Modern campus life is undergoing a quiet but profound psychological shift. If you walk into any university hostel or library late at night, you will see students intensely staring at their screens. They are not just scrolling through social media or typing out assignments; many are having deep, highly personal conversations with artificial intelligence. Faced with intense academic pressure, social isolation, and a volatile job market, students are increasingly treating generative AI chatbots not just as functional engines, but as emotional lifelines.

This emerging phenomenon highlights what can be called the “AI Delusion”—the psychological tendency for users to attribute real human consciousness, genuine empathy, and authentic wisdom to automated language models that are simply predicting words based on statistical data. From a student’s perspective, this reliance is quietly reshaping the three foundational pillars of the higher education experience: interpersonal relationships, academic mentorship, and mental health counselling.

First, AI is radically changing the landscape of campus relationships. Loneliness remains a massive hurdle in student environments, prompting many undergraduates to turn to AI companion applications for immediate interaction.

These applications are available 24/7, never judge, and offer a simulated space of comfort. However, the delusion occurs when a student confuses this simulated, one-sided validation with a real, reciprocal relationship. While data on conversational AI shows these tools can temporarily lower perceived feelings of isolation, psychologists confirm they do not resolve structural clinical symptoms. Human relationships are naturally messy. They require conflict resolution, compromise, and mutual vulnerability. By retreating into digital relationships with chatbots, students risk letting their real-world social skills atrophy, making genuine human interaction feel too exhausting to pursue.

Second, the delusion is altering the nature of academic and career mentorship. Guidance traditionally came from professors, older peers, or university alumni who shared lived experiences, industry networks, and personal failures. Today, students frequently bypass this human network entirely, asking AI to evaluate their skills and map out their professional futures. While generative AI tools excel at formatting resumes or providing structured career advice, they carry a high risk of user over-reliance.

Educators confirm that automated tools fundamentally lack the nuanced relational, situational, and developmental depth that defines authentic human mentorship. Students who depend solely on automated advisors miss out on the critical “hidden curriculum” of professional networking and human intuition that an algorithm simply cannot simulate.

Third, and perhaps most critically, AI is transforming mental health counselling on campus. University wellness centres globally face extreme backlogs, high costs, and institutional bottlenecks, forcing students to look for alternative solutions. Consequently, an increasing number of youth now utilize AI chatbots as standalone “pocket therapists” to process anxiety and trauma. The delusion of the digital counsellor poses serious psychological risks. Large language models do not possess clinical judgment or genuine empathy. Medical experts warn that while evidence-based digital therapy apps can serve as helpful administrative or basic self-help scaffolds between sessions, they cannot substitute for a qualified human therapist. Relying on pattern-recognition robots during a severe psychological crisis can result in superficial coping mechanisms or dangerously isolated coping loops.

Ultimately, analyzing this trend from a student’s perspective reveals that technology must have strict emotional and practical boundaries. AI is an incredible tool for brainstorming, accelerating research, and enhancing productivity, but it becomes a delusion the moment we allow it to replace human depth. If our generation is to thrive in a digital future, we must treat AI as a bicycle for the mind rather than a replacement for the human heart. True growth, emotional resilience, and professional success will always require real human connections, authentic mentors, and real human empathy.

Adeyemi Ige Taiwo Oluwatosin
200-level student, Department of Development and Strategic Communication, University of Abuja.

By Abubakar Dangambo

Madinah Al-Munawwarah, the radiant city of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), occupies a unique place in the hearts of Muslims across the world. Located about 450 kilometers from Makkah, it is a city of peace, spirituality, and immense historical significance. For millions of believers, visiting Madinah is not merely a journey; it is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

Unlike many great cities of the world that are known for their skyscrapers, industries, or commercial activities, Madinah is known for something far more precious—tranquility. The moment a visitor enters the city, he is greeted by an atmosphere of calmness and serenity that is difficult to describe in words. The city seems to embrace every visitor with a sense of comfort, reminding them that they are walking on land blessed by the presence of the Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him).

