Nigeria cannot afford a pay rise for its political elite. The recent proposal by the Revenue Mobilisation, Allocation and Fiscal Commission (RMAFC) to increase the salaries of political office holders is not merely an economic misstep; it is a profound moral betrayal.
At a time when the nation bleeds from economic suffocation, hyperinflation, and a staggering debt profile, this move exposes a political class that is dangerously out of touch with the struggles of ordinary Nigerians.
The argument that official salaries have remained stagnant since 2008 is both hollow and deceitful. This narrative deliberately ignores the colossal and untaxed allowances, bloated security votes, and extravagant perks that make politics in Nigeria the most profitable enterprise.
Senators reportedly pocket as much as ₦21 million monthly when all allowances are factored in. Meanwhile, governors control billions in opaque security votes, and ministers enjoy state-funded luxuries all at the taxpayer’s expense.
Let’s be clear: Nigerian politicians are not underpaid; they are over-indulged. The same government that pleads poverty when it comes to funding universities, paying doctors, or sustaining power supply finds endless billions to maintain presidential convoys, renovate villas, and sponsor political jamborees.
The RMAFC’s proposal is a slap in the face to a nation in distress. Inflation has shredded the value of the naira, forcing families to skip meals. Workers on the so-called new minimum wage can barely afford transport, rent, or food. Public debt now exceeds ₦121 trillion, with the government borrowing just to pay salaries. This is the perilous environment in which leaders dare to enrich themselves further.
The widespread rejection of this proposal by the Nigerian Labour Congress (NLC), opposition parties, and civil society groups is not just a political statement; it is the collective outcry of a people pushed to their limits.
President Bola Tinubu promised to cut the cost of governance. Approving this reckless review would be a direct betrayal of that pledge. Nigeria sits on a keg of gunpowder. The streets are restless, and hunger riots are no longer a far-fetched threat. Approving higher salaries for politicians could ignite fresh strikes and protests, leading to uncontrollable social upheaval. History is replete with examples of what happens when leaders dine in luxury while citizens scavenge for survival: revolt is inevitable.
Public service, by definition, is a sacrifice. Those who hold office are meant to serve, not to plunder. If the political class wishes to prove its commitment to good governance, they must first lead by example. We demand that they immediately halt this process, cut their own salaries and allowances by half, and live by the same economic reality endured by the citizens they claim to represent.
Instead of fattening the pockets of politicians, the government must prioritize a complete overhaul of its compensation system. It must prioritize workers in education, health, security, and other essential services. It must enforce transparency, track every kobo of public money, and abolish the system of unaccountable security votes. This is not just an economic imperative; it is a moral one.
We insist: no pay rise for politicians until hunger is defeated, wages are fair, and governance is accountable. To do otherwise is to declare war on the Nigerian people.