By Sufyan Lawal Kabo | Political Commentator and Civic Analyst
sefjamil3@gmail.com

The most valuable counsel a leader can receive is rarely the most comfortable. It does not arrive wrapped in flattery or delivered through the careful diplomacy of those whose proximity to power has made honesty a professional risk. It comes, instead, from those who have no personal stake in the leader’s approval, whose only investment is in the success of the larger cause, and who understand, from the clear-eyed distance of genuine civic concern, what the leader’s inner circle is too close, too cautious, or too compromised to say plainly. It is in that spirit, with deep and sincere respect for the leadership of Kano State and genuine appreciation for the efforts of His Excellency Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, the Jagoran Kano First, that these reflections are offered. Not as an open letter, but as a general meditation on the political moment Kano finds itself in, so that everyone with a stake in the state’s future, governors and governed, appointees and ordinary citizens alike, can benefit from an honest reckoning with where we are and where we are headed.
The political landscape of Kano State has shifted dramatically in recent months. Governor Yusuf’s alignment with the All Progressives Congress has reconfigured the state’s political geometry in ways that are still working themselves out, generating new alliances, reopening old wounds, and producing the kind of charged political atmosphere in which the temptations of reactive communication are at their most dangerous and the need for strategic wisdom is at its most acute. A significant number of politicians have moved with the governor, drawn by conviction, by calculation, or by the simple pragmatism that has always characterized Kano’s political culture. But the alignment has also generated intense opposition, particularly from within the Kwankwasiyya movement, whose supporters feel a sense of betrayal that is as emotionally powerful as it is politically consequential. As the 2027 elections approach, that opposition will not diminish. Every credible political analyst agrees that the coming contest between the Abba camp and the Kwankwasiyya will be among the most competitive and consequential Kano has seen in recent memory, quite possibly more intense than the earlier rivalry between the Kwankwasiyya and Gandujiyya camps.
The evidence of this intensifying contest is already visible in the digital public square. Social media comment sections beneath posts related to the governor’s activities have become battlegrounds of competing narratives, some constructive, many not. Critics deploy phrases like Falle Daya Ce, meaning one tenure only, with the rhythmic insistence of a political chant. The Kano First Agenda, championed with such intellectual seriousness by the Commissioner for Information and Internal Affairs, Comrade Ibrahim Abdullahi Waiya, widely and respectfully known as the Limamin Kano First, has been met with the sarcastic counter-phrase Kwano First, a deliberate attempt to trivialize a governing philosophy whose substance deserves engagement rather than mockery. These are the realities of a competitive democratic environment, and they demand a response. The question, and it is the most important political question facing the administration right now, is what kind of response.
The answer that too many supporters, aides, and communication officers around the governor have been providing is, to put it plainly, the wrong one. There is a pattern of engagement with critics and opposition voices that relies on emotional intensity where intellectual authority is required, on personal attacks where factual correction would be far more effective, and on the language of political combat where the language of governance achievement would be infinitely more persuasive. The public exchange between Dr Yusuf Kofar Mata, a former Commissioner for Higher Education and Science and Technology who departed after the political realignment, and Comrade Saidu Dakata of the Kano State Signage and Advertisement Agency, is instructive in this regard. Dakata’s approach, grounded in facts and delivered with composure, represents the model that every government communicator and supporter should study and emulate. Dr Kofar Mata’s departure and subsequent criticism represent a pattern of political transition that is entirely normal in democratic politics, and the appropriate response to it is not personal hostility but the patient, evidence-based demonstration that the administration’s record speaks for itself.
This brings me to a point that I consider the most urgent communication lesson facing the Yusuf administration as it navigates the approach to 2027. The individuals who occupy communication roles around government do not speak only for themselves. They speak, whether they appreciate this or not, for the government they represent and for the governor whose vision they are entrusted to project. When their language is undignified, when their responses are emotional rather than evidential, when they mistake noise for effectiveness and aggression for strength, they do not merely embarrass themselves. They inflict reputational damage on the administration that no subsequent clarification can fully repair. A government spokesperson, a ministry official, a strategic appointee, these are not party supporters free to conduct themselves as partisans in a street argument. They are, in every public utterance, the voice of governance itself, and the standard to which that voice must be held is the standard of statesmanship, not political thuggery.
