Many voluntarily beclouded themselves with politics when the supposed PBAT “Chicago drug case” exploded and, in that political fog, lost sight of the elementary distinction between an allegation, a case and a conviction. They pursued, with remarkable determination, a conviction that never existed. I was not one of them. I dug deeply into the matter and wrote that Alhaji Atiku and his political goons were searching for what was not lost. The documentary record did not establish that Bola Ahmed Tinubu had been convicted of any drug offence in the United States or anywhere else. That episode taught us how easily political passion can obscure a simple question of evidence.
The Anthony Kila affair is of an entirely different character. This is not a political search for a conviction that does not exist; it is a public challenge to the provenance of a professorial title attached to a man who has, for years, appeared before the Nigerian public as an intellectual authority. And then came the PREMIUM TIMES bombshell: “The fake professor.” It was a rude shock precisely because Dr Anthony Kila has long been presented to the Nigerian public as a cerebral and articulate commentator on governance, economics, strategy, politics and national affairs. When the word “Professor” appeared before his name, the natural understanding of the ordinary Nigerian was that it referred to a recognised academic rank, not a colourful honorific or an informal description of intellectual mastery.
What exactly is a professor?
Perhaps, therefore, we should begin with a deceptively simple question: what exactly is a professor? Nigeria has developed an extraordinary appetite for titles. We have Chiefs, Doctors, Professors, Engineers, Fellows, Consultants, Experts and an assortment of other distinctions capable of transforming an ordinary introduction into something resembling a university convocation. There is even the cultural “Professor” — the man who has attained such mastery in his chosen craft that society crowns him with the title. The late Professor Yekini K. Ajao and Kollington Ayinla immediately come to mind. Nobody seriously imagines that the title necessarily means that such a person occupies a university professorial chair; it is an accolade of mastery.
There is also the broader international usage of the word “Professor”, particularly in jurisdictions such as the United States, where academic titles and teaching appointments do not always correspond neatly with the hierarchy Nigerians associate with the substantive rank of Professor. A person may teach at university level and be addressed as Professor without that necessarily meaning that he has attained the substantive academic rank of Professor in the Nigerian university system. Then there is the Professor that most Nigerians ordinarily understand when the title is placed before the name of an academic commentator: the conventional university professor whose status derives from an institution of higher learning, advanced scholarship, research, publications, peer assessment and a formal academic appointment or promotion.
These distinctions matter because intelligence is not a professorship, just as eloquence is not a professorship. Appearing on television every evening and dismantling an argument in fluent English does not, by itself, confer an academic rank. Nor does intellectual brilliance automatically create a university appointment. The question in the Kila controversy is therefore not whether Anthony Kila is intelligent. Nothing in the controversy requires us to deny his intellectual ability. The question is much narrower: who made him a Professor, in what capacity, by what authority, and what exactly does that professorship mean?
Who conferred the title?
According to the PREMIUM TIMES account, Dr Kila attributed his professorship to an organisation said to be the European Centre for Advanced and Professional Studies (ECAPS), which allegedly conferred the title on him in 2016. If that is indeed the foundation upon which the title has been publicly used, the questions raised by PREMIUM TIMES are not unreasonable. What exactly is ECAPS? What institution created it? What authority did it possess to confer a professorial title? Was the title an honorary distinction, a professional designation, an academic appointment or something else? Was there a certificate? What precisely did that certificate say? And, perhaps most importantly, did Dr Kila present himself merely as a person who had received a particular distinction, or did he allow the Nigerian public to understand that he was a substantive university professor?
Those are questions of evidence, not politics. They deserve answers, but they also deserve precision. The certificate may ultimately be worth more than a thousand television appearances. If there is a document establishing the provenance and nature of the title, let it be produced. If the title is genuine within the category in which it was conferred, the controversy may look very different from the sensational description “fake professor”. But the reverse is equally true. The existence of a certificate is not, by itself, the end of the inquiry. Its authenticity, the authority of its issuer, the nature of the institution, the status of the award and the meaning of the title may all legitimately be examined. A document can prove that something was conferred; it does not automatically establish that the thing conferred had the meaning the public was led to attach to it.
