Opinion

N’Delta: NDDC’s Partnership With LGAs

Published

15 years ago

April 20, 2011

Listening to the chairmen of local governments in the Niger Delta as they discuss the developmental challenges in their councils, one gets worried but in a way begins to understand why they have consistently failed to execute any meaningful projects in their domain. They were all lamenting what they called the huge burden of paying salaries to their staff, especially primary school teachers.

It was disturbing, sitting in the midst of local government chairmen, who are supposedly controlling huge budgetary allocations, but were bellyaching over the strangle-hold of re-current expenditure on the resources available to the local governments. It was an absurd situation as the issue of bloated salary bills was not the business of the day.

The Niger Delta Development Commission, NDDC, had invited the chairmen as key stakeholders in the development of Nigeria’s oil-rich region to work out a partnership arrangement that would spread development to all corners of the region. The commission had set aside N1.35 billion to kick start its proposed collaboration with the local government councils across the Niger Delta region on joint funding and management of projects. Under the scheme, N150 million would be spent on five identified projects per state at 30 million per local government council.

However, while the NDDC would provide the N30 million counterpart funding, the local governments were expected to contribute N15 million to bring the total to N45 million. Raising the N15 million became an issue for many of the local government chairmen.

Dr. Omene Odafe, the chairman of Ethiope West Local Government Area in Delta State, lamented “that teachers’ salary alone takes over 50 per cent of the Federal Government allocation to the council and the salaries are deducted at source, such that at the end of the day, my council has virtually nothing left to pay for capital projects”. Going by his experience, he wondered whether many local governments would be able to benefit from the NDDC scheme.

Another council chairman, Prince Timothy Nsirim, of Obio-Akpor Local Government in Port Harcourt metropolis lent his weight to the assertions of his Delta State counterpart. He said that the saving grace for local governments in Rivers State was that the government of Governor Rotimi Amaechi has taken the burden of teachers’ salary off their shoulders. Before then, he said, the council could not execute projects as small as boreholes. He therefore advised other state governments in the Niger Delta to assist their local governments in paying teachers’ salaries so that they would have money to spare for projects.

The position of the local government chairmen would certainly not sit well with most people but that is the reality. Governor Rauf Aregbesola of Osun State confirmed this at an International Conference of the World Mayors Summit held in Osogbo recently. He said that some governors deliberately impoverish local governments through diversion of council funds for other purposes. “Councils have become cash cows as council funds are always within reach. State governments commit council funds for all kinds of projects and at the end of the day, there is little or nothing left for them to embark on anything tangible in their domain”, he said

As one would expect, Mr. Chibuzor Ugwoha, the Managing Director of NDDC, was taken aback by what the chairmen put on the table. He said that it was worrisome that the local governments spend all their money to pay salaries and leave development projects unattended to. “This is very regrettable”. Perhaps, the collaboration the commission was offering would help them to at least contribute something for the wellbeing of their people.

Mr. Ugwoha informed the chairmen that NDDC as an interventionist agency does not own projects, stressing that ownership of every development project embarked upon by the commission automatically reverts to the people. Thus, he stressed the need for the involvement of benefiting communities all through the life span of the projects. He said the commission was prepared to assist the local governments to deliver on their mandates. He underlined the fact that NDDC gets only 7 per cent of the funds coming to the region.

This point, which has been echoed by other leaders of the Niger Delta in the past, is important to bear in mind. The plain truth is that a sizeable chunk of the funds made available for the development of the region come through the states and local governments.

For instance records show that between May 1999 and December 2006, the nine states making up the Niger Delta region received a total of N2.16 trillion, while local governments got a total of N671 billion. Over the same period, the NDDC received only N241.5 billion, representing eight percent of the total amount of N3.07 trillion from the federation Account. With this huge disparity in the distribution of funds, one would expect the two tiers of government to be in the forefront of development projects in the region. Sadly, that is clearly not the case, as the NDDC with its meager resources is more visible on the ground than some of the states and local governments.