There is a deeper strategic error in the adversarial approach to opposition that I want to name directly, because it is one that has cost many Nigerian administrations dearly in the critical period before a contested election. Fighting the opposition, particularly a well-organized and emotionally motivated opposition like the Kwankwasiyya, does not weaken it. It energizes it. Every confrontation becomes a recruitment tool. Every insult directed at a critic generates sympathy among the undecided. Every demonstration of governmental arrogance reminds citizens who are watching carefully that power, when it forgets its purpose, becomes indistinguishable from the very thing it replaced. The comment sections and social media threads that carry intense opposition to the governor are not primarily problems to be suppressed. They are political intelligence to be read, understood, and responded to with the kind of persuasive, patient, dignity-preserving engagement that converts skeptics into supporters rather than driving them deeper into the opposing camp.
History offers an instructive parallel that transcends cultural boundaries. When Liu Bang, the founder of the Han Dynasty, defeated the rival warlords who had contested the collapse of the Qin dynasty, he faced a choice that every leader in a contested political environment eventually faces: humiliate the defeated or absorb them. He chose absorption. He extended dignity and opportunity to former rivals, integrated their networks and constituencies into his growing coalition, and in doing so built a political foundation that sustained one of the most consequential dynasties in Chinese history. The lesson, ancient as it is, has lost none of its relevance. Strong leaders do not multiply enemies. They convert rivals into partners, or at the very minimum, they manage the relationship with former allies and current critics in ways that leave open the possibility of future reconciliation. The Quranic wisdom is equally direct and equally applicable: good and evil are not equal, and evil repelled with what is better produces a transformation that no amount of force or confrontation can achieve.
There is also a matter of democratic principle that deserves honest acknowledgement. From the moment a person is sworn in as governor, he ceases to be merely the leader of a political movement or the champion of a particular constituency. He becomes the governor of an entire state, responsible to every citizen within its boundaries regardless of how they voted, what party they support, or what they said about him during the campaign. The Kano First philosophy itself, in its most intellectually serious articulation, embodies this understanding. It insists that the interests of Kano must always take precedence over the interests of any party, any faction, or any individual. That principle cannot be selectively applied. It cannot mean Kano First when it is politically convenient and NNPP or APC first when political loyalties are under pressure. Its credibility depends entirely on its consistency, and its consistency depends on the willingness of the governor and everyone around him to hold themselves to the standard it sets, even when, especially when, it is politically costly to do so.
I want to address, with particular directness, the tendency among some government-aligned voices to disparage citizens and political figures who do not hold appointments, as though proximity to power were a measure of worth, wisdom, or loyalty. This is a dangerous and ultimately self-defeating attitude. Many of the individuals who supported this political movement through its most difficult years, who spent their own resources, sacrificed professional opportunities, and in some cases faced genuine personal risk because of their commitment to a cause, occupy no position today. The reasons for that are varied and are not, in most cases, a reflection of their competence or their loyalty. When those who have recently arrived at the table of power look down upon those who helped set it, they reveal not strength but insecurity, not confidence but the brittle arrogance of those who have confused the accident of appointment with the substance of achievement.
Kano politics has always been won through coalitions, through the patient assembly of diverse constituencies, interest groups, and political networks into a broad enough tent to command a democratic majority. The governor’s own political journey is a testament to this truth. His rise was built on the foundations of a movement that was itself a coalition, and the loyalty and hope of the people who believed in that movement were the currency with which his political capital was purchased. As 2027 approaches, the question is not whether opposition will intensify. It will. The question is whether the administration will respond to that intensification with the wisdom, dignity, and strategic intelligence that the moment demands, expanding its coalition where it can, managing its critics with composure, and allowing the genuine achievements of the Kano First Agenda to make the most powerful argument that any government can make: the argument of visible, verifiable, citizen-felt results.
