
OTHERS' VIEWS
This week, President Bola Tinubu set tongues wagging when he formally requested the approval of the National Assembly to secure a new wave of multi-currency loans amounting to approximately $23.5 billion, €2.265 billion, ¥15 billion, and N757.9 billion, as part of the country’s 2025-2026 external borrowing plan.
Already, a lot of citizens have expressed concerns that the country may be heading towards a debt trap, a situation in which its debt is difficult or impossible to repay, almost two decades after it achieved debt forgiveness from the Paris Club.
More worrying with this development is the fact that, at a time when the Central Bank of Nigeria’s (CBN) Governor, Olayemi Cardoso and his team are aggressively pursuing a tight monetary policy regime aimed at curbing inflation and stabilising the naira, the federal government’s push for fresh borrowing appears to contradict this policy direction. Such a move risks undermining the effectiveness of monetary tightening by injecting more liquidity into the economy through increased public spending, potentially fueling inflationary pressures, distorting market signals, and eroding investor confidence in the government’s fiscal discipline.
Precisely, the fresh proposed borrowing plan, spanning multiple international lenders and development institutions, marks one of the most ambitious external financing proposals of this administration to date and will certainly elevate the country’s existing debt stock.
As at December 31, 2024, Nigeria’s total public debt stood at N144.67 trillion, according to data from the Debt Management Office. This was a 48.58 per cent rise from the N97.34 trillion recorded by the country as at the end of 2023.
However, the Minister of Finance and Coordinating Minister of the Economy, Mr. Wale Edun, has dismissed widespread claims suggesting that the country plans to borrow $25 billion within one to two years, calling such impressions as totally erroneous and misleading. He explained that the actual borrowing plan for 2025 is $1.2 billion through the DMO and up to $2 billion via the multilateral borrowing programme. These, he said, are tied to specific projects and would be disbursed over time, not in a lump sum.
“The actual borrowing for each year is contained in the annual budget. In 2025, the external borrowing component is $1.23 billion, and it has not yet been drawn. This is planned for the second half of 2025. Also, the plan is for both the federal and several state governments across numerous geopolitical zones, including Abia, Bauchi, Borno, Gombe, Kaduna, Lagos, Niger, Oyo, Sokoto, and Yobe States.
“Importantly, it should be noted that the borrowing rolling plan does not equate to an automatic increase in the nation’s debt burden. The nature of the rolling plan means that borrowings are split over the period of the projects. For example, a large proportion of projects in the 2024 – 2026 rolling plan have multi-year draw downs of between five to seven years, which are project-tied loans,” the minister stated.
Despite Edun’s clarification, the general concern is that Nigeria’s debt profile has been rising at an alarming pace. While borrowing is not inherently bad, as many nations leverage debt to fund growth, what distinguishes Nigeria’s case is the absence of a clear, measurable impact over the years, which has heightened distrust between the citizens and public office holders.
Public trust is the currency of governance. When leaders borrow in the name of national development, the people expect transparency, accountability, and results. This erosion of public trust is multifaceted, stemming from a combination of perceived corruption, lack of transparency in governance, inconsistent policy implementation, and a general feeling among citizens that their welfare is not the primary focus of leadership.
When citizens witness vast sums being borrowed with little to show for it in terms of improved public services or economic opportunities, skepticism naturally takes root. The opaqueness surrounding how loans are secured, how funds are disbursed, and the accountability mechanisms in place further fuels this distrust.
For instance, a recent revelation by civic tech organisation, BudgIT Nigeria, that it uncovered over 11,000 projects worth N6.93 trillion inserted by the National Assembly in the 2025 budget underscores growing concerns about transparency and fiscal discipline.
BudgIT had described the development as a deeply entrenched culture of exploitation and abuse, led by top-ranking members of the National Assembly, which is another means of frittering borrowed public funds meant to support national development.
This lack of transparency creates a chasm between the government and the governed, making it increasingly difficult for authorities to garner public support for necessary, albeit sometimes painful, economic reforms.
Indeed, Nigeria is not the first nation to borrow, and won’t be the last. But what distinguishes successful economies is not the size of their debt, but the clarity of their vision and the trust of their people.
This, however, is the time for other civil society groups, just like BudgIT, and indeed the citizens, to wake up, stay vigilant, and demand full accountability from those in power. We must ask the right questions about public finance, scrutinise every line of the budget, and track every amount borrowed to support governance. If we fail to act now, these massive loans meant to improve lives as had been reported in the past, could quietly vanish into private pockets, fueling corruption instead of development.
By prioritising fiscal discipline, fostering transparency, and actively working to restore the faith of its citizens, Nigeria can unlock its immense potential and build a more prosperous and equitable future for its citizens.
In the absence of trust, even the most well-intentioned policies will be met with suspicion. Therefore, as the government considers another round of massive borrowing, it must also begin the hard work of rebuilding its trust deficit.
There is supposed to be a formidable coalition of powerful regional and national political forces working to upstage President Bola Ahmed Tinubu in 2027. But this coalition isn’t coalescing and appears to be crumbling before it has even had a chance to be formed. Three major reasons account for this.
The first reason is what I call the aspirational collision of the major movers of the coalition. By that, I mean the two major power blocs behind the coalition have irreconcilably divergent ideas about who should occupy the upper end of the ticket the coalition will produce.
PDP’s Atiku Abubakar basically wants a recreation of the 2019 electoral lineup. He would be the presidential candidate, and Labor Party’s Peter Obi would be the vice-presidential candidate. It is predicated on the assumption that Atiku Abubakar, by virtue of his primordial identity, will be a magnet for northern votes.
If he is the only prominent northern candidate in 2027, he will win both Muslim and Christian votes in the region, as northern Christians trust him more than any northern Muslim politician of his generation on account of his remarkable broadmindedness, though his close association with Nasir El-Rufai, widely regarded by many northern Christians as a crass, unremorseful Christophobe because of his past actions and utterances, undermines this appeal.
Peter Obi is supposed to bring the enthusiasm and votes he got from the 2023 presidential election to the coalition. However, it appears that although Peter Obi isn’t personally ill-disposed to being Atiku’s running mate again, his support base in the South would deplete considerably should he choose to play second fiddle to a northerner this time.
The dramatic rise in his political capital in 2023 was entirely the consequence of his being the only notable Southern Christian presidential candidate in the race. Plus, the prevalent sentiment in the South is that Muhammadu Buhari’s eight-year tenure was the North’s chance to rule. The next eight years from 2023 is the South’s turn.
If Obi were to accept being Atiku’s running mate, he would be seen by people in the South, including his native Southeast, as a betrayer, as a quisling, of the region. And that would mark the irretrievable diminution of his political capital.
Yet, it is unconstitutional for Atiku to be anybody’s running mate, having been a two-term vice president before. So, there is zero possibility of Atiku agreeing to be running mate to Obi, whom he brought to national limelight by choosing him as his running mate in 2019, against the recommendation of major players in the PDP at the time.
This is an unresolvable impasse. As much as the South justifiably thinks it is its turn to produce the president until 2031, the North has been unsuccessfully calling attention to the disadvantage it has suffered as a result of Umaru Musa Yar’Adua’s death, which prematurely returned power to the South for six years.
The Atiku group’s carrot to Obi—to accept being VP in exchange for Atiku serving only one term—is informed by this logic. It somehow compensates the North’s six-year loss and promises a return of power to the Southeast, which has never produced a president (or even a vice president) since the start of the Fourth Republic.
Nevertheless, if the chatter I see on social media is any guide, Obi’s support base is unpersuaded by this. Were Obi to accept being a running mate to Atiku in 2027, many Obi supporters say they would rather sit out the election or, worse, vote for Tinubu to ensure that the presidency remains in the South.
This is complicated by the reality that, were Atiku to stay out of the 2027 presidential contest and endorse Obi, it’s unlikely to improve Obi’s electoral fortunes in parts of the North that rejected him in 2023.
