By
Lawan Musa Danlami
(Baba Lawan)
October 2025
When the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) declared a two-week warning strike despite the Federal Government’s repeated threats of “no work, no pay,” it wasn’t just another industrial action — it was a familiar echo of Nigeria’s recurring educational crisis. For decades, ASUU has faced governments that prefer threats over dialogue, decrees over diplomacy. From the iron-fisted days of the military to the pretenses of democracy, the union’s struggle for justice, fair funding, and respect has endured.
Today’s standoff between ASUU and
the Federal Government isn’t new; it’s a continuation of a long narrative that
began more than four decades ago — a narrative of broken promises,
intimidation, and unyielding resolve.
A Legacy of Resistance: From
the Military to Democracy
The ASUU story is inseparable
from Nigeria’s political evolution. The union’s defiance didn’t start in the
democratic era; it was forged in the crucible of military rule.
During General Ibrahim
Babangida’s regime (1985–1993), ASUU emerged as one of the few voices that
dared to challenge state authority. The government saw the union’s demand for
university autonomy and academic freedom as subversive. In 1988, ASUU was banned,
its leaders arrested, and its assets seized. Yet, the union returned stronger,
refusing to bow to the dictates of power.
Under General Sani Abacha
(1993–1998), repression deepened. The regime viewed dissent as treason, and
ASUU was again proscribed. Many academics fled into exile or abandoned the
classrooms. But even in those dark years, ASUU’s core demand remained the same
— adequate funding and genuine respect for education as the bedrock of national
development.
When democracy returned in 1999,
many hoped the tension would end. But the seeds of mistrust planted during the
military years had already taken root.
Democracy and Broken Promises
Under President Olusegun Obasanjo
(1999–2007), the expectation was that a civilian leader — once a military ruler
himself — would understand dialogue better than dictatorship. Yet, Obasanjo’s
approach to ASUU was often dismissive and confrontational. His government
accused the union of blackmail and insensitivity to national realities. ASUU,
in turn, accused the government of hypocrisy and policy inconsistency. The 2001
and 2003 strikes defined this era — long, painful, and unproductive. The 2001
ASUU-FG Agreement, born from that period, remains a reference point today
because most of its promises were never fulfilled.
When President Umaru Musa
Yar’Adua (2007–2010) came into power, a glimmer of hope returned. His
administration opened more channels for negotiation, and in 2009, the famous
FG-ASUU Agreement was signed. It included provisions for better salaries,
university revitalization funds, and improved conditions of service. Sadly,
Yar’Adua’s death in 2010 ended that brief moment of sincerity.
Under President Goodluck Jonathan
(2010–2015), the relationship oscillated between negotiation and neglect. The
2013 strike, which lasted over five months, was one of the longest in Nigeria’s
history. Lecturers across the country endured months without pay, but the union
held its ground until the government released a revitalization fund of ₦200 billion. Yet, even that
gesture soon dissolved into another cycle of unfulfilled agreements and broken
timelines.
The Buhari Years: Threats
Repackaged as Policy
The arrival of President
Muhammadu Buhari (2015–2023) rekindled hope that a disciplinarian leader would
reform the education sector. Instead, ASUU’s struggle grew even more
frustrating. Between 2015 and 2023, ASUU went on strike at least four times,
including the historic 2022 strike, which lasted eight months — the longest in
the union’s history.
The Buhari administration’s most
notable weapon was the “no work, no pay” policy, a threat that became
government doctrine. But ASUU, ever defiant, reminded the nation that it had
survived harsher dictators. The policy only hardened the union’s stance and
exposed the government’s inability to negotiate constructively. The crisis left
millions of students stranded, academic calendars shattered, and Nigeria’s
global academic reputation in tatters.
What made Buhari’s era
particularly disappointing was not just the government’s rigidity but its lack
of empathy. Universities were shut for months while political campaigns
continued unhindered. The government, instead of resolving the crisis,
registered new academic unions such as CONUA (Congress of University
Academics), hoping to divide ASUU. It was a political tactic masquerading as
reform — and it failed.
Tinubu’s Moment of Decision
Now under President Bola Ahmed
Tinubu, the same battlefront has reopened. The two-week warning strike signals
not just dissatisfaction but also skepticism. ASUU no longer trusts verbal
assurances; it wants action. Meanwhile, CONUA’s rejection of the strike
reflects the growing fragmentation within the academic community — a division
that the government must handle carefully.
Tinubu’s administration faces a
choice: continue the cycle of threats and denials or embrace genuine dialogue.
The “no work, no pay” rhetoric may please political hawks, but it will not
restore Nigeria’s collapsing universities. What is needed now is statesmanship
— not brinkmanship.
Threats Never Teach Students
Each era — military or civilian —
has proven one lesson: intimidation cannot solve intellectual disputes.
Lecturers are not factory workers; they are the intellectual backbone of the
nation. When they strike, it is not out of greed but out of desperation to save
a dying system.
Nigeria’s universities are
underfunded, laboratories obsolete, libraries outdated, and hostels
uninhabitable. Many of the best lecturers have migrated abroad, seeking better
opportunities. Students bear the heaviest cost — losing years of study, morale,
and trust in the system. In the face of this decay, threatening ASUU with
salary cuts only deepens the wounds
The Way Forward
For once, the government must
listen — truly listen. ASUU’s demands are not new: implementation of the 2009
Agreement, revitalization funding, earned allowances, and autonomy for
universities. These are not impossible goals. What is missing is sincerity.
Instead of intimidation, the
Federal Government should create a standing framework for continuous dialogue
between policymakers and academic unions, independent of political transitions.
Education must be depoliticized — not treated as a battlefield for ego and
propaganda.
At the same time, ASUU must
evolve its strategy. Prolonged strikes hurt the very students the union claims
to defend. The struggle for a better system must balance principle with
pragmatism. Alternative pressure methods — such as academic boycotts, public
symposia, or legal advocacy — could strengthen ASUU’s cause without paralyzing
campuses.
Conclusion: History’s Unbroken
Circle
From Babangida to Abacha, from
Obasanjo to Tinubu, the script has barely changed. Governments threaten; ASUU
resists. Students suffer; the nation stagnates. And when the dust settles,
agreements are signed — only to be forgotten until the next strike.
This unending cycle is not the
fault of ASUU alone; it is the symptom of a nation that treats education as
charity rather than necessity. The time has come for the government to end this
cycle — not with force, but with foresight.
Negotiation, not intimidation, remains the only language ASUU understands — and the only one that can heal Nigeria’s ailing universities. Until that lesson is learned, every new government will find itself repeating the same mistakes of its predecessors, and ASUU will continue to stand — unbowed, unbroken, and unafraid.
