Feature
By:
The Federal High Court’s final forfeiture order covering dozens of properties in proceedings initiated by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) against former Attorney General of the Federation and Minister of Justice, Abubakar Malami, has once again drawn national attention to Nigeria’s anti-corruption campaign. The court’s decision is significant in its own right, but it also throws up a larger national issue that deserves far more attention than the identity of any individual. Whether the case involves a former minister, governor, legislator or head of a government agency, the recurring question is why Nigeria’s anti-corruption institutions often appear to become most active after public officials have left office. By the time investigations gather pace, years have passed, public funds may already have been diverted, assets may have changed ownership several times and the country is left celebrating recoveries while counting losses that can never be fully repaired.
That recurring pattern has become one of the greatest weaknesses in Nigeria’s accountability system. Malami is only one example among many that have confronted the nation over the years. Before him, there were former governors, ministers, chief executives of government agencies and politically exposed persons who found themselves under investigation or before the courts. After him, there will almost certainly be others unless Nigeria abandons a system that waits for corruption to mature before confronting it. A country that genuinely desires accountability cannot continue to rely almost entirely on post-tenure investigations while neglecting the preventive mechanisms that should detect irregularities before they grow into national scandals.
Nigeria has not lacked institutions. The Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) was established in 2000. The EFCC followed in 2003 with a broad mandate to investigate financial crimes and recover public assets. Successive administrations have also strengthened procurement laws, introduced the Treasury Single Account, expanded the use of the Bank Verification Number, deployed digital payment systems and created other financial controls. Yet corruption continues to dominate public discourse because institutions have not consistently succeeded in stopping abuse of office before enormous damage is done.
Transparency International’s 2025 Corruption Perceptions Index gave Nigeria a score of 26 out of 100, placing the country 142nd out of 182 countries surveyed. Rankings do not tell the entire story, but they offer a useful indication of how governance is viewed internationally. Behind those numbers are abandoned infrastructure projects, inflated contracts, weak public confidence, discouraged investment and millions of citizens who continue to bear the cost of poor accountability. Corruption is no longer simply a legal issue. It has become one of the biggest obstacles to economic growth, social development and national security.
The country’s debt profile adds another layer to the conversation. According to the Debt Management Office (DMO), Nigeria’s total public debt stood at about ₦87.38 trillion around the time President Bola Ahmed Tinubu assumed office in May 2023. By December 31, 2025, that figure had risen to approximately ₦159.28 trillion. The Federal Government has explained that the increase reflected a combination of fresh borrowing and the impact of exchange-rate revaluation on external debt after the naira was floated. That explanation is noteworthy because it reflects the official position. Yet it also invites a broader discussion about public finance and accountability.
Borrowing is not unusual. Every major economy borrows to finance development, infrastructure and strategic investment. The issue is not whether Nigeria borrows but whether borrowed resources and public revenues are managed with the highest level of transparency and discipline. Citizens therefore have every right to ask whether stronger safeguards against corruption, contract inflation, procurement abuse and waste could reduce the pressure for continuous borrowing. Those questions are legitimate because every loan contracted today will eventually be serviced by taxpayers, including young Nigerians who had no part in creating the circumstances that made those loans necessary.
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of Nigeria’s anti-corruption campaign is the tendency to celebrate recoveries that occur years after the alleged misconduct instead of building systems capable of preventing abuse in the first place. Whenever another high-profile investigation comes to light, attention quickly shifts to the number of houses recovered, the value of forfeited assets or the amount of money traced to bank accounts. Such recoveries are important where ordered by competent courts because public resources should return to the public. Even so, they also raise difficult questions. If substantial assets can be identified years after public officials have left office, why were unusual financial patterns not detected while those officials were still serving? Why do internal controls so often appear to fail until external investigations begin?
Those questions become even more compelling when viewed against the everyday realities confronting ordinary Nigerians. A forfeited property cannot replace a hospital that was never completed. A recovered luxury vehicle cannot compensate a community denied potable water because funds allocated for rural projects disappeared. Frozen bank accounts cannot restore confidence in institutions weakened by years of inadequate oversight. Recoveries matter, but prevention is infinitely more valuable because it protects resources before they are lost.
