Recently, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), won a landmark forfeiture of 753 duplexes in Abuja, against unnamed owners.
After the announcement by the commission, names have been flying on the media space on the identify of the owner of the duplexes.
This recent seizure is not just a legal action; it is a damning indictment of a national moral failure that has long stripped our country of its potential and dignity.
Imagine, for a moment, the sheer scale of this seizure. Seven hundred and fifty-three duplexes — a real estate empire that could house entire communities — acquired through mechanisms so opaque that even the agency tasked with exposing them hesitates to illuminate the full story. This is not merely a property seizure; it is a surgical exposure of the festering wound in our national body politic.
The EFCC’s defense is a masterclass in bureaucratic obfuscation. By hiding behind legal technicalities — invoking Section 17 of the Advance Fee Fraud Act and the complex legal doctrine of “action-in-rem” — the commission transforms what should be a moment of triumphant transparency into a labyrinth of legal smoke and mirrors. They claim professionalism, but what professional investigative body seizes assets worth potentially billions of naira without revealing the fundamental story of their acquisition?
Let us be unequivocal: this is not about individual names, but about institutional integrity. The real question transcends the identity of a single offender. We are confronting a systemic architecture of theft that has transformed public service from a call to national duty into a personal wealth generation mechanism.
Pointedly, the real estate sector in Nigeria has long been an ideal landscape for financial subterfuge. It is a realm where astronomical wealth can be laundered, where phantom transactions blur the lines between legitimate investment and grand larceny. These 753 duplexes are not an anomaly; they are a symptom of a deeper, more malignant condition.
Consider the mathematics of this seizure. Each duplex represents not just a structure of concrete and steel, but a stolen opportunity — a school unbuilt, a hospital,an infrastructure project abandoned. Every brick is cemented with the potential of resources diverted from public good into private greed.
The EFCC’s reluctance to name names is itself a form of complicity.
In the considered opinion of this newspaper, transparency is not a luxury; it is the fundamental currency of democratic accountability. By maintaining this calculated silence, they inadvertently become participants in the very system of obfuscation they claim to dismantle.
This is not merely about recovering assets. This is about reconstructing the very notion of public trust. When government agencies become so institutionally timid that they cannot or will not reveal the full narrative of financial malfeasance, they chip away at the foundational trust between the state and its citizens.
The broader implications are profound. Each time such massive asset seizures occur without full disclosure, we normalise a culture of institutional silence. We create an environment where corruption is not just possible, but expected. Where public officers view their positions not as sacred trusts, but as personal ATMs.
Our national narrative cannot continue to be defined by these cycles of theft and performative recovery. We need more than legal proceedings; we need a cultural revolution that reimagines public service as a genuine commitment to collective progress.
The 753 duplexes are more than real estate. They are a mirror reflecting our national character — a reflection that demands we confront uncomfortable truths about governance, accountability, and collective moral responsibility.
For the EFCC, this is a moment of critical choice. They can continue their current path of strategic ambiguity, or they can become true catalysts of change. True accountability is not about legal maneuvers, but about creating a clear, unambiguous narrative that serves public understanding and justice.
We insist that transparency is not optional. It is the fundamental prerequisite of democratic governance. These seized properties are not just assets; they are evidence. And evidence demands to be seen, understood, and learned from.
In an era of increasing global scrutiny on financial crimes and institutional transparency, Nigeria has an opportunity to transform this moment from another bureaucratic footnote into a turning point of national and regional renewal. The world is watching, and the potential for meaningful change has never been more palpable.
The choice remains with Nigeria’s institutions, leaders, and citizens. Will they continue to allow such systematic plunder, or will they demand the accountability that is the true measure of a functioning democracy?
This is more than a story about real estate. This is a narrative about national character, institutional integrity, and the relentless pursuit of justice.
