• Halima Layeni

By Halima Layeni

As world leaders converge for the 80th United Nations General Assembly, the world will once again be filled with lofty declarations of equality, justice, and the global commitment to “leave no one behind.”

For decades, heads of state have mounted the UN podium to reaffirm their dedication to building a fairer and more inclusive world.

Yet behind the powerful rhetoric rests a stark reality: our international system has systematically excluded men and boys from the gender equality agenda.

Each year, billions of dollars are directed toward programs for women and girls.

Entire agencies exist to advance their progress. Yet there is no UN Men. No dedicated institution, no agency, and no systematic recognition of the unique challenges faced by men and boys.

At the United Nations, gender equality remains, at best, an unfinished project.

The creation of UN Women was a historic milestone, and its work has been transformative.

But an equality framework that consistently overlooks half of humanity cannot truly be called equality.

It is omission, and that omission carries devastating consequences not only for men, but also for women, families, communities, and economies.

Billions of dollars are invested in women’s health, maternal health, reproductive rights, and women’s empowerment in education and business.

These investments are vital. But there is no equivalent investment for men.

The irony is striking: the very men whose wealth sustains much of UN funding, from Bill Gates to male founded corporations and institutions, are excluded from the agenda they help finance.

Men have become the financial backbone of global development, yet their own mental health crises, workplace risks, and social challenges remain invisible.

Men are four times more likely than women to die by suicide. In many countries, suicide is the leading cause of death for men under 50.

September is Suicide Prevention Month, yet there is no UN resolution, no global campaign, no flagship effort that addresses men’s crisis with the urgency it demands.

Movements like Movember have done more to spotlight men’s health than the United Nations itself. That fact alone should compel world leaders to act.

The imbalance is equally evident on the UN calendar. There are more than seventeen official days dedicated to women and girls, from the International Day of the Girl Child to the International Day to End Violence against Women.

Yet there is not a single UN recognized international day for men. The United Nations has institutionalized the belief that men’s issues are not worthy of recognition.

If the promise is to “leave no one behind,” then why have men and boys been left behind at the highest levels of global governance?

Grassroots initiatives demonstrate that men will engage when given the space.

Andy’s Man Club in the UK offers weekly peer support to thousands of men.

Life After Abuse Foundation in Nigeria has led groundbreaking campaigns on men’s mental health, trauma, and gender equity.

These organizations are pioneering vital work, but they cannot replace the institutional power of the United Nations. Without a global platform, men’s struggles will remain fragmented and chronically underfunded.

At the same time, men are consistently called to be allies for gender equality, to stand up for women, to fight violence, and to create space in politics and business.

These are noble and necessary goals. But the contradiction is glaring: how can men be allies when their own struggles are ignored?

How can they feel they belong in a system that denies them acknowledgment?

True allyship requires belonging, yet men are relegated to supporting roles in a framework where they themselves are not included.It is also important to acknowledge that the vast majority of world leaders are men.

The Inter Parliamentary Union reported that over 85 percent of heads of state and government remain male.

At the UN General Assembly, leaders present their boldest visions for humanity, yet the challenges of men and boys are almost never mentioned.

The paradox is undeniable. These are men who speak passionately about climate change, peace, poverty, and the rights of women and girls. Yet when it comes to their own gender, they remain silent.

From shaping international frameworks to championing human rights, the United States has been the engine of many global successes. Now, it is time for the U.S. to lead again by advancing the establishment of UN Men.

If men dominate the seats of power, why is there such reluctance to address men’s challenges?

Why is it that leaders who themselves are fathers, brothers, and sons do not raise the issues that directly affect their own gender on the global stage?

This silence is not accidental. It is cultural. It is rooted in the entrenched belief that men must always be strong, stoic, and self sufficient, even when the evidence says otherwise.

The silence of world leaders mirrors the silence many men endure in their personal lives.

The United States has long stood apart as a pioneer in shaping the modern world. It was America that helped create the very United Nations that today gathers world leaders. It was America that put humanity on the moon.