The second reason the coalition is unlikely to succeed is that key northern politicians who are already positioning themselves to be Tinubu’s successor in 2031 are either not part of it or are in it to undercut it from within. There are two reasons for this.
First, an Atiku presidency would mean their aspirations to be president would be deferred by more years than a Tinubu second term. Plus, even if Atiku honors his alleged pledge to serve for only one term (which is never a guarantee, given the intoxication of power), he would hand over power to the South. That counts them out.
Second, opposing Tinubu’s second term by joining a coalition would ensure that they take themselves out of consideration for Tinubu’s support in 2031. It is self-seeking political calculation that assumes the nature and form of the outlines of the future.
The third reason the coalition would have trouble taking off is Tinubu’s own determined, single-minded, well-oiled—even state-sanctioned—effort to destroy it. I’ll only talk about one effort because, while many people may be aware of it, only a few seem to be conscious of it.
Tinubu is deploying a political propaganda tactic called the bandwagon technique. This method encourages people to act or think a certain way because “everyone else is doing it.” It appeals to the human desire to be part of the majority or to avoid being left out.
It’s a powerful technique because it leverages social pressure and the fear of missing out (FOMO). The unceasing gale of political defections of prominent political actors across the country is intended to cause Tinubu’s opponents to question their judgement and give up their opposition to him.
Even Afrobeats music icon Davido—who won well-deserved plaudits and brownie points from Igbo people a few days ago for telling a Yoruba Twitter interlocutor who questioned his outward symbolic associations with Igbo that he is “Igbo by blood”—appears to be part of this bandwagon technique.
Video records of him visiting Tinubu in the Presidential Villa and introducing well-known Igbo entertainment figures as “APC members” fit the bandwagon method perfectly. Here’s a man whom the president’s media team had tackled vigorously for his criticism of Tinubu’s government, whose uncle is a PDP governor, and who publicly identifies with the Igbo (a core stronghold of opposition to Tinubu), now openly identifying with the president at the same time that major political players in opposition parties are switching to APC. That’s unlikely to be random.
When you add this to the predominant sentiment in Nigeria that incumbents don’t lose elections, even if they actually lose them (with the exception of Goodluck Jonathan), you are looking at a systematic, coordinated effort to construct the rhetoric of inevitability around Tinubu’s second term.
A coalition of politicians who don’t offer or promise anything different from Tinubu and who have irreconcilable asymmetries in their expectations of what the coalition should produce will have a hard time overcoming Tinubu’s strategies.
This is sad because, as I previously pointed out, the conditions in the country should preclude Tinubu from even being considered for a second term. A May 24, 2025, special report I read in Vanguard by Dr. Dele Sobowale titled “Tinubu at Midterm: Who are the People Gov’t is Satisfying?” was particularly striking.
Sobowale's Consultancy conducted a nationwide survey to assess public perception of the federal government's performance. The study involved a brief verbal questionnaire posed to Nigerians across all six geopolitical zones, cutting across age, ethnicity, religion, gender, and income levels.
Participants were asked two simple yes-or-no questions: whether their lives were better now compared to two years ago, and whether they expected things to improve in the next two years.
The findings were stark. Only 3 percent of respondents said their lives had improved, while an overwhelming 97 percent said they had not. Even more striking was the pessimism about the future: just 1 percent expressed hope for improvement in the next two years, while 99 percent did not.
These results reflect a deep sense of dissatisfaction and growing despair among the Nigerian populace. In a normal setting, no government that has enabled this much misery index and that is burdened by this heavy perceptual burden should even run for a second term. But this is Nigeria.
[OPINION] Why There’s No Such Thing as “Correct” or “Incorrect” Pronunciation - Farooq A. Kperogi
AdminYesterday’s light-hearted post about African English pronunciations using the example of how Nigerians, Kenyans, and Ghanaians say the word “work” sparked a spirited conversation about the supposed “correct” way to pronounce English words.
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With my 8-year-old daughter, Ramat, during the last ed-el-fitr celebration |
After reading through the comments, I’ve concluded that many, perhaps most, Nigerians have been conditioned (brainwashed might be the better word) by Ghanaian teachers who came to Nigeria in large numbers during the 1970s and 1980s to teach in primary and secondary schools.
These teachers, whether consciously or not, often instilled the idea that Nigerian pronunciations were “wrong” or inferior to Ghanaian ones. That belief is deeply flawed.
Let’s begin with a fundamental truth: there is no universally “correct” or “incorrect” pronunciation in English.
Within England alone, pronunciation varies dramatically from region to region. The same holds true for the United States and every other native-English-speaking country.
Every speech community adapts pronunciation to its own linguistic environment and sociocultural peculiarities.
Second, I’ve interacted with native English speakers from different countries for over two decades now, and I can confidently say that Ghanaian English pronunciation isn’t inherently closer to native English accents than Nigerian pronunciation is.
Ghanaian English sounds Ghanaian. Nigerian English sounds Nigerian. That’s all there is to it.
It’s true that dictionaries provide phonetic transcriptions of words, and those who learn English formally often mistake these transcriptions for definitive pronunciation standards.
But dictionaries merely offer approximations—often based on a narrow sliver of upper-class native speakers.
The situation becomes even more complex when you consider the wide variation within native English dialects. What dictionaries present as “standard” is usually just the speech of society’s elites who are, ironically, a small minority even in their own countries.
Standard English pronunciation is not synonymous with the “correct” English pronunciation, just as non-standard varieties aren’t “incorrect.”
For example, take Received Pronunciation (RP), often called the King’s (or Queen’s) English or BBC English. Only about 2 to 3 percent of people in England speak with an RP accent. Some estimates stretch that to 5 or 10 percent, but even then, over 90 percent of Britons don’t speak RP.
So, to call it the only “correct” accent simply because it’s represented in UK dictionaries or on broadcast media is to erase and belittle the speech patterns of the vast majority of English speakers in Britain.
In the United States, the General American (GenAm) accent is more widely used than RP is in the UK, with estimates suggesting that about 40 to 50 percent of Americans speak a variant of it.
Still, the U.S. is teeming with other recognizable accents: Southern, Bostonian, New York, Appalachian, Cajun, and many more.
This is precisely why pronunciation doesn’t factor into what is formally defined as Standard English.
That said, I am not suggesting that you shouldn’t strive to pronounce words in ways that make you intelligible to the widest audience possible. Communicative clarity matters.
But let’s be honest: most English speakers around the world don’t pronounce work as “wek,” nurse as “nes,” or pastor as “pasta,” as Ghanaians do.
In fact, calling a pastor “pasta” might earn you accusations of harboring cannibalistic fantasies. We eat pasta. Pastors preach the gospel. Big difference!
Amusingly, a few hours ago, when I asked my 8-year-old daughter (who has never traveled outside the United States) which of “wok,” “wak,” or “wek” sounded most like work, she picked “wok” without the slightest hesitation.
I swear, she even echoed what our American “referee” said during a similar conversation more than 20 years ago: that “wak” reminds her of whack—as in, to hit someone!
If you listen carefully to English spoken across Anglophone Africa, you'll notice three unmistakable "accent capitals": Nigerian, Kenyan, and Ghanaian.
All other regional accents tend to branch out as derivatives or close relatives of this linguistic trinity. And nothing illustrates these fascinating differences quite like the word "work."
In Nigeria, it is pronounced emphatically as "wok," with the "o" booming proudly like the first sound in "all." Nigerians will tell you they’re off to "wok" with seriousness befitting an epic quest.
Over in Kenya, however, the word undergoes a curious transformation into "wak," perilously close to "whack," as though every job involves a bit of spirited combat.
And then in Ghana, our little stubborn brother, the pronunciation elegantly morphs into "wek," cheerfully rhyming with "check."
Back in June 2003, these accent disparities sparked an unforgettable showdown between me and my Kenyan journalist friend, Douglas Kimani, during our days together in the United States.
Douglas cheekily declared that Nigerians were burdened with the absolute worst English accent on the African continent. To drive home his point, he challenged me, saying, "Pronounce 'work' for me."
