By Peter Agi
Across Nigeria, the verdict from the streets is harsh. From the markets of Zaria to the creeks of Nembe, from the hills of Obudu to the suburbs of Abeokuta, constituents say the same thing: “We do not see our National Assembly members.” Projects are few, empowerments are sporadic, and town halls are empty. With 2027 in view, many voters are already threatening to retire their senators and representatives at the ballot. In response, most lawmakers have a ready defense. “The executive has not released funds.” “Budget performance is below 40% in the last three years.” “We captured projects, but there was no cash-backing.” On the surface, the argument is tidy. If money does not leave the treasury, how can a lawmaker build a road? The question for the electorate is simple: Should we believe them?
It is true that Nigeria’s budget implementation has been uneven. The Fiscal Responsibility Commission and BudgIT have documented low capital releases across multiple MDAs since 2022. When crude oil underperforms, when debt service gulps over 90% of revenue, when supplementary budgets chase inflation, releases suffer. A road in Yala cannot be built with an appropriation paper. It needs cash. On that point, lawmakers are correct. But the claim collapses under scrutiny when you look across chambers. The same lean budgets, the same treasury, the same executive bottlenecks, yet some lawmakers still deliver. In Borno South, water projects were commissioned in 2024 through NEDC releases. In Lagos Central, school blocks rose under UBEC counterpart funding. In Plateau North, health outreaches ran quarterly using donor partnerships and personal lobbying. These members faced the same “non-release” climate. The difference was not money. It was method. They tracked releases daily, knocked on MDAs weekly, used committee leverage to prioritize their zones, and built relationships outside government for CSR and NGO support. If the budget door was locked, they went through the window of oversight, constituency networking, and sheer persistence. Their performance raises an uncomfortable question for the rest: If they could move under the same rain, why did others remain indoors? The existence of high performers disproves the excuse that non-release equals non-performance. It proves that non-release only equals non-performance for those who defined their job solely as waiting for treasury alerts.
This leads to a deeper question as 2027 nears: Should first-time lawmakers be excused for underperforming? The argument for patience is not baseless. The National Assembly is a complex institution. Ranking confers committee chairmanship, influence in budget defense, and seniority in lobby corridors. A first-timer learns the rules, builds contacts, and often gets weaker committees. He does not control NDDC (only on exceptional cases) or Appropriation on day one. He inherits a budget cycle that was passed before he arrived. To demand a first-term representative to match a four-term senator in project delivery is to ignore institutional reality. Lawmaking is an apprenticeship. Many of today’s top performers were quiet in their first two years.
Yet “first-timer” cannot become a four-year immunity. The Constitution does not prescribe a lower standard for new legislators. The oath of office is identical for all. More importantly, the core duties of lawmaking, representation, and oversight do not require ranking. A first-term member can sponsor a bill on the first sitting day. He can move a motion on flooding, insecurity, or failed roads without cash-backing. He can ask questions at public hearings, inspect projects, and publish findings. He can open a constituency office, hold town halls, and teach his people how budgets work. These cost will, not rank. When we excuse silence because a lawmaker is new, we excuse him from the very work he was elected to do. The electorate did not send anyone to “learn for four years.” They sent him to represent now. If he needed time to learn, he should have said so during campaigns.
To be unbiased, the standard must be effort, not tenure. A first-timer who cannot point to one bill, one motion, one oversight visit, or one public engagement in two years is not learning. He is absent. Conversely, a ranking member who has chaired committees for eight years but cannot show what those committees did for his district is not experienced. He is entrenched. The budget release excuse affects both. Some first-timers have used private partnerships, international grants, and legislative clinics to impact constituents despite poor releases. Some ranking members with juicy committees have delivered nothing and still blame Abuja. Tenure is not performance. Activity is.
So should the electorate believe the budget-release claim? Believe it where the evidence supports it, but verify it always. Ask your senator: “Show us the capital releases for Health, Education, and Water in our district for 2023 and 2024. Show us your letters demanding release. Show us your oversight reports.” If he produces them and the releases are truly 0%, then his defense has merit. If he cannot, then “non-release” is a convenient lie. The danger of blanket belief is that we recycle non-performers. The danger of blanket disbelief is that we punish those who fought but were starved by a broken system. The middle path is verification. In the age of FOI requests, BudgIT, and open treasury portals, ignorance is a choice.
Nigeria’s crisis is not the absence of boreholes. It is the absence of laws that work. We need legislators who will fix the revenue formula, amend the Electoral Act, devolve policing, and make budgets work. A first-timer who delivers 10 transformers but never speaks on the floor has still failed as a lawmaker. A ranking member who builds no hall but passes the Derivation Review Bill may have done more for his state in 100 years. As campaigns begin, separate the contractor from the lawmaker. The budget release excuse is real, but it is not a blanket. It covers some, it exposes others. Do not let a man who never knocked on the Finance Minister’s door tell you the door was locked. Do not let a new member who never raised a motion tell you his mouth was taped because he was new. The ballot in 2027 is not a referendum on releases or tenure. It is a referendum on effort. Ask not just “what did you build?” Ask “what did you fight for?” “What did you say?” “What did you stop?” “What did you start?” Excuses will not pave our roads. Execution will. And execution begins with electing people who understand the job from day one, first-timer or not. Let the primaries be a project and performance audit. Let the general election be a lawmaking audit. Nigeria cannot afford another four years of dismal representation wrapped in budget tales or rookie pleas.
Agi, FCA, writes from Ijegu-Ojor, Yala LGA.