America has consistently led the way in building institutions, driving democratic values, advancing global health, and fostering technological revolutions.

From shaping international frameworks to championing human rights, the United States has been the engine of many global successes. Now, it is time for the U.S. to lead again by advancing the establishment of UN Men.

In recent years, leaders like Donald Trump reminded the world that millions of men felt overlooked and undervalued.

His policies on growth and jobs, his focus on American workers, and his message of strength resonated with men who believed globalization had left their struggles unaddressed.

That was not merely politics. It was a signal that men’s grievances are real and must be confronted.

America has historically demonstrated the courage to face truths that others avoid, and it must now lead again at the 80th UNGA by championing the creation of UN Men.

This is not just a call to the United States, but to every nation at the UNGA. From France to Japan, from Brazil to Germany, world leaders must acknowledge that the health, dignity, and well being of men are not peripheral concerns. They are urgent priorities.

The time has come for courage, and courage begins with truth. The truth is simple: we need UN Men. Not to compete with UN Women, but to complement it. Just as UN Women institutionalized women’s rights, UN Men must institutionalize the advancement of men.

Together, they can create a holistic vision of gender justice that fully embraces the human experience.UN Men would champion men’s mental health. It would address vulnerabilities in education, work, justice, and health.

It would research fatherhood, caregiving, and evolving male identities. It would dismantle harmful stereotypes that fuel cycles of silence and violence.

Most importantly, it would ensure men are recognized not just as allies to women, but as human beings with their own struggles and their own right to care, support, and dignity.

Yes, this call will be controversial. Some will argue that it undermines women’s rights. But history shows the opposite.

When one group is elevated while another is ignored, imbalance and resentment take root. When both are recognized, stability and collaboration follow. UN Men would not diminish women’s gains. It would complete them.

To the leaders at UNGA 2025, the message is clear: history is watching.

The men of the world are waiting. Their families are waiting. The United Nations was created to be a beacon of justice and inclusion for all. Establish UN Men.

Dedicate resources, research, and recognition to the struggles of men and boys. Institutionalize their inclusion in the global agenda.

The world will not remember safe speeches. It will remember leaders who had the courage to confront realities others ignored. UNGA 2025 is more than another summit.

It is a historic opportunity to build gender equality on balance rather than omission. The time for UN Men has come.

• Halima Layeni is a Men’s Mental Advocate and Founder & Executive Director, Life After Abuse Foundation.

By Babs Daramola

For decades, a quiet question has stirred in Nigeria’s media landscape: what does it truly mean to be a journalist?

Is it the newsroom, the microphone, or perhaps something in between?

This conversation spans those who honed their craft behind the scenes and those who connect with audiences on air.

As the profession evolves globally, exploring these different paths offers a fascinating glimpse into the many faces of journalism today.

The NUJ, as Nigeria’s foremost professional body for journalists, has naturally found itself at the center of this conversation.

Its membership guidelines and standards reflect a long-standing commitment to professional rigor—but they also raise interesting questions about how journalism is defined today.

Exploring the NUJ’s role offers a window into how traditional paths intersect with modern practice, and how the profession continues to recognize both experience and innovation in telling the country’s stories.

One of the most enduring points of discussion lies between those who “grew up in the newsroom” and those who made their mark on air.

Newsroom-trained journalists have long been celebrated for their investigative rigor and adherence to editorial processes, while broadcasters bring immediacy, connection, and often a deep understanding of current affairs directly to the audience.

Both paths contribute to the media landscape in meaningful ways, yet the conversation around recognition and professional legitimacy continues to spark curiosity – and sometimes controversy – within the industry.

I must admit that I too once leaned toward a narrow definition.

I argued that only those directly involved in news gathering and dissemination should rightly be called journalists.

My point, however, was not to dismiss broadcasting.

A disc jockey, an on-air personality, or a presenter of purely entertainment content is not a journalist by default.