"Wok," I said, with Nigerian flair. Douglas erupted into uncontrollable laughter, nearly toppling over. "You mean 'wak,' my friend!" he retorted confidently.
This was too much. I responded by doubling over in hysterical laughter myself. Offended yet amused, Douglas insisted we settle this pronunciational dispute fairly.
We approached an unsuspecting American lady, explained our accents, spelled the word for clarity, and then performed our distinct pronunciations. "Who’s closer to your own pronunciation?" Douglas asked, triumphantly certain of victory.
Without hesitation, our American "referee" sided with me. She gently explained to Douglas that "wak" would sound to an American like "whack," meaning either to hit forcefully or, if spelled "wack," something bizarre or totally uncool.
Douglas’s expression was priceless. It was a cocktail of disbelief, mock outrage, and good-humored defeat.
From that day on, our banter took a hilarious turn. Each time I saw Douglas, I’d tease, "So, my friend, how is wak in Kenya today?" and he would gamely respond in a wildly exaggerated Nigerian accent, "Ah, wok is perfectly fine o!"
Lately, whenever I recall our playful linguistic duels, my thoughts drift amusingly to Rihanna's global hit, "Work."
Imagine if Rihanna had adopted the Kenyan pronunciation, singing passionately, "Wak, wak, wak, wak, wak, wak!" Her song would have transformed instantly into an anthem fit for a flock of quacking ducks!
Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time I got back to "wok." Or should I say "wak"…or "wek"?
I was one of the seven journalists invited to interview Gov. Umo Eno in Uyo on May 29 as part of his midterm anniversary activities. It was held at Akpan Isemin Hall in Government House and attended by the deputy governor, Senator Akon Eyakenyi; Secretary to the State Government, Enobong Uwah and several senior officials. The hall was packed with journalists and members of civil society organizations. Broadcast journalist Michael Bush moderated the interview while Mrs Mandu Essienobong (AKBC); Itoro Columba (Bridge TV); Oku Ekpenyong (NTA); Miriam Daniel (TVC); George Iniabasi Essien (Comfort FM) and I grilled the governor. It was an intense and wide-ranging two-and-a-half hour engagement and, undoubtedly, the most grueling interview session the governor has had since he assumed office. We asked about 20 questions on virtually every aspect of the administration’s blueprint. Only three questions were taken from the audience due to time constraint. Gov. Eno remained calm and spoke with passion and clarity of thought. He scored himself ‘’above 50%’’ when we asked him to evaluate his performance himself, but stressed that he would prefer to be assessed by the citizens.
The programme started at 2.45pm with a brief remark from the Commissioner for Information, Aniekan Umana, who stated that the event was an important media engagement through which the governor would speak to Akwa Ibom people across the world. I asked two questions on insecurity in our waterways and the true position of government’s finances. Gov. Eno explained steps taken to make our waters safer for travelers and fishermen, and noted that the government had ordered for two luxury boats that would convey passengers between Oron and Calabar, bringing back the glorious days of water transportation which we had in the 1070s. On the management of our finances, he said that he had created a savings account in which the government saves money every month. ‘’The state saves money and meets its contractual obligations on time. We have a cash flow plan that we follow’’, he said, noting that having been in business for over 25 years before his election, he has a good grasp of our to manage resources. He then launched into recent misleading press reports on the revenue of the government. An Uyo-based paper had reported that Akwa Ibom State earns N200 billion a month, a patently false claim based on the reporter’s misunderstanding of financial statements. The reporter had misinterpreted ‘’carried forward balance’’ in a financial report as an income line.
The governor noted that such an erroneous reporting usually creates unintended problems for the government as neighbouring states would assume that the enhanced revenue is earned from crude oil wells ceased from them. ‘’This particular misleading news story was very troubling as a governor of an oil-producing state was brandishing the newspaper in a meeting in Abuja, claiming that Akwa Ibom had ceased its oil wells and that’s why we are earning N200 billion in a month’’, the governor said.
He noted that he has no intention of gagging the press, but advised journalists to be more meticulous in covering government affairs, especially financial matters as many people depend on media reports to form impressions and pass judgments. I started my journalism career 37 years ago as a Finance Reporter in a national newspaper and I can confirm that interpreting and reporting financial data could pose a problem for some journalists. But I expect every journalist, even if he read History & Anthropology in the university, to know that a balance carried forward from a previous accounting period is not a fresh income. I am considering working with the NUJ to organize basic courses on financial analysis for the journalists in Akwa Ibom.
Michael Bush’s question on what have been the major surprises the governor has met in office also drew an interesting answer. The expectation from some people that government’s money should be shared to them has been a major shocker, the governor responded. ‘’There are some people, maybe among the youths, who just wake up every morning and monitor Government House gate to see the number of bullion vans coming in with cash to be shared to them’’, he said to the amusement of the audience. He advised the youths to make the best use of the various empowerment programmes to improve their skills and businesses.
Of all the 23 questions asked, there was only one that Eno refused to answer. When will he move to the APC? His looming defection has been a subject of discussions in the state among every section of the populace. It has seized the imagination of the citizens and divided opinions, but almost everybody has conceded that the internal crisis in the PDP could be a threat to a governor seeking reelection.
The State Chairman of the NUJ, Amos Etuk, who is leaving office in July after serving two terms, gave the vote of thanks. He commended the governor for supporting the media through many initiatives such as contributing to the building of the auditorium at the NUJ Secretariat; construction of a new headquarter building for the AKBC (the government-owned broadcaster) and planning to turn it into a cable TV.
[OPINION] ECOWAS At 50: Brotherhood On The Brink Or A Union Poised For Reinvention? - Isaac Asabor
AdminAs the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) commemorates its 50th anniversary in 2025, the moment calls for both celebration and sober reflection. Founded on May 28, 1975, with the lofty vision of regional integration, economic cooperation, and collective security, ECOWAS was conceived as a panacea to the socio-political and economic woes of West Africa. Half a century later, the regional bloc finds itself navigating one of the most turbulent chapters in its history.
The recent exit of three key member states, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger, on January 29, 2025, has cast a long shadow over the golden jubilee celebrations. Their withdrawal, following prolonged tensions between the ECOWAS leadership and these military-led governments, underscores the fragility of the union and raises uncomfortable questions about its relevance, resilience, and roadmap for the future.
To understand the gravity of the current crisis, one must examine the journey so far. Over five decades, ECOWAS has made commendable strides. It has established a free trade area and a common market, created institutions like the ECOWAS Court of Justice and the ECOWAS Parliament, and played pivotal roles in peacekeeping missions across the sub-region, including in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and The Gambia.
The protocol on free movement of persons, goods, and services remains one of ECOWAS’s most celebrated achievements. It has empowered millions of West Africans to live and work across borders, enriching the socio-cultural and economic tapestry of the region. The ECOWAS Passport is symbolic of a shared regional identity, an ambitious dream of African unity long before the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) was even conceived.
However, these gains have often been undermined by internal contradictions. ECOWAS has struggled with inconsistency in enforcing democratic norms, a weak response to human rights violations, and a perceived overreach in the internal affairs of sovereign states. Accusations of elitism and disconnect from the grassroots have further dented its image.
The withdrawal of Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger, now united under the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), is not just a protest. It is a political earthquake. These countries, each governed by military juntas, cited a lack of support, respect, and solidarity from ECOWAS. They argued that rather than being assisted during their moment of transition, they were sanctioned and isolated, pushing them into an alternative regional alignment.
Critics of ECOWAS argue that its knee-jerk reaction to coups often lacks nuance. By swiftly imposing sanctions, the bloc inadvertently punishes already suffering populations and drives these states further into geopolitical alternatives like Russia and China, which offer strategic partnerships without lectures on democracy.
To many observers, the exit of these three states is not just about juntas versus democracy. It is about a deeper crisis of confidence in ECOWAS. A significant portion of the populations in these countries support their military regimes, not because they reject democracy, but because they see the previous civilian governments, often backed by ECOWAS, as corrupt, ineffective, and out of touch.
