When Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Nyesom Wike, recently declared that Nigeria’s states, local governments, and the federal government now share “over ₦2 trillion monthly because of President Tinubu’s bold leadership,” the statement struck many Nigerians as both celebratory and troubling. Celebratory because the figure reflects an unprecedented inflow into the Federation Account, but troubling because it paints a constitutional fiscal process as a presidential act of generosity — as though the President dipped into his personal treasury to bless the nation.
In reality, the so-called revenue boom has little to do with magnanimity and everything to do with policy shifts that have inflicted painful consequences on ordinary Nigerians. The twin decisions — removal of fuel subsidy and naira devaluation — expanded the Federation Account on paper, but also triggered a cost-of-living crisis that has left millions struggling to survive. According to data from the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS), headline inflation now exceeds 30%, food inflation hovers above 33%, and over 133 million Nigerians are classified as living in multidimensional poverty.
The Federation Account Allocation Committee (FAAC) merely distributes revenues accrued from oil sales, Value Added Tax (VAT), import duties, and other constitutionally mandated sources of income. These funds are not discretionary gifts from Aso Rock; they are legally owned by the three tiers of government under the 1999 Constitution. The monthly sharing is an obligation, not a favour — a process that predates every administration since Nigeria’s return to democracy in 1999.
While the removal of fuel subsidy freed up more revenue for government coffers, it also tripled fuel prices overnight — from ₦197 per litre in May 2023 to over ₦700 per litre in many states. Similarly, the floating of the naira saw the currency plunge from ₦460/$1 to over ₦1,600/$1, drastically increasing the cost of imports and eroding purchasing power. These policy choices may have swelled federal earnings, but they’ve shrunk household incomes. What appears as a “revenue windfall” for governments has, in reality, been financed by the silent taxes of inflation, hardship, and mass deprivation paid by citizens.
It is, therefore, misleading to frame these fiscal outcomes as a triumph of leadership. Leadership is measured not by how much a government earns, but by how that revenue translates into human development — affordable healthcare, quality education, efficient public transport, and living wages. Yet, across Nigeria, roads remain dilapidated, hospitals under-equipped, teachers underpaid, and civil servants demoralized. If trillions are being shared monthly, the people — whose resilience sustains the system — deserve to feel it beyond government press releases.
Wike’s assertion inadvertently reveals a deeper political culture where constitutional entitlements are mistaken for presidential benevolence. This mindset fuels the personalization of governance, where institutions serve personalities instead of the people. Nigeria’s fiscal federalism was designed to ensure balance, equity, and autonomy — not to glorify power brokers for doing what the Constitution already demands.
Until the trillions flowing from FAAC begin to reflect in visible improvements in citizens’ lives, any talk of “bold leadership” remains hollow. The true measure of reform is not how much money enters government accounts, but how much hope returns to Nigerian households.
I come in peace!