Allegation is not a verdict
This is also where PREMIUM TIMES must tread carefully. Calling a man a “fake professor” is not merely colourful journalism. It is capable of carrying a serious defamatory meaning because it potentially attacks his professional reputation and integrity. There is a significant difference between reporting that “questions have been raised about Dr Kila’s professorship” and declaring categorically that “Dr Kila is a fake professor”. The former identifies an unresolved controversy; the latter sounds like a conclusion. That conclusion may ultimately be justified by evidence, but until the evidence is established, responsible public discourse should distinguish an allegation or investigative finding from a judicial determination.
Of course, PREMIUM TIMES is not required to obtain a court judgment before investigating and publishing matters of legitimate public interest. Nor does the absence of a judicial finding mean that a newspaper cannot publish a damaging allegation. If the publication is substantially true, or if another recognised defence applies on the facts, the newspaper may be able to justify what it published. But there is a difference between having a legal defence and having a licence to pronounce guilt. PREMIUM TIMES is not a court; the ICPC is not a court; social media is certainly not a court; and neither am I. The proper question is whether the evidence supports the published characterisation.
The institutional consequences reported in connection with the controversy make the need for caution even greater. If an institution removes a person’s profile from its website, that does not by itself establish that he is a “fake professor”. If an institution suspends him, that is not a conviction. If the ICPC investigates, an investigation is not a verdict. These developments may be significant pieces of the evidential puzzle, but none should be mistaken for a final judicial determination. The public is entitled to know what has happened, but it is equally entitled to know what has actually been proved.
Produce the evidence before litigation
Dr Kila, for his part, has a relatively straightforward opportunity to answer the central question. Produce the certificate. Identify the institution. Explain its legal and academic status. Explain precisely what was conferred in 2016 and why the title “Professor” was used. If the documentary evidence establishes the legitimacy of the title in the sense in which it has been publicly represented, then PREMIUM TIMES would have a serious explanation to make if it nevertheless insists on the categorical description “fake professor”. If the evidence does not support the public representation, then litigation may be the least attractive response to a problem created by the evidence itself.
That is why prudence should come before litigation. The first response to an allegation of this nature should not necessarily be “sue”. It should be “produce the evidence”. If the evidence vindicates Dr Kila and PREMIUM TIMES has made a materially false and damaging assertion, then a demand for a clear retraction and apology would be entirely reasonable. And if the newspaper refuses to correct a demonstrably false allegation despite compelling evidence, legal action may then become a perfectly legitimate course. But a lawsuit cannot manufacture a professorship any more than a newspaper headline can manufacture a finding of fraud.
Nigeria’s reverence for titles
There is, however, a broader Nigerian disease exposed by this controversy: our extraordinary reverence for titles. Put “Professor” before a name, add “European” somewhere in the biography, sprinkle “Jean Monnet” into the paragraph, and suddenly many people become too intimidated to ask the most elementary questions. Professor of what? Appointed by whom? Where? Under what academic or institutional authority? Is it an honorary title, a professional distinction, a teaching appointment or a substantive academic rank? These are not insulting questions. They are questions that protect the integrity of scholarship itself.
The Tinubu episode taught us one lesson: politics can so becloud judgement that people spend enormous energy pursuing a conviction that never existed. The Kila episode may teach us the opposite lesson: do not convict before the evidence, but do not hide the evidence either. Neither political passion nor journalistic bravado should determine the truth. Neither television eloquence nor the mere existence of a certificate should settle the matter.
In the end, the question is not who sounds more like a professor, who has appeared on more television programmes, or who shouted “fake” the loudest. The question is whether the title has a demonstrable provenance and whether the public representation made about it is true. Scholarship deserves evidence; journalism deserves evidence; reputation deserves fairness; and public controversy deserves something even more fundamental — the discipline to distinguish what has been alleged from what has been proved.
And so the Anthony Kila controversy leaves us with the oldest question in law, scholarship and public life: WHO CAN PROVE IT?
- PABIEKUN (pabiekun.com)
