By Ayobami Ayorinde, Maryam Ibrahim and Seyi Akinbodewa  | Internally Generated Revenue (IGR) remains a critical indicator of the fiscal sustainability and economic independence for subnational governments. It shows how well each state can raise funds on its own beyond what it receives from the federation pool and how that capacity continues to change over time.

By Cynthia Rowe | Policy dialogues like this are more than just events. They’re spaces where ideas meet action, and where reform begins—not in documents, but in dialogue. They remind us that active citizenship is not a luxury, but a necessity for national development.

By Remi Aiyede  | For fifty years, Nigeria has wrestled with local government reforms. Some ideas held promise, others fizzled, and many never got past the drawing board. But a year ago, a glimmer of hope arrived: the Supreme Court ruled in favour of financial autonomy for Local Government Areas (LGAs). It’s a landmark decision—at least on paper. The big question now is, has anything actually change? Or have powerful state governors, long accustomed to pulling the strings, simply found new ways to keep their grip?

To understand where we are, we need to look back.

Local governance in Nigeria didn’t emerge from democratic ideals. It was born under colonial rule, where British administrators relied on traditional rulers to manage communities. After independence, regions tried elected councils, but the results were uneven. The North clung to its traditional structures, while the South began experimenting with local democracy.

Now picture Nigeria in 1976—a country just emerging from the trauma of civil war, under the firm grip of military rule, and struggling with a chaotic patchwork of local administrations. Governance at the grassroots was a mess—fragmented, inconsistent, and largely ineffective. Then came a bold intervention: the 1976 Local Government Reform, the first serious attempt to bring order to the system and create a standardised model of local governance across the country.

This reform was groundbreaking. For the first time, Nigeria clearly defined its governance architecture as a three-tier system: Federal, State, and Local governments. Local councils were no longer informal appendages; they were recognised as part of the national framework. And to empower them—at least symbolically—they were allocated 5% of federation revenue. It wasn’t much, but it signaled a move toward financial inclusion and grassroots development.

However, this ambitious reform came at a cost. In the drive for uniformity, Nigeria’s local landscape was redrawn, often with a ruler and red pen rather than with community insight. Villages were merged into awkward clusters, while some cities were arbitrarily split into multiple LGAs. The result was a patchwork of artificial boundaries—many of which lacked historical, cultural, or even logistical logic. Nearly five decades later, some of these LGAs still wrestle with fractured identities and administrative dysfunction.

Worse still, the reform imposed a one-size-fits-all model. Rural and urban areas—despite having radically different needs and realities—were treated exactly the same. A quiet fishing village and a teeming urban center were expected to operate under identical rules. It was a recipe for long-term inefficiency.

Then came 1979. Nigeria returned to democratic rule, and with it, the new constitution formally recognised LGAs as the third tier of government. Section 7 was clear: local councils were to be democratically elected and enjoy constitutional backing. On paper, it was a big win for grassroots democracy.

But in practice? Not so much.

State governments held on to real power. They dictated how LGAs were structured—how many wards, what boundaries, and who got what. And although LGAs were entitled to federation allocations, the money still passed through the state governments first. That 5% often got lost in bureaucratic bottlenecks—or political games.

So, while the constitution promised autonomy, LGAs remained tethered to state governments. They were still political tools, not truly independent institutions. The Dasuki Committee was set up in 1984 to address the shortcomings of the 1976 reforms, and it focused on autonomy, direct allocation and minimum criteria like population size.

By 1987, Nigeria was once again reimagining grassroots governance. The Political Bureau Report introduced an ambitious, three-tiered model designed to reflect the complexity of local life. At the foundation were village and neighborhood committees, intended to give everyday citizens a voice in their communities. Above them sat development areas, coordinating services across clusters of communities. At the top were the elected LGAs, tasked with making policy and driving development. It was a bold attempt to bring governance closer to the people. But it never got off the ground.

Then came the 1988 Civil Service Reform, led by the Phillips Committee, which set out to professionalise local administration. Recruitment, promotion, and discipline of local government staff were moved to state-level Local Government Service Commissions (LGSCs). A clearer divide was drawn between elected leaders (chairmen and councillors) and career civil servants, aiming to protect the system from political interference.

But military governments kept undermining progress. One minute, elected councils were dissolved and replaced by sole administrators; the next, the number of LGAs ballooned, with 282 new LGAs created under Babangida alone. This constant political flip-flopping eroded the very democratic norms these reforms aimed to build. Rather than stability, grassroots governance became a revolving door of inconsistency, making it difficult for local institutions to earn trust, deliver services, or evolve beyond political patronage.

