By Usman Garba Abubakar
In the political landscape of Nigeria, where governance is often judged by ephemeral headlines and fleeting press briefings, Sokoto State stands out today as a quiet laboratory of progressive social policy. At the centre of this narrative is Governor Ahmed Aliyu, whose welfarist orientation has begun to reshape the contours of everyday life for citizens and settlers alike. From bold economic interventions to social empowerment programmes, Ahmed’s administration is orchestrating a subtle but significant departure from the business-as-usual governance style that Nigerians had become used to.
Governor Ahmed’s emergence came amid economic turbulence and socio-political unease, a time when public trust in institutions was rather low, and inflation relentlessly gnawed at household incomes due to the removal of the petroleum subsidy and the impact on virtually every sector. What distinguishes Ahmed’s leadership is not just a declaration of policy intentions, but a deliberate strategy to institutionalise empathy. His administration’s welfarist agenda is not about populist optics; it is embedded in the practical realities of everyday people.
Take, for example, the food subsidy initiative, a policy that gained nationwide attention not just for its scale but for its targeting mechanism. In a state where agricultural wealth is often paradoxically accompanied by food insecurity, Ahmed’s intervention has been both timely and strategic. The initiative, launched in phases, has seen thousands of low-income families receive subsidised grains and essential food items. Beyond affordability, the programme supports local farmers by ensuring that a significant portion of the subsidised produce is sourced locally, thereby creating a self-sustaining loop of production and consumption.
This dual-impact model, where both the consumer and producer benefit, reflects the kind of nuanced thinking missing in many top-down economic relief programmes elsewhere in the country. More than a welfare gesture, the food subsidy programme serves as a stabilising economic force in Sokoto State, cushioning the poorest households while encouraging local agricultural productivity.
One of the most debated decisions of Governor Ahmed’s tenure was the conversion of the May salary into a loan. However, the controversy surrounding this interest-free loan must be understood in its full context. The welfarist governor was simply helping citizens who had already spent their May salary — paid earlier — to adjust after the Eid (Sallah) celebrations.
The early disbursement had eased the financial burden of the festivities, allowing workers to celebrate with dignity. Most importantly, the state introduced an interest-free, phased repayment plan, giving workers the necessary breathing room to repay over time — a responsible and humane approach.
This allowed the government to continue funding critical capital projects and ongoing empowerment schemes, rather than suspending or halting them.
The policy underscores the difficult truth that sometimes governance involves making decisions that are momentarily uncomfortable but structurally necessary. What mattered most was the transparency with which the policy was communicated and the commitment to fairness in repayment. Over time, many civil servants came to see the decision not as a betrayal, but as a pragmatic compromise.
Governor Ahmed has rightly argued that welfare is not just about handouts; it’s about dignity and access. Nowhere is this more visible than in his government’s infrastructure drive. Roads are being constructed not as vanity projects, but as arteries of commerce linking remote agrarian communities to urban markets. Healthcare centres have been renovated and equipped, serving not only to treat illness but to restore public faith in public institutions.
Most notably, education has received a significant uplift, with the construction and rehabilitation of schools across the state. Unlike previous administrations that built schools with no sustainable plan for staffing or upkeep, Ahmed’s model includes training and deploying qualified teachers, as well as providing learning materials for students. The result is a noticeable uptick in school enrolment, particularly among girls — a demographic that has historically been underrepresented in Sokoto’s educational matrix.
Perhaps the most transformative element of Ahmed’s welfarist vision lies in his empowerment programmes. These are not short-term poverty alleviation schemes, but long-term human capital development platforms. Through vocational training centres, youths are being taught trades ranging from tailoring to welding, ICT to agribusiness.
What sets these programmes apart is the post-training support structure. Graduates are not left to wander, as government provides them with starter kits, small grants, or microcredit schemes, fostering not just self-reliance but entrepreneurship.
Women, often the backbone of informal economies, have been brought into the fold through specialised schemes. From microloans for market women to training programmes in agro-processing, Ahmed’s policies are addressing the economic invisibility of women in Sokoto. These initiatives are recalibrating gender roles, gradually enabling women to become not just household supporters but breadwinners and community leaders.
Furthermore, the administration’s partnership with non-governmental organisations and donor agencies has expanded the scope of these empowerment programmes. Skill acquisition initiatives now include digital literacy modules, financial planning workshops, and mentorship by successful business professionals from within and outside the state. Such integration of local and global best practices ensures the programmes are both context-sensitive and future-ready.
An often-overlooked dimension of Ahmed’s welfarism is his attention to settlers and non-indigenes in the state. Unlike in many other states where political favouritism is tethered to indigeneship, Ahmed’s policies have been explicitly inclusive. Settler communities benefit from the same food subsidies, healthcare outreach, and free education as native citizens.
More notably, certain empowerment programmes have been deliberately extended to non-indigenous residents, especially in urban and semi-urban hubs where diversity is highest. In doing so, Ahmed sends a powerful message: welfare is a right of residency, not a privilege of origin. This approach has not only reduced social friction but cultivated a sense of shared destiny — an essential ingredient for sustainable development in a pluralistic society.
Governor Ahmed’s welfarist policies in Sokoto State represent a delicate balancing act between compassion and discipline, short-term relief and long-term development. His governance model recognises that people cannot participate meaningfully in democracy when their basic needs are unmet. Yet, he also understands that handouts without empowerment only perpetuate dependence.
Through targeted subsidies, difficult but transparent fiscal decisions, infrastructure development, and robust empowerment programmes, Ahmed is slowly weaving a new social contract in Sokoto. It is not without its imperfections — no governance model ever is — but it is rooted in sincerity, evidence, and a willingness to engage constructively with criticism.
As other state governors look for ways to recalibrate public trust and deliver tangible results, the Sokoto State example under Ahmed’s sterling stewardship offers a compelling template, one that replaces spectacle with substance, and cynicism with action.