At this juncture, it is expedient to conjecture that the future of ECOWAS rest on three likely scenarios that cut across fragmentation and irrelevance, reform and reinvention coupled with coexistence and competition.
Explanatorily put, if the current trend of disunity persists, ECOWAS risks becoming a toothless bulldog, an institution with grand pronouncements but little influence. More member states could align with the Sahel bloc or choose to drift toward nationalistic isolation. Without trust and unity, the core idea of regional integration collapses.
In a similar vein, the current crisis could become a catalyst for radical introspection and reform. ECOWAS must re-examine its governance structures, sanction mechanisms, and methods of engagement. Instead of isolating errant members, a dialogue-based, inclusive approach should be prioritized. The bloc must also reform to reflect grassroots concerns, not just the interests of heads of state.
Also, a more realistic scenario may involve ECOWAS continuing to exist alongside alternative regional alliances like the AES. In such a configuration, competition may spur institutional reforms and efficiency. However, it could also lead to policy conflicts, trade barriers, and duplicated efforts, hardly ideal for a region already grappling with poverty, insecurity, and underdevelopment.
Given the backdrop of the foregoing likelihoods, it is germane to ask, “What must be done?” The answer cannot be farfetched as there is no denying the fact that for ECOWAS to survive and remain relevant beyond its golden jubilee, it must adopt a bold, new mindset.
In a similar vein, there is an urgent need to put the people first within the scheme of ECOWAS. This is as the real strength of ECOWAS lies not in presidential palaces or summit resolutions but in the people of West Africa. Therefore, policies must reflect their needs that cut across jobs, security, education, health, and dignity. To achieve the foregoing objectives, the language of sanctions must give way to solutions.
Also, there is the need for the embracement of multipolar engagement. In fact, ECOWAS must accept that the days of sole Western alignment are over. Its member states, especially in the Sahel, are exploring relations with China, Russia, Turkey, and others. ECOWAS should play a facilitative role, not a gatekeeping one.
In fact, after the Golden Jubilee, the leadership of ECOWAS should embark on strengthening institutions, rather than strengthening individuals. Too often, ECOWAS has been hijacked by a few dominant leaders. Again, its institutions, parliament, court, commission, must be strengthened to act independently, with transparency and accountability.
In fact, there is an urgent need for the tackling of insecurity as a regional challenge. Terrorism, banditry, and organized crime are no longer national problems. They crisscross borders and demand a coordinated regional response. The AES nations’ frustration partly stems from a perception that ECOWAS abandoned them in their darkest hours.
Without a doubt, fifty years is a milestone worthy of celebration, but ECOWAS cannot afford to be lost in nostalgia. The anniversary must be a moment of reckoning. It must ask the tough questions: Is ECOWAS still a “community” in the true sense of the word? Can it evolve beyond being a club of presidents into a union of people? Will it take the exit of three sovereign states as a wake-up call or dismiss it as political noise?
The future of ECOWAS depends on what it chooses to become in this critical moment. West Africa is at a crossroads. Unity is no longer guaranteed, but neither is disintegration. What remains certain is that a reinvented, inclusive, and responsive ECOWAS is not only possible, it is urgently necessary.
Your Excellency,
Today, I write to you not as a critic but as a patriot—one deeply concerned about the state of our beloved nation. I write as a citizen who believes in the urgent necessity of a national rebirth—a renaissance of values, leadership, and collective purpose. My hope is that millions of our compatriots, at home and abroad, will begin to experience a unity that transcends division and a renewed commitment to our shared destiny.
Your Excellency, I also write as a stakeholder—someone who played a significant and active role in the journey that brought Your Excellency to the presidency of our dear country. As we formally mark the midpoint of your administration this May 29, we stand at a historic juncture—one that invites reflection, responsibility, and resolute action.
One of the most visible consequences of our national stagnation is corruption. It has permeated virtually every layer of society—draining public resources, undermining institutional trust and sustaining a culture of impunity. This systemic ailment continues to stunt development and frustrate the legitimate aspirations of our people.
Nigeria is a nation rich in potential—blessed with human capital, natural resources, and cultural vibrancy. Yet we have, for too long, underperformed. The causes are many: poor governance, inconsistent policy, fragile institutions, and the erosion of national values. The consequences are stark—manifesting in economic hardship, social instability, and widespread disillusionment.
Expectations for the Years Ahead
As over 200 million Nigerians look to the second half of your tenure with cautious hope, we are at a moment of critical introspection. This midterm point presents an opportunity to recalibrate—to assess what has worked, acknowledge what has not, and align with the vision of Renewed Hope that inspired many at the start of this journey.
We need more than reforms—we need a new national mindset. One that rewards productivity over piety, innovation over consumption, and service over status. In a world marked by volatility and uncertainty, Nigerians are yearning for clear leadership, policy consistency, and a sense of purpose that speaks to both their material and moral aspirations.
Your Excellency, history watches. And so does posterity. May this season of reflection inspire a season of renewal—not just in policy, but in the soul of the nation.
With utmost respect,
Richard ODUSANYA
For a region that was still trying to come to terms with the JAMB’s bungling of the tertiary institutions’ entrance exams in the zone, a fresh mistreatment, just a month after, is a jolt too many. The JAMB’s refusal to disclose the actor(s) behind the ruinous human error on southeast candidates’ scripts has been interpreted by some, as hints of a plot. Not surprisingly, the expose of the southeast’s exclusion from federal government’s N3.2t irrigation plan, left many asking, what is all this? The ignominy echoed by the revelation was shocking, beyond words, for others. And yet for some others, it was a painful moan of not again; not again. How could this happen? And six days after the alert on such a major contention, there has been no word on the subject by the federal ministry of water resources and or any other agency saddled with the responsibility. Where is the sensitivity to inclusive governance?
The plight of the southeast was brought up in the Senate by Senators Kenneth Eze, Orji Uzor Kalu and Osita Ngwu. In a motion that was stepped down at the last minute to pave way for engagement with concerned authorities, Senator Kenneth Eze (Ebonyi State) cited the omission of the southeast in N38b irrigation projects in the 2025 budget as inequitable. He faulted the non inclusion of Anambra – Imo River Basin Development Authority as inconsistent with a nationwide irrigation initiative. In the course of contributions to the motion, the Ivo Dam, Ebonyi State, Uzuakoli, Igbere, and Abba dams, Abia State, were identified as other irrigation projects in the zone qualifying for the N38b fund. ThisDay, May 23, 2025, reported that Senate Leader, Opeyemi Bamidele advised that the matter be brought back to plenary for appropriate legislative action after Senate leadership interface with the Minister of Water Resources.” The publication stated that “in an attempt to calm the angry lawmakers, Deputy Senate President Barau Jibrin, described the situation as likely an administrative omission.”
We cannot fail to commend the action of the referenced southeast senators as well as Senate officers. Their expressed concern and responsiveness speak to a sense of responsibility. While it is hoped that the needful will be done at the shortest possible time, it’s even more important to look at the climate that has shaped the controversy. Yes, there is a possibility, that the sidelining of the southeast was an “administrative omission” as the Deputy Senate President, Barau Jibrin suggested. The likelihood would stand if the incident was an isolated one. In such accidental circumstances, the urge to issue unreserved apologies would be strong; so strong that a prompt pacification would have followed the embarrassing disclosure. But no dice; no clarifications, no pledge of investigations from the concerned institutions. Alas, marginalisation of the southeast is not an occasional occurrence in Nigerian government and politics. It goes back to 1970, beginning with post war, restrictive measures which reduced the Igbo to minority in every sphere of public life in Nigeria. The trend reached nauseating levels under general Sani Abacha’s rule and retired general Mohammadu Buhari’s presidency.
The systemic disadvantages faced by the southeast in power and resource allocations are persisting under the Bola Tinubu government.
While not traveling the disdainful road of Buhari’s a dot in a circle, the current administration has still not been fair to the southeast. In it’s 49 man cabinet, the southeast has five ministers in a make up of six zones. Out of 33 substantive ministers distributed across six geo – political zones, the southeast has only two full fledged ministers.
