Feature/OPED
Why Nigeria’s New Tax Regime Will Fail Without Public Trust
By Blaise Udunze
Millions of Nigerian citizens are watching with cautious anticipation as the federal government begins implementing its far-reaching 2026 tax reforms. This is to say that the official assurances that the new tax regime will be fairer, simpler, and more humane, as relished by the proponents of the reforms, are being listened to by both low-income workers, small business owners, professionals, and informal sector participants.
Still, behind the optimism is a familiar worry shaped by past experience that reminds us that taxation without accountability undermines both governance credibility and the legitimacy of the tax system, thereby making it hard to believe in.
For many Nigerians, the question is not whether taxes should be paid, but whether the state has earned the moral authority to demand them, judging by the lack of accountability over the years.
The Nigerian Tax Act and the Nigerian Tax Administration Act, two of the four pillars of the 2026 reforms, came into force on January 1, reshaping how individuals and businesses are taxed. According to proponents of the reforms, particularly the Chairman of the Presidential Committee on Fiscal Policy and Tax Reforms, Dr. Taiwo Oyedele, the changes are deliberately pro-poor and pro-growth. Workers earning below N800,000 annually are exempted from personal income tax. Basic food items, healthcare, education, and public transportation have been removed from the VAT net. Small companies with turnovers of N100 million or less are exempt from corporate income tax, capital gains tax, and the new development levy. Multiple tax laws have been consolidated into a unified code to reduce duplication, confusion, and harassment.
On paper, these reforms acknowledge Nigeria’s economic distress and signal a genuine attempt to lighten the burden on the majority of citizens. However, Nigeria’s tax crisis has never been about tax rates alone.
Nigerians have lived through decades of taxation that did not translate into visible development, social welfare, or improved quality of life, as this has succinctly shown that it is fundamentally about trust. No matter how progressive, for this singular reason, Nigerians see the announcement of the reforms via a long memory of disappointment and failure, while Nigerians have increasingly become vocal in demanding accountability from government at all levels, and social media has played a powerful role in amplifying public scrutiny in recent years.
Images and videos of the alleged lavish lifestyles of public office holders and their families are alarming and circulate widely, reinforcing the perception that public funds are misused or siphoned for private gain. While not all such claims are verified, the damage lies in the perception itself since governance credibility suffers when citizens believe that those entrusted with public resources live far above the realities of the people they govern.
The Nigerian Constitution, while not explicitly mandating accountability in narrow terms, establishes in Section 14 that the security and welfare of the people shall be the primary purpose of government. The state is expected to manage the economy in a manner that ensures maximum welfare, freedom, and happiness of citizens on the basis of social justice and equality. The provisions made in Section 22 further empower the media and arm it to the teeth to hold the government accountable to the people and beyond constitutional provisions, Nigeria voluntarily signed up to global transparency initiatives such as the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative, domesticated through the NEITI Act of 2007. Over the period, NEITI has helped improve disclosure in the extractive sector, as its mandate does not extend to tracking how revenues are spent, leaving a critical accountability gap.
This gap is most evident in the lived experience of Nigerian taxpayers. Intrinsically, the average Nigerian does not experience taxation as a collective investment in shared prosperity. Instead, taxation feels like an added burden layered on top of already crushing personal responsibilities. Nigerians generate their own electricity through generators, source water privately, pay for security, indirectly fund road maintenance through vehicle repairs, and bear healthcare and education costs out of pocket. When citizens pay taxes and still bear the full cost of survival, taxation begins to resemble organized extraction rather than civic contribution.
For instance, the stories of Mr. George and Mr. Kunle reflect this reality. Mr. George, is an earned salary worker who has personal income tax deducted monthly through PAYE. Meanwhile, George also pays for electricity, security, water, road repairs, and private schooling. What about Mr. Kunle, who is a small business owner and chooses not to pay taxes voluntarily with the belief that the government has failed to meet its obligations and other rights? Their frustration is widely shared. According to the IMF, only about 10 million Nigerians out of a labour force of 77 million are registered taxpayers. This low compliance is not a product of ignorance alone, but of a deeply broken social contract.