Our elders captured this wisdom with characteristic economy: Mai hikima gada yake ginawa ba bango ba. A wise person builds bridges, not walls. The administration of Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf has the vision, the intellectual resources, the policy framework, and the genuine achievements necessary to make a compelling case to the people of Kano. What it must also cultivate, with urgency and deliberate discipline, is the political maturity to pursue that case through persuasion rather than confrontation, through the steady demonstration of competence and integrity rather than the noisy prosecution of political rivalries. History remembers those who unified more fondly than those who divided. Kano deserves a government determined to be remembered well.

Sufyan Lawal Kabo is a political commentator and civic analyst based in Kano State.
Contact: sefjamil3@gmail.com

By Saminu Umar Ph.D | Senior Lecturer, Department of Information and Media Studies, Bayero University, Kano surijyarzaki@gmail.com

There is a particular loneliness that attaches itself to leaders who choose the harder path. It is not the loneliness of isolation, of having no one around them, because such leaders are almost always surrounded by people, by aides and advisers, by supporters and well-wishers, by the constant human traffic of political life. It is a deeper and more demanding loneliness, the loneliness of the person who must make decisions that others will not fully understand until long after the moment has passed, who must absorb criticism that cuts personally while continuing to serve publicly, and who must find, in the space between the weight of expectation and the limits of human capacity, the daily resolve to keep going. It is the loneliness, in short, of genuine leadership. And it is a loneliness that Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf of Kano State has come to know with an intimacy that his most vocal critics, comfortable in the uncomplicated freedom of opposition, will perhaps never fully appreciate.
To understand the moral courage that underlies the Kano First Initiative, one must first understand the political inheritance that Governor Yusuf carried into office. He did not arrive at Government House, Kano, as a political outsider unburdened by prior obligations and free to govern purely on the basis of his own convictions. He arrived as a product of a political movement, as a leader whose rise had been enabled by a coalition of forces, interests, and personalities whose expectations did not always align with the needs of the twenty-two million citizens whose welfare his oath of office placed in his hands. The tension between those expectations and those needs, between the claims of political loyalty and the demands of public service, is one that every Nigerian governor faces to some degree. What distinguishes Governor Yusuf’s story is not that he faced this tension, but what he chose to do when it became impossible to navigate it without choosing a side.
He chose his people. And that choice, made at considerable personal and political cost, is the foundation on which the entire moral architecture of the Kano First philosophy rests.
The financial scandals that emerged in the early period of his administration, the billion-naira deductions imposed on local governments, the Novamed controversy that drained hundreds of millions from the state’s healthcare resources, were not merely governance crises. They were personal trials of a particularly painful kind. Here was a governor, widely regarded even by his critics as genuinely humble, intellectually serious, and personally committed to the welfare of Kano’s people, discovering that the machinery beneath him had been partially rewired to serve interests other than the ones he had been elected to serve. His public acknowledgement that he had not been fully aware of the transactions in question was seized upon by political opponents as evidence of weakness or incompetence. It was, in fact, something considerably rarer in Nigerian public life: an honest man’s honest admission that he had been deceived by those he trusted.
Consider for a moment what that moment must have felt like. A governor who came to office with genuine idealism, with a sincere desire to honor the trust that millions of Kano citizens placed in him, confronted with the reality that the very people positioned closest to the levers of power were using those levers for purposes that betrayed everything he stood for. The temptation in such a moment, particularly for a leader whose political survival depended on maintaining the unity of a broad and sometimes fractious coalition, would have been to minimize, to manage, to find a quiet accommodation that preserved the alliance without confronting the rot. That is, after all, what Nigerian political culture most frequently rewards. Confrontation is costly. Accommodation is comfortable. And the short-term arithmetic of political survival almost always favors the comfortable choice.
