By Mohammed Dahiru Aminu

The recent decision by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu to rename the University of Maiduguri after the late former President Muhammadu Buhari has stirred something deeper than public outrage.

It has raised difficult questions about legacy and the meaning of public institutions in a democracy.

This is not about whether Buhari deserves to be remembered or not, but about something more fundamental, which is the integrity of institutions and how societies choose to preserve or erase their memory. I recognize that Buhari, whether you liked him or not, played a significant role in Nigeria’s history. He served as a military officer, head of state and then president.

There are people who see him as a hero and others who regard his leadership with bitterness, and these reactions are normal in the life of any political figure. But today, I am not interested in debating Buhari’s legacy, as that conversation is already being had across the country and beyond. What I am more concerned with is the reckless and unnecessary renaming of the University of Maiduguri, my alma mater.

This institution has existed for half a century and has grown in stature and developed its own identity. Generations of students have passed through its gates, and its name has appeared on certificates, in research publications, in global directories, and in the memory of thousands who associate it with learning and human progress. To suddenly change this name in a moment of political sentiment is to rob the institution of the very soul that made it what it is today.

It is not in doubt that African leaders have developed a habit of tampering with public institutions to satisfy their personal or political whims, in a manner that has no intellectual merit. I believe that the very idea of renaming public universities after politicians is a lazy form of immortalization. If a leader had done something significant, there are other ways to honor him or her. You do not erase one identity to celebrate another, and if there is such a strong need to honor Buhari, then by all means build a new university and give it his name. But do not take from one to give to another.

Some also argue that universities are government property and that the government can do as it pleases with them. But we must remember that these institutions are funded by taxpayers, and every month, my earnings are deducted to fund these schools and others like them. That makes me and millions of others stakeholders in the Nigerian project.

If I were paying the same level of tax in another country, I would likely be receiving much more in return. This is to say that as a government, you cannot claim ownership of a thing you do not fund alone, and thus you do not rename a public asset without a process that involves the public.

When the Federal University of Technology, Yola was renamed Modibbo Adama University of Technology, before its current name as Modibbo Adama University, I met a police officer from one of the ethnic minorities in Adamawa, who told me that many in his community did not support the name change.

To them, Modibbo Adama did not represent their story. That name change, like others, imposed a narrow identity on a broad and diverse population. This is the danger of naming public institutions after political or historical figures, as one person’s hero may be another’s oppressor. That is why restraint is necessary, so that public institutions must feel public.

 There are already far too many places in Nigeria named after political figures. From roads to airports, stadiums to halls in government buildings, the saturation is too obvious. And the case of Buhari is no different.

Take for example, in my Maiduguri alone, the airport bears his name. A medical center in the teaching hospital bears his name. The university’s Senate building already bears his name. What more is left to name? Is this about honor or is this an overkill?

More importantly, this renaming flies in the face of common sense and global precedent. Around the world, universities rarely change names simply to honor people. In most cases where names change, it is because of serious institutional changes. For example, in the United Kingdom, the merger of University College, Cardiff and the University of Wales Institute of Science and Technology in the 1980s was driven by a financial crisis and the need for structural reform.

These led to the formation of the University of Wales College of Cardiff and later Cardiff University. This was a change borne of necessity and evolution, not sentiment. My own alma mater in the United Kingdom, Cranfield University, used to be known as Cranfield Institute of Technology.

In 1993, it became a university, and the name was changed to reflect that transition. The polytechnics that became universities in the United Kingdom in 1992 also underwent name changes to reflect their new academic statuses and missions.

None of these changes were about pleasing political leaders or immortalizing anyone. They were about function and structure.

Nowhere else in the world do you find public universities renamed simply to massage the egos of political actors, at least not in the developed countries. But that has become the Nigerian way. And even worse, those who make these changes are the same people who have neglected the institutions they now want to claim.

It was barely a month since we came out of a national conversation about the state of Nigerian universities, sparked by a professor from Ahmadu Bello University, who revealed that professors now struggle to survive. These institutions are barely standing, but the priority of the government is to stamp a political name on them.

If the government truly respect these institutions, they should fund them adequately by paying their staff well and upgrading their facilities. Let the teaching and learning that takes place within them reflect the importance of their place in society, rather than strip them of their names while denying them dignity.

But we have seen how this story will end. When former President Goodluck Jonathan attempted to rename the University of Lagos to Moshood Abiola University, the reaction was swift and fierce from the alumni, students and members of the public, who all rejected it.

The name change was scrapped and the same must happen now to retain University of Maiduguri’s name. As for me, I am taking a personal stand by continuing to use the name University of Maiduguri on every document I own. Also, I will never acknowledge the new name on any platform I control. If the decision is not reversed, then I will consider the institution I attended as no longer existing in the form I knew it.

Fortunately, I do not need a transcript from the renamed university. I hope others will join the cause, to challenge this decision whether through court action or public advocacy. For those of us who walked the halls of the University of Maiduguri, it remains one of the proudest markers of our personal and academic journeys, which are symbols we hold with deep respect and will not allow to be casually erased.

Mohammed Dahiru Aminu (mohd.aminu@gmail.com) wrote from Abuja, Nigeria.