The current protests by the Joint Health Sector Unions and the Assembly of Healthcare Professional Associations in Abuja are not just another labour agitation. They are an indication of how Nigeria’s fragile healthcare system is once again at the centre of a looming policy misstep that threatens professional harmony and undermines patient care.
In response to the proposed Medical and Dental Practitioners Act (Repeal and Re-enactment) Bill, 2026, health workers are staging public protests in the FCT.
They claim that if the legislation is passed in its current form by the National Assembly, it risks destabilising an already strained sector.
Health workers are right to be alarmed. At the heart of the controversy is a sweeping provision that seeks to vest overarching regulatory authority in the Medical and Dental Council of Nigeria, to the exclusion of all other professional health unions.
According to JOHESU’s National Secretary, Martin Egbanubi, such an arrangement would “erode the independence” of existing regulatory bodies for nurses, pharmacists, laboratory scientists, and other health practitioners.
In practical terms, the bill intends to subordinate nurses, pharmacists, laboratory scientists, physiotherapists, radiographers, and other allied professionals under a single council traditionally designed to regulate medical doctors and dentists. Such centralisation is not reform; it is overreach.
Nigeria’s healthcare ecosystem is inherently multidisciplinary. Each profession operates within clearly defined boundaries, backed by statutory regulatory bodies established to ensure standards, ethics, and accountability. To collapse these structures into a monolithic authority is to invite confusion, conflict, and ultimately, inefficiency.
The Nigeria Society of Physiotherapy has warned that the bill’s vague and expansive provisions could override existing laws and encroach on areas such as digital health, telemedicine, and emerging therapeutic technologies.
This is not merely a turf war; it is a legitimate fear of regulatory chaos in a rapidly evolving field.
Similarly, radiographers have sounded the alarm over what they describe as an existential threat to their profession. They objected to the bill’s attempt to redefine radiology in a manner that erases radiography as an independent discipline.
Even more troubling are allegations that the bill introduces financial provisions that disproportionately benefit one professional group. This raises serious ethical questions about the intent and fairness, if true.
At a time when Nigeria is grappling with a mass exodus of healthcare workers, poor infrastructure, and chronic underfunding, this is a dangerous distraction. The country cannot afford policies that deepen divisions within the sector or create new layers of bureaucracy.
Globally, best practices favour a collaborative, profession-led regulatory model.
The United Kingdom, for example, operates a multi-regulator system where each profession has its own statutory body.
Doctors are regulated by the General Medical Council; nurses and midwives by the Nursing and Midwifery Council; pharmacists by the General Pharmaceutical Council; and physiotherapists, radiographers, and other allied professionals fall under the Health and Care Professions Council.
Each regulator sets entry standards, licensing requirements, and disciplinary procedures specific to its field.
In Canada, regulation is even more decentralised, reflecting its federal structure. Each province has independent colleges—for example, the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario regulates doctors, while nurses, pharmacists, and physiotherapists are governed by their respective colleges.
Australia runs a national but still profession-respecting model under the Australian Health Practitioner Regulation Agency. The AHPRA acts as an administrative umbrella, but crucially, it does not replace professional autonomy. Each board makes decisions specific to its profession. This model strikes a balance: central coordination without professional subjugation.
Nigeria should be learning from these models, not charting a regressive path.
The National Assembly must resist the temptation to rush this bill through the legislative process.
Instead, it should heed the calls for broader stakeholder engagement and inclusive consultations. Laws that govern critical sectors like healthcare must be built on consensus, not coercion.
This is not a battle between doctors and other health professionals. It is a question of preserving the integrity of a system that millions of Nigerians depend on for survival.
A doctor cannot replace a pharmacist. A physiotherapist cannot be regulated as an afterthought. Each profession brings specialised knowledge that is indispensable to patient outcomes.
To subordinate one group under another is to weaken the entire chain of care. Nigeria’s healthcare crisis requires thoughtful and strategic reforms, and the proposed bill, in its current form, falls short of that standard.
The National Assembly must ensure that the final draft captures and protects the legitimate interests of all stakeholders.