Governor Yusuf did not make the comfortable choice. He made the courageous one. The decision to break decisively from the suffocating grip of godfatherism, to place the interests of Kano above the expectations of political patrons, and to govern on the basis of his own convictions and his own accountability to the people who elected him, was not a carefully calculated political maneuver. It was a moral act, born of the recognition that the alternative was a betrayal too profound to live with. And moral acts of that magnitude always carry a price. The price, in his case, was the loss of alliances, the intensification of opposition, and the kind of sustained political hostility that now defines Kano’s pre-election landscape. He paid that price willingly. The people of Kano should understand what that willingness cost him.
It is within this context of demonstrated moral courage that the Kano First Initiative must be understood, not as a political programme designed by a communications department, but as the governing expression of a personal conviction that has been tested under genuine pressure and has held. When Governor Yusuf says that Kano must come first, that the interests of its citizens must take precedence over every political calculation and every personal consideration, he is not reciting a slogan. He is articulating, in the language of policy, the same principle that guided his most difficult personal decisions. The Kano First philosophy and the Kano First governor are not separate things. They are the same thing, the same commitment, expressed in two different registers, one personal and one institutional.
The Kano First Initiative, developed with remarkable intellectual seriousness under the stewardship of the Honourable Commissioner for Information and Internal Affairs, Comrade Ibrahim Abdullahi Waiya, gives this personal commitment its institutional architecture. The comprehensive policy framework for social and institutional reorientation that the ministry has produced is not merely a communication strategy or a governance programme in the conventional sense. It is an attempt to translate a governor’s moral convictions into a durable, evidence-based, culturally grounded framework for societal renewal, one that addresses not just the material needs of Kano’s citizens but the deeper normative and behavioral foundations on which sustainable development depends. It is, in the most meaningful sense, a document that reflects the character of the man whose administration produced it.
What strikes the honest observer about Governor Yusuf, and what his critics most consistently fail to account for in their assessments, is the combination of intellectual humility and moral steadfastness that defines his leadership style. He does not govern with the theatrical confidence of the politician who has never doubted himself. He governs with the quieter and more durable resolve of the person who has examined his own convictions carefully, found them worth defending, and committed himself to defending them regardless of the political weather. That quality is not weakness. In the context of Nigerian governance, where the pressures to compromise, to accommodate, and to prioritize political survival above all else are relentless and overwhelming, it is an exceptional strength.
His supporters understand this, and their loyalty is of a kind that is not easily manufactured by political machinery. It is the loyalty of people who have watched a leader face genuine difficulty and choose principle over convenience, who have seen him absorb attacks without losing his dignity or abandoning his purpose, and who believe, on the basis of observable evidence rather than mere political faith, that the man at the head of Kano’s government is genuinely trying to do right by the people he serves. That belief is a political asset of incalculable value, and it is one that no amount of opposition noise or digital hostility can easily erode, because it is rooted not in perception management but in the accumulated testimony of lived experience.
To the people of Kano who are watching the intensifying political contest that the approach of 2027 has already set in motion, this writer offers a simple appeal: look past the noise. Look past the slogans and the counter-slogans, the social media battles and the political calculations, the claims and the counter-claims that will multiply in volume and intensity as the election approaches. Look at the man. Look at the decisions he has made when making the right decision was costly. Look at the initiative his administration has championed, not in its press releases and communication campaigns, but in its intellectual substance and its institutional seriousness. Ask yourself whether Kano has recently had a governor who brought this combination of personal integrity, moral courage, and genuine policy seriousness to the task of governing a state whose people have waited too long for a leader worthy of their loyalty.
Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf is not a perfect man, and he has never claimed to be. He governs in conditions of extraordinary difficulty, navigating resource constraints, political pressures, institutional weaknesses, and social challenges that would test the most experienced and best-resourced administration in the world. He has made mistakes, as every leader does, and he will make more. But what he has also done, and what the Kano First Initiative represents most fundamentally, is to make the choice that defines a leader’s legacy more than any project or programme ever can: the choice, when it truly mattered, to put his people before his politics. Kano has not always been fortunate enough to be able to say that about its governors. At this moment in its history, it can. And that, in the judgment of this writer, is worth far more than the political noise that currently surrounds it.