Local governments in the Niger Delta cannot blame their poor performance in human and infrastructure development solely on the payment of primary school teachers’ salaries. In most local governments in the country, there are clear signs of poor financial management. Some LG chairmen treat the revenue accruing to their councils as their personal money. They appropriate whatever amount they like to themselves and share the remainder among the councilors. Worse still, some governors, as rightly stated by Gov Aregbosola, hold back LG funds for their personal aggrandizement. This is most unfortunate. LGs should be held accountable for the money they receive and be compelled to embark on projects that positively impact the lives of their people. That is the only way their existence will be meaningful.

What we have from the state and federal governments is more of abandoned projects. Recently, the Niger Delta Professionals for Development, a non-governmental organization, conducted a study with support from the European Union and the National Planning Commission. Its report, called the Citizen Report Card, shows that no fewer than 287 projects have been abandoned in 120 oil producing communities in six states in the Niger Delta region.

The nagging question is: where have all the monthly allocations gone? Where are the roads, schools, clinics and hospitals? Where are the libraries and the science laboratories? Where are the waterworks, the bridges and the industries? Where are the social services these governments are supposed to provide their people? These are some of the questions begging for answers.

Although some have argued that the current revenue allocation formula is unfair as it is not proportionate to the contribution of the region to the national purse, still the region continues to receive hefty amounts when compared to other regions. The truth is that some governments in the Niger Delta have not judiciously spent what they have been receiving since 1999. Looking at the projects on ground, it would appear that a huge chunk of the monthly receipts have ended up in private pockets or used to finance poorly executed projects deliberately designed to short change the citizenry.

While it may be easy to blame the failure on corruption, there are other critical elements that should also be looked at. For instance, there is evidence that planning and coordination of projects are inadequate. This is where partnership and collaboration come to play. Despite the myriad of financial problems confronting the local governments in the Niger delta, the chairmen should take the offer of partnership by the NDDC seriously, so that they can leave behind projects that people can see and cherish.

There is no doubt that developmental agencies in the region need to properly coordinate their activities. It is, therefore, paramount that the various tiers of government, private companies and donor agencies synergize to stop unnecessary waste and duplication of projects in the region. This was the problem that the Niger Delta Regional Development Master Plan was designed to solve. The core objective of the plan is to promote partnership and harmonize the activities of all development agencies in the oil-rich region. Keying into the plan is still the best option for the region’s rapid socio-economic transformation.

Agbu, a seasoned journalist, writes from Port Harcourt.

Opinion

Wike VS Soldier’s Altercation: Matters Arising

Published

7 days ago

December 8, 2025

The Tide

The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.

Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.

The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.

It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.

Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.

On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.

It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.

*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.

In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.

Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.

One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.

Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.

The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.

The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.

Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.

The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.

The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.

Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.

If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?

As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.

Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.

Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.

Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.

We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.

The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.

It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.

No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.

By; King Onunwor

Opinion

Ndifon’s Verdict and University Power Reform

Published

3 weeks ago

November 24, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”But beyond the courtroom victory lies a pressing question: What next? How do we ensure that Nigerian universities no longer serve as hunting grounds for predatory academics? How do we guarantee that students—especially young women—can pursue education without fear of victimization?”

The conviction of Professor Cyril Ndifon, suspended Dean of Law at the University of Calabar, to five years in prison by the Federal High Court Abuja, provided a rare moment of relief amid the week’s troubling national events. Beyond punishing one individual, the judgment signaled that accountability—especially regarding sexual harassment and abuse of power in Nigerian higher institutions—may finally be gaining traction. For years, many students, especially young women, have quietly endured intimidation, coercion, and the misuse of academic privilege. Reports and surveys have consistently shown the depth of this problem. A 2018 World Bank survey estimated that 70% of female graduates had faced some form of sexual harassment in school, while a Nigerian study recorded sexual violence as the most common form of gender-based violence on campuses.

Ndifon’s case has therefore become symbolic—challenging the belief that powerful academics can act with impunity. Justice James Omotosho’s ruling went beyond the conviction; it exposed the systemic rot that enables abuse. His description of Ndifon as a predator highlighted how institutions fail when they lack strong, independent structures for accountability. Although the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) proved its case beyond reasonable doubt, many similar cases never reach court because victims remain afraid, discouraged, or convinced that the system will not protect them. A major difference in this case was that a government agency fulfilled its responsibility rather than letting the matter fade, as often happens with campus scandals. Too often, allegations arise but internal committees stall, victims lose hope, and the accused quietly escape consequences.

