Editorial: PFIPC: The Scandal Is Bigger Than Gbajabiamila

For once, the headline should not be about the powerful man who was dragged into the scandal.

It should be about the scandal itself. Because if the House of Representatives is right to clear Femi Gbajabiamila, Chief of Staff to President Bola Tinubu, of involvement in the controversial Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council, or PFIPC, then something far more disturbing has emerged.

The question is no longer simply: Was Gbajabiamila involved? The bigger question is: How did an organisation that supposedly did not exist get anywhere near the machinery of the Nigerian government?

That is where the real scandal begins. And perhaps, where the real danger lies.

For weeks, the PFIPC controversy has unfolded like a political thriller: shadowy organisations, disputed documents, government offices, alleged appointments, official-looking correspondence and questions surrounding public funds.

And, as often happens in Nigerian politics, the spotlight quickly found a familiar face. Gbajabiamila. But the House panel's preliminary conclusion changes the entire direction of the story.

If Gbajabiamila neither authorised nor established the organisation, then clearing his name should not bring the matter to a quiet end. It should set off a much bigger alarm. Who was behind PFIPC? Who gave it the appearance of legitimacy? Who allowed it to operate close enough to government to become a matter of national controversy? And perhaps the most uncomfortable question of all: Who was watching the gates of government while this was happening?

This is where Nigerians must resist the easy temptation to turn the affair into another partisan trophy. One political camp cannot claim victory simply because a powerful individual has been cleared. Because exonerating one man does not exonerate the system.If anything, it exposes the system's vulnerabilities even more brutally. Think about what that means. If an organisation could assume a grand presidential title, present itself as possessing official authority, become associated with government business and raise questions about public funds—and yet allegedly have no legitimate legal foundation—then Nigeria is facing something much bigger than another political controversy.

We are looking at a possible institutional failure.

A failure of verification.

A failure of oversight.

A failure of accountability.

A failure to ask the most basic question:

Is this organisation actually what it claims to be?

That should frighten anyone who cares about the Nigerian state. Because government authority is supposed to have boundaries.

There are supposed to be procedures.There are supposed to be records.There are supposed to be people checking documents, signatures, appointments, mandates and expenditures.

There are supposed to be institutional firewalls protecting the state from impersonation, manipulation and fraud.

So how does something that allegedly had no legitimate existence get close enough to government machinery to become a national scandal? That is the mystery that cannot simply disappear because one name has been cleared.

Gbajabiamila deserves the benefit of the House's finding.

In a democracy, allegations must not become convictions simply because they make powerful headlines. If the evidence does not establish his involvement, then that finding should be respected.

But there is a profound difference between clearing a man and closing an investigation. The first may be justified.The second would be dangerous.

In fact, clearing Gbajabiamila should open the file wider. Much wider.

The authorities now have a responsibility to establish exactly how PFIPC emerged, who operated it, who benefited from it, how official-looking documents allegedly entered circulation, and how an organisation with questionable legal standing could move anywhere near government processes without immediately triggering alarms.

If this was deception, then the perpetrators did not merely deceive individuals.They exploited weaknesses in the Nigerian state.

And that is infinitely more troubling. Because the most dangerous fraud is not always the one that steals money.

Sometimes, it is the one that steals authority. Nigeria cannot afford a system where a convincing letterhead, an impressive title and an official-sounding name can create the illusion of presidential power.

Government is not theatre. A presidential title is not a magic wand. A document does not become authentic because it looks official. A signature does not become legitimate because it appears beneath a government letterhead. And public money must never become accessible simply because an organisation has mastered the language and appearance of government.

That is why the PFIPC controversy must not be reduced to the question of whether Gbajabiamila was involved.

That question matters. But it is only the doorway to a much darker one. How easy is it to impersonate the Nigerian state? If the answer is "too easy", then Nigeria has a problem. A very serious one. The PFIPC affair should therefore become an institutional reckoning. Not another political circus. Not another partisan shouting match.

Not another scandal that dominates the headlines for two weeks before disappearing into the enormous graveyard of unresolved Nigerian controversies. If Gbajabiamila is cleared, let him be cleared. If credible evidence implicates others, let the evidence lead investigators to them. If documents were fabricated, identify whoever fabricated them.If government procedures were bypassed, establish how—and fix the loopholes. If public funds were placed at risk, determine who was responsible and ensure that the same vulnerability cannot be exploited again.

Because Nigerians deserve something more than another name to blame. They deserve answers. They deserve to know how an organisation that may never have legally existed could acquire enough official oxygen to become entangled with the business of government.

They deserve to know who opened the door. They deserve to know who failed to lock it. And they deserve to know who, if anyone, was standing guard.

That is the question that should keep Abuja awake tonight. Because perhaps the most disturbing thing about the PFIPC affair is not that a powerful man was accused. It is that the affair may have exposed something much more frightening:

the possibility that someone discovered how easy it is to manufacture the appearance of power.

And once the appearance of government authority can be manufactured, borrowed or manipulated, the danger goes far beyond one man, one organisation or one scandal. It strikes at the credibility of the state itself. That is why the PFIPC story must not end with Gbajabiamila's name being cleared. That should be where the real investigation begins. Because the question is no longer simply: Who was accused?

It is: Who was behind the mask? And even more importantly: How did the mask get past the gates of government in the first place? That is the scandal Nigerians cannot afford to bury.