Peter B. Ogbobine Esq
“The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their proper names.”
— Confucius
On 5 May 2026, the Federal Executive Council (FEC) did what many considered unthinkable. At a time when politicians are “repositioning” for 2027 and citizens are scampering for daily survival, it banned the use of the prefix “Dr.” by honorary PhD awardees in Nigeria. The proliferation of such awardees had grown deeply worrisome over the years, given the total absence of any guiding criteria or protocol. I can state, without rodomontading, that I was offered an honorary PhD on three separate occasions and declined each time. On the last occasion, my late beloved mother pulled out every stop to persuade me to accept. I declined because I could not understand the rationale, which I suspected had its roots in financial contribution rather than intellectual merit. Little did they know I had no “shishi” to give — and I quietly saved myself the embarrassment of pretending otherwise.
But this is not the first time Nigeria has been compelled to correct a misappropriated title that had outgrown its proper use. The legal profession got there first.
In NBA v. Ofomata (2017) 5 NWLR (Pt. 1557) 128, the Supreme Court held that the use of “Barrister” as a prefix before the name of a legal practitioner is “unprofessional and improper.” The court ruled that lawyers should instead use conventional titles — Mr., Mrs., Chief, etc. — followed by “Barrister-at-Law” or “Barrister and Solicitor” where necessary. The Nigerian Bar Association’s National Executive Committee had already resolved as much in Port Harcourt in November 2015, consistent with the tradition across common law jurisdictions. In the United Kingdom, from which Nigeria inherited its legal framework, no member of the Bar prefixes his name with “Barrister” whatsoever. The word describes a specific function — advocacy before the courts — not a social title to be worn like a chieftaincy cap.
The issue, therefore, was never with the barrister. It was with the prefix. The correction made by the court and the NBA simply said: your qualification speaks for itself as the profession intends. “Barrister” is what you do, not who you are, and it should not be worn as a social crown in a society hungry for titles.
The parallel with the honorary doctorate is unmistakable. In both cases, a humble descriptor — “Barrister” and “Doctor” — was elevated into a social weapon. Both were used to command respect that had not been earned through known norm or the traditional, rigorous path. Both flourished in a Nigerian culture that rewards appearance over substance, title over talent, and ceremony over competence. And in both cases, the corrective came from institutions brave enough to say no.
This grotesque abuse of nomenclature was a proudly Nigerian innovation. Nowhere else on earth does an agbero demand to be called “Doctor” because a university gave him an honorary award for donating a tokunbo bus.
The universities were eager accomplices. Struggling financially, they discovered a magical revenue stream: confer honorary doctorates upon wealthy businessmen, politicians, agberos, etc. Recipients acquired instant intellectual elevation without the inconvenience of studying, or reading anything longer than a WhatsApp message. Some of these institutions were (are) less than five years old, with no postgraduate programmes whatsoever, yet conferred honorary doctorates with the quiet confidence of the University of Ibadan.
Taken together, the “Barrister” ruling and the honorary doctorate ban illuminate a single persistent tension in Nigerian public life: the contest between earned substance and performed status. Both arose — alongside Engineer, Architect, Pharmacist, Economist, and the rest — from the same fertile soil: a society in which titles carry enormous social weight. In both cases, institutional bodies eventually intervened to say, firmly, that words mean things and that meaning matters. Professions must not be reduced to decorative prefixes detached from the work they describe.
The positive effects of both corrections are worth taking seriously. A society that cannot distinguish between earned credentials and decorative ones cannot properly value expertise. This obsession with prefixes quietly erodes the cultural value of genuine achievement. Aristotle observed that “excellence is not an act but a habit” — it is built through sustained effort, not conferred at a ceremony. The title inflation of recent decades communicated precisely the opposite lesson.
The message absorbed by younger generations is devastatingly simple: why pursue rigorous intellectual accomplishment when prestige can be purchased through influence, patronage, or ceremony? When “Dr.” becomes available to anyone with money, and professional titles drift loose from their precise meanings, both quietly lose the public trust they are designed to carry.
This brings to mind a true story. A few years ago, a friend checked in on a Delta Airlines flight from New York to Dallas as “Dr. Femi” — not his real name. During the flight, a passenger became seriously ill. The captain checked the manifest and announced over the tannoy for Dr. Femi to kindly report to the galley. Dr. Femi, full of pomposity, swaggered forward, believing he was in for a special treat. He was then politely asked to assist with a diagnosis and recommend next steps. By the way, Dr. Femi is a Nigerian. Alas: Dr. Femi was not an academic doctor, let alone a medical one. He was an honorary awardee. The quiet scorn from the crew left an indelible mark he will never forget. And yet, upon returning to Nigeria, he continued using the prefix “Dr.” as a status symbol — while quietly updating his passport to “Mr.” and answering only to “Mr.” whenever he travels. “Nigeria for show,” as they say.
The trend of bovinity — or sheer inanity — would be more painful than comical were it not so absurd at times. The misuse and misappropriation of titles and nomenclature are no longer confined to the so-called higher-ups of society; they have permeated deep into the vast underbelly of our social fabric.
I once engaged an artisan to repair my electric standing fan. When I called him by his name, he sharply rebuked me for failing to prefix it with “Engineer.” Naturally, if I truly wanted my fan repaired, I had little choice but to comply. Over the course of six weeks, he repaired the same fan three additional times. Today, the fan is scrap metal, while the repairer still proudly adorns himself with the title “Engineer.”
Only in Nigeria are titles sometimes more durable than competence.
The uncomfortable question is why these abuses flourished for so long. The answer is disarmingly simple: Nigeria is a society where titles matter more than expertise.
Enforcement, as always, will be the true test. Nigeria is not a country where titles are surrendered peacefully; people simply devise new survival strategies. The legal profession has had nearly a decade since Ofomata to align with the ruling, yet compliance has been almost non-existent. Barristers argue that they have personally complied, but that the public has refused to adjust and still insists on attaching the prefix. This particular evasion is itself a Nigerian institution: observe the rule in form, violate its spirit in practice, then blame the audience.
“Calling things by their proper names” is precisely what Nigeria’s title culture resists. A borrowed title is a borrowed name, and a borrowed name is a small lie repeated until it feels like truth — “repeat a lie often enough and it becomes the truth,” is a law of propaganda often attributed to the Nazi Joseph Goebbels.
No doubt the FEC policy is designed to end what the government described as decades of indiscriminate conferral of degrees for political patronage and financial gain. The Supreme Court’s judgment was equally designed to restore dignity to a profession drowning in self-importance. Both aim to restore public confidence. To every former “Dr.” who must now update their letterhead, renegotiate their social standing, and explain to family and friends why the prefix has gone the way of the Nokia 3310 — my sympathy is offered in the fullest spirit of empathy.
Finally, in my humble opinion, the FEC ban and the Supreme Court ruling are not attacks on honour, but attacks on the lies.
I hold no honorary degrees but I have been called to the Bar, though never with the prefix “Barrister.” But for the Supreme Court’s ruling, I would today be styled “Barrister Doctor” — adorned on both a professional and honorary basis. That I escaped this fate, in one case by principle and in the other by judicial intervention, is perhaps the most Nigerian thing about this entire story: even those with the right instincts sometimes needed saving.
Please share freely.
Modokpe
(aka – Yesuo)
Email: pbbine@gmail.com