This time, however, the judiciary refused to allow such evasion. The court’s decision to center the victims and dismiss attempts to discredit them set an important precedent at a time when survivors are often blamed or pressured into silence. Yet the bigger question remains: What next? How can Nigerian universities become safe spaces where students, particularly young women, can pursue education without fear? First, reporting systems must be overhauled. Traditional structures—where complaints pass through heads of departments or deans—are inadequate, especially when senior officers are the accused. Independent, gender-sensitive complaint bodies are essential. Some institutions, such as the University of Ibadan and Godfrey Okoye University, have already taken steps by establishing gender-mainstreaming units. Other universities must follow suit, ensuring confidentiality, protection from backlash, and transparent investigations.

Second, proven cases of harassment must attract real consequences—not quiet transfers or administrative warnings. Sexual exploitation is not a mere disciplinary issue; it is a crime and should be promptly escalated to law-enforcement agencies. Treating criminal behaviour as an internal matter only emboldens perpetrators. Third, students must feel safe to speak up. As a senior lecturer at the University of Abuja advised, silence fuels impunity. Students need to believe that justice is attainable and that they will be supported. This requires consistent sensitization efforts by student unions, civil society groups, gender advocacy organizations, and ministries of women affairs. New students, in particular, need early guidance to understand their rights and available support systems. The recent approval of the Sexual Harassment of Students (Prevention and Prohibition) Bill, 2025, prescribing up to 14 years imprisonment for educators convicted of harassment, is a step in the right direction.

Quick presidential assent and domestication by states will strengthen legal protection. As Nelson Mandela said, “A society that fails to protect its women cannot claim to be civilized.” This principle must guide Nigeria’s legislative and institutional reforms. The legal profession has its own soul-searching to do. Law faculties are expected to model ethics and justice. When a senior law academic betrays these values, the damage extends beyond the victims—it undermines confidence in both higher education and the justice system. The judiciary’s firm stance in this case therefore reinforces the idea that the law exists to protect the vulnerable, not shield the powerful. Yet, this moment should not end with celebration alone; it must ignite a broader institutional awakening. Universities must begin to review their staff appraisal systems to include behavioural ethics, not just academic output.

Governing councils should strengthen oversight mechanisms and ensure that disciplinary processes are free from internal politics. Alumni associations and parents’ forums can also play a monitoring role, demanding higher standards of conduct from staff and administrators. Importantly, the government must provide universities with the financial and technical support needed to establish functional gender desks, counselling units, and digital reporting platforms. Only when all stakeholders take ownership of the problem can lasting reform be achieved. Professor Ndifon’s sentencing represents justice for one victim, but it must inspire justice for many more. It should mark the beginning of a nationwide resolve to reclaim Nigerian universities from those who misuse authority. The future of education in this country must be shaped by knowledge, dignity, and integrity—not fear or manipulation. The judgment is a call to action: to build campuses where students are safe, where lecturers are held accountable, and where power is exercised with responsibility. Only then can Nigeria truly claim to be nurturing the leaders of tomorrow.

By: Calista Ezeaku

Opinion

As Nigeria’s Insecurity Rings Alarm

Published

3 weeks ago

November 24, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”President Donald Trump’s designation of Nigeria a Country of Special Concern and further threats to intervene in countries experiencing religious persecution reflect a growing international concern regarding Nigeria’s deteriorating security situation.”

In recent years, Nigeria has witnessed an alarming evolution of insecurity that threatens not only the stability of the nation but also the broader West African region. Bandit attacks on schools, farms, mosques, and Christian worship centers have become distressingly commonplace, painting a grim picture of a country under siege from multiple fronts. The rise of kidnappings for ransom, coupled with the persistent threat of terrorism from groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP, has ignited fears among communities and hampered economic activities. As neighboring Sahel countries grapple with coups and the spread of extremist ideologies, Nigeria finds itself at a precarious crossroads that demands urgent attention and action.

