual, fluent in Yoruba, Hausa, Igbo, Latin, Spanish, and German. He is a songwriter, painter, public speaker, and passionate Rotarian. As Nigeria’s first Rotary District Governor, his service in 1984 led to the creation of a new district due to his expansion efforts. His installation was attended by Vice President Dr. Alex Ekwueme on behalf of President Shehu Shagari—a testament to his national stature. He has chaired and served on numerous boards: MTN Foundation, Odu’a Investment Ltd., University of Ibadan Council, Nigerian Conservation Foundation, Nigerian Institute of International Affairs, National Council for Population and Environmental Activities, Alumni Association of NIPSS, among others. His door remains open to all: ministers and market women, policymakers and students. His office is a sanctuary of wisdom, comfort, and courage. How do you celebrate a man like this? At 85, what gift is worthy of such a man? Not plaques. Not grand parties. But a recommitment to the ideals he lives by. We must all strive for: Excellence in our professions, not shortcuts. Service to community, not selfish ambition. Courage in leadership, not opportunism. Empowerment of the youth, not indifference. To Nigeria’s pharmacists, let this milestone reawaken our pursuit of relevance and public trust. To those in public service, let it serve as a reminder that integrity is not outdated. To our youths, let it spark hope that a life of purpose is still possible. A national treasure still shining Prince Julius Adelusi-Adeluyi is not just a man to be celebrated. He is a national compass. A symbol of what Nigeria can become if excellence meets integrity, and vision meets responsibility. At 85, he is still writing, mentoring, advising, building. He remains a mentor, a mobiliser, a moral voice, and a silent reformer. A pharmacist, a barrister, a minister, a builder, a servant-leader. He is our timeless standard of excellence. Happy 85th Birthday, My Lord Pharmaceutical. Nigeria salutes you. History will remember you for good.

Future historians of this period will one day note that the 2027 presidential election was one of the most remarkable in our national history, as it was the first campaign to begin even before the 2023 election was properly concluded. We know that in Africa, time ordinarily orbits around elections and electioneering. Since elections are the means to capture power—which is all about allocating resources anyway—all of our being cannot but revolve around the coming election. It is through the outcomes of elections that the worth of our respective tribal collectives is calibrated, and that is why we always fight to the finish. We often think of victory as a zero-sum game, even though past realities have repeatedly shown us that such victories rarely result in any meaningful difference in our lives. Following the outcome of the 2023 elections in Lagos State, its politicians began preparing for a possible repeat in 2027. However, they are not doing so by courting voters through improvements in their lives. They are instead stoking the emotional politics of revanchism. The latest controversy is the outgoing Chairman of Bariga LCDA, Kolade David, who announced the renaming of some public landmarks (some of which are named after Igbos) after Yoruba people. The import was, of course, to erase the legacy and public memory of people like Charles Oputa, the artiste popularly known as Charly Boy. But it is not just “Charly Boy” as a generic Igbo man, but Charly Boy as a hyper-visible and contrarian figure; Charly Boy specifically as a critic of APC politicians and their coterie of brownnosers. For the self-commissioned censors of political expression like David, the APC has become synonymous with Yoruba identity and non-Yorubas must either “put up or shut up”. But if David truly wanted to honour the “people who have put the name of our local council out on the global map through their respective God-given talents and craft”, as he stated at the event where he renamed those landmarks, could he also not have done so without dragging those people into the murky pit of his petty politics? By renaming the popular Charly Boy Bus Stop after the singer and rapper Olamide Adedeji (Baddo), he managed to achieve three things. One, he put Olamide in an unenviable position, where he can neither publicly accept nor reject a gift given in bad faith. Turning him into a mere substitute for the person you dislike is not honour. Rather than recognising Olamide on the strength of his contributions to his birthplace, they are drafting the social capital he has accrued to overwrite the legacy of a critic. Two, the substantial backlash that David’s little scheme of ethnic baiting generated should tell him that people are more likely to double down on calling the bus stop its original name. Names of places and landmarks grow organically around people’s lived experiences and cannot be easily swiped off through some administrative fiat. Three, this “honour to dishonour” move devalues Lagos as a cosmopolitan city that pulsates with the energy of its diverse populations. You can fight it all you like, but Lagos is only Lagos because of the creative tensions generated when people of diverse energies are thrown together in a space. But it would be naïve to think that Olamide is the only one being dragged into the sewer of this primal politics. One way or another, we are all being conscripted into a political formation that requires us to tribalise and wage a battle that distracts us from larger leadership failures. We have seen this movie before; we know how the plot unfolds. Given how Nigerians are aggravated by the hardships and the harsh hopes they have suffered through 16 years of the PDP and 10 years of the APC, they are understandably strained. The various economic constraints we have endured have severely tensed up everyone’s nervous systems, making already frustrated people hypersensitive. How else do you address the insecurities of your political base and redirect their frustrations away from you? You invent a common enemy and invite those within your ranks to bury their hatchet in its head. The tensions that follow such machination will generate a wellspring of sentiment to be resourcefully siphoned come next election. It is an old and dirty trick, and its deployment now is only remarkable because the 2027 electioneering started too soon. Several people in Lagos and the surrounding states are getting caught up in the sentiment of a politics that has nothing to do with improving their lives. They think they are being protective of their territories, and that this sort of revanchism is a must because liberalism makes one a dupe of intolerant others. But how far and how well has this politics worked for us? In what way have any of these shenanigans improved our lives? In situations like this, I remind people of Idi Amin’s Uganda, where Indians were kicked out because they held disproportionate economic power. Go to Uganda today, and you will not only still find those South Asians but even East Asians holding sway in their commercial sector. The irony of it all makes me wonder: if they had worked through their mutual fears, insecurities, and bigotry to cooperate instead of sending them away in 1972, would they not have built a greater and more prosperous country by now? Look at all the time and effort they wasted to arrive where they started. Does erasing others help us shine, or do we end up merely corroded by the negativity? Yes, we now live in a world that derides diversity, construes liberalism as a woke disease of the weak, and vehemently insists that openness to differences is naivete. All these are familiar troubles, and they recur because they are emotive issues. In societies yet to develop the competence to savvily manage differences, the issues can become a matter of life and death for the parties involved. We must not continue like this; we must move to that last stop where we no longer expend the valuable resource of time stoking the tensions that avidly consume our energy but yield no productive value. Of all the arguments I have heard about the issue of indigenous and collective ownership of Lagos, the two that stand out to me are those that highlight the differentials in interpretation by those who either want to heighten conflict or douse it. One, no human habitation is ever a “no man’s land”, but there are places in the world on which various peoples lay claim because they are joint contributors to its character and wealth. Cities like New York, London, and Singapore have become a collective heritage due to—not despite—the activities of their diverse populations; asserting a tribal domination will impoverish them. Two, claiming “we built Lagos” is part of what people say to inscribe their socio-economic relevance wherever they occupy. When Black people say their slave labour made America, or immigrants say they built the USA, it does not mean other races or non-immigrants had no part. The statement is no more preposterous than Bola Tinubu (also a non-indigene) being labelled as the “builder of Lagos”. If we must choose between ascribing that honour to either one man who uses it to gain political mileage or diverse groups of people who want an acknowledgement of their part in making a place what it is, please know I will always choose the latter.