A distribution of 20 military, paramilitary and other security appointments released by the Presidency in November 2024 showed the northwest clinching eight slots; followed by southwest with five; north central closely following with four positions; northeast three slots and southeast and southsouth rocking the bottom with one bar each. And in the latest round of appointments on Friday, May 23, 2025 the southeast was once more shortchanged. Of 21 headship of federal agencies announced by Bayo Onanuga, Special Adviser, Media, the southeast got only two positions in the persons of Anyim Pius Anyim and Ken Nnamani.
A more disturbing picture emerges in the area of project undertakings by the immediate past dispensation. Characteristically, the authorities neglected the southeast in the multi-million-dollar AKK Gas Pipeline Project (NGEP) and the National Gas Masterplan, which runs from Kogi State through Kaduna, Kano and Niger Republic. The region’s peripheral inclusion in the $5.8b rail modernisation plan was reduced to narrow gauge rather than the standard gauge tracks designed for other parts of the country. But the earth – shaking dose of marginalisation was dropped recently by Works Minister, Senator Dave Umahi. On Thursday, May 22, 2025, www.channelstv.com posted the story “Tinubu’s Government Inherited No Projects in the Southeast.” The damning report quoted the Works Minister as saying the administration inherited “almost no projects” in the southeast on assuming office. Yet, at the time of this near – boycott of the southeast, “President Tinubu inherited 2604 ongoing projects in the works sector at a total value of N13t.” The report noted however that with the advent of the Tinubu administration, Owerri – Onitsha, Enugu – Onitsha and Abakaliki – Enugu roads are currently under construction. There we have it, from the most competent authority on the subject. That for the merciful change of government two years ago, the southeast was condemned to watch as outsider as other parts of the country benefited from N13t infrastructure works. Now, if it could happen in the Works Ministry, why can’t it happen in some ministries and agencies? If the southeast could be shut out in a programme with such humongous budget, would she fare better in lower cost, less publicised national undertaking?
Against the background of a recurring, structural marginalisation of the southeast, the zone’s skipping in the national irrigation projects does not lend the impression of an “administrative omission.” In the estimation of supremacists, the southeast became a minority and junior partner after the war. Fifty – five years is more than sufficient time to orientate groups with a mindset and to socialize society on false consciousness. The perception of the southeast as an inferior entity has taken hold in the spheres of Nigerian government and politics. Without bold moves to implement the spirit and letters of federal character principle in government, emphasized with sanctions on violations, discrimination against disadvantaged groups as the southeast, look set to continue. If the under recognition of the southeast was not deliberate, what stopped the use of statutory lists in planning and execution of government policies? In the many cases of exclusion or disproportionate allocations to the southeast, what happened to the traditional mechanisms for checks and review? The national assembly has largely abdicated it’s responsibility in the quest for a just and balanced federation. Certain categories of presidential appointment require the Senate’s approval. Yet, the Senate since inception of the Fourth Republic has not used it’s leverage to correct appointments that negate the federal character principle. In the instant agro – dam projects, the Senate will do well to ensure proper investigation and necessary disciplinary measures. Ignoring the marginalisation outcry would be shoring up Nnamdi Kanu’s appeal.
[OPINION] As Nigeria Marks May 29, The Federal Government Should Hearken To Kola Abiola’s Voice Of Reason - Isaac Asabor
AdminAs Nigeria commemorates May 29, the day that symbolically marks our return to civilian rule, there is no more appropriate time for sober reflection and national soul-searching. It is a day drenched in symbolism, a day when Nigerians ought to celebrate democracy, yet we do so under the shadows of unfinished business. Kola Abiola’s bold and timely opinion piece, “IBB’s A Journey in Service: A Substantive Response”, published on May 28, 2025 in some selected news platforms, could not have come at a more appropriate moment.
The Federal Government should do more than merely mark this day with rehearsed speeches and empty slogans. Instead, it must embrace Kola Abiola’s clarion call to action, a call grounded in history, soaked in sacrifice, and propelled by the moral imperative to correct the wrongs that have marred Nigeria’s democratic journey since the June 12, 1993 election.
What Kola Abiola laid bare is not just a personal grievance, nor is it a mere historical recounting. It is a damning indictment of Nigeria’s failure to reconcile with its past. It has been over three decades since that election, yet the scars remain open, not because time has failed to heal, but because the Nigerian state has consistently refused to apply the balm of truth, justice, and official accountability.
June 12, 1993, was not an ordinary day. It was the day when Nigerians, across ethnic, religious, and regional divides, united to elect Chief M.K.O. Abiola as President in what is widely acknowledged as the freest and fairest election in our history. Yet, in one fell swoop, that victory was erased by military fiat. It was not just MKO who was robbed, the entire Nigerian populace was betrayed.
To President Muhammadu Buhari’s credit, he finally gave institutional recognition to the stolen mandate. His 2018 declaration that honored MKO Abiola posthumously with the GCFR title and named June 12 as Democracy Day was a long-overdue but commendable gesture. But as Kola rightly notes, this was just the beginning.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, who himself was a major NADECO figure and political exile during the military era, bears a unique historical burden. As the current custodian of Nigeria’s democratic project, and someone who intimately understands the cost of that struggle, Tinubu should take the baton from Buhari and finish the race. That finish line includes recognizing all the foot soldiers of the June 12 movement: Alhaja Kudirat Abiola, Chief Alfred Rewane, and countless journalists, civil society actors, and nameless Nigerians who paid with their lives and freedom.
Kola Abiola’s frustration is justified when he questions whether Nigerians have truly learned any lessons from the June 12 tragedy. The truth is, we have not. If anything, we are dangerously close to rewriting or forgetting history altogether. A nation that forgets is doomed to repeat its errors. Already, the political space is again riddled with impunity, electoral manipulation, and the subversion of public will. The lessons of June 12 are being disregarded by a new generation of political elites who neither know nor respect the path that brought us here.
That is why the inclusion of June 12 in the national curriculum is not just a symbolic suggestion, it is a strategic necessity. With over 65% of Nigeria’s population being under the age of 45, most of them have no lived memory of that day. If we do not educate them truthfully, we are allowing our collective conscience to erode. That is a luxury Nigeria can no longer afford.
It is disheartening, though not surprising, that after 32 years, General Ibrahim Babangida (IBB) still dances around full accountability. His recent book and speech offer selective disclosures. While he finally admits that June 12 was sabotaged by internal forces, his refusal to name names, especially those still alive, reinforces the impression that his priority is self-preservation, not national healing.
Let us be blunt: IBB’s fear of naming the living conspirators, while boldly naming the dead like General Sani Abacha, reeks of cowardice and manipulation. How can we claim to confront our history while sanitizing it for public consumption? If General IBB truly seeks redemption, he must go beyond vague confessions and provide concrete facts. Nigeria deserves the full story, not another round of half-truths wrapped in military euphemisms.
Kola Abiola also raised a lesser-discussed but equally devastating aspect of the June 12 fallout: the economic destruction targeted at MKO Abiola’s businesses. Concord Press, Summit Oil, Abiola Farms, these were not just businesses, they were institutions that employed over 15,000 Nigerians. Their systematic dismantling not only destroyed livelihoods but crippled economic structures that had national relevance. In a country still grappling with massive unemployment, the intentional economic sabotage of Abiola’s empire deserves formal redress.
This also raises a larger question: should victims of political injustice in Nigeria continue to suffer in silence while perpetrators enjoy state pensions and perks? Justice is not just about apologies; it is about restitution.
To mark May 29 meaningfully, the Federal Government must act on Kola Abiola’s proposals. We need a National Monument dedicated to the June 12 struggle, a space that immortalizes not just MKO Abiola, but every other martyr and survivor of that dark chapter. Furthermore, we must open a national register to formally recognize victims, both named and unnamed. Nigeria must show, in words and in concrete action that it respects those who fought for her democracy.
