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I’m A Tech Executive And I’m Afraid Of AI

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I'm A Tech Executive And I'm Afraid Of AI

Andy Kurtzig

Artificial intelligence is evolving at a breakneck pace – but not always to humans’ benefit.

An AI chatbot encourages a teen to kill himself, a lawsuit claims. Another chatbot generates racially offensive book summaries. Yet another allegedly tells a teen to kill his parents over screen time limits. And most recently, it seems that AI forges citations for a Department of Health and Human Services report on children’s health.

Such catastrophic failures will keep happening as long as we allow AI to run unchecked – or worse, use it to push political agendas.

I’ve worked in AI for more than a decade, specifically in the professional services field. I’ve seen the technology evolve from its infancy to today’s billion-dollar gold rush. I’ve also seen the misplaced confidence tech executives and policymakers seem to have when it comes to AI.

A recent study we conducted at Pearl, a generative AI platform powered by professional service experts, found that more than a quarter of parents with kids under 18 say their child uses AI more than five times a day – compared to 13% of Gen Zers and 11% of millennials. Nearly a third of those parents also say their child has been given the wrong answer by AI before, and they’ve had to correct it.

An illustration showing a woman with her hair in a bun, holding a smartphone from which orange flames are emanating towards her face. The background is a bold red, contrasting with the dark silhouette of the woman. This image conveys the intense impact of technology, the addictive nature of digital devices, misinformation or the potential dangers and negative consequences of excessive smartphone usage.

This is a clear indicator that we cannot trust AI. Worse, we seem to have baselessly convinced ourselves that these kinks will sort themselves out with each new AI generation.

This blind faith in AI isn’t just misplaced – it’s dangerous. The legal system is already seeing AI-generated documents filled with fictitious case law. Hospitals are fielding AI-created patient summaries riddled with errors. Financial institutions are using AI to assess creditworthiness, often reinforcing systemic biases that harm marginalized communities.

Companies, meanwhile, are rushing to replace human expertise with AI-driven automation, ignoring the very real risks posed by unchecked AI hallucinations (incorrect or misleading results generated by AI). And it’s getting worse. OpenAI’s recently launched AI models hallucinate more than several of its older ones.

So far, AI companies have shown little to no results when it comes to making AI more accurate. Still, more and more people are using and normalizing AI as a trustworthy source – including our country’s leaders. A 2023 Georgetown study suggests it could take $1 trillion to improve AI’s accuracy by just 10%.

AI companies know their systems aren’t reliable, but instead of fixing the core issue, they slap a band-aid disclaimer on the bottom of responses: “Consult a professional.” A digital get-out-of-jail-free card – or so they think. It’s meant to shift the blame to users, while AI keeps spewing falsehoods. Based on our internal research, over 70% of AI responses to legal, medical and veterinary questions include this cop-out.

So, what’s the alternative? Do we let AI proceed and accept the dangers? We are seeing a mass disregard for subject matter expertise from the very top levels of our government on down. One-third of people already believe AI will replace doctors in the next 10 years, according to a survey we released earlier this year. Nearly half think the same about lawyers.

But the reality is, there’s a reason we trust doctors, lawyers and engineers. They have been trained to navigate complexity, nuance and real-world consequences. AI hasn’t. A chatbot doesn’t understand the emotional weight of a life-altering diagnosis, nor can it argue a complex legal case in court. AI lacks intuition, morality and genuine problem-solving skills that come from human experience.

The path forward isn’t about killing AI – it’s about making it better. That means demanding human oversight and not letting AI operate unchecked. AI can be a powerful tool, but only when it works with people, not in place of them.

