By Humphrey Ukeaja
The recent announcement by the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), Barrister Nyesom Wike, regarding the retrieval of 7,000 hectares of land from the University of Abuja’s allocated 11,000 hectares, has sent shockwaves through the academic community and indeed, the nation.
This startling development, where a significant portion of a nascent federal institution’s strategic land asset is suddenly reclaimed, raises profound questions about foresight, policy consistency, and the true priorities of government in a developing nation.
The University of Abuja, established on January 1st, 1988, is still a relatively young institution, striving to carve out its niche and build the foundational infrastructure necessary for 21st-century education. To abruptly strip it of such a massive landmass, under the guise of “land grabbing,” is not just shocking; it’s a decision that threatens to cripple its potential and undermine its future growth.
Universities, globally, are not just classrooms and lecture halls; they are sprawling ecosystems designed for diverse functions: academic expansion, research hubs, student accommodation, recreational facilities, and future technological advancements. Considering that Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, is situated on a vast expanse of 11,861 hectares. Globally, leading universities often possess extensive land reserves to facilitate their multidisciplinary demands.
For instance, Berry College in the United States, one of the largest campuses in the world, spans over 27,000 acres (approximately 10,926 hectares). These vast lands are not mere empty spaces; they are canvases for innovation, expansion, and the creation of self-sustaining academic cities.
The University of Abuja, despite its considerable initial allocation, is far from realizing the infrastructural sophistication of its counterparts, both nationally and globally. A visit to the campus reveals a stark reality: the institution largely lacks the cutting-edge facilities essential for a globally competitive university. Where are the state-of-the-art research parks, the dedicated AI and robotics hubs that are hallmarks of emerging trends in education, or the robust innovation centers that foster start-ups? The university currently struggles with inadequate student housing, lacking the modern, comfortable lodges and well-equipped hotels that attract international students and faculty. One would expect to find commercial amenities like a university-owned water factory, advanced sports complexes, extensive medical facilities, and robust conference centers.
These are not luxuries; they are fundamental components of a modern university, facilitating learning, research, and community engagement. Instead of facilitating the acquisition of these vital infrastructures, the Minister’s action of retrieving 7,000 hectares only serves to stunt the university’s development, relegating it to a perpetual state of inadequacy.
This unilateral decision by Barrister Wike, accusing the university of “land grabbing” without clear, publicly presented documentary evidence of usurpation, demands immediate and robust legal challenge from the University of Abuja. The land was presumably allocated for the specific public purpose of education and institutional development.
The Land Use Act of 1978 vests control of all land in the state governor (and in the FCT, the Minister acts in this capacity), but it also provides for the allocation of land for public purposes. Any revocation must be for a “public purpose” and, crucially, should involve due process and compensation for unexhausted improvements.
Arbitrarily reducing a federally allocated land asset, especially one for a vital educational institution, without a transparent legal framework and alternative plans for their growth, sets a dangerous precedent.
The university has a strong legal basis to argue that its allocation was for a defined public interest and that such a drastic reduction without proper negotiation or alternative solutions constitutes an arbitrary exercise of power that jeopardizes its statutory mandate. They should immediately instruct their legal department to prepare a suit, seeking an injunction and a declaration that the revocation is unlawful and an abuse of power.
One cannot help but wonder: if this allocated land belonged to a military cantonment or a high-security government agency, would Barrister Wike have dared to “cut and grab” it with such impunity? The answer, for many, is a resounding no. This selective boldness against an educational institution, which is a bedrock of national development, suggests a troubling set of priorities. Rather than seeing universities as vital engines of progress requiring space to breathe, innovate, and expand, they are apparently viewed as vulnerable targets for land redistribution, potentially for private gain. The insinuation that the retrieved land will be “sold to persons who will use it for private gains” fuels public cynicism and raises serious ethical questions about the motivation behind this move.
Instead of this regressive approach, Barrister Wike should be guided by a more robust and intelligent vision for the FCT and its institutions. His focus should be on leveraging the vast potential of institutions like the University of Abuja, not diminishing it. More sound and legal recommendations would include:
Firstly, a comprehensive land audit of the FCT to identify genuinely undeveloped and unutilized plots, rather than targeting strategic assets of public institutions. Secondly, facilitating private sector investment within the university’s original land allocation. This would involve inviting private developers to build and manage student accommodation, research parks, or even hotels within the university’s designated boundaries, through Public-Private Partnerships (PPPs). This is a globally recognized model for university development. Thirdly, engaging in constructive dialogue with the University of Abuja leadership to understand their long-term infrastructural master plan and collaborate on its realization. Finally, prioritizing the development of essential public infrastructure (roads, water, electricity) within the FCT’s undeveloped areas, making them attractive for genuine, documented development, rather than reallocating lands from established public institutions.
The FCT Minister’s actions risk sending a chilling message: that education and its enabling environment are expendable. For a young university like UniAbuja, which is still finding its feet, the loss of 7,000 hectares is not merely a reduction in size; it is a profound amputation of its future aspirations. It is imperative that this decision is reversed, and a more strategic, legal, and pro-development approach is adopted to safeguard the future of higher education in Nigeria.
Humphrey Ukeaja Writes from Abuja, humphreyeukeaja@gmail.com