President Tinubu must resist the temptation to reduce May 29 to a ceremonial ritual. His administration, which owes its very political genesis to the fallout of June 12 and the NADECO struggle, must take bold steps to complete the arc of justice. This is not just about MKO Abiola. It is about institutionalizing historical justice and teaching future generations that democracy is not handed down, it is fought for, and those who fight for it must be honoured.
As Kola Abiola so poignantly noted, governance is a continuum. And where one administration starts a process of national healing, another must continue and complete it.
This May 29 should not be another hollow Democracy Day. It must be the day we finally say: never again. Never again will the will of Nigerians be discarded. Never again will we bury our heroes without honour. Never again will we allow a stolen mandate to be swept under the carpet of convenience.
The Federal Government must hear Kola Abiola, not out of sympathy, but out of duty. Nigeria’s democracy demands it. Her history demands it. And her people deserve it. God bless Nigeria.
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[OPINION] Prince Dapo Abiodun @65: A Birthday Wish Of Grace, Gratitude, And Renewed Commitment From An Ogun Resident - Isaac Asabor
AdminIn the ever-accelerating tempo of Nigeria’s political landscape, very few leaders pause long enough to publicly reflect on the weight of their responsibilities or the divine providence that brought them to where they are. On his 65th birthday, the Governor of Ogun State, Prince Dr. Dapo Abiodun, did just that in a poignant and deeply introspective message he shared on his official X page.
Titled “A Moment of Gratitude and Renewed Commitment @ 65!”, the message was not your everyday celebratory speech replete with self-praise or political rhetoric. Instead, it was a heartfelt confession of humility, gratitude, and above all, a reaffirmation of purpose from a man who understands that leadership is more than occupying office, it is a divine call to serve.
As the prince of the Awujale royal lineage of Ijebu Land turns 65, it is only fitting that Nigerians, especially the good people of Ogun State, join their voices in chorus to say, “Happy birthday, Your Excellency, and thank you for your steady hands and statesmanlike composure in the saddle.”
Prince Dapo Abiodun’s journey is one that perfectly illustrates the metaphor of a candle lighting others without diminishing its own flame. The tone of his birthday message, brimming with humility and laced with spiritual introspection, reminds us that real leaders do not just govern; they inspire. They do not rule with arrogance but serve with empathy.
It is particularly touching that Abiodun opens his birthday note not with political accomplishments or partisan triumphs, but with a simple recognition of grace: “My heart is filled with gratitude to the Almighty God for the gift of life, the grace of leadership, and the privilege to serve the good people of Ogun State.” That, in itself, is a masterclass in political maturity.
At a time when Nigerian politics is often driven by ego and theatrics, Governor Abiodun’s message is a quiet but powerful reminder that leadership is not a prize to be won, but a covenant to be honored. In his own words, “I do not take for granted the journey that has brought me this far, a journey shaped by divine mercy, the unwavering support of my family, friends, and the trust reposed in me by our people.”
This sense of gratitude and sober reflection is what sets the governor apart from the band of power-drunk politicians who see governance as a trophy cabinet rather than a burden of trust.
Indeed, as he enters the 66th year of his life, Abiodun is not looking backward to rest on laurels but forward, with a deep sense of responsibility and an even deeper sense of duty. He declares: “I rededicate myself to the vision of a more prosperous, inclusive, and sustainable Ogun State, where every citizen can thrive and every community feels seen.”
This is not just political speak, it is the vow of a man who understands that power is transient, but legacy is permanent.
Since 2019, when Prince Dapo Abiodun first assumed office as Governor of Ogun State, the state has experienced a transformation in critical sectors: infrastructure, education, healthcare, and economic development. But even beyond the tangible achievements, perhaps the governor’s most notable legacy is his calm, cerebral approach to governance.
In a political climate frequently charged with emotion and conflict, Abiodun’s style has been steady and thoughtful, like a seasoned captain steering a ship through turbulent waters. While many of his counterparts are consumed by political mudslinging or media grandstanding, Prince Abiodun prefers to let results speak for themselves.
Under his watch, Ogun has seen unprecedented road construction and rehabilitation projects, an expansion of industrial hubs, and more proactive engagements with youth, women, and the informal sector. In an era when many states groan under the weight of financial mismanagement, Ogun has maintained fiscal discipline while expanding its internally generated revenue base.
But he is not done. In his words, “The journey continues, and by God’s grace, the best is yet to come.” That is a bold promise—but also one backed by a record of service that lends it credibility.
As a resident of Ogun State myself, I do not speak as a distant commentator but as someone who lives and breathes the realities of this state. I have seen the changes, slow in some places, rapid in others, but unmistakably moving in a direction of progress. And while no administration is perfect, it is only fair to acknowledge that Prince Dapo Abiodun’s tenure has brought a level of stability and civility that the state can build upon.
So, as I pen these lines, it is not just from a journalistic lens, but from the heart of an Edolite who calls Ogun home. I wish His Excellency a very happy birthday and pray that God continues to strengthen him with wisdom, good health, and renewed energy to finish strong and do even more for the people of Ogun State.
The hopes of the people are still high, and understandably so. The state still needs more roads, more job opportunities for its teeming youth, stronger support for SMEs, better healthcare services, and improved access to education in rural communities. These are areas that call for deeper focus and increased commitment as he steps into another year of life and leadership.
And because I know that birthdays are a time not just for celebration but for reflection and renewal, I join millions in Ogun and across Nigeria to pray that Governor Abiodun will use this new year of his life to consolidate on his gains and tackle the remaining gaps with even greater determination.
We are watching, we are hopeful, and yes, we are praying. This is as it is worth noting how rare it is to see a sitting governor in Nigeria use his birthday as an occasion not for lavish celebration, but for reflection and renewed promise. His use of words like “humbling,” “fulfilling,” and “impact” signals a leader more concerned with how history will remember him than how the media celebrates him.
More so, his acknowledgement of the people, the resilience of the citizens, the support of his family, and the collective strength of Ogun’s communities, underscores a democratic consciousness that is so often missing in the corridors of power. For Abiodun, governance is not about ego, it is about impact.
This perspective is not accidental. It is the by-product of a life that has seen both privilege and pressure, business and politics, success and struggle. At 65, the governor is fully aware that age alone does not command respect, it is how you spend your years that matters.
In fact, as Nigeria navigates a challenging economic and political period, states like Ogun, strategically located, industrially viable, and historically rich, will play a vital role in shaping the nation’s future. With Lagos bursting at the seams, Ogun represents the next frontier in regional development and economic decongestion.
His leadership is not loud, but it is effective. It is not showy, but it is strategic. It is not combative, but it is convincing.
For this reason, his birthday is not just a celebration of age, it is a celebration of grace, competence, and renewed promise.
As citizens, journalists, and observers of Nigeria’s political space, it is easy to grow cynical. But every now and then, a moment like this reminds us that good leadership still exists, and that it can be both humble and effective.
So, today, on behalf of all who cherish stability, integrity, and steady progress in public office, we raise a toast to Prince Dr. Dapo Abiodun.
Happy 65th birthday, Your Excellency. May your days be long, your vision be clear, and your legacy be enduring.
As a proud resident of Ogun State, I not only join others in wishing you well, but I also pray fervently that your new age will usher in an even more fruitful and impactful chapter in your leadership journey. You’ve done much, but there is still more to be done. And may you continue to rise to the challenge.
Because as you rightly said, “The best is yet to come.” Ogun State believes you. Nigeria is watching. And history is taking notes.
[OPINION] Why Pay Off Nigeria’s Debt Today Only To Plunge Into Deeper Debt Tomorrow? - Isaac Asabor
AdminIn less than a month, Nigeria under President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration has managed to accomplish what many considered a positive economic milestone: clearing off Nigeria’s debt with the International Monetary Fund (IMF). But no sooner had this news begun to settle than the same government turned around to request approval from the National Assembly to borrow a whopping $21.5 billion and issue a ₦758 billion pension bond. To say this move is contradictory would be an understatement; it is downright confusing and raises a crucial question: Where is the prudency?