There is an old story I know as a growing young lad, it is about an armed robber being chased through a village. One concerned resident hurriedly parked his motorcycle by the roadside and joined the pursuit. After the chase ended, he returned to discover that another thief had stolen the motorcycle he left behind. The illustration captures the dilemma facing Nigeria’s anti-corruption effort. While enormous energy is devoted to investigating yesterday’s allegations, who is watching over today’s public expenditure? Who is scrutinizing contracts before payments are made? Who is identifying conflicts of interest before procurement decisions are taken? Who is ensuring that internal audit systems function as more than routine administrative exercises?
These responsibilities do not belong to the EFCC and ICPC alone. They extend to ministries, departments and agencies, procurement units, internal auditors, external auditors, the Code of Conduct Bureau, financial intelligence institutions, legislative oversight committees and every public officer entrusted with safeguarding public resources. A successful anti-corruption strategy cannot depend solely on arrests, prosecutions and recoveries. It must begin with transparent systems that make abuse of office far more difficult than it is today.
The discussion also extends beyond government institutions. Society itself has questions to answer. Why do many Nigerians become uncompromising critics of corruption only when those under investigation belong to another political party or another ethnic group? Why do allegations suddenly become political persecution when the individual involved is regarded as one of our own? Public money has no ethnic identity. Resources diverted from the treasury deny opportunities to citizens in every part of the federation. Poor healthcare does not discriminate along tribal lines. Bad roads inconvenience every traveller. Weak schools diminish the prospects of children irrespective of religion or region.
The unfortunate reality is that unexplained wealth is too often celebrated instead of questioned. Individuals whose lifestyles bear little resemblance to their known legitimate earnings sometimes receive honours, chieftaincy titles and public admiration without anyone asking difficult questions about the source of their fortunes. That culture weakens the moral foundation upon which any anti-corruption campaign must stand. Institutions alone cannot defeat corruption if society continues to reward wealth without accountability.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu has repeatedly pledged to strengthen institutions and sustain the fight against corruption. Those commitments provide an opportunity to move beyond rhetoric towards structural reform. Asset declaration systems require more effective verification. Procurement processes should become more transparent and increasingly technology-driven. Internal audit mechanisms deserve greater independence. Whistle-blower protections should inspire confidence. Oversight institutions must be adequately funded and insulated from undue influence. Above all, accountability should be consistent irrespective of status, political affiliation or personal connections. Every allegation should be examined fairly, every suspect should enjoy due process and every conclusion should rest on evidence tested before competent courts.
Some countries that have made notable progress against corruption did not rely exclusively on high-profile prosecutions. Singapore invested heavily in institutional integrity and public sector discipline. Botswana strengthened financial management and accountability mechanisms over several decades. China adopted severe anti-corruption measures, although aspects of its legal approach continue to throw up international debate. Nigeria may not necessarily need to replicate any country’s model in its entirety. The lesson worth drawing is that corruption declines where institutions become stronger than individuals and where certainty of accountability outweighs the expectation of impunity. However, let us bear in mind that nothing encourages crime and criminality like the hope of escaping both judgement and punishment.
Many years ago, the late Sonny Okosun asked a question that has remained evergreen in our memories: Which Way Nigeria? It stands as one of the most searching questions in the country’s political history because it speaks directly to the choices confronting the nation today. Which direction is Nigeria taking if public debt continues to rise while corruption allegations repeatedly dominate national discourse? Which direction is Nigeria taking if recoveries attract greater attention than preventive reforms? Which direction is Nigeria taking if citizens judge allegations according to ethnic loyalty or political affiliation rather than insisting on equal accountability before the law?
History is unlikely to remember the number of press conferences held to announce investigations or asset recoveries. It will remember whether this nation built institutions capable of protecting public resources before they disappeared. It will remember whether public office came to be seen as a solemn trust rather than an avenue for personal enrichment. It will remember whether Nigeria finally developed the political will to move from reacting to corruption after the damage had been done to preventing it before the first illegal payment was made.
Malami, therefore, is one out of so many cases that have compelled Nigerians to confront difficult truths about governance, accountability and institutional weakness. The enduring issue is not one individual or one court proceeding. The enduring issue is whether the country has learnt enough from decades of recurring scandals to change the way it protects public resources. Not until prevention becomes the cornerstone of the anti-corruption campaign, investigations will keep on multiplying, recoveries will keep representing only part of what may have been lost, public debt will continue to weigh heavily on all of us and those yet unborn and Okosun’s timeless question will continue to demand an answer from every Nigerian. “Let me ask again: Which way is Nigeria heading?”