According to media tally, about 2,496 students have been abducted in 92 school attacks since the Chibok saga of 2014. And prompted by recent incidents in Kwara, Kebbi and Niger states, where hundreds of pupils were abducted, state governments across northern Nigeria are shutting down, or relocating schools. Even the federal government last week, via the Federal Ministry of Education hastily ordered principals of 41 unity schools across northern Nigeria, to shut-down.The increasing frequency and audacity of bandit attacks highlight a troubling trend in Nigeria’s security landscape. Schools, once seen as sanctuaries for learning, have become targets for kidnappers seeking to exploit vulnerable students. These attacks not only disrupt education but also instill fear in families, leading to mass withdrawals from schools. Should we raise a generation of children deprived of their right to education?

Similarly, farms and places of worship have not been spared. Communities that once thrived on agriculture and faith, now live in constant dread of violent incursions. The targeted killings of Christians and attacks on mosques further exacerbate religious tensions, threatening to disrupt the social fabric that holds Nigeria together.The situation is compounded by the unsettling developments in the Sahel region, where coups and the rise of jihadist groups have created a volatile environment. The spillover effects of this instability are palpable in Nigeria, as extremist ideologies proliferate and armed groups gain confidence. The porous borders of the region facilitate the movement of militants and weapons, making it increasingly difficult for Nigerian authorities to contain the threats. As Nigeria struggles to secure its territory, the consequences of failure become more pronounced, with the potential for a broader regional crisis looming on the horizon.

President Donald Trump’s designation of Nigeria a Country of Special Concern and further threats to intervene in countries experiencing religious persecution reflect a growing international concern regarding Nigeria’s deteriorating security situation.

While such attention can bring much-needed awareness to the plight of affected communities, it also underscores a significant truth: the responsibility for addressing these challenges ultimately lies with the Nigerian government. The inaction and apparent inability to protect citizens from violence and ensure justice for victims send a troubling message about the state’s commitment to safeguarding its populace. The economic ramifications of this evolving insecurity are dire. Foreign investment, a critical driver of economic growth, is deterred by the pervasive violence and instability.

Investors are wary of committing resources to a country where the risk of loss is heightened by kidnappings and attacks on businesses.Additionally, agricultural production suffers as farmers abandon their lands, fearing for their safety. The recent upsurge in insecurity coincides with a crucial harvest season, when farmers need to recoup investment to finance the next round. A decline in harvests this year would reverse recent gains of recovery in food production and exacerbate poverty, further straining the nation’s resources. Socially, the implications of failing to tackle insecurity are profound. Mistrust in government institutions grows as citizens witness a lack of effective response to violence and crime. This erosion of faith can lead to civil unrests, as frustrated populations demand accountability and action.

Moreover, the vulnerability of young people in conflict-affected areas increases the risk of radicalization, as they seek identity and purpose in extremist movements that exploit their disillusionment. The South-East crisis is peculiar in this regard. The evolving insecurity in Nigeria is not merely a national crisis; it poses a significant threat to regional stability and international interests. The convergence of banditry, terrorism, and political instability in the Sahel creates a complex security environment that requires a coordinated response. The Nigerian government, in partnership with regional allies and international partners, must adopt a comprehensive strategy that addresses the root causes of insecurity, strengthens law enforcement, and fosters community resilience.

It’s time Nigerians address all regional grievances with reconciliation and empathy, rather than with coercion. As citizens, civil society, and international stakeholders, it is crucial to advocate for effective policies that prioritize security, justice, development and inclusiveness. A collective effort is needed to ensure a safer, more stable future for Nigeria and the West African region. Ultimately, Nigeria stands at a critical juncture. The path forward demands decisive action to restore security, rebuild trust, and ensure that all citizens can live without fear. The time for complacency has passed; the stakes are too high, and the consequences of inaction are too grave. A collective effort is essential to navigate this challenging landscape and forge a safer, more stable future for Nigeria and the West African region.

By: Joseph Nwankwor