In response to Lasisi Olagunju’s “The petrol fire on our roof”, published in the Nigerian Tribune
on Monday, 28 September 2026
Lasisi Olagunju’s Monday Lines, “The petrol fire on our roof”, is a powerful account of the
economic pain confronting Nigerians. His personal experience of spending ₦211,396 on petrol
within twelve days gives a human face to what statistics often fail to convey. His
question—where is government?—is legitimate.
But I was left with another question: which government?
The article appears to place Nigeria’s entire governance burden on the Presidency, almost as
though Nigeria were a kingdom in which the Lion King sits in Abuja, waves a magic wand and
either prosperity or hardship descends upon the entire forest.
That is powerful imagery. But it is not an accurate description of our constitutional democracy.
Nigeria is a federation with responsibilities distributed among different levels of government.
There are 469 federal legislators—109 Senators and 360 members of the House of
Representatives—36 state governors and Houses of Assembly, and 774 local government
and Area Council chairpersons.
Where are they in this national conversation about accountability?
This is not an argument for shielding the Presidency. It must be held accountable for policies
within the Federal Government’s constitutional jurisdiction. But accountability should follow
responsibility.
There is another fact we should not overlook. States and local governments are now receiving
substantially larger Federation Account allocations than in the past. In July 2026, the three tiers
shared a record ₦3.007 trillion, while another ₦2.338 trillion was distributed from August
revenue. These are substantial resources.
So, if petrol prices have made transportation unbearably expensive, what are state governments
doing about public transportation, roads and mass transit? If businesses are being strangled by
logistics costs, what are states doing about infrastructure and their business environment? If
agricultural produce cannot move efficiently from farms to markets, what are state and local
governments doing about roads and local infrastructure?
And where are the local government chairpersons—the officials supposedly closest to the
people?
This is where our national conversation often goes wrong. We complain about problems in our
communities and immediately look towards Aso Rock. The Presidency becomes the
explanation for everything and the expected solution to everything.
That is not democracy.
Olagunju rightly invokes the social contract. But that contract is not between Nigerians and one
individual occupying Aso Rock. It is between citizens and the entire system of
government—Federal, State and Local.
Perhaps our respected journalists, as managers of the Fourth Estate, have an additional
responsibility: to educate citizens about who is responsible for what.
How many Nigerians can name their senator, their member of the House of Representatives,
their state assembly member or their local government chairman? How many demand
accountability from these officials with the same intensity with which they demand explanations
from the Presidency?
We cannot build a mature democracy if every political problem is reduced to: “What is the
President doing?”
By all means, question the Presidency. Question its policies, decisions and performance.
But question the governor too.
Question the senator.
Question the member of the House of Representatives.
Question the state assembly member.
Question the local government chairman.
And, ultimately, question ourselves as citizens.
The Lion King metaphor is memorable, but perhaps Nigeria’s deeper problem is that we have
spent too long imagining our republic as a kingdom.
The President is not a king. The governor is not a king. The local government chairman is not a
king. They are public officials entrusted with defined powers and responsibilities under a
constitutional order.
Citizens are not subjects waiting for royal benevolence. They are the sovereign people from
whom governmental authority derives.
So, yes, let us ask the Presidency: Where is the government?
But let us also ask where our governors, legislators and local government chairpersons are—and
what they are doing with the considerable resources and powers entrusted to them.
If the roof is on fire, we certainly need to know where the President is.
But we also need to know where all the fire brigades are—and why the people who elected
and fund them are not demanding that each one does its constitutional job.
That is the accountability conversation Nigeria urgently needs:
Not less scrutiny of the Presidency, but more informed scrutiny of the entire republic.
