Opinion
VAT Increase: How Fair?
On Tuesday, March 19, 2019, the then Minister for Budget and National Planning, Senator Udoma Udo Udoma, and the Executive Chairman of the Federal Inland Revenue Service (FIRS), Babatunde Fowler, hinted the National Assembly that the Value Added Tax (VAT) rate is likely to go up.
Their statement was later corroborated in July, as the Chairman, Revenue Mobilisation Allocation and Fiscal Commission (RMFAC), Engr. Elias Mbam, added his voice to the demand for an increment in VAT from 5 per cent to about 7.5 per cent to shore up Nigeria’s revenue base which he said is heavily reliant on oil earnings.
The message became clearer on September 11, when the the current Minister of Finance, Budget and National Planning, Zainab Ahmed, spoke on the proposed plan to increse VAT at the end of the Federal Executive Council meeting. She said: “We also reported to council and council has agreed that we start the process towards the increase of the VAT rate. We are proposing and council has agreed to increase the VAT rate from five percent to 7.2 percent”.
For the trio; Udoma, Fowler and Zainab, an increase in VAT is not just needed to shore up Nigeria’s revenue base as posited by Engr Mbam, it is necessary to enable government fund the new minimum wage of N30,000 per month approved by the National Assembly.
While the Senate Committee on Finance awaits the details on reasons for the proposed increase by the finance minister and chairman, FIRS, the move had generated mixed reactions among the public on its possible effects on living standards and the economy.
Ordinarily, increasing VAT by the government of the day shouldn’t warant the magnitude of reaction as witnessed in this case. After all, such could still serve as a veritable means of meeting the expansive fiscal expenditure needs of the federal government. Besides, the World Bank recently noted that fiscal deficits in Nigeria will likely widen further due to increased pre-election spending and sustained revenue shortfalls.
But while the need for government to bridge its revenue gap remains incontestable, and while it also reserves the right to adopt any legitimate measure in its revenue generation drive, VAT increment inclusive, the writer is rather worried about the time the VAT increase measure is deemed apt for such purpose.
If Udoma, Fowler, and Zainab’s reason for the planned increment is anything to go by, then there is need for more innovative approaches to scaling up the government’s revenue capacities so as to meet its growing funding commitments, especially, against the background of increasingly financing its fiscal deficit from borrowings.
Let us not forget that there are expectations that the increase in minimum wage could possibly be eroded by price increases of key household items, offsetting the expected improvement in purchasing power. And for the Nigerian industrial climate, you can guess what hope this portends for foreign investments and the faith of the Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs).
I hope the government’s enamoured pursuit of increasing revenue should not be to the detriment of the wellbeing of its own citizens as the choice of VAT increase upon the prevailing economic realities could be interpreted to be.
CSL Stockbrokers confirmed the above fears when it declared that “financing the increment in the wage burden through tax increment would force companies to raise prices significantly, ultimately placing the incidence of the tax increment on the consumers. It is, therefore, considered a bad timing and inconsistent with current economic reality”.
VAT, as we know, is basically imposed on consumption. Apart from the already diminished scale of consumption in the Nigerian economy which invariably may affect the collection performance of VAT, a simple economic analysis would attest that any increase in VAT at this time, would disproportionately affect poor people. But even beyond that argument, the biggest challenge is that any increase in indirect taxes affects the prices of goods and services.
This, analysts argued, could in turn affect the country’s inflation rate. With an inflation rate of over 11 per cent, the outcome of the proposed VAT increase is very critical given that the Central Bank of Nigeria is keen to contain inflationary pressures in the economy and bring inflation back to a single digit within a target range of 6-9 percent. It is thus expected that the rise in VAT would likely lead to a rise in inflation.
Moreso, in a clime like ours where the poverty level of the general populace has eroded their economic power, VAT increase may further worsen the living conditions of consumers whose real income has been stifled over the years. According to a recent report, “one striking feature in the performance of consumer goods companies over the past 18 months, is the consistent decline in reported revenue, suggesting that consumer demand remains weak.”
Well-meaning Nigerians have said “the consequence of this hike on the lives of Nigerians that are already suffering horrendous deprivations is dire and so, capable of exacerbating the poverty that has ravaged the people” .
The writer is of the view that at a time like this, when Nigerian workers expect an upward review in their monthly remuneration, in order to be economically repositioned, a planned corresponding increase in the prices of consumer goods by the government does not portray the government as one with the intention of making positive impacts on the lives of its citizens.
By this proposal, I am afraid the government risks being interpreted as one that does not realise the depth of misery that pervades our nation and may have probably completely detached itself from the people it ought to succour; a reason, I guess, the organised labour described this planned increase as anti-people and anti-development.
The reality is that any increase in VAT will be counter-intuitive to the goals of reducing poverty and inequality given the existing high economic disparity in the country.
In fairness to all, the proposed increase in VAT, by the federal government will not only weaken the citizens’ purchasing power, but would also worsen the poverty level in the country.
I, therefore, see this obvious call on the manufacturers and stake holders in the chain of distribution to hike the cost of their merchandise to the detriment of the suffering masses, as a concept billed for still birth.
Sylvia ThankGod-Amadi
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
