Opinion
Private Schools And State Policy
Private schools, students, teachers and owners deserve meaningful support from both the state and the federal governments. This simple truth seems to have suffered negligence by successive political leaders. Although the need to support private schools has been a subject of debate, one should not argue the fact that every child should be given equal right and access to quality education.
The Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) signed by 189 countries and 23 international organisations at the United Nations General Assembly in September 2000, provides that every child be given equal access to education, whether in public or in private schools. With children under 16 years of age accounting for about 46 percent of the country’s population, one would admit the fact that public schools cannot cater for the current educational demand. Private schools must, therefore, work hand-in-hand with public schools to meet this growing need.
Currently, not every child between the age of three and 14 has access to education. A 2014 UNICEF report indicates that more than 10.5 million children are out of school. This could either be as a result of the current ratio of students to teachers in public schools, or as a result of the amount needed to enroll in private schools.
The Universal Basic Education, a program lunched in1999 by the Nigerian Government to provide free primary and secondary education for all, seems not to have been successful, especially for students in private schools, who are not benefitting from State budget on education.
In Australia, for instance, both state and territory governments provide supplementary fund for nongovernment schools.
According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, the Australian Government provides grants for science laboratories and equipment in both government and non-government (private) schools. Besides, major assistance to finance libraries in both government and non-government schools are provided yearly in their fiscal policy.
But here in Nigeria, the situation is very different. Those who find themselves in private schools, whether as students, teachers or minders, are only separating themselves from State purse.
Private school teachers for instance do not benefit from State budget; the government would rather visit them periodically to check their lesson notes, ask for their qualifications, check their class performance and probably ask some job-threatening questions. Those who are extremely qualified could end up receiving a hand shake from top “political gurus”. That ends it. Their prospect of retirements has no place in government policy.
Although many private school teachers are poorly paid, no government has ever considered supporting them. To governments at all levels, placing militants on annual salaries, declaring amnesty for a terrorist group, buying special cars for selected individuals, wining an election, or spending billions of naira at a political rally is more important than organising a training programme for teachers in both private and public schools.
One would have thought that, rather than just fixing a date for the inspection of private schools, and invading the mass media with such news as part of efforts to keep relevant in the public space, the government could invest on teachers training programmes, subsidize students school fees in private schools, and aid the provision of facilities in all approved private schools.
Such efforts would widen educational opportunities, give equal access to education, especially at the primary and secondary levels, eradicate extreme poverty and hunger, promote gender equality and youth empowerment, reduce child mortality, combat some chronic diseases like HIV/AIDS, and reduce the rate of crime in the States as well as in the country at large
The N30 billion allocated by the Rivers State Government in the 2018 budget for educational infrastructure, as well as improving the quality of education should go round. ‘Let it go round’. Students and teachers in private schools should benefit.
Governor Nyesom Wike should distinguish himself from his predecessors who only acted like the Asian giants of the ancient capitalist class, and remained incurably addicted to the problems of double taxation, renewed registrations, selling of multiple stickers, and incessant harassment of private school owners.
The Wike-led administration should take proactive measure in ensuring that students in both public and private schools benefit from government spending especially as it affects their education. One should not be denied access to the State government commitment towards educational reform, simply because he schools or teaches in a private school.
As the current academic session ends successfully and the third term academic session is being anticipated, the decades of negligence and indifference towards the plight of students, teachers and owners of private schools should end. The government should wake up to a fresh dispensation of justice, equity and fairness.
Private school students, teachers and owners should equally benefit from State budget on education.
James writes from Port Harcourt.
John James
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