If we don’t act now, we risk a future where misinformation, unchecked automation and blind trust in AI endanger lives even more. The technology is advancing whether we like it or not, but we have the power to shape how it integrates into society

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Opinion

“Let President Muhammadu Buhari Rest in Peace” – By Nasir El-Rufai

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The recent launch of a book on the life and legacy of our late leader, President Muhammadu Buhari, has stirred deep emotions and renewed divisions among those who once formed his inner circle. Having followed the headlines and images from the event, I felt compelled to make a simple but urgent appeal: let us allow President Buhari to rest in peace.

A careful look at those who dominated the book launch revealed the same factional lines that existed during Buhari’s lifetime. One camp was prominently represented, while others—equally close to the late president—were excluded. This selective engagement compounded by the choice of location of the event were red flags, and raises concerns about whether Buhari’s legacy is now being shaped to serve narrow interests rather than historical truth.

More troubling was the presence of long-time critics of Buhari, some of whom now hold high office, delivering glowing, but clearly faked tributes. These are individuals who once blamed his administration for nearly every challenge facing Nigeria, but who now appear eager to revise history—perhaps to deflect responsibility for present failures.

It was also unsettling to see individuals celebrating Buhari in death who had neither his trust nor his respect in life. President Buhari was a principled man who did not easily forget personal or political disrespect, and he made his preferences clear to those around him.

I have not yet read the book, Soldier to Statesman: The Legacy of Muhammadu Buhari, and it is possible that some media reports lack context. However, many of the so-called revelations attributed to the late president appear one-sided and unfair, especially as he is no longer alive to respond. Explaining the thoughts and motivations of a complex leader through selective anecdotes risks distorting, rather than preserving, his legacy.

President Buhari was far from perfect. Many of us who supported him expected much more from his civilian presidency. However, as someone who worked closely with him in opposition political, and governance roles for over a decade, I believe much of his administration’s shortcomings stemmed from the actions and failures of a powerful inner circle—relatives, advisers, and officials who did not always share his commitment to integrity and public service.

Buhari himself remained, to the end, a man of deep faith, personal discipline, and unquestioned patriotism. Those now invoking his name for self-justification should reflect on whether they can claim the same standards.

My appeal here is simple: to all Nigerians: admirers and critics alike—let President Muhammadu Buhari rest in peace. Let history judge him fairly, without opportunism or revisionism. The truest way to honour him is not through selective storytelling, or attempting to exhibit new-found love, but by upholding the values he embodied: simplicity, integrity, humility, and service to Nigeria with all he had.

May Allah grant him eternal rest.

Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai
Cairo, Egypt
17th December, 2025

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Opinion

Ogun 2027: Kings Have Spoken, Yayi Belongs, Let the Campaign Begin

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By Kunle Somorin

For nearly half a century, Ogun State has stood as a federation of Yoruba subgroups – Egba, Ijebu, Remo and Yewa. Yet one fact remains: since 1976, Yewa has never produced a governor. Equity – affirmed by the Nigerian Constitution and Yoruba custom – demands that no part of a polity be permanently excluded from its highest offices. The late Awujale of Ijebuland, Oba Sikiru Kayode Adetona, foresaw this imbalance and urged that Yewa should produce the next governor of Ogun State. His prognosis carries truth to its destination. Democracy without fairness descends into exclusion by another name.

Against this backdrop, Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola (Yayi) emerges not as a mere aspirant but as a corrective to historical imbalance – a moral and democratic necessity. Attempts to weaponise genealogy – casting him as an outsider – have now met their answer. Yoruba wisdom cautions: Àlejò kì í mọ ìtàn ilé – a stranger cannot know the full story of the house. That story has been affirmed by those who keep it, and by the institutions that preserve lineage and belonging. As a Yoruba saying reminds us, ìrò lè rìn pẹ́, òtítọ́ ní í dé l’ẹ́yìn – falsehood may travel far, but truth arrives all the same.