At the heart of Madinah stands the magnificent Prophet’s Mosque (Al-Masjid An-Nabawi), one of the holiest sites in Islam. Within its sacred boundaries lies the house of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), where he spent much of his life and where he is buried alongside his beloved companions, Abu Bakr As-Siddiq (RA) and Umar ibn Al-Khattab (RA).

The first time I entered Madinah and subsequently stepped into the Prophet’s Mosque to observe the Maghrib and Isha prayers, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Words failed me. My eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude. For years, I had dreamed of visiting this sacred place, and suddenly I found myself standing within its walls.

As I joined thousands of worshippers in prayer, an indescribable feeling settled over me. My mind became calm, my heart found rest, and my entire body felt a comfort unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as though every burden and worry had been lifted away. The peaceful atmosphere of the mosque, combined with the spiritual presence of the place, created a feeling that remains unforgettable.

Although we arrived in Madinah late at night from Jeddah, I could hardly wait for dawn. Immediately after the Fajr prayer the following morning, I hurried back to the Prophet’s Mosque to visit the resting place of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and his noble companions.

Standing before the sacred chamber was one of the most emotional moments of my life. Tears flowed freely as I thanked Allah Almighty for granting me the opportunity to fulfill a dream I had cherished for many years. I offered my greetings and salutations to the Prophet (peace be upon him), Abu Bakr (RA), and Umar (RA), praying that Allah would count me among those who sincerely love and follow their noble example.

Another unforgettable experience was praying in Al-Rawdah, the blessed area between the Prophet’s pulpit and his house. The Prophet (peace be upon him) described it as a garden from the gardens of Paradise. Every Muslim who enters Al-Rawdah feels a special connection to history, faith, and spirituality. Being in that sacred space filled me with gratitude and humility. I spent those precious moments in prayer, reflection, and remembrance of Allah, thanking Him for His countless blessings.

What makes Madinah even more remarkable is not only its sacred sites but also the character of its people. The residents of Madinah are widely known for their kindness, hospitality, and respect for visitors. Whether in the streets, markets, hotels, or around the mosque, one encounters smiles, warm greetings, and genuine willingness to help.

The hospitality of the people reflects the legacy of the Ansar—the noble residents of Madinah who welcomed the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and his companions during the Hijrah. That spirit of generosity and care continues to live on in the city today. Visitors from every race, language, and nationality are treated with respect and dignity, making them feel at home despite being far from their own countries.

Walking through the streets of Madinah is itself a memorable experience. The city is remarkably clean, organized, and peaceful. Around the Prophet’s Mosque, worshippers from every corner of the world gather in unity, demonstrating the universal brotherhood of Islam. Despite the diversity of cultures and languages, everyone is united by the same faith and love for Allah and His Messenger.

My stay in Madinah lasted only two days before I departed for Makkah to commence the rites of pilgrimage. Yet those two days remain among the most cherished moments of my life. The joy, comfort, spiritual fulfillment, and inner peace I experienced are memories that can never be erased.

Even now, whenever I reflect on those blessed days, my heart longs to return. Madinah is not simply a city one visits; it is a city that captures the soul. Its beauty lies not only in its buildings or landmarks but in the tranquility it offers, the history it preserves, and the spiritual connection it nurtures.

As I conclude this reflection, I pray that Allah, the Most Merciful, grants me another opportunity to visit Madinah and the Prophet’s Mosque. I also pray that every Muslim who desires to visit the blessed city will one day be granted that privilege.

May Allah continue to shower His peace and blessings upon our beloved Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), his family, his companions, and all those who follow his guidance until the Day of Judgment.

Ameen.

By Alhassan Bala

The annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014 marked not only a violation of international law but also the beginning of a systematic campaign to undermine the cultural identity of the Crimean Peninsula’s indigenous people.