Clearing the IMF debt was lauded by many observers and rightly so. The repayment of $3.4 billion in IMF loans, including the Covid-19 Rapid Financing Instrument, was seen as a fiscal credibility booster for the Tinubu administration. The move was hailed as an indication that Nigeria was turning a new leaf in financial discipline and economic responsibility. Statements from the presidency suggested that the country was strengthening its fiscal position to attract sustainable foreign investments.
Yet, the celebration was short-lived. In what feels like a cruel twist of logic, the administration has now approached the National Assembly to approve a new loan plan worth $21.5 billion and a domestic bond issuance of ₦757.9 billion to settle pension arrears. This raises critical questions about the government’s financial strategy. Why repay debt only to plunge deeper into it almost immediately afterward? Is this financial prudence or a cleverly disguised economic charade?
Let us be honest: Nigeria’s economic woes are not new. From oil price shocks to policy inconsistency and corruption, the nation has struggled to find a sustainable path to economic growth. Debt, unfortunately, has become a recurrent crutch. However, the issue now is not about debt in itself, as borrowing is an accepted economic tool. The concern lies in the sheer lack of a coherent strategy and the brazenness with which contradictions are paraded as policy.
It is important to understand what this new loan request implies. A $21.5 billion loan is not a small amount by any measure. Added to this is the proposed ₦758 billion bond meant to clear pension liabilities. While addressing pension arrears is necessary and overdue, should it be done through more borrowing when the government just made a song and dance about fiscal discipline? How sustainable is this cycle of clearing one debt only to amass more?
Let us revisit President Tinubu’s promise of fiscal responsibility. This term, by definition, entails sound budgeting, cutting down waste, increasing revenue, and borrowing only when necessary. The recent IMF repayment may have been seen as an effort in that direction, but it appears more like a smokescreen when viewed alongside the latest borrowing request. The administration seems to be more concerned about optics than actual economic stability.
Some will argue that the proposed loans are needed for infrastructure, agriculture, and power. But we have heard this before. Successive governments have justified massive borrowing with grand plans of infrastructure development, yet the results remain underwhelming. Nigeria’s roads are still riddled with potholes, power supply remains epileptic, and agricultural productivity is stifled by insecurity and outdated systems.
Moreover, the lack of transparency in how these borrowed funds are managed only compounds public skepticism. Where are the audit reports for past loans? What happened to the loans taken during the Buhari administration? Have those projects been completed, and if so, what value have they added to the economy? Until there is a culture of accountability and transparent implementation, every new loan will be seen as another round of fiscal misadventure.
Even more worrying is the proposed issuance of a ₦758 billion bond to offset pension liabilities. Pensioners are among the most vulnerable in our society, and neglecting their dues is unjustifiable. However, funding pensions through more borrowing sends a worrying message. It suggests that the government has not built adequate reserves or planned long-term strategies to honor its obligations. It reflects a hand-to-mouth approach to governance, an unsustainable financial model.
This back-and-forth economic strategy also affects investor confidence. One day, the government is praised for repaying debt, and the next day, it is in the news seeking to accumulate more. Investors are not just watching economic actions; they are also evaluating consistency, policy clarity, and long-term viability. What signal does this send to them?
We must also consider the impact on ordinary Nigerians. The majority are still reeling from inflation, unemployment, and a depreciating naira. Food prices are through the roof, transportation costs are unbearable, and many families are struggling to survive. To these Nigerians, headlines about billions in loan repayments and new borrowing mean little unless they translate into tangible economic relief. How does this fiscal acrobatics benefit them?
This administration must be reminded that fiscal prudency is not a PR tool. It is a governance principle that should reflect in policy decisions, budgetary allocations, and debt management strategies. If indeed the Tinubu administration is committed to economic reform, it must go beyond token gestures. It must present a comprehensive and transparent debt sustainability plan. Nigerians deserve to know the long-term economic blueprint. What are the repayment terms for the new loans? What projects will they fund? What is the expected return on investment?
Furthermore, the National Assembly must rise above partisan loyalty and play its oversight role effectively. Rubber-stamping every loan request without thorough scrutiny is tantamount to mortgaging the country’s future. The legislative arm should demand detailed project breakdowns, implementation timelines, and performance indicators before approving any new loans.
In conclusion, it is time the Tinubu administration matches its rhetoric with action. Fiscal credibility cannot be achieved by merely paying off debts. It requires consistent, strategic, and transparent economic management. It involves planning for the long term, cutting unnecessary spending, increasing internally generated revenue, and ensuring that every borrowed kobo is used for productive ventures.
The question remains: where is the prudency in paying off debt today only to plunge into even deeper debt tomorrow?
Nigerians are watching, and history will remember. It is not enough to clear debts for the sake of headlines. The real test lies in whether these actions bring relief to the masses and set the nation on a path to sustainable development. As of now, this looks more like a fiscal merry-go-round than a credible roadmap to economic recovery.
The world has never been short of demagogues and fools, but the remedies have often matched the supply. In 1990, during President Nelson Mandela’s thank-you tour of the world, he was asked at the City College of New York, Harlem, NY., why he remained friends with Muammar Gaddafi, Yasser Arafat, and Fidel Castro.
He replied that he didn’t think it was the business of any country to choose South Africa’s friends. These people stood by South Africa in its hour of need; why should he betray them now? His interlocutor turned tail, and Mandela received a standing ovation.
British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher preached “constructive engagement” to dismantle apartheid. In response to her duplicity in 2004, the President of Equatorial Guinea, Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo, pointed out to her that “constructive engagement” favoured England, particularly the Prime Minister, whose son, Mark, was involved in gunrunning and coup plots on the continent. Thatcher had no response.
Castro v. Bush
Castro accused President George Bush of a “pirate mentality.” And he wasn’t being flippant. One of Africa’s worst kleptocrats, Joseph Desire Mobutu, worth $5 billion in the 1980s, visited President Bush in 1989.
Despite Mobutu’s appalling record, Martin Meredith in The Fate of Africa, quoted Bush as saying on the South Lawn of the White House, “Zaire is among America’s oldest friends, and its president – President Mobutu – one of our most valued friends. We are proud and very, very pleased to have him with us today.”
Like Castro, President Olusegun Obasanjo is also reputed not to suffer fools gladly. Stephen Sackur, anchor of the BBC programme HARDtalk, might recall when, in response to what Obasanjo perceived as a rude question, the former Nigerian president asked Sackur if he could pose that question to his prime minister.
In the lion’s den
There is a long list of leaders who confronted bullies without flinching. This quality, which is in demand more than ever before, is falling short, as shown by recent high-profile encounters in the White House since President Donald Trump’s second term. The White House, especially the Oval Office, has become for high-profile visitors what the lion’s den is to straying goats.
After Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s antagonistic exchange with Trump, South African President Cyril Ramaphosa is the latest target. Almost from the moment the first live footage of the visit began airing, it was clear that Trump wanted only one thing.
He wasn’t interested in resetting trade talks or bilateral issues. He wasn’t interested in repairing ties between South Africa and the US or hearing firsthand the other view about the so-called genocide against white farmers. He wasn’t interested in conciliation. He was interested in only one thing: having Ramaphosa for lunch. And he did, which was painful and difficult to watch.
‘How did you get my number?’
From Trump’s question about “how did you get my number?”, gestures that suggested he valued the presence of the golfers in Ramaphosa’s entourage – Ernie Els and Retief Goosen – more than the president, to dumping piles of fake documents on the South African president and converting the Oval Office into a cinema while Ramaphosa was still speaking, Trump displayed utter contempt and disregard for his visitors.
The encounter made Zelenskyy’s visit appear like a lovefest. Some have argued that it reflects more poorly on Trump and the US that the host treated his guest so shabbily, raking him over the coals with fake and discredited materials, than on Ramaphosa, who kept his smile and rational stance. That is partially correct, but more than anyone else, Ramaphosa has himself to blame for the shambolic treatment.
