Building roads while travelling nowhere

Nigeria’s states have never had it this good on paper. Between January and November 2025 alone, the Federation Account Allocation Committee (FAAC) disbursed N33.27 trillion, a kind of revenue inflow that should have triggered a visible improvement in the lives of ordinary Nigerians, such as having functioning primary healthcare centres, better public schools, safer communities, water schemes that work, and social protection for households falling below the poverty line.

Across the country, the story on the streets remains painfully familiar – hospitals without drugs, schools without teachers, salaries owed in some states, pension backlogs, rising food prices, collapsing rural livelihoods, and families paying out-of-pocket for everything. The contradiction is no longer ironic but scandalous.

This is the uncomfortable truth, as many governors are still choosing projects over people, and in doing so, they are deepening the poverty they claim to be fighting.

The figures are critical, as in 2024, total FAAC disbursement to states stood at N25.46 trillion. By the first eleven months of 2025, it had climbed sharply to N33.27 trillion, even higher than the N28.6 trillion reportedly disbursed in the full 2024 fiscal year.

States like Delta (N594bn), Rivers (N488bn), Lagos (N480bn) and Akwa Ibom (N451bn) led the pack in allocations. Even states on the lower end, Niger, Ekiti, Cross River, Gombe and Ebonyi, still received over N110bn within the period.

This is not to argue that every state should suddenly become Dubai. But it is enough to demand something far more basic.

Despite record revenues, Nigeria’s multidimensional poverty is estimated at 63 percent, meaning a majority of citizens lack access to essentials such as health, education, sanitation, and decent living standards. This is the tragedy of Nigeria’s subnational governance (revenues rise, but human development barely moves).

BudgIT’s State of States report offers a sharp lens into what is going wrong. According to the report, states spent an average of just N3,483 per person on health in 2024, a shocking number in a country where illness is one of the fastest routes into poverty. Worse still, no state spent up to N10,000 per capita on healthcare, and only a few states – Lagos, Bayelsa, Edo, Abia, Kwara, Niger and Delta – managed above N5,000.

Even when states budget for health, they often fail to implement it. They collectively budgeted N1.32 trillion for health in 2024 but spent only N816.64 billion, translating to 61.9 percent performance. In education, states budgeted N2.41 trillion but spent N1.61 trillion, a 66.9 percent implementation rate.

So, money is entering government accounts, yet services remain trapped in mediocrity because budget performance is weak, priorities are misaligned, and accountability is absent.

Nigeria’s political culture rewards what can be seen. Governors love flyovers, gates, new government houses, stadium renovations, smart buildings, and shiny projects designed for commissioning ceremonies. These are not inherently bad; the roads and bridges matter.

The key question is ‘Roads and bridges to where and for whom?’

A road that looks good on television but connects communities that cannot afford healthcare, whose children are out of school, and whose farmers lack support, is not development. It is a decoration, and worse still, it can become a conduit for inflated contracts, patronage, and rent-seeking.

Kabir Isah, a public affairs analyst, captured it plainly: “Governors often prefer ribbon-cutting projects over the ‘invisible work’ of strengthening human capital.” Health and education take longer than four years to show results, so many leaders simply avoid them, which explains why states can build bridges while citizens still beg for hospital beds.

When states underinvest in people, the consequences are not abstract. Out-of-pocket healthcare rises, forcing families to sell assets, borrow money, or delay treatment; therefore, turning small illnesses into death sentences and deepening household poverty.

Education remains weak, feeding a cycle of youth unemployment, crime, drug abuse, and social instability. A child denied quality schooling today becomes an adult trapped in low productivity tomorrow. States remain dependent on Abuja because, without a healthy and skilled workforce, they cannot build a productive economy that generates sustainable internal revenue sustainably.

Trust in the government collapses because citizens can see flyovers but cannot feel prosperity. When governance becomes performance, democracy becomes resentment.

Most dangerous of all, misaligned spending entrenches inequality, as the elites enjoy private hospitals and private schools, while the poor face crumbling public services. In that environment, poverty stops being an accident but becomes a design.

BudgIT’s deputy country director, Vahyala Kwaga, rightly blames weak accountability and poor political culture, noting that citizens often demand what they can see, while governors exploit that preference to justify high-value capital projects that keep them popular.

But the real failure is institutional, as the first line of accountability should be state houses of assembly. But in many states, legislatures are not independent; they are extensions of governors’ offices, making budgets pass without scrutiny. Borrowing happens without transparency, as audits gather dust, and oversight becomes theatre.

Civil society and the media also have roles to play, and CISLAC’s Auwal Rafsanjani warns that corruption thrives where investigative reporting is weak and citizen pressure is low. In plain terms, governors misbehave because they can.

Nigeria does not need to abandon infrastructure but needs to redefine it. Infrastructure is not only roads and bridges. Infrastructure includes primary healthcare systems, public schools, water supply, rural extension services, digital access, and social protection frameworks. A state that spends billions on concrete but peanuts on people is not building development but building political monuments.

The ideal governance model should include, but not be limited to, prioritising human development spending and making it measurable – per-capita targets for health and education, not just ceremonial budget figures.

Treating budget implementation as a performance contract, with quarterly public scorecards, and shifting spending to primary care and basic education, where impact is widest and poverty reduction fastest.

Building a productive state economy through agriculture value chains, MSME support, skills training, and jobs and not dependence on FAAC.

Strengthening institutions, such as having independent assemblies, transparent procurement, and real audit enforcement. Citizens must demand outcomes, not aesthetics, because poverty does not care about flyovers. In the end, governance is not a photo album but a social contract.

Nigeria’s states have received historic FAAC inflows. What they do with it will determine whether the future belongs to prosperity or permanent hardship. The funds are available, and the crisis is not scarcity but a matter of priorities. And until states choose people over politics, Nigeria will keep building roads while travelling nowhere.