Over the years, successive governments have attempted to address low compliance through amnesty schemes such as the Voluntary Asset and Income Declaration Scheme. Though these initiatives temporarily expanded the tax base, their long-term impact remains questionable because compliance driven by fear of penalties or temporary incentives does not endure where trust is absent. In Nigeria, tax compliance is often compelled rather than voluntary, just as we are about to experience in this new regime, enforcement tends to replace persuasion. This approach may generate short-term revenue, but it weakens legitimacy and fuels resistance.
Academic studies on taxation and accountability in Nigeria reinforce this conclusion. While global literature suggests a strong relationship between government accountability and voluntary tax compliance, Nigeria’s experience has been distorted by weak institutions and limited political legitimacy. This should be noted by the policymakers that where citizens perceive government as unaccountable, coercion increases, collection costs rise, and evasion becomes normalized. Hence while, the result is a vicious cycle in which low trust breeds low compliance, prompting harsher enforcement that further erodes trust.
Other jurisdictions offer valuable lessons. For instance, today, a country like Sweden has one of the highest tax-to-GDP ratios in the world with remarkably high compliance rates, and this has been the norm despite imposing steep personal income taxes. The reason is simple, in the sense that transparency and visible benefits are not far-fetched. Citizens know how their taxes are spent and experience the returns through quality education, healthcare, social security, and public services. Taxation is viewed not as punishment but as a shared investment. In China, targeted tax deductions for healthcare and education similarly align taxation with social needs, reinforcing compliance through perceived fairness.
Nigeria’s challenge is not to replicate these systems mechanically, but to internalize their core principle that enables the people to comply willingly when they believe the system works and that everyone is treated fairly.
This principle is being tested anew by the recent controversy surrounding the Federal Inland Revenue Service’s (now branded as Nigeria Revenue Service) appointment of Xpress Payments Solutions Limited as a Treasury Single Account collecting agent. Though framed as a technical step toward modernizing digital tax infrastructure, the quiet nature of the appointment, coupled with limited public disclosure, has reignited fears of revenue capture and cartelization. Critics have drawn parallels with past private-sector dominance over state revenue systems, warning against concentrating sensitive national revenue functions in private hands without clear safeguards.
Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar’s reaction captured the broader public unease. He raised an alarm while warning against what he described as the nationalization of a revenue collection model that had previously raised serious transparency concerns and the Nigeria Revenue Service (NRS) has insisted that Xpress Payments is merely an additional option and not an exclusive gatekeeper, the controversy highlights a deeper issue, which authenticates the fact that in a climate of low trust, silence, and lack of clarity, suspicion. Even well-intentioned reforms can falter if citizens feel excluded from the process.
With broader concerns about governance, accountability, and democratic integrity in society, this moment coincides with it. Even the recent calls by leaders such as Rotimi Amaechi and civil society organizations like ActionAid Nigeria underscore the growing demand for responsible, transparent and people-oriented leadership as being raised from different quarters. Governance indices consistently rank Nigeria poorly on accountability, while poverty, unemployment and insecurity remain widespread. That is what, in such a context, asking citizens to trust the tax system without first restoring confidence in governance is unrealistic and unattainable.
At the core of the debate lies a fundamental moral question: when does a government have the right to tax its citizens? Taxation is not charity and it is not magic. It is a contract. Citizens surrender a portion of their income so the state can provide security, infrastructure, justice, and essential services that individuals cannot efficiently provide on their own. When this exchange functions, taxation feels legitimate. When it fails, taxation feels coercive.
No doubt, legally, the Nigerian state retains the power to tax, but morally, legitimacy depends on performance. Security is foundational. Infrastructure enables productivity. The government must understand that healthcare and education protect human capital, while transparency ensures fairness. And, when these pillars are weak, taxation loses its ethical grounding. All that Nigerians demand is not perfection; they demand evidence that their sacrifices matter.
As the implementation of the new tax reforms takes root, Nigeria stands at a defining moment. The reforms offer an opportunity to reset the social contract around taxation, broaden the tax base, and reduce dependence on dwindling oil revenues. But the point being flagged is that reform without accountability will only reproduce old failures in new forms. To buttress this further, taxation without accountability, as being practiced in the past, will invariably undermine governance credibility and erode the legitimacy of the tax system.
