The Yearly Ritual of Nigeria’s Useless Spending:Calls For Reform

Since I began paying closer attention to Nigeria’s annual government budgets, one question has consistently lingered: Why does the government allocate so much money every year to replace items—cars, furniture, utensils—that are still in perfectly good condition?

What exactly happens to all these items that are replaced each year? Who takes them? And why does Nigeria insist on a seemingly ritualistic cycle of replacing things that don’t need replacement? This is especially puzzling in a country where officials often claim they are too poor to provide energy subsidies to help ease the burden on the people.

I never spoke up about this, thinking there must be some complex reasoning behind it, something I just wasn’t understanding. I didn’t want to be one of those people commenting on issues they didn’t fully grasp. So, I quietly wondered—until last December when House of Representatives member, Bello El-Rufai, asked the same question during a debate. El-Rufai, a member of the Kaduna North Federal Constituency, questioned why every year’s budget features allocations for items like vehicles, computers, and cutlery that obviously don’t expire within a year.

“Why are we budgeting for these things every year? Vehicles do not expire,” he said, calling for a cut in costs and greater scrutiny of ministries’ budgets. His words sparked something that had been simmering in many Nigerians’ minds but had never been articulated so directly. The speech went viral, offering a sense of validation to many people who had long suspected that the government’s budgetary practices were wasteful and morally questionable.

But here’s the troubling thing: despite the resonance of El-Rufai’s remarks, the national conversation I expected didn’t really materialize. And perhaps that’s the true tragedy—because let’s face it: Most people around the world, regardless of their wealth, don’t change their cars, computers, or furniture every year. Even the wealthy make these purchases only once every few years, not annually.

So why does Nigeria spend billions of naira every year on the replacement of perfectly usable items for its political elite?

The standard rebuttal from neoliberal defenders is always: “Where else should the government get the money for subsidies?” Well, how about the money spent on replacing year-old vehicles and computers, all for the sake of maintaining a political class’s comfort?

Curious about what other countries do, I dug deeper into global practices and found an eye-opening contrast. In the United States, for instance, the presidential limousines, known as “The Beast,” are not replaced annually. Instead, they have a replacement cycle of about eight years, with periodic upgrades to keep them secure, not a full overhaul every year. This approach is far more economical than the routine replacement seen in Nigeria.

Members of the U.S. Congress also don’t get annual allowances to purchase cars. Instead, they lease vehicles for a 2-4 year period, with only high-ranking officials or those facing security threats using government-provided cars. As for government vehicles used by federal agencies, the General Services Administration (GSA) mandates that sedans and light-duty vehicles be replaced every 3 to 5 years, and only once they’ve exceeded 60,000 miles, not just because it’s “that time of year.”

In the UK, the story is similar. The Prime Minister and other government officials don’t get new cars every year. Instead, their vehicle fleet is managed by the Government Car Service (GCS), which makes decisions on replacements based on need, not on an arbitrary yearly schedule.

The comparison is clear: in wealthier nations, the government doesn’t engage in this annual wastefulness. In Nigeria, however, these unnecessary replacements are embedded in the budgeting ritual, despite the country’s ongoing financial struggles.

It’s time for a change. The funds allocated each year for the replacement of perfectly good items should be redirected into initiatives that can actually benefit the people, especially those struggling to make ends meet. El-Rufai’s comments have opened a door, but he can do more than just talk. If he champions a bill to enshrine a five-year replacement cycle for these items, it could mark the beginning of a much-needed reform that would resonate throughout Nigerian society.

In the end, it’s not just about fiscal responsibility; it’s about morality, fairness, and ensuring that the money meant for governance is spent where it’s truly needed.