The Money, the Allegations, the Political Comebacks, and the Questions Nigerians Are Still Asking
When Bola Ahmed Tinubu took the oath of office on 29 May 2023, his presidency began with a declaration that would alter the economic life of the country: “Petrol subsidy is gone.” Petrol prices rose, transport fares climbed, businesses faced higher operating costs, and households discovered how quickly a decision taken in Abuja could reach into the smallest details of daily life.
The administration followed with sweeping foreign-exchange reforms, allowing the naira to depreciate sharply in pursuit of a more sustainable economic system. Tinubu has defended these measures as necessary, pointing to improved public finances and signs of economic recovery. Yet millions of Nigerians continue to struggle with food prices, transport costs and diminished purchasing power. For them, the central question is whether the sacrifices demanded by the government will produce a life they can afford.
As Nigeria approaches the 2027 election, the administration’s economic record is becoming inseparable from another question: can Nigerians trust the institutions managing their money and exercising power on their behalf?
In August 2026, Finance Minister Taiwo Oyedele said the removal of petrol subsidy had generated ₦15.8 trillion in resources for the federation between June 2023 and December 2025. The money was distributed across the three tiers of government rather than retained in a single account. Such figures do not establish that the resources were stolen or wasted. They do, however, strengthen the public’s legitimate demand to know how the money was spent and what Nigerians received in return.
That question has become more urgent amid a succession of controversies involving public expenditure, political appointments, procurement, regulatory powers and the treatment of citizens in state custody. The allegations differ in seriousness and evidential status. Some remain under investigation; others concern disputed decisions rather than established wrongdoing. But taken together, they test the administration’s commitment to transparency and accountability.
Perhaps the most astonishing case emerged in 2026, when the Presidency disowned the purported Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council, a body that reportedly appeared in the federal budget with an allocation of approximately ₦1.3 billion.
The government said the council had never been lawfully established. Yet Adeniyi Adeyemi Matthew, who presented himself as its director-general, allegedly obtained office space at the Federal Secretariat and interacted with government institutions. President Tinubu ordered the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission to investigate. In September, Adeyemi was charged with forgery and impersonation and pleaded not guilty. The allegations must therefore be determined through due process.
The distinction between a budget allocation and an actual disbursement matters. An appropriation does not prove that the money was released or stolen. Nevertheless, the central issue remains disturbing: how did an organisation the government says did not legally exist acquire the appearance of official legitimacy and enter the budgetary process?
The controversy also drew attention to the office of the President’s Chief of Staff, Femi Gbajabiamila, after questions arose over documents allegedly connected to Adeyemi’s appointment. Gbajabiamila denied appointing him and answered questions from investigators. His appearance before the commission does not establish complicity. What Nigerians deserve is a credible account of how the documents were produced, how they passed official checks and whether anyone else facilitated the alleged scheme.
The affair is bigger than the individual accused. If a purported government agency could navigate official systems without lawful establishment, the administration must explain how its verification procedures failed and what changes will prevent a recurrence. Prosecuting an alleged impersonator may address individual responsibility; repairing the institutional weaknesses is the more enduring test.
The controversy surrounding former Humanitarian Affairs Minister Betta Edu raises a different question about financial accountability and political rehabilitation.
Tinubu suspended Edu in January 2024 following controversy over a letter directing the transfer of ₦585.189 million connected to social intervention grants into a private account. Edu denied wrongdoing and maintained that due process had been followed. The President referred the matter for investigation. The EFCC subsequently announced substantial recoveries in its wider investigation into the ministry’s finances, although those recoveries should not be attributed solely to the transaction involving Edu.
In August 2026, Edu was named director of women’s mobilisation in the APC’s presidential campaign council. The appointment is not proof that she was guilty, nor does it establish that an investigation has been abandoned. But it raises a legitimate question about the standards governing political appointments. Where an investigation clears an official, the outcome should be made public. Where questions remain unresolved, citizens deserve clarity rather than silence.
Another controversy concerned approximately ₦5.095 billion allocated in the 2023 supplementary budget to an item labelled “Presidential Yacht”. The proposal provoked public anger as Nigerians were struggling with the consequences of subsidy removal.
The Presidency said the vessel was an operational naval boat with security features, not a personal luxury for Tinubu. The National Assembly announced that the allocation had been removed and the money redirected towards student loans. However, an investigation by the Foundation for Investigative Journalism reported that the approved supplementary budget retained an allocation of roughly ₦5 billion under the description “Self-Propelled Barge”.
That finding does not prove that the President personally benefited from the money or establish what was ultimately purchased. It does, however, expose the need for documentary clarity. When the public is told that a controversial allocation has been removed, the final budget and expenditure records should make the claim independently verifiable. Renaming a budget item cannot replace a transparent account of what was approved, paid for and delivered.
Infrastructure spending has generated similar questions. The Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway, one of the administration’s flagship projects, attracted scrutiny over procurement and cost. In May 2024, the House of Representatives directed its committees on public procurement and works to investigate aspects of the project.
