By Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D

There is something fundamentally wrong when citizens have to look outside their country for an assessment of how transparently their own government manages their money. That, more than the verdict itself, should trouble Nigerians about the latest Fiscal Transparency Report from the United States Department of State.

The report says Nigeria failed to meet America’s minimum fiscal transparency requirements for 2025. Again. For the second consecutive year, Africa’s most populous country has fallen below the threshold Washington sets for transparency in the management and disclosure of public finances.

Ordinarily, this could provoke the familiar argument about sovereignty. Who appointed the United States examiner of Nigeria’s fiscal conduct? Those questions are legitimate, but they can also become convenient distractions. The more important question is not whether America has the right to grade Nigeria’s books. It is whether Nigerians themselves can sufficiently see, understand and interrogate how their own money is raised, allocated and spent. That is the question that matters.

The assessment was not entirely dismissive of Nigeria. It acknowledged that the Federal Government made its enacted budget and end of year report publicly available, including online, and that information on debt obligations, including major state owned enterprise debt, was available to the public. It also acknowledged the legal framework around Nigeria’s sovereign wealth fund. These are important positives, but they were not enough.

The report raised concerns about whether Nigeria’s budget documents presented a complete picture of government revenues and expenditures, and whether actual figures corresponded with what had been approved. It flagged the timely publication of the executive budget proposal, questioned the independence of the supreme audit institution, and identified shortcomings in procurement disclosure. Taken together, these point to something larger than bookkeeping. They point to a transparency deficit.

The Presidency has responded. Sunday Dare, Special Adviser to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu on Media and Public Communication, cautioned against treating the American report as a comprehensive assessment of Nigeria’s public financial management system. That qualification is fair; the report measures Nigeria against criteria established for America’s own purposes and should not be elevated into an infallible judgement. The Presidency also points to ongoing reforms, including the Open Treasury initiative, debt disclosures, procurement reforms and stronger digital systems for accessing fiscal information. Those efforts deserve acknowledgement.

But here is the problem. The existence of transparency mechanisms is not the same thing as transparency. A government may publish hundreds of documents and still leave citizens unable to determine how much money was received, where it went, and who benefited from public contracts. Transparency is not measured by the volume of information government releases, but by how clearly it allows citizens to follow their money.

The national budget is not merely an accounting document. It is perhaps the most important statement of government priorities in any fiscal year. Every figure represents a choice; money allocated to one project is money unavailable for another. A billion naira spent on an administrative convenience cannot simultaneously build classrooms, equip a hospital or fund security.

That is why budget transparency is inseparable from democratic accountability. The money belongs to the people; government merely administers it. Citizens have a right to know not only what government intends to spend but what it actually spends, where revenues originate, where they go, and why approved budgets change during implementation. They should know who receives government contracts, and have access to audit institutions independent enough to interrogate those expenditures without fear or favour.

This is where the transparency conversation must move beyond rhetoric. Successive governments have announced impressive initiatives for opening the public purse: budget portals, treasury portals, procurement platforms, Freedom of Information legislation, digital payment systems. Yet controversies over opaque expenditure, duplicated projects and poorly explained fiscal decisions continue to surface. The question is no longer whether mechanisms exist, but whether they work.

There is another reason Nigeria should take fiscal transparency seriously: it has economic value. Investors care about the predictability of public finances. Creditors care about debt disclosure. Opacity carries a price; it increases suspicion, weakens investor confidence, creates opportunities for corruption, and makes difficult economic reforms harder to sell to the population.

That last point is especially important today. Nigerians have endured painful economic reforms, from higher fuel prices to higher transportation and food costs, and enormous pressure on household incomes. When government asks citizens to make sacrifices, it assumes a corresponding obligation to show it is managing those sacrifices transparently. Fiscal transparency becomes more important, not less, during periods of economic difficulty. People asked to tighten their belts are entitled to see what government is doing with its own. That is a question of trust, one of the most valuable currencies in governance.

The Presidency is right that Nigeria should not treat the U.S. Fiscal Transparency Report as the complete story of its public financial management. But neither should government use that qualification to diminish the weaknesses identified. The appropriate response is not indignation, nor defensiveness. It is improvement.

