It’s starting to look like every federal executive council ( FEC) is “announcement day” at the Presidential Villa. Ministers troop out after the FEC meeting, brief the press, reel out figures, and reassure the public that everything is under control. In theory, this is what transparency looks like. In practice, it has begun to sound like a radio jingle—different voices, same chorus.
This week’s tune had six verses. Information minister Mohammed Idris spoke about diplomatic channels with the United States after Washington placed Nigeria on the religious-freedom watchlist. Aviation minister Festus Keyamo promised that no aviation worker would lose their job over airport concessions. Minister of the Federal capital territory Nyesom Wike unveiled housing for judges and water projects in Abuja. Finance Minister Wale Edun came with dollar figures—$396 million for IDPs and health projects. Works minister Dave Umahi rattled off billions for road contracts. And Creative Economy minister Hannatu Musawa pitched the government’s plan for tourism zones and a “Detty December” task force.
On paper, that’s a full week of governance. On ground, Nigerians are asking a different question—who’s measuring the results?
When the U.S. tagged Nigeria a “country of particular concern,” many expected the usual defensiveness. Idris took a different route—measured tone, diplomatic language, reassurance that “channels have been opened.” It was almost textbook crisis communication. The problem is, every government since 1999 has said the same thing when Washington frowns: “We’re engaging.” Engagement is fine. But engagement without introspection is a PR stunt.
The minister was right about one thing though—terrorism and extremism are global problems. Nigeria’s issue is not lack of cooperation; it’s lack of consequence. When killers strike in Plateau or Kaduna, nobody resigns, nobody is prosecuted, and the story fades. If the government wants credibility abroad, it must first show accountability at home.
Festus Keyamo was in his element—forceful, articulate, unapologetic. He swore no aviation worker would lose their job to airport concessions. Good. But Nigerians have heard that tune before. Every privatisation since 1999 came with similar assurances—NITEL, PHCN, the steel mills—and we all saw how those ended. Workers lost jobs, assets vanished, and the public paid more for less service.
Keyamo insists this will be different, that unions won’t dictate government policy. Fair point. But the credibility test is not in rhetoric; it’s in process. If you’re handing Port Harcourt Airport to private investors, publish the names, the bidding documents, and the concession terms. Nigerians have had enough of secret “public-private partnerships” where the public carries the loss and the private side carries the profit.
I’ll give him credit for one thing—halting the sale of FAAN staff quarters. That’s a rare moment of sense. Selling properties inside airports in a country where even the tarmac isn’t safe? Madness. Whoever floated that idea in the first place should be answering questions, not drawing salary.
Then came Nyesom Wike, who never misses an opportunity to talk like a man personally offended by underdevelopment. His announcements were solid—homes for heads of federal courts, water projects for satellite towns, rehabilitation of the Tinubu International Conference Centre, and the revival of Maitama 2 District.
One more thing. Housing for judges is good, but let’s not pretend that’s the judiciary’s main problem. The crisis isn’t where they sleep—it’s what happens in their courtrooms. Until justice stops being delayed and purchasable, a mansion for the Chief Judge won’t make the system more credible.
Wale Edun arrived with what sounded like good news—$396 million in concessional financing. $300 million for displaced persons, $96 million for health infrastructure in Sokoto. On the surface, that’s progress. But scratch deeper: how much of that money will reach actual IDPs in camps where children sleep on bare floors?
Development partners have poured billions into Nigeria’s humanitarian and health sectors over the years. Yet, displaced families in Borno still rely on NGO rations, and half of the primary health centers nationwide don’t have running water. The gap between foreign pledges and local delivery is a canyon.
Edun also painted a glowing picture of the economy—growth at 4.23 percent, inflation down to 18 percent, reserves above $43 billion. Nice figures. But ask the market woman in Suleja if she feels that 4.23 percent growth. She’ll tell you her pepper basket costs double what it did a year ago. Macro stability is great, but until it translates to affordable food, it remains a PowerPoint victory.
