A group of Nigerian academics has launched a petition against the misuse of “Dr.” and “Professor” titles. Their outrage is directed at quacks, diploma mills, and honorary degree holders who prefix their names with academic distinctions they did not earn. They call it a national disgrace.
But titles are costumes, not character. As the saying goes, the robe does not make the monk. Societies are built by conscience, not by prefixes. When the conscience collapses, credentials become nothing more than decoration. That is why this entire debate feels like a misplaced priority. Nigeria’s real disgrace is not fake titles; it is what the so-called legitimate holders of those titles have done with them.
Consider JAMB, headed by a Professor. The body cannot subject its processes to the most basic operational review before releasing results, leading to chaos and embarrassment nationwide. Where is the dignity in that professorship? WAEC has repeated the same failures year after year. If those entrusted with certifying the nation’s future cannot even run exams competently, then what weight do their titles carry?
The same rot extends into politics. The Independent National Electoral Commission routinely deploys professors, PhD holders, and vice chancellors as returning officers. What do Nigerians get in return? Elections widely dismissed as not credible, figures that don’t add up, and results declared for people who didn’t even contest. Professors suddenly “forget” arithmetic—not because they are unintelligent, but because they are compromised. Their consciences are dead. In 2023, the nation watched in disbelief as professors read out wrong results on live television while excusing themselves under “pressure.” If titles cannot guarantee integrity at the ballot box, then what exactly are we defending?
The question must then be asked: where are the referees of the referees? The National Universities Commission audits curricula, yet looks away when governance rots in the very institutions it regulates. The Academic Staff Union of Universities can shut campuses down for months over wages, yet maintains near-silence when lecturers trade grades for money or sex, or when professors collude to launder fraudulent elections. If gatekeepers will not guard the gates, then it is futile to blame the crowd for surging through.
Nor is the rot confined to politics. Within the ivory tower itself, the stench is overwhelming. Vice Chancellors loot university resources with impunity; some have even been indicted for mismanaging billions meant for infrastructure and research. Professors and lecturers demand sex for grades, money for marks, and force students to buy textbooks or handouts as a condition for passing exams. The 2019 BBC Africa Eye Sex-for-Grades investigation exposed lecturers at UNILAG and the University of Ghana trading academic progress for sexual favours. This is not scholarship. It is extortion masquerading as academia.
The bill for this decay is colossal. It produces unemployable graduates, hospitals staffed by poorly trained professionals, and classrooms led by teachers who learned to bribe rather than to think. Parents end up paying twice—first through tuition, then through extortion—to carry their children across a broken bridge. Corruption in academia does not just shame the gown; it weakens the entire economy.
So what, then, are we truly defending? A professorship that has become an avenue for plunder? A PhD that is weaponized to oppress students and compromise elections? Dignity is not in the title; it is in the conduct. And the conduct of too many Nigerian academics has dragged those once-cherished titles deep into the mud.
The truth is that Nigeria’s obsession with titles is more cultural than academic. Here, “Professor” is not treated as an appointive position, as it is in many parts of the world, but as a permanent badge of honour—clung to for life like a chieftaincy title. Judges who subvert justice are still called Honourable Justice. Politicians dripping with corruption are addressed as Their Excellencies. Senators who contribute nothing are celebrated as Distinguished. Villages proclaim themselves “Kingdoms.” Con men become “Reverends.” Mischief-makers are hailed as “Honourables.” It is all part of Nigeria’s theatre of absurdities.
And the stage managers are not only in academia. Churches, mosques, and traditional institutions mint honorary doctorates, knighthoods, and chieftaincy titles for the same compromised elites. Pulpits preach virtue on Sunday and crown vice on Monday. When sanctuaries and palaces feed the title addiction, it is little wonder that the campus overdoses. And now, in the midst of a collapsing education system, we are crying about fake “Doctors”? Spare us.