And, as the scripture says, you cannot put “old wine in a new wineskin.” Failure to adhere to this instruction will lead to combustion. Yesterday’s methods or mindsets on taxation will rupture new strategies, which cannot thrive or survive because of a lack of accountability.
If the government is serious about improving voluntary compliance, it must go beyond policy announcements. Hence, must demonstrate transparent use of tax revenues, strengthen oversight institutions, limit monopolistic control over revenue collection, and communicate clearly and consistently with citizens. Most importantly, it must deliver tangible improvements in the daily lives of all Nigerians.
When citizens see roads fixed, hospitals working, schools improving, and security strengthened, compliance will follow. Voluntary tax compliance is not an act of generosity; it is a rational response to trust. Fix the system, restore confidence, and Nigerians will pay, not because they are forced, but because the contract finally makes sense.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
By Blaise Udunze
Daily, the world watches Nigeria through a familiar lens in what appears to be a gory situation. Especially in cases when the news headlines tell stories of farmer-herder clashes, bandit attacks, kidnappings, villages reduced to ashes or deserted by the dwellers, as thousands of Nigerians have been displaced across states such as Zamfara, Plateau, Benue, Niger, Kaduna and Nasarawa. Subliminally, this is about to become a similarly ugly occurrence in southwestern Nigeria, which is fast becoming obvious if not nipped in the bud quickly.
Recorded data have shown that bandits, Boko Haram, and others killed over 190,000 Nigerians in 17 years and displaced 3.7 million people.
A human rights organisation, the International Society for Civil Liberties and Rule of Law (Intersociety), in its fearful revelation, has said that no fewer than 190,150 Nigerians have been killed by bandits, Boko Haram insurgents, and suspected armed herdsmen between July 2009 and March 19, 2026, as this calls for concern.
The dominant explanations often point to ethnic tensions, religious divisions, climate change, shrinking grazing routes or weak security institutions. No doubt, those factors are certainly part of Nigeria’s complex security crisis. Yet another question deserves serious examination.
What if, in some locations, the violence is also serving another purpose? What if some of the territories experiencing repeated displacement are the same places sitting atop some of Nigeria’s most valuable mineral deposits? More importantly, if such a pattern exists, who benefits when communities disappear?
Of a truth, these questions are uncomfortable, but undeniably they deserve careful investigation rather than dismissal.
For ages, Nigeria has been naturally endowed, and it is estimated to be rich in enormous significant reserves of gold, lithium, uranium, tin, columbite and other strategic minerals increasingly sought after in the global transition to clean energy technologies. As international demand for battery minerals continues to rise, these resources have become far more valuable than they were only a decade ago.
If one overlays publicly available geological information with maps showing persistent violence, some observers argue that striking geographical overlaps appear in several regions. Such overlaps alone cannot establish causation. Correlation is not proof of conspiracy. However, they raise questions worthy of independent scrutiny.
One issue attracting increasing attention and adequately yearns for answer is whether prolonged insecurity may inadvertently or deliberately create conditions that make mineral extraction easier.
Under Nigeria’s Nigerian Minerals and Mining Act 2007, mineral resources belong to the Federal Government, while mining rights are granted through licences and leases. Community engagement and land access are expected to form part of the licensing process, although implementation varies depending on circumstances. This raises an important policy question.
What happens when the communities expected to participate in those processes have already fled because of violence?
Displacement changes the dynamics of land ownership, consent and access. While no evidence automatically proves that attacks are orchestrated to facilitate mining, the sequence of violence followed by renewed commercial activity in some locations deserves closer examination by regulators, lawmakers and investigative journalists.
In conflict studies, researchers have long observed that wars often generate economic winners alongside humanitarian losers. Could elements of Nigeria’s insecurity also be producing economic beneficiaries?
Reports over the years have documented concerns about illegal mining operations across parts of northern Nigeria. Government agencies themselves have repeatedly acknowledged that criminal networks profit from the country’s vast mineral wealth. The unresolved question is whether isolated criminality has, in some instances, evolved into more sophisticated alliances involving political influence, financial interests and international supply chains. If so, the implications extend far beyond Nigeria.