Saminu Umar Ph.D is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Information and Media Studies, Bayero University, Kano. surijyarzaki@gmail.com

There are political From Aminu Kano to Kano First: Reviving a Tradition of People-Driven Politics that arrive in their time and there are political ideas that arrive before their time, ideas whose significance is not fully understood until the moment has passed and history, with its characteristic unhurried clarity, has arranged the evidence into a pattern that the present could not see. The philosophy of Malam Aminu Kano was, for much of its duration, one of the latter. In the political environment of mid-twentieth century Northern Nigeria, dominated by the patrician certainties of the NPC and the conservative social order that sustained them, Aminu Kano’s insistence that politics must belong to the talakawa, to the ordinary men and women who had for so long been governed without being consulted, was radical enough to be dismissed, marginalised, and persistently defeated at the ballot box. Yet the idea refused to die. It lodged itself in the political consciousness of Kano’s people with a tenacity that no electoral defeat could dislodge, and it shaped, over the decades that followed, the civic culture of a state that has consistently demanded more of its leaders than most Nigerian states have ever thought to ask.
It is against the backdrop of that long, unfinished democratic inheritance that the Kano First philosophy of Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf must be understood and assessed. The connection between Aminu Kano’s people-driven politics and the Kano First Initiative is not merely rhetorical or historical. It is structural. Both rest on the same foundational conviction: that the legitimacy of governance derives not from the power of those who govern but from the quality of service rendered to those who are governed, that politics is not a competition for personal advancement but a vocation of collective service, and that the measure of a leader is not the durability of his hold on power but the tangible improvement he delivers to the lives of the ordinary citizens who trusted him with it. Aminu Kano articulated this conviction in the language of his era. Governor Yusuf is attempting to institutionalize it in the language and the instruments of his.
The historical significance of this attempt should not be underestimated. Kano’s political culture, for all its celebrated civic consciousness, has not been immune to the distortions that have afflicted Nigerian democracy more broadly. The decades that separated Aminu Kano’s era from the present have not been, in the main, decades of deepening democratic practice. They have been decades of military interruptions, institutional decay, the rise of godfatherism as a governing logic, the progressive colonization of public resources by private interests, and the gradual but devastating erosion of the civic values that once made Kano’s political culture a genuine source of national inspiration. The generation of young Kano citizens that Governor Yusuf now governs is a generation that has inherited the memory of Aminu Kano’s idealism without, in most cases, having experienced the kind of governance that idealism was supposed to produce. Their political consciousness is real and it is sharp, but it has been sharpened more by disappointment than by affirmation, more by the evidence of what governance has failed to deliver than by the experience of what it can achieve when it is genuinely committed to the people’s welfare.
The Kano First Initiative is, in its deepest ambition, an attempt to change that experience. Not through grand proclamations or the manufactured optimism of political communication, but through the patient, evidence-based, institutionally serious work of rebuilding the relationship between Kano’s government and Kano’s citizens on foundations of genuine trust, demonstrated accountability, and the visible alignment between what government says and what government does. The comprehensive policy framework produced under the intellectual stewardship of the Honourable Commissioner for Information and Internal Affairs, Comrade Ibrahim Abdullahi Waiya, the man widely and deservedly known as the Limamin Kano First, is the most concrete expression of this ambition. It draws on Islamic ethical governance, on Kano’s own sociocultural heritage, and on the modern science of behavioral change to construct a framework for societal renewal that is simultaneously rooted in Kano’s deepest traditions and responsive to the challenges of its contemporary reality. Aminu Kano would have recognized its spirit immediately.
The administration’s approach to youth inclusion deserves particular emphasis, because it addresses what is perhaps the most politically consequential dimension of Kano’s current social reality. Kano is an overwhelmingly young society, a society in which the aspirations, energies, and frustrations of a vast and rapidly growing youth population represent both the greatest potential resource and the most serious governance challenge that any administration must navigate. The deliberate opening of leadership opportunities to young professionals, the integration of youth into governance structures rather than merely into election campaigns, and the linking of youth-focused communication with concrete economic empowerment programmes, including skills development, entrepreneurship support, and market-based outreach, all reflect an understanding that political engagement divorced from economic opportunity is ultimately unsustainable. Young people who are given a genuine stake in their society’s progress do not become agents of its destabilization. They become its most committed defenders.