Publish budget proposals early enough for meaningful public scrutiny. Make implementation reports detailed and timely. Explain significant deviations between appropriations and actual expenditure. Strengthen the independence and capacity of the Auditor General. Make procurement contracts readily accessible. Ensure citizens can trace expenditure from appropriation to delivery, in language comprehensible not merely to accountants and economists but to the citizens whose money is being spent.

Ultimately, Nigeria does not need to become fiscally transparent because Washington demands it. It needs to become transparent because Nigerians deserve it. The true audience for government’s accounts is not the U.S. State Department; it is the Nigerian taxpayer, the market woman paying levies, the worker whose salary is taxed, the commuter paying indirectly through fuel costs. They are the shareholders of the Nigerian state, and shareholders have a right to inspect the books.

The greatest mistake government could make would be to reduce this latest report to another Nigeria versus America argument. It is not. It is about Nigeria and Nigerians. America’s assessment may be debated, its methodology questioned. But the principle cannot reasonably be disputed: public money demands public accountability.

Until Nigerians can easily follow public money from revenue to appropriation, from appropriation to expenditure, and from expenditure to tangible results, the transparency deficit will remain. Not because America says so. But because democracy demands otherwise.

Dr Lemmy Ughegbe, FIMC, CMC

Email: lemmyughegbeofficial@gmail.com

WhatsApp ONLY: +2348069716645

By Sam Otuonye

There are moments in history when a simple sentence captures the spirit of an entire political struggle. In Nigeria, one such sentence was: “If you Tarka me, I Dabo you.” Today, as the United States and Iran wrestle over the Strait of Hormuz, that old Nigerian political expression has acquired a new international meaning: ‘if you hit me, I will hit you back.’

But history teaches that such a contest can become dangerous when the people involved are not ordinary individuals but powerful governments, armies and nations.

The present confrontation between United States President Donald Trump and Iran is, in many ways, a classic case of action and retaliation. Washington wants Iran to yield. Tehran wants Washington to pay a price for every pressure put on it. And in the middle of the struggle is a narrow stretch of water through which a huge part of the world’s energy supply passes.

The Nigerian story goes back to1974, during the military administration of General Yakubu Gowon.

There was a Joseph Sarwuan Tarka, a prominent politician from the Middle Belt, a powerful member of Gowon’s government who had served as Federal Commissioner for Transport and later Federal Commissioner for Communications. He was one of the most influential political figures from what was then Benue-Plateau State.

Then came a Godwin Daboh, a businessman and fellow Tiv from Benue. In 1974, Daboh publicly accused Tarka of corruption and impropriety. He went as far as swearing an affidavit containing allegations against the powerful Federal Commissioner. The controversy became a major national political story.

Tarka fought back.
The confrontation became so bitter that it produced the famous political expression: “If you Tarka me, I will Dabo you.” In simple language, it meant: ‘if you attack me, I will retaliate.’

Under mounting public and political pressure, Tarka resigned from the federal cabinet in August 1974. The controversy did not end there. It became one of the memorable political battles of that era and eventually entered Nigeria’s political vocabulary as a metaphor for retaliation.

Tarka returned to politics during the Second Republic. He was elected Senator for Benue East in 1979 and became Chairman of the Senate Committee on Finance and Appropriation.

The Strait of Hormuz is not merely another waterway. It is a narrow maritime passage between Iran and Oman, linking the Persian Gulf with the Gulf of Oman and the Arabian Sea. At its narrowest point, it is only about 20 miles wide. Yet through this narrow passage moves an extraordinary volume of the world’s energy supplies.

This explains why Hormuz is everybody’s business. If the Strait is seriously blocked, the consequences do not stop in Tehran, Washington or the Gulf. They travel to Beijing, New Delhi, Tokyo, Seoul, London, Lagos and every economy that depends on affordable energy.

Oil prices rise. Transport becomes expensive. Electricity costs rise. Food becomes more expensive. Inflation returns. Businesses suffer. Poor countries suffer even more.

That is why Hormuz is sometimes described as the world’s energy artery.

President Trump has demonstrated a willingness to use military power against Iran. But the present crisis shows the limits of military power.