The world, unfortunately, is already taking notes. Foreign admissions officers and employers now read Nigerian transcripts with narrowed eyes—not because of roadside quacks, but because “legitimate” professors at home have vandalised standards. Every scandal travels quickly, and every silence elsewhere becomes suspicion everywhere.
The real scandal is not that unqualified individuals parade academic titles. The real scandal is that those who earned them have abused and debased them. When professors rig elections, loot institutions, trade grades for sex, and turn knowledge into a commodity, they lose every moral right to claim the dignity of their office. When PhDs bow before corrupt politicians for crumbs, the prestige of the degree evaporates. A rotten professor is far more dangerous to society than a fake one.
The damage is also generational. Students who watch professors cheat and extort learn one fierce lesson: shortcuts beat hard work. Hustle outruns honesty. That creed then colonises the civil service, the market, the clinic, and the courts. When the custodians of knowledge become traders in lies, the apprentices inherit the stall.
This decline is particularly painful because it was not always so. Nigeria once produced scholars of international standing—Chinua Achebe, Grace Alele-Williams, Wole Soyinka—whose names and works commanded respect across the globe. Their titles meant something because their character and contributions upheld them. Today, too many of their successors have traded that honour for cheap gain.
This is why the current petition against title misuse is unlikely to gain traction. Too many of Nigeria’s elites—political, religious, and academic—are complicit in the same culture of title abuse. You cannot enforce a law against an entire class of beneficiaries. It will die a natural death, drowned in the hypocrisy of its signatories and its targets alike.
Nigeria’s problem is not who gets to be called “Doctor” or “Professor.” The problem is the erosion of integrity, the celebration of mediocrity, and the worship of empty prestige. Until we deal with the rot at the heart of our academic and political culture, titles—real or fake—will remain nothing more than costumes in a national masquerade.
So, what must change? Nigerian academia must first clean its own house. Universities must enforce strict sanctions against sex-for-grades, compulsory handouts, and corruption. Election malpractice involving professors must be punished, not excused. Vice Chancellors must account for every naira of public funds. Beyond these, the country needs a concrete plan of action—one that is brief, tough, and enforceable.
The starting point is the creation of an Independent Academic Integrity Commission with real authority to investigate, prosecute, and publicly report cases involving vice chancellors, professors, and lecturers. Without an external watchdog empowered to enforce accountability, the cycle of impunity will continue unchecked. The second step is to link funding and rankings directly to ethics metrics. Universities should not receive new grants or funding unless they can demonstrate clean procurement processes, transparent audits, verifiable student feedback systems, and strong whistleblower protections. Integrity must carry tangible rewards, while corruption must bring financial consequences.
This must be reinforced by a system of naming, shaming, and sanctioning offenders. Professors found guilty of sex-for-grades or money-for-marks should face lifetime bans from supervising students or holding administrative office. When academics participate in election-rigging, the penalties should go beyond embarrassment to include professional de-licensing and criminal prosecution. Anything less simply normalizes misconduct. Alongside this, Nigeria needs a clear code of title ethics that defines how “Professor” and “Doctor” are to be used. Just as medical and legal professions enforce strict codes of conduct, academia must establish binding rules on the use of titles, with penalties significant enough to deter abuse. Prestige should reflect integrity, not vanity.
Finally, students must be guaranteed a justice system that actually works. Every campus should have an independent ombuds office with safe reporting channels where students can lodge complaints without fear of retaliation. These complaints must be resolved within a legally mandated 90-day timeline. Without speed, independence, and enforceability, justice in academia will remain a mirage.
This is the path forward. It shifts the focus from empty arguments about who deserves to wear a prefix to the deeper question of whether our institutions and their leaders deserve public trust. Because at the end of the day, the true disgrace is not the impostors—it is the “legitimate” title holders who betrayed the very honour they claim to defend.
Titles don’t build nations. Character does. Clean the conscience, and the credentials will clean themselves. Keep