Still, those ideas didn’t die. They lingered—passed down from one reform attempt to the next. And they’ve shaped the ongoing battle for local government autonomy, right up to the landmark Supreme Court ruling in 2024.

The struggle has always been the same: not just to create local governments, but to make them truly govern.

In 1999, democracy returned, and the new constitution recognised local governments as the third tier of government. But there was a catch. State governors were given control over LGA finances. That’s where things started to unravel. Instead of serving citizens, many LGAs became piggy banks for state politicians. Governors installed loyalists, dissolved elected councils, and diverted funds—often with no consequences.

Fast forward to 2024. The Supreme Court has said, "No more." Local governments must receive funds directly. Governors can no longer sack elected councils. It sounds like progress. But in reality, some states—like Anambra—are already sidestepping the ruling with new laws that force LGAs to hand back the money.

After 50 years, we’re still asking: why can’t local government in Nigeria work? There are three roadblocks holding us back.

One, state governments are acting like overbearing parents. Picture this: a child receives an allowance, but the parent takes it and says, "I know what’s best." That’s how states treat LGAs. Governors dominate. Caretaker committees are appointed instead of elected councils. Dissenting LGA chairmen are punished. Autonomy is promised but rarely delivered. State electoral commissions (SIECs) are used to rig local elections; during 2024 and 2025 elections following the Suptemre Court’s pronoucement, ruling parties win 100% of the seats in many states.

The second roadblock is what can be called money without management. Even when LGAs get funds, things don’t always improve. Under President Olusegun Obasanjo, some chairmen used allocations to buy luxury SUVs instead of fixing schools or clinics. Today, many councils still owe months of unpaid teachers’ salaries despite receiving federation allocations. Financial mismanagement isn’t rare—it’s routine.

The third is that of democracy in name only. At the grassroots, elections are more performance than process. SIECs, under the thumb of governors, produce predictable results. Local officials serve those who appointed them, not the people. Voters are cut out of the loop, and the democratic spirit is crushed before it takes root.

What has the past taught us? Half a century of reforms has revealed a few hard truths. These include the following: Laws don’t enforce themselves—autonomy means nothing without real mechanisms to uphold it; Money doesn’t guarantee results—without skilled and accountable leadership, funds vanish into thin air; Citizens must get involved—change won’t come from above, it must be demanded from below.

How do we fix this? There are three areas of work. The first is that we must break the governors’ stranglehold on LGAs. We need to strengthen SIECs and make them independent, capable and effective. Then government must comply with the Supreme Court ruling. Prevent states that try to outsmart it by negotiation and dialogue. No more creative accounting or legal loopholes.

The second is to make LGAs work like they are supposed to. We need to invest in training council staff in budgeting, planning, and execution. Governance is a skill. Then it is important to make LGA budgets public and accessible. If your chairman buys an SUV instead of fixing your primary school, you should know—and be able to act.

The third area of intervention is to rebuild grassroots democracy. Local elections must be fair and open. No more 100% "wins" for ruling parties. It is also necessary to revisit ideas like the 1987 Political Bureau’s tiered representation system—where governance begins at the neighbourhoods, to village level and rises upward to the local government.

On the whole, what Nigeria truly needs isn’t just stronger local governments—it needs more responsive local governance. Governance that’s accountable to citizens, not to state governors or party godfathers or to the federal government. Governance that begins with community voices, not Abuja directives.

The Supreme Court ruling is a milestone, but it’s only a start. Real reform will only happen when Nigerians demand it—not just in courts, but in town halls, on social media, and at the ballot box. Because democracy—real democracy—isn’t something you watch. It’s something you do.

*Prof Aiyede is a professor of political science at the University of Ibadan. This is an adaptation of his presentation at the public conversation on local governance reforms in Nigeria, organised by Agora Policy and partners on 22 July 2025.

By Ayobami Ayorinde | On 17th April 2025, Agora Policy hosted the inaugural session of the Agora Policy Forum, which attracted the crème of the academia, civil society and diplomatic corps in Abuja and was headlined by Ambassador Yusuf Maitama Tuggar, Nigeria’s Minister of Foreign Affairs.

By Yusuf Tuggar | The international order is undergoing significant transformation. Geopolitical tensions, economic realignments, tariffs and trade wars, security threats, climate change, and technological disruptions are reshaping the global landscape in ways that demand strategic recalibration from all nations. Traditional assumptions about democracy and markets are being questioned by state and non-state actors. As Africa’s most populous country and a key economic and diplomatic actor,

By Ayobami Ayorinde, Uchechukwu Eze and Seyi Akinbodewa - The National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) on Monday released the latest monthly inflation data which showed a notable decline in Nigeria’s key inflation figures.

By Ayobami Ayorinde and Oluchi Nkeonye | Nigeria is set to rebase its Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and Consumer Price Index (CPI) a decade after it undertook a similar exercise.

