Uba Sani: Promise, Performance and Weight of Recognition

Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna State

Iyobosa Uwugiaren takes a critical look at the Governor of the Year award recently conferred on Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna State, arguing that while accolades may adorn a tenure, only durable impact ultimately defines it.

On a humid afternoon in the late 1990s, as soldiers loyal to the regime of Nigeria’s late military Head of State, Grneral Sani Abacha, patrolled the streets and opposition groups carried grave consequences, a young activist stood shoulder to shoulder with pro-democracy icons such as Gani Fawehinmi, Olisa Agbakoba, and Chima Ubani, alongside students and labour organisers, demanding a return to civilian rule. Among them was Uba Sani—then more familiar with protest chants than policy briefs, and more accustomed to confronting power than wielding it. For many in that restless crowd, democracy was a distant aspiration; but, for Sani, it was a consuming passion.

Almost three decades later, that same activist occupies the highest political office in Kaduna State, steering budget cycles instead of barricades, security briefings instead of strategy meetings in civil society offices.

His recent recognition as Governor of the Year by one of the national dailies invites a persuasive question: what happens when a man shaped by resistance becomes responsible for results?

In Nigeria’s stormy democratic expedition, the distance between protest grounds and government house is often enormous. Many who marched for freedom never found themselves in positions of executive authority. Fewer still have had to translate radical ideals into governmental reality. The story of Sani — pro-democracy activist turned Governor of Kaduna State — is therefore not just a personal ascension. It is a test case for whether activism can develop into responsible governance without losing its moral principal.

Governor Sani’s recent recognition as Governor of the Year by the newspaper has raised that test. Awards are representational; governance is practical. Yet symbols matter in a democracy hungry for credible leadership. In a way, the honour compels both celebration and inquiry — round of applause for visible gains, but also interrogation of the deeper structural challenges that persist.

Before the advent of civilian government in May 1999, Sani’s credentials were known in resistance. As a student activist in the Kaduna Polytechnic, Kaduna, and later a key player in civil society coalitions that challenged military junta, he was among those who believed democracy was worth personal risk. That history matters because it shapes public expectations. Nigerians expect that a leader who once fought arbitrary power will exercise power in a different way — more transparently, more inclusively, more cautiously.

In many respects, Sani has pursued to symbolise that transition. His speechmaking steadily emphasises inclusion, dialogue and social investment. Unlike his predecessor, he has positioned himself less as a strongman executive and more as a bridge-builder in a state long defined by ethno-religious fault lines and political division.

Yet activism and governance are not identical disciplines. Protest movements thrive on moral clarity; governance demands compromise. The enduring question is whether compromise erodes conviction or refines it.

On the policy front, the Sani-led administration has pursued visible and measurable interventions. Not many policy experts will disagree that agriculture, the backbone of Kaduna’s rural economy, has received renewed attention through large-scale fertilizer distribution and support for smallholder farmers. At a time when inflation and food insecurity are draining households nationwide, such interventions carry both economic and political implication.

Education has similarly featured glaringly in the state in the past two years. Tuition reductions in state-owned tertiary institutions, rehabilitation of schools, and expansion of classroom infrastructure reflect a recognition that human capital — not just concrete — defines development.

Healthcare investments, including upgrades of primary health centres and improved access to essential services, signal an attempt to address long-standing service delivery gaps in Kaduna State under the leadership of Governor Sani.

To be clear, these are not cosmetic gestures; they speak to a governance model that prioritises social protection and grassroots engagement. In a state where poverty traverses precariously with insecurity, expanding opportunity is itself a security strategy.

However, development experts believe that the sustainability of these gains depends on institutional depth: programmes must survive beyond political tenures. Subsidies and interventions must be fiscally responsible. And development must be measured not only by commissioning ceremonies but by long-term outcomes — literacy rates, maternal health indicators, agricultural productivity and job creation.

No appraisal of Kaduna State can avoid the central issue of insecurity. Banditry, kidnappings and communal violence have scarred communities across the state for years, especially under the Nasir el-rufai administration. While there have been evidences of relative stabilisation in the state under the current administration, insecurity appears to remain an everyday concern for many residents.

But, the governor’s approach — emphasising dialogue with community leaders, team work with security agencies, and conflict mediation — reflects his activist pedigrees.

It signals a inclination for engagement over escalation. But citizens judge security not by strategy documents, but by lived experience: the safety of roads, the predictability of markets, and the freedom to farm without fear.

No doubt, the challenge is formidable. Security is not exclusively within a governor’s control; it is intertwined with federal agencies, regional dynamics and porous borders. Yet leadership is measured by perception as much as by jurisdiction. For many families still affected by violence and other organized crimes, the promise of peace feels incomplete.

One of the more compelling aspects of Sani’s administration is its focus on financial inclusion and micro-enterprise support. Empowering women and small business owners through targeted resourcefulness reflects an understanding that economic exclusion fuels instability; because when source of revenue expand, desperation contracts.

Equally notable is his engagement style. Unlike the combative politics that sometimes characterised previous administrations in Kaduna, Sani has sought accord with traditional rulers, religious leaders and civil society actors. This consultative tone may not generate dramatic headlines, but it builds quiet legitimacy. Yet consensus politics can also dull accountability if not carefully balanced.

To be sure, the Governor of the Year award is both endorsement and expectation. Awards in Nigeria’s political culture are often met with cynicism, dismissed as transactional or ceremonial. But when grounded in measurable performance, they can reinforce positive incentives. They signal that governance, not just politicking, is being noticed.

Still, great compliment carry risks. They can create self-satisfaction or shield leaders from necessary critique. In a democracy, no governor should be beyond interrogation. The final referee of performance is not a feast hall but the electorate.

For Governor Sani, the award should function less as validation and more as motivation. Kaduna’s transformation is ongoing, not concluded. The state’s youthful population demands jobs, not just infrastructure. Rural communities require sustained security, not occasional calm.

The deeper significance of Sani’s journey lies in what it says about Nigeria’s democratic progress. Can former activists govern without losing their reformist desire? Can they institutionalise the ideals they once demanded from others?

In Kaduna, there are clear signs of consistent efforts to do precisely that — to entrench inclusion in budgeting priorities, to align rhetoric with service delivery, to temper authority with consultation. But structural realities — fiscal constraints, national economic winds, security difficulties — test even the most well-intentioned administrations.

Leadership is not defined by perfection but by direction. Has Kaduna State under the leadership of Sani moved forward? Many would argue yes, particularly in social investment and tone of governance. Has it arrived at its destination? Certainly not.

The next phase of Sani’s tenure will determine whether his legacy is transitional or transformational. Transitional leaders stabilise; transformational leaders institutionalise change. The difference lies in systems.

Can agricultural reforms translate into agro-industrial growth? Will education investments reduce unemployment or simply produce more graduates in a tight labour market? Can community-based security frameworks evolve into durable peace architectures? These are not rhetorical questions. They are the metrics by which history will judge Governor Sani.

Sani’s story is compelling — a pro-democracy activist who did not merely criticise the state but chose to lead one. His governance thus far reflects earnest effort, visible projects and a calmer political atmosphere in Kaduna. The recognition by the newspaper affirms that his work has attracted national attention.

Yet democracy thrives not on praise alone but on persistent engagement. For citizens, the task is to support progress while demanding depth. For the governor, the burden of recognition is to convert goodwill into lasting institutional reform.

Awards may adorn a tenure. Only durable impact defines it. If activism gave Sani his voice, governance will define his verdict.