Invariably, it is clearly known that lithium has become one of the world’s most strategic commodities, powering electric vehicle batteries and renewable energy storage systems. Gold has always remained one of the safest global investment assets during periods of uncertainty. Meanwhile, it is well confirmed that the global appetite for these minerals creates enormous financial incentives.
Suppose violent displacement reduces resistance to extraction. Suppose shell companies subsequently acquire mining interests. Suppose minerals then leave Nigeria through legitimate-looking export documentation while their true value remains understated.
These scenarios remain allegations unless supported by verifiable evidence. Yet they outline a framework that investigators may wish to test rather than ignore. Financial crime experts frequently identify trade mis-invoicing as one of the most common methods of illicit financial flows worldwide.
Could Nigeria’s solid minerals sector be vulnerable to similar practices? If valuable lithium ore is deliberately but inaccurately described as lower-value material on export documents, substantial wealth could potentially leave the country without reflecting its true market value. Likewise, if unrefined gold exits through privileged channels with limited scrutiny, questions naturally arise about oversight, transparency and accountability over criminal activities which have continued to stunt and disrupt the country’s socio-economic growth and at the same time cause carnage.
Such possibilities are not accusations against any particular institution or company. Rather, they illustrate why stronger monitoring systems are increasingly essential. Another question concerns logistics.
With the high level of criminal activities, industrial mining requires heavy machinery, diesel supplies, transportation networks and specialised personnel. These are not operations that can remain invisible indefinitely.
If certain territories are genuinely too dangerous for security agencies, how do industrial-scale extraction activities reportedly continue in some remote locations? If they do, who protects those operations? Who authorises their movement? Who verifies what is extracted? Who ensures royalties and export revenues reach public coffers? These are governance questions that demand institutional answers.
Equally important is the international dimension. Minerals extracted in Nigeria ultimately enter global supply chains. Gold may pass through international refining hubs before entering financial markets. Lithium may become part of battery manufacturing destined for electric vehicles, which are being sold across Europe, North America and Asia.
One known fact is that consumers purchasing products containing these minerals rarely know the full story of where they originated.
Increasingly, however, investors and governments are demanding ethical sourcing standards that trace minerals from extraction to final manufacture.
A critical factor that must be taken into cognisance is that if insecurity is creating opportunities for illegal or unethical extraction anywhere in the world, multinational companies have responsibilities alongside national governments, of which the onus falls on the Nigerian government.
Transparency cannot stop at the mine gate. Nor should accountability end at national borders. Another issue requiring attention concerns beneficial ownership.
Across many jurisdictions, shell companies can obscure the identities of individuals ultimately controlling commercial assets. If politically exposed persons or powerful business interests are hidden behind complex corporate structures registered offshore, identifying beneficiaries becomes significantly more difficult. This challenge is hardly unique to Nigeria.
Findings showed that from Latin America to Central Africa and Southeast Asia, resistant corporate networks have frequently complicated efforts to combat corruption and illicit resource extraction. That is precisely why open corporate registries, beneficial ownership databases and transparent mining licence disclosures are becoming global governance priorities. For Nigeria, the stakes could hardly be higher.
The country stands at the centre of the world’s emerging critical minerals economy. The Nigerian government can’t feign ignorance of the fact that, when handled transparently, these resources could finance infrastructure, education, healthcare, and industrial development for generations.
In no way would the government claim not knowing that when handled poorly, they risk becoming another chapter in the well-documented “resource curse,” where extraordinary natural wealth coincides with persistent poverty, insecurity and institutional weakness.
The ultimate challenge, therefore, is not simply about mining. It is about governance. It is about whether public institutions possess both the independence and capacity to ensure that natural resources benefit citizens rather than narrow interests. It is about whether conflict zones receive genuine peacebuilding efforts instead of becoming forgotten frontiers. And it is about whether international markets demand accountability with the same enthusiasm they demand raw materials.