Yellow flags
There were more than enough yellow flags beforehand. From the Executive Order in February, stopping all US financial assistance to South Africa, to the accusations of “white genocide”, to the expulsion of Ambassador Ebrahim Rasool, and the offer of “refugee” status to white farmers, Trump, mainly instigated by Elon Musk, has never disguised his misguided displeasure against South Africa.
The country’s decision to drag Israel to the ICJ over the war in Gaza and its leadership role in BRICS (which could potentially curtail the influence of the dollar), of course, were also unspoken sources of Trump’s anger.
If a war foretold does not take the disabled person by surprise, how could Ramaphosa have ignored these yellow flags and decided to visit the lair with a golfing picture book as a peace offering, instead of a luxury Boeing 747 jetliner, the perfect sacrifice?
Success. What success?
The South African president has described the visit as “a great success.” Perhaps that would be correct if he were describing his narrow escape. There is no readout or evidence of the “reset” Ramaphosa requested. As of today, the fake video of the crosses on the roadside, supposed to be memorials for about 1,000 murdered white South African farmers, is still playing on the X handle of the White House. Nothing has changed.
If Ramaphosa believes the visit was a success, his opinion has divided his country as much as it has a largely subdued continent. Femi Badejo, a diplomat and professor of Political Science, used the metaphor of a safari to describe the response across the continent. “If a lion grabs an antelope,” he asked me, “what do you think will happen to the rest of the herd?”
South Africa is not just another African antelope; it’s a leader in the pack. Although many African diplomats are publicly spinning Ramaphosa’s visit as measured and dignified, behind the scenes, they are scandalised at the possible fate that awaits them – and the continent – especially with the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA) expiring in September.
Who’s next?
For many reasons, primarily economic, the Africa that once stood up to bullies or was even deemed worthy allies has become a thing of the past. The Egyptian leader, Field Marshal Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, may receive red-carpet treatment at the White House due to that country’s strategic importance to the US, just as Burkina Faso’s Captain Ibrahim Traore, Russia’s poster boy, may get flowers in the Kremlin. The others, grappling with internal security challenges, discontent and fragile economies, are on their own as they struggle to navigate a hostile and deeply divided world.
It would be a long time before another leader from the continent visits the White House, that is, if Trump has not closed half of the US embassies in Africa before he marks his first year in office. If, at this time, African leaders cannot find good company among themselves, they may as well learn to sit at home.
In the travel notes of Thomas Malcolm Knox, a British philosopher, there was a searing description of Lagos as “a town of unspeakable squalor…filth everywhere”. Knox was the secretary to Lord William Hesketh Lever, one of the founders of Lever Brothers. What struck me the first time I read this portion of his journal entry in Stephanie Newell’s book, Histories of Dirt: Media and Urban Life in Colonial and Postcolonial Lagos (published in 2019), was the date the comment was recorded: the mid-20s of the last century. That was roughly one hundred years ago. If Knox and other British fellows who made unsavoury comments about Lagos while travelling through should wake up from their graves today and see the city still sizzling in its putrid juices, they would either be shocked or pleased that their racist projections of Africans had been vindicated.
Some of the cringey comments made about Lagos a century ago cannot be extricated from the racism, elitism, and imperialism of the writers, yet the description of the city they provided is uncannily familiar. Lagos is still everything it was, despite the passage of time. The Lagos of the early 20th century, as described in the book, was also a crucial economic hub and a magnet for people eager to capitalise on the business opportunities it offered. Houses and shacks sprang up at the most unsuitable sites, and it did not help that many migrants to Lagos brought their village practices (such as shunning pit latrines to defecate in the bush) to the heart of Nigerian civilisation. As another traveller recorded, Lagos was “a filthy, disgusting, savage place” where it was “unsafe to wander about in the streets”. The only places that were recorded as sane were the Brazilian quarters and the habitations of the Europeans.
While the oyinbos of the 21st century might have become too politically correct to point out our faults to us, our fellow Nigerians are not shy about calling Lagos “dirty”. The other day, a youth corps member serving in Lagos, Ushie Uguamaye, inflamed people when she described Lagos as dirty and smelly. Trust our people, a comment like that quickly became their opportunity to throw some tribal, generational, partisan, and sexist punches. While the young woman might have lacked tact, everyone knows what she said to be true. It is as true in 2025 as it was a hundred years ago. Recently, social media influencer Scott Iguama, who has been making videos that decry the high cost of real estate in Lagos, also made a similar comment about the poor hygiene conditions of Lagos. This time, he attracted the attention of Lagos State Commissioner of Environment and Water Resources, Tokunbo Wahab, who took to his social media account to take a jab at the people who relocate to Lagos from their home states to find better economic opportunities, only to begin disparaging the state for clout. I guess Wahab would have been less defensive about Lagos’ poor environmental conditions if the comments had come from a Yoruba person.
Wahab wrote, “While constructive criticism is essential for growth, malicious attempts to vilify a state that empowers countless lives daily are counterproductive. Lagos remains a place of opportunity, innovation, and resilience, and it is imperative that we collectively uphold its integrity while fostering unity and progress.” I am genuinely curious to know what the commissioner meant by upholding the integrity of Lagos. What is Wahab’s definition of integrity, and how does pointing out the obvious undermine it? How do you “foster unity and progress” by maintaining a lie?
To some extent, the discomfort of the commissioner and other locals who react to calling out the squalid conditions of the city is understandable. One of the stereotypes other tribes in Nigeria regularly lob at Yoruba is that of hygiene. The trope of the “dirty Yoruba” is the stuff of ethnic jokes, both light-hearted and mean-spirited ones. The thing is, calling other people “dirty” is not always about an objective assessment of their living conditions; it is also about making ethical valuations of them. Who or what we think is “dirty” is as much of a moral judgment of others as it is a description of their physical conditions. That is why the pushbacks by people like Wahab are excusable to some extent.
It is funny when Nigerians insult others based on the foul conditions of their living spaces, when there is virtually nowhere in the country that does not reek of under-maintenance. I have visited more than half of the state capitals, and there are only a few of them that are not in a state of decline despite the superficial improvements of a newly built bridge here and there. While most of our rural areas are filthy because they have hardly ever figured in any agenda of development planning, our urban places—where all governmental efforts are supposedly concentrated—are also perpetually in an unsanitary state. How many of our habitations, rural or urban, have what is akin to a sewage system? How many of our villages, towns, and cities have a regular water supply to begin with? Without an adequate and well-managed water supply system, people cannot maintain proper sanitary conditions. It is even worse for a country like Nigeria, where we do not plan our cities or project how they will grow over time to preemptively develop a management agenda. If more people are pointing fingers at Lagos than other states on these general problems, it is also because its socio-economic and socio-cultural dominance makes its problems far more magnified.
To the best of my knowledge, no state has developed anything close to a sophisticated waste management system, yet Lagos—due to its teeming population—appears to be the one drowning in its own trash. Unfortunately, Lagos also suffers from a severe shortage of water supply. When you watch the cooking videos of our social media “chefs” who live in so-called prime estates like Lekki, you see them using bottled water for cooking.
They cannot turn on the faucets like normal people around the world do and use water because what is pumped by their individual boreholes is contaminated. Since there is no water treatment plant to clean the water and make it potable, they resort to bottled water for their everyday use. The consequence is that plastic waste is everywhere, clogging sewers and swelling up landfills. Without an adequate water supply system, people generate more waste, which exacerbates their existing squalid conditions. The result is a city so filthy that its managers need us to be silent to maintain its “integrity”.
Reading The Histories of Dirt and observing Lagos in the present, I find it rather distressing how we never seem to outgrow our problems. As far back as the 19th century, travellers to Lagos have been bellyaching about its squalor. It is the 21st century, and barely anything has changed. What is even worse is that the rest of Nigeria is so socio-economically impoverished that Lagos, despite its poor conditions, is still considered the country’s crown jewel.
The man who was sworn in as president two years ago today made much political gain because of Lagos. They sold him as the builder of modern Lagos; our people—so used to dysfunctionality—thought he had any magic to replicate at the national level. Today, not only is Lagos still marinating in its own sewage, but the country itself is awakening to the truth of the lie they bought.