From Adeosun to Nnaji: The Unfinished Story of Nigeria’s Forged Elite -By Oluwafemi Popoola

Physics teaches us that motion requires force but in Nigerian politics, there’s a newer, darker variable: forgery. It’s the unseen energy that propels political careers upward, smooths Senate confirmations, and keeps entire ministries spinning on their axes. Credentials, like gravity, seem optional. It’s not the weight of merit that pulls one up, but the mass of manufactured paper.

Kemi Adeosun

So when I heard that another minister had resigned, I wasn’t shocked. It felt like déjà vu, a recurring experiment with the same predictable outcome. My mind drifted back to 2018, to the graceful and once-beloved Kemi Adeosun, Nigeria’s former Minister of Finance, or as wry Nigerians dubbed her, the “Minister of NYSC Shortcuts.” The woman who left her comfortable UK life to “serve her fatherland,” only to be served, in return, a scandal that ended her career. She resigned, disappeared into London’s drizzle, and left behind a moral question we never truly answered. But here we are again, in 2025, another minister, this time of Science and Technology, Mr. Uche Geoffrey Nnaji, has thrown in the towel. And not because his experiments failed, but because his biggest “innovation” turned out to be a forged degree and NYSC certificate.

Isn’t this so embarrassingly Nigerian? Other nations are busy designing electric cars, building AI-driven economies, exploring Mars. Meanwhile, we’re here, still stuck in the Stone Age of certificate forgery. Who bewitched this country? How did we become a nation that can manufacture excuses faster than inventions?

PREMIUM TIMES’ painstaking two-year investigation peeled off the shiny ministerial veneer and revealed that Mr. Nnaji’s credentials. Those same ones he confidently submitted to President Tinubu and the Senate in 2023, were as fake as a Nollywood bomb scene. He forged his degree and NYSC certificate, and then stood before the country, straight-faced, to swear allegiance to integrity. Guy has guts, I must say. To fool, sorry, “take care” of the DSS during screening requires a different kind of genius.

But as they say in poker, every bluff eventually meets a better player. His opponents came prepared with receipts. And when the game was up, Nnaji did what every self-respecting Nigerian politician does when caught pants down: he ran to court. Tried to pull wool over our eyes. Claimed it was all political blackmail. Then finally—when the legal smoke cleared and public outrage caught fire—he resigned

Of course, he’s not alone. His accomplices are legion. If Tinubu truly cared about corruption, Nnaji wouldn’t just resign, he’d be in jail by now, and many heads would roll. But we all know how this story goes. The moment someone asks, “Will Nnaji go to jail?” I just laugh. That’s delusion talking. Nigerians who believe that are living in a fairy tale.

Social media, that restless Nigerian parliament, has been in full session since the scandal broke. I’ve seen the comments, and they sting. One person wrote, “Imagine being Minister of Science and Technology and your biggest invention is a forged certificate.” Another added, “You don’t need a BSc to be a tech bro, but at least don’t lie about it.” My favorite was: “Among all the qualified scientists in this country, the only one Tinubu could find is someone who didn’t finish his degree program. What a discovery.”

And yet, here we are, treating forgery like a mild allergy, something to be managed, not cured. I can already picture Nnaji giving a repentant interview on TV, saying, “I stepped aside to clear my name.” Then a few months later, perhaps after the storm dies down, we might hear of him chairing some new board. That’s the Nigerian redemption arc: resign, retreat, reappear.

Meanwhile, Betta Edu’s ghost still floats around unbothered. Remember her? The Minister of Humanitarian Affairs accused of diverting funds meant for vulnerable Nigerians? She vanished from the news cycle as fast as a WhatsApp rumor. No trial, no closure. It’s almost poetic, like watching a bad sequel of the same film on repeat.

As I think about all this, I’m reminded of a line from The Great Gatsby. F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, “They were careless people… they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness.” That’s our political elite in a nutshell. They wreck institutions, fake credentials, misuse public funds, and then hide behind power.

And the rest of us? We tweet, rant, laugh, and move on. We’ve normalized scandal fatigue.
Still, there’s something deeply tragic beneath the humor. The Ministry of Science and Technology should be a symbol of innovation and progress, a beacon for our brightest minds. Instead, it’s now a punchline. When a nation’s science minister can’t even get his own education right, what hope is left for innovation?

Oluwafemi Popoola is a nigerian journalist, media strategist, and columnist. he can be reached via bromeo2013@gmail.com