The Crimean Tatars, who had already endured one of history’s most devastating forced deportations under Joseph Stalin, now face a renewed threat as Russia continues efforts that many observers say are aimed at eroding their language, culture, and religious freedoms.

According to discussions with representatives of the Crimean Tatar community, the current situation goes beyond cultural suppression. It is, they argue, a gradual process of cultural extinction.

The Crimean Tatars have survived persecution before. In 1944, Stalin ordered the mass deportation of the entire Crimean Tatar population from their homeland to Central Asia. Packed into cattle cars and transported under inhumane conditions, nearly half of the deportees died during the journey or in the early years of exile.

It took decades for survivors and their descendants to return to Crimea and rebuild their communities following the collapse of the Soviet Union.

I recently met several Crimean Tatars, and hearing their accounts of how their grandparents endured displacement, hardship, and persecution was deeply moving.

Their stories are a reminder of the resilience of a people determined to preserve their identity despite repeated attempts to erase it.

Today, more than seventy years after Stalin’s deportations, history appears to be repeating itself in a different form. Rather than relying on mass expulsions, Russia is accused of employing more subtle methods, including institutional discrimination, restrictions on religious practice, and the gradual erosion of linguistic and cultural identity.

Language is central to the survival of any people, and critics say Russian authorities understand this well. Since the annexation, Crimean Tatar-language education has reportedly been significantly reduced.

Schools that once provided instruction in the Crimean Tatar language have been encouraged or compelled to switch to Russian. Crimean Tatar textbooks have become increasingly scarce, while educators who seek to preserve indigenous-language instruction face growing challenges.

The Ukrainian language has faced a similar decline. Prior to 2014, Ukrainian was widely taught and spoken throughout Crimea.

Today, opportunities to study both Crimean Tatar and Ukrainian have reportedly been reduced dramatically. In many cases, Crimean Tatar language instruction is limited to only a few hours per week, while Ukrainian-language education has largely disappeared from public institutions.

Critics describe this as a form of linguistic colonialism. By restricting access to education in native languages, they argue, future generations become increasingly disconnected from their cultural heritage.

Over time, languages that once flourished in Crimea risk becoming marginalized in the very homeland where they originated.

For the predominantly Muslim Crimean Tatar community, concerns extend beyond language to the practice of their faith.

Human rights organizations have documented reports of mosque raids, arrests of religious leaders, and restrictions on religious education.

The Mejlis, the representative body of the Crimean Tatar people, was banned by Russian authorities as an “extremist organization,” a move widely condemned by international observers.

Young Crimean Tatar men have faced particular scrutiny. Many have been detained and prosecuted under allegations of affiliation with Hizb ut-Tahrir, an organization that is legal in Ukraine but prohibited in Russia.

Human rights advocates have questioned the fairness of some of these prosecutions, citing concerns over evidence and due process.

Reports also indicate that religious literature has been confiscated and that Islamic educational activities have been subjected to increased restrictions.

For many Crimean Tatars, these measures reinforce a perception that maintaining their distinct religious and cultural identity has become increasingly difficult under Russian rule.

Crimean Tatar citizen journalists who document human rights abuses face heavily militarized show trials. Many are sentenced to decades in Russian penal colonies. Journalists face forced disappearances, physical violence, and raids on their homes. For example, Iryna Danylovych, a freelance reporter, was abducted by the FSB and transferred to a Russian prison.

The international community must continue to pay attention to the situation in Crimea. The Crimean Tatars survived Stalin’s attempt to destroy their nation and identity.

They rebuilt their communities from the ashes of exile and deserve the opportunity to preserve what they have fought so hard to reclaim—their language, their faith, their culture, and their homeland.

In this regard, the efforts of the Crimea Platform, an international initiative established to keep global attention focused on Crimea and the challenges faced by its people, remain important.

Through dialogue, advocacy, and international engagement, the platform continues to highlight the plight of Crimeans and the need for a peaceful and just resolution.

Alhassan Bala writes from Abuja, Nigeria.