Is it morally right to tax a people whom you cannot protect?

The sharing formula looks very encouraging as the amount involved continues to increase month by month, but the people contributing to it have been in perpetual siege for years.

Notably, in political philosophy, taxation is justified by a simple social contract: ‘Citizens surrender part of their income to the state in exchange for protection, public goods, and social order.’ But what happens when the state aggressively collects taxes while failing to protect the very citizens who fund it? A troubling moral question is confronting Nigeria today.

Recent fiscal figures show how dramatically government revenues have grown. In January 2026, Nigeria recorded N1.08 trillion in Value Added Tax (VAT) collections, the highest monthly figure in the country’s history. From this amount, the 36 state governments received N551.77 billion, representing about 55 percent of the distributable revenue, while the Federal Government received about N100.32 billion and local governments N351.13 billion. The amount received by states represents a 30.4 percent increase from the N423.25 billion shared in December 2025.

On paper, this appears to be a success story of fiscal growth. But the numbers raise a disturbing contradiction. While government revenues continue to climb, the safety and welfare of Nigerian citizens continue to deteriorate.

Across the nation, communities are under siege from terrorists, bandits, kidnappers, and armed militias. According to security reports, violent conflicts claimed 4,654 lives in Nigeria in 2025 alone, while 3,141 people were abducted. Banditry alone accounted for 599 incidents and 2,724 deaths, reflecting a steady escalation of violence across rural communities.

The scale of insecurity is even more alarming when viewed over time. Data released by Nigeria’s National Bureau of Statistics indicated that more than 614,000 deaths were linked to insecurity between May 2023 and April 2024, highlighting the devastating human cost of Nigeria’s prolonged security crisis.

This raises a troubling thought, as Nigerians are being taxed more than ever before, yet many cannot travel safely on highways, farm their land, or send their children to school without fear.

Consider the countless tragedies that have defined Nigeria’s security landscape in recent years. From the 2014 abduction of more than 200 schoolgirls in Chibok to the repeated mass kidnappings of students across Kaduna, Niger, and Zamfara states, the nation has witnessed a horrifying pattern of attacks on its most vulnerable citizens. Between July 2024 and June 2025 alone, at least 4,722 people were kidnapped nationwide, with hundreds killed and millions of dollars paid as ransom.

In November 2025, the world was once again shocked when over 300 pupils and teachers were abducted from St Mary’s Catholic School in Niger State, underscoring the persistent vulnerability of educational institutions.

Elsewhere, entire rural communities have been wiped out by bandit attacks. Farmers in Kaduna, Zamfara, and Katsina states routinely abandon their farms for fear of kidnapping or death. In April 2025 alone, Nigeria recorded 570 killings and 278 kidnappings in a single month, according to the National Human Rights Commission.

These statistics are not merely numbers but represent shattered families, destroyed livelihoods, and communities living in perpetual fear.

Yet while insecurity worsens, political leaders seem more focused on the distribution of federal revenue than on solving the crisis. Each month, the Federation Account Allocation Committee (FAAC) meets to share billions of naira. Governors eagerly await these allocations, which often constitute the bulk of their states’ budgets.

Sadly, the increasing size of FAAC allocations has created a strange new political incentive, which is governors defecting from opposition parties to the ruling party. While political defections are not new in Nigeria, the current wave appears driven less by ideological conviction and more by access to federal patronage and financial flows.

In other words, the growing VAT and FAAC revenues have inadvertently become tools of political consolidation rather than instruments of governance.

Meanwhile, citizens continue to shoulder the burden of rising taxes and economic hardship. Inflation has remained stubbornly high since the removal of fuel subsidies in 2023, with food inflation exceeding 40 percent at various points, pushing millions deeper into poverty.

For many Nigerians, taxation now feels less like a civic duty and more like an extraction. Market traders pay VAT on goods, as businesses face multiple taxes from federal, state, and local authorities. Yet the basic services expected in return (security, infrastructure, healthcare, and education) remain grossly inadequate.

The moral dilemma is clear, as some political philosophers from Thomas Hobbes to John Locke argue that the primary duty of government is protection of life and property. When the state fails in this fundamental obligation, the legitimacy of its authority, including its right to tax, comes into question.

In Nigeria today, that social contract appears dangerously strained.

This is not to say taxation itself is wrong. Modern states require revenue to function. Roads must be built, hospitals funded, and security agencies equipped. But taxation must be accompanied by accountability and visible public benefit. Otherwise, it becomes indistinguishable from exploitation.

The tragedy of Nigeria is not merely that the nation is poor. It is that a nation rich in resources and revenue continues to fail its citizens in the most basic responsibilities of governance.

The way forward requires more than higher revenue collections. Nigeria must fundamentally rethink how public funds are used.

Security spending must become transparent and results-driven. Billions allocated to defence each year should translate into measurable improvements in safety across communities.

Also, state governments, now receiving larger VAT allocations, must be held accountable for how these funds are spent. Citizens deserve to see improved policing, infrastructure, and social services in return for the taxes they pay.

Likewise, Nigeria must strengthen local governance and intelligence networks to combat insecurity at the grassroots level. The centralised security architecture has repeatedly proven inadequate for a nation of Nigeria’s size and complexity.

Finally, taxation is not merely an economic policy but a moral covenant between citizens and the state. When that covenant is honoured, citizens pay taxes willingly because they see the benefits in their daily lives.

But when the state collects more revenue while citizens face kidnappers on highways, terrorists in villages, and bandits on farmlands, the question inevitably arises, ‘Is it morally right to tax people you cannot protect?’

Until Nigeria’s leaders answer that question with meaningful action, the growing VAT windfall will remain not a symbol of progress but a painful reminder of a broken social contract.