In Yewaland, Oba Kehinde Olugbenle, the Olu of Ilaro and paramount ruler, publicly affirmed Adeola as a son of Yewa. Indeed, Adeola holds the traditional title of Aremo (prime son) of Yewaland, underscoring a lineage rooted in place and custom. The maternal seal followed. At Kemta Day the previous Sunday, Adeola declared: “Ilu iya mi ni mo wa yi. Emi omo Abibat Olasumbo, omo Akinola Baba Pupa from Kemta Odutolu.” The Alake and paramount ruler of Egbaland, Oba Adedotun Aremu Gbadebo, then added a defining pronouncement: “Kemta ti fun wa ni Governor!” In Yoruba cosmology, kings are custodians of heritage; their declarations carry authority. Agbà kì í wà l’ọjà, kí orí ọmọdé tuntun wó – elders do not stand by while a child’s head is misshapen. To question Adeola’s indigeneity now is, effectively, to challenge the crowns.

Constitutionally, a governorship candidate must be an indigene. Nigerian courts often consider attestations by traditional rulers when questions of lineage arise, recognising that in matters of ancestry, custodians of custom provide important context. With these royal affirmations, the central question – indigeneship – can reasonably be regarded as resolved. Eligibility is clear. Whether Yewa or Egba, count Senator Adeola a bona fide candidate. A kì í fi ẹ̀tẹ̀ sílẹ̀ pa lápálápá – one does not abandon leprosy to treat ringworm. The debate must now shift from ancestry to governance.

On that score, Adeola’s record is measurable and visible across all three senatorial districts of Ogun State. He has facilitated over 270 infrastructure projects across Ogun West alone; empowered 15,000 market men and women with cash grants; trained thousands in entrepreneurship; and supported over 5,000 students through a Scholarship and Bursary Board. He helped reopen the Ikenne–Ilishan road, a corridor associated with the Awolowo era, long overdue for rehabilitation, and donated 102 transformers serving 435 communities. In Sagamu, youths point to empowerment schemes; in Ifo, traders speak of solar-lit markets; in Abeokuta, students recall scholarships; in Yewa, elders reference roads linking their villages. These are not promises; they are monuments. The works that touch daily life are the truest testimonials across the three senatorial districts.

Politically, the Egba Lokan sentiment has broadened into a wider call for justice, grounded in the ethos of balance and inclusion. This call aligns with the current profile of the Chairman of the Senate Committee on Appropriations, a son of Yewa with an Egba mother. High Chief Bode Mustapha, the Osi of Egbaland, has publicly commended Adeola’s service and described him as highly qualified among the field of contenders in terms of public service records. One voter captured governance’s essence in practical terms: the road he built reduced her car repair costs. Adeola’s dual heritage – paternally Yewa, maternally Egba – is a bridge, not a burden. Tí kì í ṣe ti bàbá ẹni, ó lè ṣe ti ìyá ẹni – what is not of one’s father may be of one’s mother. For advocates of the Egba Lokan agenda, this is a conundrum that requires wisdom. Agbájọ ọwọ́ la fi n s’ọ̀yà; ọwọ́ kan kì í gb’ẹrù d’órí – it takes joined hands to lift a load. In a state sometimes strained by sub-ethnic rivalry, such a bridge can steady the polity.

Legitimacy, philosophers remind us, is earned. Aristotle wrote: “The good ruler is not he who is born to rule, but he who rules well.” Yoruba thought echoes this in omolúàbí – honour, responsibility and service. Ìwà l’ẹwà – character is beauty. Adeola’s record is his manifesto; his projects are his pledges in brick and mortar, in kilowatts and scholarships. The question of origins is closed by law and custom. The campaign must now be fought on competence, character and outcomes.

History also counsels balance. Since 1976, Ogun’s leadership has passed from Olabisi Onabanjo (Ijebu), through periods of military rule, to Olusegun Osoba (Egba), Gbenga Daniel (Remo), Ibikunle Amosun (Egba) and now Dapo Abiodun (Remo). Yewa’s omission is glaring. The spirit of federal character – understood as an ethic of inclusion and fair representation – reminds us that cohesion is strengthened when all components see themselves in leadership. When law, custom and conscience converge, the argument is unassailable: justice demands that Yewa should have its turn.

