Ogun State was created on February 3, 1976, during Nigeria’s state creation exercise under the military administration of General Murtala Mohammed. Since its creation, the state has been regarded as one of Nigeria’s intellectual and industrial pillars. It is often referred to as the “Gateway State” because of its strategic location linking Lagos to the rest of the country and to West Africa.
Over the decades, Ogun State has been led by governors who, despite varying political ideologies and capacities, left identifiable imprints. From infrastructural expansion and educational development in the early civilian years, to industrial layout planning, road construction, agricultural initiatives, and social sector reforms under successive administrations, Ogun State has historically pursued progress. Sometimes this progress has been slow and uneven, but it has usually carried a visible sense of public purpose.
This historical context makes recent developments deeply troubling.
The distribution of luxury Sports Utility Vehicles (SUVs) to Local Government Area chairmen by the current Ogun State administration raises serious questions about priorities, fiscal discipline, and moral responsibility in public office. This action comes at a time when many public primary and secondary schools across the state are in visibly dilapidated conditions, primary healthcare centres lack basic equipment, and sporting facilities that once nurtured grassroots talent are either abandoned or unfit for use.
Governance is fundamentally about choices. In an economy under strain, with inflation eroding household income and public infrastructure crying for attention, leadership is measured by how scarce resources are deployed. The optics and substance of providing expensive SUVs to already well-remunerated local government chairmen are, at best, insensitive and, at worst, a serious misjudgment that disconnects leadership from the lived realities of the people.
Local government chairmen in Nigeria are not volunteers. They receive salaries, allowances, security details, and official benefits. The question therefore arises: what urgent public necessity justified this expenditure? Were these vehicles provided for essential service delivery, or do they simply enhance personal comfort and political prestige?
Equally important is the issue of transparency. Were these SUVs provided for in the approved state budget? If so, under what line item and with what justification? If not, were alternative funding sources such as discretionary or security votes deployed? These are legitimate questions in a democratic society and should not be interpreted as hostility, but as civic responsibility. Public funds demand public explanation.
If these questions are not properly investigated and addressed through transparent institutional processes, civil society organisations are prepared to take this matter up through all lawful and democratic means available to them. Failure to act would represent a serious indictment of the Renewed Hope Agenda of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, which places accountability, fiscal responsibility, and people-centred governance at its core.
Ogun State is not lacking in civic institutions. There are civil society organisations, professional bodies, faith-based organisations, and development-focused non-governmental organisations across the state, the South-West region, and Nigeria at large. Their silence on issues of apparent fiscal recklessness is concerning. Democracy weakens when oversight fades and public accountability is treated as optional.
Beyond Ogun State, similar patterns of governance failure within the South-West raise broader regional concerns. In Osun State, for instance, citizens have watched a governor who appears more preoccupied with public theatrics, dancing and spectacle, than with delivering tangible developmental outcomes. Nearly four years into his tenure, many struggle to point to enduring achievements that justify the confidence placed in him. Governance reduced to performance without substance is an insult to the intelligence of the electorate.
This is particularly painful for the Western Region of Nigeria. It is a region painstakingly built by the vision, sacrifice, discipline, and intellectual rigour of Chief Obafemi Awolowo and his contemporaries. Their labour laid the foundation for free education, strong institutions, regional competitiveness, and a political culture that placed service above self. The South-West was deliberately structured to lead, not by accident, but by conscious planning and moral clarity.
That legacy did not end there. Bola Ahmed Tinubu unapologetically demonstrated that the South-West could still organise, mobilise, and deploy political capital strategically. From Lagos and Western Nigeria, power was wrestled at the centre. What he is attempting to build now at the federal level is, in essence, an effort to raise Nigeria closer to the developmental standards once exemplified by the Western Region. Nigeria must approach that level before the nation can truly move forward. Ogun State will not slow us down.
It is therefore becoming increasingly clear that Nigeria, and particularly the South-West with its proud history of progressive governance, must confront uncomfortable but necessary questions about leadership suitability. Beyond party labels and electoral victories, there is a strong case for mandatory psychological and psychiatric evaluation for all aspiring political leaders. Governance requires emotional stability, sound judgment, empathy, impulse control, and the ability to separate personal ego from public duty.
Where these attributes are absent, leadership descends into excess, erratic behaviour, misplaced priorities, and governance by spectacle rather than substance. If such evaluations are required in sensitive roles within the private sector and security services, extending similar standards to those entrusted with public power should be viewed not as an insult, but as a safeguard. If possible, this should apply not only to the Western Region but to Nigeria as a whole, in the interest of national sanity, institutional stability, and sustainable development.
Beyond the financial implications, this episode exposes a deeper governance problem: a growing gap between elected officials and the people they serve. When leadership becomes a product of political patronage rather than competence, passion for service, ethical grounding, and empathy, governance inevitably drifts toward excess and symbolism rather than impact. Development is not driven by convoys but by classrooms, clinics, roads, water, and opportunities.
Historically, the South-West of Nigeria has been associated with progressive governance, civic consciousness, and intolerance for waste. Many citizens therefore view this development as a sharp departure from regional political culture. Accepting such actions without scrutiny risks normalising mediocrity and lowering public expectations of leadership.
It is difficult to imagine that national leaders who consistently speak about discipline, reform, and responsible governance would be comfortable with actions that appear extravagant and poorly timed. Strong leadership also involves correcting missteps within one’s political family, not shielding them from legitimate criticism.
This is not a call for hostility or instability. It is a call for investigation, explanation, and, where necessary, corrective action. If errors were made, acknowledging them and reallocating resources toward urgent public needs would strengthen, not weaken, public trust. Rebuke and sanctions, where appropriate, are not acts of sabotage but instruments of institutional integrity.
Ogun State deserves better than symbolic comfort for officials amid public discomfort for citizens. Leadership must return to purpose, humility, and service. Development cannot thrive where public perception is that government has lost touch with the people.
Ultimately, governance is a moral contract. When citizens feel slapped rather than served, the contract frays. Rebuilding it begins with accountability, empathy, and a clear demonstration that public office exists to uplift the many, not to indulge the few.
Bola Babarinde, South Africa
