Alwan Hassan of Kano is a member of the All-Progressives Congress (APC) Presidential Campaign Council. With just two months to Nigeria’s presidential election, Hassan is strutting across nooks of crannies of the Nigerian media space working tirelessly to get President Bola Ahmed Tinubu reelected in 2027. He is one of the few fellas on Nigerian TV I spare my precious time listening to as he expresses his opinions on politics and politicking. I like Hassan.
A few days ago, his presidential campaign assignment took him to Channels TV headbutting it out with my brother, Seun Okinbaloye. Hassan pitched his candidate and the achievements of his party with fiery boisterousness on TV. In a swift unsolicited switch, the Presidential spokesman beat his chest severally that Nigeria’s Emergency Number 112 which was fine-tuned by President Tinubu’s administration was what eyes have not seen and ears have never heard in Nigeria. Hassan huffed-and-puffed claiming that the emergency number was fully functional and operational nationwide.
With deafening chutzpah, he challenged Seun to dial the number on speakerphone as millions around the world watched. Seun obliged, thumping his finger on his mobile device. Oops! The line was dead! Hassan tried to save himself by blaming it on network issues.
But the damage was already done. It turned into the exact opposite of what he wanted to show. Instead of proving the system works, it proved on live TV that it doesn’t. Hassan even admitted afterward that Abuja center is ready, but the President told them not to launch until all centers are aligned. So, he was claiming an achievement for something he was cocksure is still in progress? It’s one thing to read a report that 112 is patchy, it’s another to watch a government official dare a presenter to test it and have it failed in front of everyone. I felt so bad I couldn’t watch the program until the end.
In a country where emergencies are real, rescue must never be imaginary. When distressed Nigerians dial 112, they are not calling for entertainment, empty assurances, or bureaucratic rigmarole. They are calling for help. But when a number designed to save lives repeatedly fails to deliver, 112 begins to ring suspiciously like the notorious 419.
The contrast is stark between 112, a number intended to save lives, and 419, a number associated with fraud, deception, and dissimulation in Nigeria. Was Hassan on behalf of the government trying to pull a fast one on Nigerians? I do not think so. He is a straight-shooting dude. The political operative was simply overzealous in the manner he was trying to market as magic wand a project that is yet to see the light of day. That’s all. I’m certain nobody in the presidency instructed him to go that far with Seun.
In the aftermath of Hassan’s botched PR stunt, opposition members immediately jumped on the tactical error of the political acolyte of Mr. President. What do you expect in an election year when 18 candidates want to dethrone President Tinubu and occupy the same coveted seat? They called the incident a symbol of the administration’s broader failures in public infrastructure and emergency response systems, and urging the government to fix the services rather than blame network glitches.
Meanwhile, some of these candidates had at varying times in history occupied powerful positions in government. What did they do to revamp Nigeria’s decrepit infrastructures?
Recently, the Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC), and the National Economic Council chaired by Vice President Kashim Shettima announced plans to unify and scale the 112-emergency call initiative across the country. The emergency line is designed to be a toll-free system that works on MTN, Glo, Airtel, and 9Mobile even without airtime. It’s meant to be Nigeria’s version of 911 in the US where I live and do business. It connects you to an Emergency Communications Centre in your state, who then routes you to the right responders. The NCC says it has set up about 35 Emergency Communications Centers nationwide. In some states it connects instantly, in others it still fails. What Hassan did not emphasize is that the project is work in progress, not something that is already working wonders before its scheduled final roll-out March 2027.
112 is supposed to work, but in practice right now it’s hit-or-miss depending on your state and network. Inconsistent functionality across mobile networks, poor connectivity, and not enough ambulances in some areas are some of the prevalent challenges. On paper, 112 is approved and the centers exist. But if it doesn’t connect when someone needs it, it doesn’t matter what the policy says. Hassan’s live demo exposed a much deeper problem. He tried to use a system as a political talking point before the system was ready. In politics, you never do a live demonstration of something you’re not sure is functional. He turned an abstract declaration into a testable claim. And the test failed. Once that happens, you can’t spin it. The story stops being about policy and becomes about credibility.
112 is not new. The National Assembly passed a law for a universal emergency number back in 2003. The NCC built centers under Goodluck Jonathan, Buhari launched it in several states in 2019, and now in September 2026 the President Tinubu’s government directed agencies to create another roadmap for nationwide rollout. Each administration announces it again, forms a new committee, but never treats it as a finished engineering project with a hard deadline.
Nigeria needs about 4000-5000 functional ambulances for the whole country but can boast only of about 450 functional, ready-to-go rescue vehicles. Our trained paramedics all over the nation are less than 1,000. So, you have Emergency Communication Centers in 24-35 states, but no unified dispatch, no location tracking yet, and no ambulances to send. Even if 112 connects, there’s often nothing to dispatch. And because of that, Nigerians don’t trust the government.
Hassan’s embarrassing bloviation on National TV triggers this uncomfortable question: Is Nigeria’s emergency lifeline becoming another casualty of governmental overpromising and underdelivering? Or is this an otherwise useful public service still struggling through the labyrinth of technological and institutional deficiencies? Whatever the explanation, Nigerians deserve more than assurances.
When a citizen’s life hangs in the balance, an emergency number must connect to help, not excuses. When danger comes knocking, citizens should be able to summon help with the confidence that someone will answer. In a nation where insecurity has become a frightening fixture of everyday existence and an unsettling companion of daily living, an emergency telephone number should be a lifeline, not a lottery.
It should be a vital link to life, not a laughable experiment in governmental ineptitude. Nigeria’s emergency number, 112, was designed to provide that critical connection between distress and deliverance. But what happens when a desperate cry for help is greeted by deafening silence? What happens when a number advertised as a lifesaving instrument becomes an exercise in frustration? Nigeria’s emergency 112 must never become an emerging 419, where public expectations are raised, promises are amplified, but dependable assistance remains elusive.
When Nigerians dial 112, they are not calling for political propaganda, campaign promises, or bureaucratic explanations. They are calling for help. And help that arrives after tragedy has struck is no help at all.
He can be reached on X-@FolaOjotweet