Service-delivery indicators reinforce the case. In numerous town halls and community meetings, stakeholders point to reopened roads, restored power, improved market lighting, bursaries and training programmes that have equipped young people to start small enterprises. These are lived realities, not abstractions. As policy moves from spreadsheet to street, citizens measure leadership by the bridges they cross, the lights that stay on and the opportunities that open. The test of governance is not rhetoric but results – how many lives are tangibly improved through would‑be leaders’ interventions.

It is only fair to acknowledge that Yewa/Awori sons and daughters have every right to aspire to the governorship of Ogun State, even as I acknowledge Yayi’s edge. I do not consider any aspirant a footnote. Each is a chapter in this long‑drawn struggle that has marginalised people of Yewa/Awori origin. Over the years, names such as Gboyega Isiaka, Abiodun Akinlade, Noimot Salako-Oyedele, Biyi Otegbeye and others have surfaced – each carrying the hopes of their people. Many observers argue that the seat has eluded Yewa not for lack of talent or ambition, but for want of unity and a common front. Fragmentation, multiple candidacies and internal rivalries have, at times, diluted the collective claim. The lesson is clear: a house divided against itself cannot stand. The right to contend is sacrosanct, but it is best exercised with caution, dignity and a commitment to the larger cause of Yewa’s long‑awaited turn.

If Senator Adeola has been deemed worthy to sit in the hallowed chambers of the National Assembly, where he has distinguished himself with tangible service and verifiable delivery, then it follows by both logic and justice that he is equally qualified to occupy the Governor’s Office at Oke Mosan. The Constitution does not prescribe a lesser standard for the Senate than for the governorship; indeed, both demand competence, integrity and commitment to the people. Having facilitated infrastructure, empowered communities, and touched thousands of lives through scholarships and social programmes, he has already demonstrated the capacity to translate vision into dividends of democracy. To deny him the gubernatorial ticket after such a record would be to contradict both law and custom, and to deprive Ogun State of a tested hand whose service has spoken louder than rhetoric.

Within this context, the emergence of Senator Solomon Olamilekan Adeola should be seen not as a threat but as an opportunity. If he is qualified to be a senator and has delivered verifiable dividends of democracy – roads, scholarships, empowerment and infrastructure – what principle would justify denying him a fair contest for the gubernatorial ticket? The crowns have spoken, the Constitution is satisfied and his record is manifest. What remains is for all aspirants to embrace consensus where possible, coalition where necessary and civility at all times. Campaigns should elevate issues, not inflame identities; they should test plans, not impugn persons. A race anchored on programmes, capacity and probity will serve Ogun better than one framed by whispers of ancestry.

The road to 2027 will be defined by three questions that every contender must answer plainly. First, what is your plan to accelerate inclusive growth across Ogun’s three senatorial districts – industrial corridors, agribusiness value chains, urban renewal and rural connectivity alike? Second, how will you deliver reliable power, water, primary healthcare and basic education to communities that have waited too long? Third, what is your approach to youth employment – skills, finance and markets – so that entrepreneurship is not a slogan but a pathway? On these questions, Adeola’s portfolio of projects provides an opening bid. Others should place their records alongside his and let the people compare, line by line.

Good politics is, at heart, good governance. It listens, learns and builds. It makes room for difference without turning difference into division. It honours tradition without becoming captive to nostalgia. It remembers that in a republic, leadership is stewardship: those who seek the people’s mandate must show the people’s returns. As the saying goes, ohun tí a bá fi ọwọ́ ṣe, kì í bà ẹnìkan lórí – the work of one’s hands vindicates. In a competitive field, the voters will look for what is concrete and measurable.