The United States and Iran have been involved in a prolonged conflict since the U.S.-Israeli strikes on Iran began on February 28, 2026. The fighting has centred not only on Iran’s nuclear and military capabilities but increasingly on control of the Strait of Hormuz.

Washington can destroy military installations. It can attack infrastructure. It can impose sanctions. It can deploy warships. But destroying Iran is a different matter.

Iran can retaliate against American interests and Gulf infrastructure. It can threaten shipping. It can disrupt energy supplies. And because Hormuz is so important to the world economy, every additional military escalation carries a global economic price.This is the dilemma now confronting Trump.

This is where the phrase “If you Tarka me, I Dabo you” becomes relevant.

Iran has effectively demonstrated that it has a weapon that cannot easily be bombed away: Geography.

The Strait lies beside Iranian territory. Iran does not need to defeat the United States in a conventional war to impose enormous economic costs. It only needs to make the movement of ships sufficiently difficult, dangerous or expensive.

Trump therefore faces an uncomfortable choice. He can continue escalating and risk a wider war, higher energy prices and greater pressure on the global economy.

Or he can negotiate, even if negotiation requires concessions that may look politically uncomfortable.

Diplomacy often means accepting something less than everything one wants in order to prevent something worse.

That appears to be the calculation behind the current discussions. It is expected that a deal between Iran and Oman would soon ensure commercial shipping to proceed, with U.S. measures tied to Iran’s compliance.

Trump may therefore be discovering the oldest lesson in international politics: military superiority does not automatically produce political victory.

The strongest man in the room may still need the cooperation of the man controlling the doorway.

Nigeria should understand this lesson.
For Nigeria, the Hormuz crisis should not be treated as a distant Middle Eastern quarrel.

Nigeria is an oil-producing country, but Nigerians remain heavily exposed to international energy prices. Any prolonged disruption in Hormuz can affect crude prices, shipping costs, foreign exchange, inflation, petroleum products and government revenue.

The crisis should therefore remind that oil security is also national security.
Nigeria must develop strategic fuel reserves, improve domestic refining, strengthen alternative energy sources and reduce its vulnerability to shocks in international oil markets.

When two individuals fight, they hurt each other. But when two governments fight, millions of innocent people pay the bill.

That is why the world should hope that Washington and Tehran do not allow “If you Tarka me, I Dabo you” to become the governing principle of international diplomacy.

Because in the Strait of Hormuz, there is no room for a fight in which everybody wins.

There is only room for restraint, negotiation and a settlement that keeps the world’s energy artery open.

Sam Otuonye, anipr
Journalist/Public Affairs Analyst, writes through samotuonye22@gmail.com

By Lemmy Ughegbe, Ph.D

When governments speak of infrastructure, the public naturally thinks of roads, bridges, railways, airports, seaports and power stations. These remain indispensable, moving people, transporting goods and connecting communities. Every serious government invests in them because they drive economic growth and improve the quality of life.

Yet the twenty first century has quietly introduced another form of infrastructure, every bit as important, even though it cannot be seen. It does not span rivers like a bridge or tower above cities like a power plant. It exists largely in digital form, yet it now shapes almost every interaction between citizens, businesses and government. It is trusted digital identity, fast becoming one of the defining infrastructures of modern nations.

Estonia has built one of the world’s most advanced digital societies on a trusted identity system that lets citizens vote, access healthcare, register businesses and pay taxes almost entirely online. India’s Aadhaar programme has given over a billion people a secure digital identity, expanding financial inclusion and improving welfare delivery. Singapore’s Singpass has transformed access to public and private services through a single trusted credential. Rwanda has shown that developing countries too can use identity systems to strengthen governance and financial inclusion.

These countries differ in geography, population and politics. But they share one lesson. In a digital economy, trust has become infrastructure.

A century ago, nations measured progress by the roads they built, the ports they developed and the factories they established. Those investments powered industrialisation. Today, governments must still build physical infrastructure, but they must also invest in its digital counterpart, without which modern economies cannot function efficiently.

