Why Nigerians Should Support The Tax Reforms

By Otunba Abiodun Olufowobi (PABIEKUN)

My late mother had a saying that: the man who arrives in a town with nothing but a cheap plastic bag will not mind if war breaks out in that town. George Bernard Shaw is also reputed to have said: “Those who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those who are doing it.”

I am currently spending my holidays in the countryside of Imodi–Imosan, and after a hearty breakfast of ikókòrè, garnished with several unusual protein “obstacles” and accompanied by stone-cold ẹ̀bà, I decided to sample a bottle of 21-year-old whisky—a gift.

As I drank, the whisky seemed to deliver quiet jabs of financial guilt, wordlessly reminding me that this level of refinement should perhaps not become a permanent feature of my palate. In Nigeria, one must always be conscious of the size of the cloth available, lest one attempts a dàndógó from a six-yard fabric.

Be that as it may, I was in the midst of weighing the “sweetness” of quality whisky against the reliability of the usual high-street supply when a colleague called from Lagos.

After the usual pleasantries, he came straight to the point. He wanted my opinion on the so-called “Oyedele” tax reforms and asked whether I would be willing to join a “considered civic protest” against them.

I wondered why he sought me out at all. My political preferences are clear and predictable. I have always stood with Nigeria and with any policy genuinely intended to move her forward. It is also well known that I have not lost faith in the PBAT school of politics and political process.

I am therefore not a candidate for any pushback against the newly introduced tax reforms, which I honestly believe can help Nigeria navigate her present financial challenges. I made this clear to my colleague. However, before ending the call, I asked him—fairly—to state his objections.

He argued that the proposed tax burden was anti-poor and would amount to a death knell for the poor and the middle class. I understood the sentiment, but I also suspected the source.

As usual, with Owonraibes, he likely had not read the tax reform law before reaching for the cutlass. From my experience with Nigeria’s opposition politics, resistance is often less about policy substance and more about finding any excuse to interrupt the PBAT-led government.

I therefore explained to him that, contrary to popular opinion, nothing in the tax reforms is designed to adversely affect the poor. For example, the stamp duty on electronic bank transfers remains ₦50 on transfers of ₦10,000.

The widespread myth that all money paid into bank accounts will now be taxed is false. Only income is taxable; gifts, remittances, and transfers are not. Equally untrue is the claim that government will automatically debit citizens’ bank accounts.

Taxes are paid annually, not by auto-debit, and assessments are conducted at the end of the year through self-assessment. Another popular fallacy is that food prices will inevitably rise as a result of the reforms. In reality, the reforms remove VAT on food, education, and healthcare, making such projections doubtful.

Truth be told, the loudest opposition is coming from the “money-na-water” population. Just as elements of the Yahoo-boys ecosystem helped sponsor the #EndSARS fracas that consumed iconic Lagos infrastructure, the “money-na-water” community is now up in arms against tax reforms.

Their objection is simple: they have been making substantial financial gains in cyberspace and digital architecture without paying any taxes.

Nigeria is Africa’s largest crypto and digital-asset market, with an estimated turnover of over $80 billion by 2025. More than 25 million Nigerians earn income—often substantial—from this sector, yet taxation has been almost non-existent. With the tax reforms, transactions in digital assets, cryptocurrencies, and virtual assets are now firmly brought into the tax net.

Our “money-na-water” citizens are quick to deride Nigeria and compare her unfavourably with the UK or the United States, but they never extend such comparisons to taxation or law enforcement. They demand perpetual obligations from the state without accepting the corollary civic duty of the citizen.

For his recent fight against Jake Paul, Anthony Joshua reportedly earned about $140 million, but paid approximately $66 million in taxes, split between U.S. federal taxes and UK income and national insurance contributions—leaving him with roughly $74 million.

That is a verifiable fact. In Nigeria, however, our top cyberspace earners would rather keep everything and contribute nothing, while spreading fake news to amplify Nigeria’s challenges and downplay her successes.

The Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway provides a useful case study. Our puerile opposition wants Nigeria to become like the UAE overnight, but without the patience-testing investments—often loan-financed—and time required to build such infrastructure.

At the project’s commencement, no insult was spared. Today, the same critics now pose for photographs while driving on completed sections of the road.

With the new tax reforms, Nigeria could potentially generate over $3 billion from the “money-na-water” generation and the broader cyberspace sector in the coming years.

As a patriotic Nigerian, I cannot therefore oppose tax reforms intended to strengthen our economy and instil responsibility in a boastful generation that has long benefited without contributing.

Above all, I remain convinced that PBAT’s eyes are clear. Nigeria’s developmental pace may be measured, but we are certainly not in reverse gear.

Having made my position clear and rejecting any form of civil action against the tax reforms, I bade my friend goodbye and returned to the pure, unpolluted, harmattan-driven air of my environment.

After all, as we were told long ago: there is life in Ijẹ̀bú, but money resides in Lagos. PABIEKUN