None of these questions should be answered through speculation. They require rigorous investigations, forensic financial analysis, satellite imagery, mining license audits, customs records, beneficial ownership disclosures and courageous journalism.
They require governments willing to open their books. They require international cooperation capable of tracing money across borders. Most importantly, they require asking questions that have too often remained unasked.
Perhaps Nigeria’s security crisis is exactly what it appears to be: a tragic convergence of historical grievances, weak institutions, criminality and environmental pressures. Or perhaps, in some places, another layer of economic incentive deserves closer scrutiny.
Until those questions are thoroughly investigated, one possibility will continue to linger. Maybe the world’s attention has been fixed on the blood spilt above ground, while too little attention has been paid to the extraordinary wealth lying beneath it.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
Feature/OPED
What Does Nigeria’s $51bn Reserves Milestone Mean if Most New Foreign Money Can Leave Quickly?
Nigeria’s foreign reserves have climbed to about $51 billion, a decade-plus high, according to the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN). EBC Financial Group (EBC) notes that this reflects stronger investor confidence, but the second half may show whether it holds, as the build rests on three cyclical drivers: oil earnings, short-term foreign money and a narrowing official-to-street naira gap.
Reserves rose from about $32 billion in April 2024, during a dollar shortage, to about $51 billion now, near the CBN’s target. Much came from two cyclical sources, strong oil earnings and money chasing high-yielding naira assets, so EBC expects the pace to slow or reverse. Fitch Ratings, a major international credit rating agency, expects a marginal decline to about $47 billion by the end of 2026, citing higher spending and external pressures.
David Precious, Senior Market Analyst at EBC Financial Group, said, “Nigeria’s reserve build is real but may not be durable yet, because nearly all of the new money is the kind that can leave quickly. Of the $10.37 billion that came in over the first quarter, the overwhelming majority was short-term portfolio funds rather than long-term investment, so a shift in oil prices, global interest rates or confidence in the naira might pull a large part of it straight back out.”
Most New Money Can Still Leave Quickly
The composition of the foreign inflows explains the caution over how long the build can last. The country attracted $10.37 billion in foreign investment in the first quarter of 2026, up 83.83 per cent year-on-year, according to the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS). Of that, $9.86 billion or 95.09 per cent, was portfolio money, largely short-term naira debt such as Treasury bills that investors can sell at the next auction, while foreign direct investment, the long-term kind that builds factories and jobs, was $135.08 million, or 1.30 per cent. Put simply, of each dollar coming in, about 95 cents can leave quickly, and barely one cent stays.
That money supports reserves while it stays. Dollars brought in to buy naira assets add to market supply, letting the CBN hold more reserves and steady the naira. It leaves when conditions change. Nigeria earns most of its export dollars from oil and gas, so lower oil prices mean fewer dollars, and as a member of the Organisation of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), it cannot simply produce more, output capped by quota and reduced by theft and ageing fields. Higher global interest rates draw money toward safer returns abroad, and a weakening naira prompts investors to sell early. When oil fell in 2016 and 2020, foreign investors withdrew and could not convert naira to dollars as supply dried up, leaving the CBN to clear more than $7 billion in trapped obligations into 2024.
The Oil Boost is No Longer Certain
Oil looked like a dependable source of the dollars behind the reserves only months ago. Earlier in 2026, concern over disruption around the Strait of Hormuz lifted crude prices, and stronger receipts flowed in, with crude oil export earnings of $8.11 billion in the first quarter in the CBN’s balance-of-payments data. That support is now easing. The tension has subsided, and Brent traded near $72 on June 29, down about 24 per cent over the month, back to pre-conflict levels. With the price boost gone and output constrained, reserves are more exposed, leaning on non-oil earnings and investor patience rather than oil.
The Naira Still Trades at Two Prices
The naira has traded at two prices, an official rate and a higher parallel-market rate, and closing that gap into one trusted price is what many investors might watch most. Before committing funds, they may want assurance they can convert naira to dollars at a fair rate when they exit, and a wide gap revives the fear of being trapped that lingers from earlier shortages. The gap has narrowed to roughly N20 to N30, with the CBN’s official rate near N1,380 per dollar on June 26 against parallel-market quotes around N1,400. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) 2026 Article IV review urged Nigeria to depend less on this fast-moving portfolio money and to keep phasing out its multiple exchange-rate practices. The CBN’s Foreign Exchange Manual, in force from 1 June, is intended to make the market clearer, though such rules build confidence only once investors can freely trade dollars at the posted rate.