The controversy intensified in October 2026 amid reports suggesting a change involving the East-West Road. Works Minister Dave Umahi rejected claims that the coastal highway had been abandoned or realigned, explaining that reconstruction of the East-West Road was an additional project. That clarification should be acknowledged rather than treating an allegation as established fact.
Yet the broader demand remains reasonable. For a project of such scale, the government should make contract terms, procurement records, approved routes, variations and payments accessible. Nigerians should not have to depend entirely on ministerial assurances or political rebuttals to understand how public infrastructure is planned and financed.
Questions about the value delivered by public spending also arise from independent project monitoring. In February 2026, Tracka, the citizen-monitoring platform operated by BudgIT, reported findings from its monitoring of 2,760 federally funded projects across 28 states. It classified 92 projects worth ₦15.07 billion as fraudulently delivered, while identifying hundreds of others as unexecuted, abandoned or ongoing.
These classifications are findings from a civic-monitoring exercise, not criminal convictions against every contractor or official associated with the projects. Nonetheless, they underline a basic problem: money allocated in a budget does not automatically translate into a functioning public project. Independent verification is essential if citizens are to know whether public expenditure delivers the promised value.
The use of anti-corruption powers has also raised questions about political neutrality. In August 2026, the EFCC obtained a court order freezing accounts belonging to the Osun State Government amid an investigation reportedly involving approximately ₦11 billion. The timing, days before the state’s governorship election, generated concern that an enforcement action could influence the political contest.
Tinubu subsequently directed the EFCC to return to court to vacate the order, saying he was concerned that the timing could create the impression that a federal agency was being used to influence the election.
The court order matters: the EFCC did not simply freeze the accounts without judicial authorisation. Nor does the timing alone prove that the investigation was politically motivated. But the episode demonstrates why anti-corruption agencies must not only act lawfully; their actions must also command public confidence that the law is being applied fairly, without regard to political advantage.
Freedom of expression has presented another test. In April 2025, the National Broadcasting Commission directed broadcasters not to air Eedris Abdulkareem’s song “Tell Your Papa”, which criticised Tinubu and his administration. The commission cited the broadcasting code, while critics described the directive as censorship. There is no established evidence that Tinubu personally ordered the restriction.
Nevertheless, the episode raises questions about how regulatory powers are exercised when criticism is directed at the government. Public institutions must apply their rules consistently and transparently, particularly where political expression is concerned. Otherwise, decisions presented as regulatory enforcement can deepen suspicion that criticism of those in power attracts special treatment.
The gravest controversy considered here concerns the deaths of 37 people in Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps custody in Minna, Niger State, in September 2026. The detainees had reportedly been arrested during operations against suspected illegal mining. Survivors told Reuters that the cell was overcrowded and alleged that an unidentified substance had been sprayed inside before detainees began experiencing breathing difficulties.
The precise cause of the deaths had not been established in the reporting available at the time. The allegations must therefore remain allegations until a credible investigation establishes the facts.
The Federal Government announced an investigation, suspended senior NSCDC officers and constituted an independent committee. These are necessary steps, but they cannot be the final measure of accountability. The public needs credible findings on the conditions of detention, the conduct of officers, the medical circumstances surrounding the deaths and any individual responsibility established by the evidence. For the families who lost loved ones, committee announcements cannot substitute for truth and justice.
These controversies are not interchangeable. A disputed contract is not equivalent to deaths in custody. An appropriation is not proof of theft, a criminal charge is not a conviction, and a political appointment does not establish guilt or innocence. Responsible scrutiny requires these distinctions.
But caution must not become an excuse for silence. Nigerians deserve to know whether investigations have been completed, whether charges have been pursued, whether courts have reached decisions and whether institutional weaknesses have been corrected. Where officials are cleared, the outcome should be stated clearly. Where wrongdoing is established, consequences should follow.
The Tinubu administration has asked citizens to endure painful reforms in anticipation of economic recovery. Its own figures indicate that the reforms have generated substantial resources for the federation. That money is distributed across different governments and absorbed into wider budgets; it cannot all be traced to a single project. Still, the principle is clear: citizens who bear the costs of government policy have every right to demand transparent accounts of public expenditure and credible action when safeguards fail.
As the 2027 election approaches, the scandals surrounding this presidency will be judged not simply by the headlines they generate, but by what investigations and public records eventually establish. Can the government explain how a purported agency entered its budget? Can it provide clarity on controversial spending and major contracts? Can it demonstrate that anti-corruption powers are exercised fairly? Can it establish the truth when people die in state custody?
Tinubu’s supporters are entitled to point to indicators they believe show economic progress. His critics are entitled to ask whether that progress has reached ordinary households and whether public institutions are meeting the standards Nigerians deserve. Neither argument can be settled by political loyalty.
A government cannot demand lasting public trust merely because it has announced difficult reforms. It must earn that trust through the way it exercises power, accounts for public money and responds when institutions fail. The decisive question is not how quickly the Tinubu presidency can contain a scandal, but whether Nigerians can eventually find out what happened, who was responsible, what the evidence established and what was done about it.
Stephanie Shaakaa shaakaastephanie@yahoo.com
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