Criticism With Control,
By Yahaya Kana Ismaila
Criticism is an integral, if not the most important, part of democracy. The Oxford English Dictionary defines criticism as “the expression of disapproval of someone or something on the basis of perceived faults or mistakes; the analysis and judgement of the merits and faults of something.” This meaning gives us insight into what it is; and, I want to add, what it isn’t. Experts have expanded on this definition to distinguish between constructive criticism and its blind or blanket variant.
Criticising leaders is expected to keep them on their toes, not to serve as sport or theatre. When we criticise, we ought to present alternative facts and better options. That, for me, is the dividing line between noise and contribution.
Take Nasarawa State for instance. I have consistently insisted that the government’s decision to spend over ₦30 billion combined on the construction of the Lafia and Akwanga under/overpasses amounts to a failure of prioritisation. Those projects, in my view, are white elephants in an era when rural education roads, healthcare, investment in farming, and artisanal mining should be the urgent focus. These are areas where our dear Nasarawa state has a comparative advantage. While the two under/overpasses add only aesthetic value, investing in rural education, infrastructure, healthcare, agriculture, and mining bring tangible economic benefits. Employment, internal revenue generation, and improved access to quality education consistent with the Millennium Development Goals are direct impacts of investing in our rural areas.
Continuing this line of argument, the greatest white elephant project in Nasarawa State is the Shehu Usmanu Dan Fodio Airport in Lafia. Ordinarily, such a project could have become a money-spinner for the state, but its conceptualisation ignored key factors that could have made it viable. The result is, well, another prestige project with little value to the people wasting inside a sea of grass in Kwandare.
History offers us more examples. The International Market in Mararaba-Gurku, built by Sen. Abdullahi Adamu, and several modern markets built under the Tanko Al-Makura regime continue to rot away unused. The Mararaba-Gurku market is particularly baffling. Looking at how jam-packed Marararaba-Gurku is, that market should have been a hub of trade, an option for decongesting that place. Yet, it never took off. As for Al-Makura’s markets, I believe they were constructed in places that never needed them.
And I will limit my argument in this regards Nasarawa Local Government Area that I know very well. If you modernised the Nasarawa township market for instance, you would never lose a penny for a single day. The Mararaba-Udege market offers another clear case. Hidden inside a rapidly growing town, it already attracts traders not only from Nigeria but from across the globe. Imagine if the government invested in turning that into a truly modern market. Can such a place ever be abandoned? Of course not. And there are many other rural markets across Nasarawa with similar potential to grow internal revenue, but because they are not in the so-called “cities,” government has not given them a second thought.
Now, this is what constructive criticism looks like. It is about pointing out flaws while offering practical alternatives. To show that my criticism is made in good faith, I have never failed to acknowledge where the Nasarawa state or FG has done well. For example, I have applauded the new Nasarawa State Secretariat as a milestone project. I have also commended Governor Abdullahi Sule for the rural road projects he has executed, which I consider thoughtful and forward-looking. We need more yes!
This balance is what differentiates me from critics like Omoyele Sowore. His brand of criticism seems to see only the bad, with little effort to provide alternative facts or even give readers a sense of what could be done better. Bello Galadanci, on the other hand, though also quick to highlight failures, at least tries to back his points with comparative analysis. His habit of showing what wasted or stolen funds could have achieved elevates his work towards constructive criticism. But still, his focus rarely extends to recognising what leaders have done right.
I, however, do not shy away from giving credit when it is due yet, we must conflate credit giving from image laundering or praise singing. I recognise that public funds are the people’s resources, but the political will to deploy them effectively rests with leaders. For this reason, we cannot afford to get self-righteous and pretend leaders are immune from error. We must understand that derailment either intended or unintended is always possible, especially in a country where deterrence is almost nonexistent and past thieving governors now sit as senators or live large abroad on the proceeds of their looting.
The point, then, is not whether or not to criticise. Criticism is inevitable and, in fact, necessary. The point is how we do it. Do we criticise in a way that illuminates the path forward? Or do we merely scream from the sidelines without offering any solutions? Constructive criticism, grounded in facts and tempered with balance, is what strengthens democracy and prevents it from collapsing into cynicism.
As the old Michelin tyre advert reminded us: “Power is nothing without control.” The same goes for criticism. It is a tool of democracy, but without control, without responsibility, it risks becoming mere noise.
So let us criticise. But let us do so with clarity, balance, and vision.
Yahaya writes from Kana can be reached on kanaismail@yahoo.com
