Some allegations stain a man’s record. Others expose his character. Dr. Yangien Ornguga did both and that’s why the Assembly had no choice but to reject him.
When he walked into the Benue State House of Assembly for his screening, it should have been a routine confirmation exercise. For many commissioner nominees, it is little more than a formality, a box to tick before resuming office. But for Dr. Ornguga, it became something far more consequential, a public trial of character. By the end, his nomination was rejected. And rightly so.
From the very first moment, his defence rang hollow. His allies, who should have stood firmly behind him, instead tiptoed around the hard questions. They left the stage wide open for critics to define the narrative. And they did, forcefully. Petition after petition came forward, each one painting a picture of arrogance, cruelty, and indifference to fairness. When given the chance to speak, Dr. Ornguga dismissed everything as a lie. But not once did he convincingly dismantle the substance of the charges. Leadership requires humility, clarity, and accountability. In those chambers, he showed none of the three.
One of the most telling moments came when he admitted, almost casually, that a student had been wrongly awarded an “F” in Constitutional Law. The Dean advised him to correct the error, a simple act of fairness that would have cost him nothing. Yet he refused. Instead, he forced the student to go through a slow and punishing remarking process. That single decision revealed volumes about his understanding of leadership. No fairness. No empathy. Just power without responsibility.
Then there was the matter of academic integrity. He openly claimed that he had skipped from Primary 5 straight into secondary school without sitting for the common entrance exam. For a man who prides himself on discipline and standards, that admission was jarring. It was not just a personal contradiction, it was a statement that undermined the very values he claims to represent.
Character, too, was put under the microscope. Out of thousands of students who had passed through his classes, the only testimony of goodwill he could muster was from one student who once paid for his passport. One. Meanwhile, the Assembly had in its possession four separate petitions against him. Can so many different voices, coming from different directions, all be lying? Can four separate groups unite around nothing but malice? The imbalance spoke for itself.
And then there was the most infamous incident of all.
The allegation that he ordered a student to stand before a crowded classroom and declare himself a fool. On this point, Dr. Ornguga was silent. He dodged it completely. Leadership leaves footprints, and silence in the face of cruelty is as good as an admission. A leader who cannot confront his past actions with clarity cannot be trusted with public office.
For the first time in a long while, I felt pride in the Benue State House of Assembly. The Speaker had declared that it would no longer be business as usual, and the House lived up to that promise. They probed. They pressed. They refused to be intimidated. And when the time came, they acted decisively. This was not politics. It was principle. The rejection was not about who supported whom or which party controlled what. It was about standards about finally saying that leadership must mean something.
And what does leadership mean? It is not about titles. It is not about degrees. It is not about the number of certificates one can frame on an office wall. Leadership is empathy. Leadership is fairness. Leadership is humility in service and restraint in power. Leadership is about carrying responsibility with grace, not wielding authority like a weapon.
This moment is bigger than Dr. Ornguga. His rejection is a mirror for every public servant, every political appointee, every man or woman who seeks to govern. Authority is not a licence for arrogance. Wickedness is not a leadership style. And accountability will always come.
Even Jesus, in Matthew 16:13, asked His disciples: “Who do men say that I am?” Not because He lacked knowledge, but because He understood that perception shaped by one’s actions matters. If the Son of God cared about what men said of Him, how much more should those who seek to lead mere mortals?
History never asks for certificates. It asks for receipts. And when they arrive, they arrive stamped in the lives you touched.
Stephanie Shaakaa