Digital infrastructure is often misunderstood as simply faster internet or better telecommunications. Those matter, but they are not the whole picture. Increasingly, countries are investing in what is now called Digital Public Infrastructure, built on three interconnected pillars: trusted digital identity, secure digital payments and reliable data exchange. Together, these systems let governments deliver services more efficiently, businesses operate with greater confidence and citizens participate more fully in the digital economy.

At the centre of this framework lies trusted identity.

Every electronic payment depends on knowing who is sending and receiving money. Every online government service requires confidence that the applicant is who they claim to be. Banks must verify customers, universities authenticate students, healthcare providers protect medical records, and employers confirm identities. Courts, immigration authorities, tax agencies and electoral bodies all depend on reliable verification. Identity is no longer simply proof of who we are; it is the currency of trust on which the digital age depends.

This is why Nigeria’s recent reforms in identity management deserve attention beyond legal and policy circles. On 26 June 2026, President Bola Tinubu signed the National Identity Management Commission Act 2026 into law, repealing the 2007 Act that had governed the sector for nearly two decades. The new law designates the National Identification Number as Nigeria’s sole recognised means of identification under a “One Person, One Identity” policy, and names NIMC as the Root Certification Authority for the country’s public key infrastructure. It also reconstitutes the commission’s board to include the police, the DSS, the EFCC, the Central Bank and INEC, reflecting a deliberate push for inter agency coordination. Enrolment in the National Identity Database has already passed 136 million.

This is more than the modernisation of one institution. It reflects an appreciation that identity verification is becoming essential national infrastructure, positioning Nigeria to compete more effectively in an increasingly digital global economy.

The significance extends beyond technology. A trusted identity framework strengthens governance itself. Governments make better decisions when they hold accurate information about the people they serve, social intervention programmes reach genuine beneficiaries rather than fictitious identities, tax administration improves, financial inclusion widens, and businesses spend less time verifying customers and more time creating value.

For ordinary Nigerians, the benefits are just as tangible. A reliable credential means easier access to banking, healthcare, pensions, education, passports and driver’s licences. It reduces the frustration of repeated verification and lowers the risk of identity theft and fraud, simplifies business registration for entrepreneurs, and opens doors for young people entering a workforce that increasingly requires secure verification.

None of this diminishes the importance of roads, electricity or railways. It recognises instead that the infrastructure needs of modern nations have expanded. A road connects communities physically, just as a trusted identity system connects them virtually, electricity powers machines as trust powers confidence, and railways move goods as digital identity moves services securely across institutions.

One form of infrastructure does not replace the other. Together, they support the modern state.
Infrastructure alone does not guarantee progress. Trust must be earned. Citizens must remain confident that their personal information is protected, that identity systems are administered professionally, and that technological advancement never comes at the expense of privacy or accountability. Strong legal safeguards, effective oversight and transparent governance matter as much as technological innovation.
The new Act’s alignment with the Nigeria Data Protection Act, and its stiffer penalties for identity fraud, including a minimum five year sentence for unauthorised database access, are welcome steps in that direction. Consolidating identity infrastructure within a single, accountable institution also brings real advantages. It closes the gaps that once let fraudsters exploit fragmented databases, gives government one authoritative source of truth instead of several competing ones, and makes oversight simpler because responsibility cannot be diffused across multiple agencies. A single, well governed system is easier to secure, audit and improve than a patchwork of disconnected ones ever was. The task now is to match that structural advantage with equally disciplined implementation.

That is perhaps the greatest lesson from countries that have successfully embraced digital identity. Their achievements rested not solely on technology, but on institutions that inspired confidence, respected citizens’ rights and continuously improved service delivery.

Nigeria must pursue the same path. Sustained investment, institutional professionalism and public engagement will determine whether the promise of digital identity is fully realised.

The nations that lead the twenty first century will not be distinguished only by the roads they build or the power they generate, but also by the trust they create. In an increasingly digital world, trusted identity has become one of the foundations on which governments serve citizens, businesses create opportunity and economies compete globally. Nigeria has begun laying that foundation. The challenge now is to build on it with consistency, integrity and an unwavering commitment to public confidence.

Dr Lemmy Ughegbe, FIMC, CMC
Email: lemmyughegbeofficial@gmail.com
WhatsApp ONLY: +2348069716645