But once a broadcaster ventures into news, current affairs, or issue-driven programming; once they engage the public in conversations that inform, interrogate power, and shape opinion, they are squarely within journalism, regardless of whether they passed through a newsroom.

As someone who has spent nearly 37 years in the profession, working in newsrooms, programme production rooms, managing broadcast outfits, and training upcoming broadcasters, I speak not as an outsider but as one deeply immersed in the craft.

Over these decades, I have seen first-hand how broadcasters and programme hosts, even those without formal newsroom training, have risen to handle current affairs with a depth and rigour that match, and sometimes surpass, their newsroom-trained colleagues.

My vantage point convinces me that the NUJ’s narrow criteria exclude valuable voices that have enriched Nigerian journalism.

History proves it: you don’t need a newsroom or a journalism degree to shape public discourse.

Larry King became a global icon with his probing interviews; Oprah Winfrey turned daytime TV into a platform for national reflection; Trevor Noah transformed comedy into incisive political analysis.

In one state, a media aide to a deputy governor was barred by the local NUJ chapter from using the title of Chief Press Secretary simply because she was not a card-carrying member of the Union

In Nigeria, Funmi Iyanda’s New Dawn fearlessly interrogated social issues, Mo Abudu’s Moments with Mo and EbonyLife TV elevated African narratives, and Ebuka Obi-Uchendu has grilled political leaders on Rubbin’ Minds with unmatched precision.

Bisi Olatilo’s multilingual presentations chronicled Nigeria’s political, social, and cultural life for decades.

In sports, Ernest Okonkwo, who never worked in a newsroom, electrified Nigerian radio with football commentary; John Motson commanded global football coverage; and Charles Anazodo, armed with an English degree but no newsroom training, became a defining voice on SuperSport Nigeria and SportZone.

None were newsroom-bred, yet all embodied journalism’s hallmarks: rigour, relevance, and undeniable public impact.

For anyone to denounce these iconic personalities as journalists is simply criminal!

The consequences of NUJ’s rigid posture are not merely theoretical.

In one state, a media aide to a deputy governor was barred by the local NUJ chapter from using the title of Chief Press Secretary simply because she was not a card-carrying member of the Union.

Her professional affiliation lay instead with the Radio, Television, Theatre and Arts Workers’ Union (RATTAWU).

She eventually settled for the title of Director of Communications. That kind of trivial gatekeeping does little to promote professionalism; instead, it hurts developmental journalism by erecting artificial barriers where none should exist.

Some defenders of the NUJ argue that its restrictive membership posture is a way of ensuring standards among practitioners. But this line of reasoning is weak and unacademic.

How does limiting membership to those with newsroom training or formal certificates guarantee professional standards?

Doctors and lawyers are licensed because their trades rest on highly technical knowledge with life-or-death consequences. Journalism is different.

It is not about certificates or regulatory seals; it is about truth-telling, verification, accountability, and informing society.

Indeed, UNESCO has consistently defined journalism not by degrees but by practice: “the activity of gathering, assessing, creating, and presenting news and information.”

The African Union’s Windhoek+30 Declaration on Information as a Public Good (2021) affirms the same spirit, urging states and institutions to recognize diverse media actors in advancing democracy.

And as Bill Kovach and Tom Rosenstiel remind us in their influential book The Elements of Journalism, the profession is ultimately defined by enduring principles: verification, independence, and a commitment to citizens; not by a union card or a newsroom pedigree.

Across the world, professional associations in journalism tend to be more inclusive.

The U.S. Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ) admits practitioners across the broad spectrum of news and current affairs, whether they are print reporters, online editors, talk-show hosts, or multimedia producers.

The UK’s National Union of Journalists (NUJ) similarly accommodates a wide variety of roles, from broadcasters to photojournalists.

Even within Africa, countries like South Africa and Kenya run relatively liberal systems where unions and associations recognize the diversity of the modern media space, instead of reducing journalism to one path. Nigeria cannot afford to lag behind.

What our own NUJ needs now is a rethink. It must broaden its tent, not narrow it. It must recognize that journalism is not a one-size-fits-all craft tied to old newsroom hierarchies.

