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“Breaking the Barrier: The HND/BSc Dichotomy and Its Impact on Human Capital Development in Nigeria”

The HND/BSc dichotomy has long been a source of frustration and inequality in Nigeria’s education and employment sectors. While both qualifications require rigorous academic work and practical training, HND holders face systemic discrimination, particularly in government jobs and private sector placements. Many companies limit HND graduates to lower career levels, restricting their chances of promotion and professional growth. This bias not only stifles individual potential but also hinders national human capital development, as thousands of skilled and capable professionals are sidelined due to an outdated classification system. In a world where technical and vocational expertise should be valued alongside traditional academic degrees, Nigeria continues to reinforce a class divide between polytechnic and university graduates, to the detriment of its workforce. Beyond the employment barrier, the HND route is a significant waste of time for many students who choose it, often out of financial constraints or admission difficulties in universities. While a BSc degree typically takes four to five years to complete, HND graduates spend two years in ND, another two in HND, plus an extra year of mandatory industrial training (IT), totaling five years, yet they still face limitations. Many are forced to undergo additional “conversion” programs to obtain a BSc equivalent before they can fully compete for jobs, resulting in prolonged academic years with no guaranteed career advantage. This inefficiency discourages technical education, leaving polytechnics struggling with declining enrollment as students opt for university programs to avoid discrimination. For some fields, the HND qualification is practically terminal, making professional certification nearly impossible without additional academic upgrades. A glaring example is Architecture, where HND holders cannot obtain full professional licensing until they complete a university “conversion” to BSc Architecture before proceeding to an MSc or the necessary professional exams. This puts HND graduates in a disadvantaged loop, forcing them to either spend extra years bridging the gap or abandon their career ambitions altogether. Such structural barriers devalue polytechnic education and create unnecessary obstacles for skilled individuals, limiting their contributions to national development. The refusal to eliminate this outdated dichotomy not only wastes time, talent, and resources but also slows Nigeria’s progress in key industries that rely on technical expertise. The 2021 Bill, which aimed to abolish this discrimination, was a beacon of hope, yet it remains unsigned, leaving thousands of graduates in limbo. Instead of directing anger at institutions like Taraba State University, who recently published employment opportunities exuded these previously highlighted biases, efforts should be channeled towards pressuring the National Assembly and the Presidency to revive the bill. HND holders, student bodies, and advocacy groups must intensify their push for reform, ensuring that every qualification is given the respect it deserves. Only then can Nigeria build a truly inclusive, fair, and productive workforce that maximizes the potential of all its graduates. Idris AnimasaunArchitect and Social Change Advocate

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Mukaila Auxiliary: Reflections on Power, Struggles, and Fate

One thing I can tell you for certain, many atrocities will be committed in the name of road union leadership. But beyond the chaos, behind the hardened voices and the fearsome reputations, lies a calculated effort to instill fear, an unspoken strategy to maintain power. Yet, beneath the surface, behind the actions, sometimes theirs, but often their followers’, there exists a father, a husband, a man with emotions hidden beneath the weight of his title. These were the moments I witnessed in the eyes of Mukaila Auxiliary when I met him a few days ago at Agodi Correctional Centre. The man before me was reflective, deeply aware of how all power ultimately belongs to Allah. He spoke with conviction, if he had been here before and found freedom, he was confident that mercy would find him once again. But what struck me the most was his unwavering respect for the very system that has kept him captive. Behind his humbled face, I could still see the echoes of battles fought, the weight of a struggle that never truly ended. And for a moment, I found myself reminiscing, about the times I tried to reach out, not just to him, but to the very structure he represented. I grew up in the heat and heart of it all in the early 2000s. • I’ve met Alhaji Akewusola Tokyo. • I walked freely into Alhaji Tawa’s house almost every week. • I was raised in Molete—the HQ of Oyo Politics. I reminded him of how we first met at Oga’s house just days before the election. I was starstruck, yet I felt an overwhelming sense of pity. Deep down, I had a feeling it wouldn’t end well. If only they were smart enough… just if only. Power, Betrayal, and the Cycles of Fate Power is a revolving door, but loyalty is often left outside. The very people who struggle alongside you, who chant your name in the streets, are sometimes the first to disappear when the tide turns. Those who once swore allegiance become the architects of your downfall. The same system that rewards also punishes, and in the end, everyone is just another character in a script already written by fate. Auxiliary’s story is not unique—it is a script that has played out in history over and over again. The difference is only in the names, the faces, and the timeline. Idris AnimasaunArchitect and Social Change Advocate

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