 By Ola Olukoyede | I am pleased to have been invited to participate in this conversation on the state of the anti-corruption policy and practice in Nigeria.

Thank you for the opportunity to say a few words today. Thank you to the MacArthur Foundation and to Agora Policy for organising this event. I have a growing admiration for Agora Policy. You’ve built an impressive range of thoughtful reports and memos in a short time. I’m an avid reader of your products.

Corruption is a sensitive issue, politically fraught. As a foreign diplomat, I have to be careful about what I say. As a guest in your country. I need to avoid making accusations which are disrespectful. I need, as some might say, to ‘stay in my lane’. I have, primarily, come to listen to Nigerian voices and leaders on anticorruption. But I can say things about the general picture, about what the UK has an interest in, and about the collaboration we have agreed with relevant Nigerian authorities.

There is plenty of international evidence about the damage that corruption—in its various forms— does to societies. It diverts public resources. It can perpetuate poverty. It raises the costs of doing business. It breeds distrust between government and the people. There are also plenty of examples of champions of reform, in Nigeria’s civil society and in government, who wish to tackle corruption. I salute them.

We have a history of collaboration in the fight against corruption with our Nigerian partners. Together, we have made significant efforts since the return of democracy in 1999 to build more effective anticorruption agencies: to detect, investigate and prosecute anticorruption and economic crime. The UK’s National Crime Agency has a productive working relationship with the EFCC since its creation under the leadership of Malam Nuhu Ribadu.

We also have a productive relationship with the Central Bank of Nigeria and the Nigerian Financial Intelligence Unit on illicit financial flows. We go after corrupt and illicit financial flows, and asset recovery, whenever they touch on UK jurisdiction and we have the evidence to act.

We have been working together on putting beneficial ownership registers in place, on which there have been real progress in Nigeria. We need to know who really controls any given company to enable better oversight by regulatory, and law enforcement, agencies. There is more to do on this issue, but Nigeria has the potential to be a leader across the African continent in this area.

We have supported, in our small way, Nigeria’s efforts to enact the global Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI). Over time, NEITI (the Nigerian chapter of EITI) has provided more information on licensing, revenue and expenditure across the extractive sector, especially the oil and gas sector. Though as Waziri Adio’s book, ‘The Arc of the Possible’, explains, there is still much to do. A continuing lack of transparency of the oil sector—its assets, its liabilities as well as its revenues – are a major break on attracting new investors. So again, progress made, but more is needed.

There are of course many challenges still to be dealt with, which are exacerbated by international financial complexity and the global nature of corruption today. Money moves across borders, rightly. But we accept, the UK is not blameless, at all. The UK consistently ranks in the top 15 countries in the Global Financial Secrecy Index. This implies a permissive environment for handling illicit funds that undermines the integrity of our financial markets. We need to do more to address vulnerabilities in both our financial systems—in the UK as well as in Nigeria—that facilitate such activity.

So, what can I say about the way ahead in UK efforts? First, when my Foreign Secretary (Rt. Hon. David Lammy) visited Nigeria in early November and met Nigeria’s Honourable Minister for Foreign Affairs (Ambassador Yusuf Tuggar), they signed a Strategic Partnership between our countries. They agreed that we should work more closely on countering illicit finance. They agreed we should collaborate more on detection, investigation, and prosecution, and do more to address vulnerabilities in local and global financial systems.

This means, second, we will continue to work and cooperate with a number of anti-corruption agencies, on capacity issues, on aligning standards, and in ensuring we can meet the standards required for mutual legal assistance. Third, that we will continue to support the Nigerian government and its agencies in improving financial intelligence and evidence collection which will enable us to bring grand corruption cases to court.

And fourth, and finally, My Foreign Secretary has just launched the process of developing a new UK anti-corruption strategy. This will seek to improve our efforts on anticorruption both domestically and with our international partners. He has, for example, committed to hosting a Summit of Financial Centres in 2025, which will look to drive joint action on this agenda across countries, and in which we hope Nigeria participates. I hope these comments reinforce the UK’s commitment to working with you all.

But real change can only come from within Nigeria: from Nigerian warriors, Nigerian leaders, and Nigerian institutions. We will help where we can, and where we are asked. But we are particularly keen to get behind people who have the courage to take on these issues in Nigeria. And we are keen to share the outcomes of the deliberation here with our central team working on the UK’s anticorruption strategy.

You have my best goodwill for today’s event.

*Dr. Montgomery, the British High Commissioner to Nigeria, gave this goodwill message at the policy conversation organised by Agora Policy, CDD and CFTPI on Tuesday, supported by MacArthur Foundation.