In what many are calling Nigeria’s boldest financial gamble yet, President Bola Tinubu has revised his 2025 budget proposal upward to a staggering ₦54.2 trillion. The proposal, described by the Presidency as a ‘Budget of Restoration,’ promises to patch Nigeria’s bleeding economy, plug security loopholes, and rebuild battered infrastructure. But behind the glittering figures, a growing number of Nigerians are asking a harder question: beyond the paperwork, who’s really tracking how these trillions will be spent?
After presenting an initial ₦49.7 trillion plan in December 2024, the Presidency announced adjustments in March, citing fresh revenue projections from the Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS), Nigeria Customs Service, and several government-owned enterprises. On paper, it makes sense. The government expects to raise ₦34.82 trillion in revenue, leaving a ₦13.08 trillion deficit to be filled mostly by borrowing. The assumptions behind these figures — including a projected exchange rate of ₦1,400 to the dollar — have already raised eyebrows among economists who worry the numbers may not hold up in Nigeria’s ever-volatile market.
What sets this budget apart isn’t just its size but where the money claims it’s going. Defence and security top the list with ₦4.91 trillion, a figure some say reflects the government’s admission that insecurity remains Nigeria’s most urgent threat. Infrastructure is next in line with ₦4.06 trillion meant for roads, bridges, power, and other public projects, while ₦3.52 trillion is allocated to education — including long-overdue funding for the Nigeria Education Loan Fund and basic education initiatives. The health sector claims ₦2.48 trillion, which for the first time in years, includes provisions for essential drug supplies, epidemic management, and Universal Health Coverage expansion.
But it’s not all clean math. Tucked within the revised plan is a recently approved extra $200 million meant to cover shortfalls from reduced U.S. health aid — a development the government quietly absorbed without much public fanfare. The move highlights how external pressures continue to shape Nigeria’s fiscal strategy, even as the administration pushes a narrative of self-reliance and economic rebirth.
What few media houses have focused on, however, is the bigger issue of public oversight. Nigeria has long struggled with opacity in budget execution. While the Presidency talks numbers, civil society organizations like BudgIT and regulatory agencies such as the Budget Office of the Federation remain the primary watchdogs available to ordinary citizens. And even then, much of the tracking happens after funds have already moved — when the paper trail often turns cold.
With April approaching, National Assembly committees are combing through the figures. But as history has shown, approval is rarely the problem; it’s the quiet diversions, abandoned projects, and inflated contracts that happen after the budget gets signed. And that’s where the battle for Nigeria’s future really lies.
For many Nigerians living through inflation, subsidy removal shocks, and naira devaluation, the revised budget is less about the trillions on paper and more about how — and if — those funds will touch their daily lives. In a country where the headlines often fade faster than the promises behind them, this ₦54.2 trillion plan is as much a political statement as it is an economic roadmap.
The question isn’t just how much Nigeria is spending, but whether this time, someone will be watching the money.
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