The argument, then, is complete. Indigeneity has been addressed in law and affirmed by custom. The historical omission of Yewa has been acknowledged by monarchs and widely recognised in public discourse. The service record in question is tangible and verifiable. The Constitution demands fairness; Yoruba tradition demands balance; democracy demands justice. All three converge on a simple conclusion: it is Yewa’s turn. And if the race is to be run on competence, delivery and character, Adeola enters it with a record that can be examined without fear or favour.

For now, the crowns have spoken. History calls. Let the campaign begin. In that campaign, one name stands – not as a slogan, but as a standard; not as a whisper, but as a monument; not as a claimant, but as a custodian. Yayi.

  • Somorin, former Chief Press Secretary to Governor Dapo Abiodun, writes from Crescent University, Abeokuta.
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Opinion

Has the South-East Traded Kanu and Obi for Political Access? By Mohammed Bello Doka

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When Nnamdi Kanu was handed a life sentence, expectations were clear and historic. Across Nigeria, many anticipated a decisive political reaction from the South-East: emergency meetings, coordinated resistance, forceful statements from governors, and a re-assertion of the region’s long-held grievance narrative.

What followed instead was something far more revealing — a loud, deliberate silence.

No collective pushback by South-East governors.
No political reprisal.
No price imposed on the centre.

And in that silence lies a deeper story — one that goes beyond Nnamdi Kanu alone.

For the first time in Nigeria’s political history, all five South-East governors are aligned — directly or indirectly — with President Bola Tinubu and his re-election project. This is not speculation. Public statements and political signaling from the zone confirm that the governors have closed ranks around Abuja. Some openly endorse Tinubu; others maintain strategic silence while cooperating fully with the centre. Either way, the outcome is the same: regional power has moved away from confrontation to accommodation.

This alignment explains much more than the silence after Kanu’s sentence. It also explains the quiet abandonment of Peter Obi’s presidential ambition by the same elite class that once benefited from his momentum.

For years, the South-East sustained a dual political narrative:

Nnamdi Kanu represented resistance — a symbolic struggle against marginalisation.
Peter Obi represented reform — a constitutional path back to relevance at the centre.

Today, both pillars have been set aside.

Unlike previous moments in history when South-East elites distanced themselves from regional causes out of weakness or isolation, this time is different. This retreat did not happen in defeat. It happened from a position of leverage:

The region had unprecedented national sympathy after 2023.
It commanded a powerful youth-driven political movement.
It had emotional capital across Nigeria and the diaspora.
Yet, despite this strength, the elite chose survival.

South-East governors — the true controllers of the political system — have clearly decided that confrontation carries higher costs than alignment. Federal access, security cooperation, budgetary relevance, and political protection now outweigh symbolic struggles. In plain terms, Kanu became a political risk, Obi an electoral uncertainty.

This raises unavoidable rhetorical questions.

If the South-East remains as marginalised as long argued, why was Kanu’s life sentence not treated as a regional emergency?
If injustice still defines the regional condition, why has no political consequence followed?
Or has political access softened the meaning of marginalisation itself?

Even more unsettling is what this silence suggests about the future.

Will there be consequences from the people?
Governors may control the machinery, but history shows that South-East grassroots sentiment does not always move in sync with elite calculations. Suppressed anger, when ignored, rarely disappears — it mutates.

Has the South-East finally been subdued?
Or is this only a strategic pause — a recalibration before another political rupture?

And perhaps the most dangerous question of all:
What becomes of the Biafra agitation in a post-elite world?

If the political class no longer carries the banner — and the state believes resistance has been neutralised — the struggle may not end. It may simply lose its intermediaries and become harder to predict, harder to control, and more radical in form.

For now, the facts are clear.
South-East elites have chosen power over protest.
Access over agitation.
Survival over symbolism.

Whether the people follow — or resist — that choice will define the region’s political future far more than any endorsement ever could.

And until then, the silence after Kanu’s sentence remains the loudest statement the South-East political class has ever made.

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