The policy record across education, healthcare, and economic empowerment provides the material evidence on which the Kano First narrative ultimately depends for its credibility. Teacher recruitment, school renovation, the expansion of access to learning resources, the strengthening of free and compulsory education, the upgrading of primary healthcare facilities in rural communities, the introduction of economic empowerment programmes targeting small businesses, farmers, and artisans, these are not merely programmatic achievements to be listed in a governance report. They are, taken together, the concrete expression of a governing philosophy that insists on the connection between political commitment and lived improvement, between the language of people-first governance and the reality of people-felt results. In the tradition of Aminu Kano, who always insisted that politics must be judged by what it delivers to the poorest and most vulnerable members of society, it is precisely this connection that gives the Kano First Initiative its moral weight.
The role of strategic communication in sustaining this connection between policy and public understanding cannot be overstated, and it is here that Comrade Waiya’s contribution to the Kano First project becomes most visibly consequential. In the information environment of contemporary Kano, where social media platforms amplify misinformation with a speed and reach that no previous generation of communicators has had to contend with, the quality of government communication is not merely a matter of public relations. It is a governance necessity. Citizens who do not understand the policies that are being implemented in their name cannot meaningfully participate in the civic life that those policies are designed to strengthen. The ministry’s investment in grassroots communication networks, in the training of information officers across all forty-four local government areas, in partnerships with media organizations and civil society bodies, and in the development of Hausa-language content that reaches the communities that matter most, is the infrastructure of democratic participation, built deliberately and maintained consistently in the service of the people-driven politics that both Aminu Kano and the Kano First Initiative champion.
The broader implications of the Kano First philosophy for Nigeria’s democratic evolution are worth stating explicitly, because they extend well beyond the boundaries of a single state. Nigeria is a country whose democratic experience has been persistently disfigured by the subordination of governance to politics, by the tendency of those who gain power to use it primarily in the service of their own continuation rather than in the service of the citizens who granted it. The Kano experience, if it succeeds in demonstrating that people-centered governance is not merely an aspirational slogan but a practical, institutionally realizable commitment, has the potential to contribute something genuinely valuable to the national conversation about what democratic leadership in Nigeria can and should look like. Kano has done this before. The political education that Aminu Kano provided to an entire generation of Nigerian democrats did not stay within Kano’s boundaries. It traveled, through the networks of civic consciousness that genuine political ideas always generate, into the broader national conversation. The Kano First Initiative has the same potential, if it is sustained with the seriousness and consistency that its intellectual foundations deserve.
Like any political philosophy, the long-term success of Kano First will ultimately be measured not by the quality of its documentation or the sophistication of its communication, but by the depth of its penetration into the daily experience of Kano’s citizens, by whether the young woman in Sabon Gari market feels that her government has genuinely prioritized her welfare, by whether the farmer in Rano Local Government Area has seen tangible improvement in the services available to him, by whether the student in a Kano public school has reason to believe that the system she is part of is genuinely committed to her future. These are demanding tests, and they will not be passed overnight. But they are the right tests, and the fact that the Kano First Initiative has chosen to submit itself to them, rather than retreating to the easier metrics of political performance, is itself a demonstration of the seriousness that the legacy of Aminu Kano demands.
Aminu Kano spent a lifetime insisting that the people of Kano deserved better. Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, through the Kano First Initiative and the governing philosophy it represents, is making the same insistence in the language and the instruments of a new era. Whether that insistence is vindicated by history will depend on many things, on the quality of implementation, the resilience of commitment, the engagement of citizens, and the willingness of every institution in Kano’s civic life to claim this agenda as its own. But the insistence itself, grounded in the same democratic conviction that animated one of Nigeria’s greatest political figures, is already something worth honoring. Kano has always known, at its best, what politics is for. The Kano First Initiative is an invitation to remember.

Munir I. Publisher is a political historian and governance analyst based in Kano State.