That said, one genuine win he mentioned deserves more attention—Nigeria’s removal from the FATF grey list. That’s not small. It restores confidence in our financial system, makes international transfers smoother, and signals that the anti-money-laundering framework is finally getting teeth. Credit where due.
Dave Umahi is an engineer , so it’s no surprise he’s fallen in love with concrete roads. This week, he reeled out contracts worth tens of billions—Lagos-Ibadan, Mushin-Apapa, Sokoto-Badagry, Ilorin-Omu Aran, Enugu-Onitsha, East-West, Ota-Idiroko, and more. At this point, FEC briefings sound like a construction site inventory.
No one disputes that Nigeria needs better roads. But what we need even more is project discipline. Too many of these contracts are “re-awarded” projects—same routes, new costs, new contractors. Umahi blames inflation and higher reinforcement prices. Fair enough. But Nigerians deserve a public portal listing every federal road project: when it started, original cost, revised cost, completion date. Without that, billions will keep vanishing under the convenient label of “review.”
Still, I like his idea of letting state governors take over stalled federal roads. If properly structured, that could speed things up. But it must come with transparent funding formulas—no federal reimbursements for phantom work. Some governors will happily claim they fixed federal roads with “state funds” while using the opportunity to drain both treasuries.
Finally, Hannatu Musawa brought a rare subject to FEC—tourism. For once, the conversation wasn’t about debt, roads, or insecurity, but about cultural zones and national branding. The government plans to establish “Tourism and Cultural Economic Zones” in all six regions and the FCT, adopt “Naija Season” and “Detty December” as official brands, and even set up a presidential task force on holiday tourism.
It sounds ambitious, and maybe that’s fine. Nigeria desperately needs soft-power projects that tell a different story. But let’s be honest—before we turn “Detty December” into a government franchise, can we fix basic things like electricity and airport queues? Tourists won’t care about catchy branding if they can’t get a visa in less than three months or if the streets flood after one hour of rain.
That said, the idea of protecting intellectual property and allowing creators to use their works as collateral for loans is forward-thinking. If Musawa can deliver that framework with the Justice and Trade ministries, it might be her most lasting legacy.
When you line up all these announcements, a pattern emerges. Each minister is saying, in one form or another, “We’ve inherited problems, but we’re fixing them.” It’s the same storyline every time —continuity dressed as reform.
To be fair, government is a continuum, and Tinubu’s team inherited a messy table. But Nigerians are not grading them on inheritance; we’re grading them on improvement.
What’s missing in these briefings is accountability. Who reports back when the projects are done—or not done? Who measures whether the diplomatic channels produce results, whether airport concessions improve services, whether new roads outlast one rainy season? FEC briefings shouldn’t end at the Villa gates; there should be a follow-up session every quarter showing progress, costs, and beneficiaries.
When the Minister of Works mentions ₦43 billion for Lagos-Ibadan Section II, the public should be able to check the project status online. When the Finance Minister quotes $396 million in loans, the repayment terms and executing agencies should be published.
Because here’s the truth—Nigerians no longer clap for announcements. We’ve seen too many “flag-offs” that never turn into completions. From refineries that never refine to power plants that never power, our national memory is littered with ribbon-cutting ceremonies and no follow-through.
There’s a phrase civil servants used to use in the old days: “We’ve taken note.” It meant nothing would happen. Today, the modern version is “FEC has approved.” Until the approval becomes asphalt, water pipes, hospital beds, or tourist inflows, it’s just paperwork.
What this government needs now is the dignity of delivery. Nigerians are not asking for miracles; they’re asking for evidence. Show us one major road completed ahead of schedule. Show us an airport concession that improves efficiency without job losses. Show us an IDP programme where displaced people actually return home. Then maybe, just maybe, those FEC briefings will sound less like announcements and more like accountability.
For now, the government’s strongest asset is its confidence. Every minister sounds assured, every statistic sounds positive, every project sounds transformative. But governance is not a press release. By the next FEC cycle, the measure should shift from “what was approved” to “what was achieved.”Until then, FEC at the Villa will remain what they are—Nigeria’s longest running show