What could Make the Build Durable
A few signs that may show the build turning durable include a smaller gap between the official and street naira rates, more long-term foreign investment, and steadier oil earnings. A gap that stays small, now roughly N20 to N30, may mean investors trust the official rate and no longer need the street market. A clear rise in foreign direct investment, only $135 million last quarter against $9.86 billion of short-term money, might mean lasting capital is replacing funds that can leave at the next auction. Oil earnings that hold up, rather than sliding from the low $70s, should help keep reserves steady, since oil and gas bring in most of Nigeria’s export dollars.
“Reserves built on money chasing high yields can fall as fast as they rose, as they did after the last two oil shocks, when investors left, and the CBN spent years clearing a foreign-exchange backlog,” Precious added. “What holds through a downturn is slower money, direct investment, steady oil and non-oil export earnings and one credible naira rate, and that is the shift Nigeria has yet to make.”
By Olajumoke Bello
Across Nigeria, small and medium enterprises remain the backbone of economic activity. They drive trade, create jobs, and sustain millions of livelihoods. Yet, despite their importance, many SMEs continue to operate below their full potential due to persistent structural challenges.
Access to finance remains one of the most cited constraints. However, the issue today goes beyond the availability of capital. Many businesses struggle with financial readiness, weak documentation, and limited understanding of what lenders require. This often leads to missed opportunities, even when funding options exist.
At the same time, SMEs face gaps in market access and visibility. Business owners operate in highly localised environments, with limited exposure to broader networks that can unlock partnerships, new markets, and growth opportunities. This isolation can constrain scalability and reduce long-term competitiveness.
Equally important is the capability gap. Many entrepreneurs grow through resilience and experience but lack structured knowledge on critical areas such as financial management, export readiness, and digital adoption. Without this, even well-capitalised businesses can struggle to sustain growth.
These challenges point to a clear need for a more practical and integrated approach to SME support. It is no longer sufficient to offer standalone solutions. SMEs require ecosystems that combine knowledge, access, and direct engagement in ways that reflect how they actually operate.
A key shift is the move from centralised interventions to localised engagement. SMEs are deeply influenced by their immediate environments, whether markets, industrial clusters, or trade corridors. Solutions must therefore be brought closer to where these businesses function, allowing for more relevant support and stronger relationships.
Another important shift is from awareness to action. Business owners do not only need information; they need insights that they can apply immediately. This includes understanding how to structure their finances, how to access trade opportunities, and how to connect with the right partners to scale their operations.
There is also a growing need for continuity. Many SME-focused initiatives deliver strong initial impact but lack follow-through. For support to be effective, it must extend beyond one-off engagements into sustained relationships, with clear pathways for onboarding, advisory, and growth.
For financial institutions, this presents both responsibility and an opportunity. Supporting SMEs now requires moving beyond transactional banking to deeper partnership models. It requires understanding businesses at a granular level and co-creating solutions that evolve with their needs.
At Stanbic IBTC, this perspective continues to shape our approach to SME development. Our focus is on delivering practical support that translates into real business outcomes, helping enterprises grow, compete, and contribute more meaningfully to the economy.
As part of this commitment, we are extending our SME engagement to the regions through the Nigeria Business Summit Regional Tour. The tour will take structured, on-ground activations into key commercial hubs, where SMEs can access funding guidance, trade insights, advisory support, and direct engagement with financial experts.
The regional tour will take place across five strategic locations, bringing these solutions closer to business owners in Aba, Onitsha, Ibadan and Kano.
This approach reflects an important principle. When support moves closer to businesses and when solutions are delivered in ways that are practical and continuous, SMEs are better positioned to grow sustainably. In turn, this strengthens not only individual enterprises but the broader economy.
Olajumoke Bello is the Head of Enterprise Banking at Stanbic IBTC Bank