The media landscape has expanded: citizen journalists, digital storytellers, and broadcasters who shape public discourse all fall within journalism’s wider orbit. To continue excluding them is to deny reality.

The Union has played a vital role in defending press freedom in Nigeria’s history, and it can play an even greater role in shaping the future.

But to do so, it must align itself with international best practices and with the lived realities of the profession. Journalism thrives not on exclusion but on relevance, adaptability, and fidelity to truth.

For the NUJ, the choice is clear: evolve into a forward-looking institution that embraces diversity in practice, or risk irrelevance in a world that has already moved on.

∆ Babs Daramola is a Lagos-based broadcast journalist with nearly four decades of experience in newsrooms, programme production, management of broadcast outlets, and training of upcoming media professionals.

Former President Muhammadu Buhari died abroad, far from home, in a foreign hospital. His death, while solemn, is also symbolic.

It reflects a painful irony: the same country whose leaders refuse to invest in its healthcare system continues to starve its own healers.

Nigerian doctors and health professionals, the true lifeblood of the nation, are underpaid, overworked, and systemically ignored.

While political elites escape abroad for care, those who remain behind to hold the fragile system together are left to struggle in silence with little support and even less dignity.

The Nigerian health system is in a state of emergency, crippled by gross underfunding and a mass exodus of medical professionals.

While public hospitals deteriorate, political elites indulge in medical tourism, flying abroad for treatments that could be managed locally.

This is an insult to every Nigerian who has no choice but to rely on poorly funded public hospitals.

The masses bear the brunt of this collapse, facing endless queues, dilapidated infrastructure, and overworked doctors who themselves are victims of a broken system.

The “Japa” syndrome has led to the departure of thousands of our best healthcare providers due to inadequate pay, poor welfare, and lack of adequate security.

Those who remain are stretched thin and overwhelmed, expected to perform miracles under frustrating conditions.

Moreover, beyond exhaustion, many doctors feel frustrated, undervalued, and financially insecure.

A frustrated doctor can inadvertently become a dangerous one, not out of intent, but because the environment fosters mistakes, burnout, and emotional detachment.

Medicine may be a humanitarian profession, but using that to justify poor pay and welfare neglect is moral injustice at its worst.

The poor pay has forced many medical professionals to work at multiple hospitals, often to the detriment of their health and family.

Health workers in Nigeria deserve much more: better pay, housing, and car loans, opportunities for professional development, and mental health support.

These are not luxuries, they are critical investments in the nation’s survival and well-being. The masses, civil society organizations, and religious bodies should join the advocacy for this.

No country mistreats its health workers and thrives. A nation that cannot protect its healers is ultimately unfit to protect its people.

The fact that political elites chose foreign hospitals over local ones is a damning confession: they do not believe in Nigeria.

They do not trust the system they have created, nor do they care for the lives of the ordinary citizens they swore to protect. This is a profound betrayal that cannot be ignored.

In light of this disgraceful reality, the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) must take urgent action. A bill should be sponsored to prohibit public office holders from seeking medical care abroad for any condition that can be managed in Nigeria.

Our leaders should be compelled to use the same system they oversee. If they can subject themselves to our justice system, they should do the same with our health sector.

Nigerians have internalized years of pain and disillusionment, and their reaction to the death of their leaders reflects the raw emotion of a people long abused and neglected.

If the time ever comes when Nigerians decide to channel their pain into action, history will not be kind to those who failed to act when they had the chance.

The ruling class cannot afford this, and hence the need for them to demonstrate patriotism and a genuine care for the masses.

Now that former President Buhari has been buried, we must also bury the years of neglect, poor remuneration, and systemic disregard for the welfare of our medical personnel.

Let his passing signal a new era where those who hold up our healthcare system are valued, respected, and adequately rewarded.

A reformed health system with good remuneration for its personnel is not a luxury; it is the foundation of a nation that values life, justice, and its people.

Contact email: princeayoade@gmail.com