I have written about this issue, many times over the past years, about the recurring problem of accountability in Nigeria’s public life. We have debated fuel subsidies, the cost of governance, the ostentatious living of public officials, and the endless looting of public funds. What has remained constant is the pattern: a scandal breaks, a committee is set up, a report is submitted, and then everything is forgotten. The cycle repeats itself with such predictability that one begins to wonder if amnesia has become a constitutional requirement for public office in Nigeria.
Last week, in the Senate, we witnessed yet another variation of this national tragedy. Senator Adams Oshiomhole, who chairs the Senate Committee on Interior, asked a simple question. And the Senate answered with silence, not just silence, but a studied, deliberate refusal to even engage with his query. That silence is an indictment of the legislature’s oversight function and a betrayal of the trust Nigerians have placed in their representatives.
On Wednesday, 3 June 2026, the Senate debated a motion on the abduction of 46 persons, including schoolchildren and teachers, from schools in Oyo State. During that debate, Senator Oshiomhole questioned the effectiveness of the Senate’s own resolutions.
In his argument, he noted that the Senate had repeatedly passed motions on insecurity, more than anyone could count, yet the situation had only worsened. “If past resolutions did not change anything,” he asked, “why should we believe that today’s own will be different?”
He cited a specific example that cut through the usual parliamentary platitudes. On 17 November 2025, bandits attacked Government Girls Comprehensive Secondary School in Maga, Danko/Wasagu Local Government Area of Kebbi State, abducting 25 female students and killing the school’s Vice Principal. After the attack, Kebbi State Governor Nasir Idris alleged that military personnel stationed at the school had been withdrawn approximately 45 minutes before the bandits struck. The Senate passed a resolution directing the military to disclose the identity of the officer who gave that order.
Oshiomhole told his colleagues: “I am not aware that we have gotten a response to that simple inquiry.”
This, he argued, was the heart of the problem. The armed forces, he said, were not accountable to the National Assembly, and unless that changed, no amount of resolutions would secure the country. He called for a security audit of military spending. “Money appropriated, who got what, and how it was used,” he demanded.
He was joined by Senator Mohammed Sani Musa (APC, Niger East), who questioned why insecurity persisted despite defence consistently receiving one of the largest shares of the national budget. “Every year we allocate huge resources to security, yet we still hear complaints about lack of equipment and unpaid allowances. We need to ask: where is the money going?”
These are not unreasonable questions. They are, in fact, the most basic questions any legislature should ask of the executive. Yet when Oshiomhole moved a prayer to audit military spending, the proposal was not seconded by any senator. An attempt by Senator Musa to amend the resolution to accommodate the proposal also failed. The Senate went ahead to adopt its resolutions on the Oyo abductions, condemning the attacks, urging the rescue of victims, calling for stronger school security, without any provision for investigating military expenditure.
Senate President Godswill Akpabio, through his spokesman, later offered an explanation. A public probe, he argued, would “undermine morale and operational focus” at a time when troops are “engaged on multiple fronts against terrorism, banditry and other threats to National Security.” Other senators, including Ali Ndume, argued that defence institutions are funded through separate, legally approved appropriations, and warned against “politicising” defence matters or exposing operational spending during active national security crises.
On the surface, this sounds reasonable. In matters of national security, some level of secrecy is unavoidable. We read the outcomes of many security meetings to know that the full truth of military operations can never be laid bare in a newspaper or on a television screen.
But secrecy is not a blank cheque. And the Senate’s rejection of Oshiomhole’s proposal was not about protecting operational secrets, it was about protecting the status quo. The Kebbi incident is instructive. The Senate asked a simple question: who withdrew the troops? The military did not answer. And the Senate did not follow up. If the National Assembly cannot even get a response to a resolution, what is the point of passing resolutions at all?
There is a video circulating online, I will not describe it in graphic detail, but I have watched it, that shows a convoy of armed men moving with the casual confidence of a sovereign army. This is not a video from a failed state. This is a video from Nigeria in 2026. And it raises a question that cannot be answered by press releases or closed-door briefings: how did they get those rifles? How did they coordinate that convoy? How did they move through villages without resistance? And most importantly, what did the billions of naira allocated for defence actually buy?
According to media reports, this marked the second time in two years that the Senate rejected a similar motion from Oshiomhole to audit military funds. We have been here before. In 2014, under President Goodluck Jonathan, the Dasukigate scandal revealed that billions meant for arms procurement were allegedly diverted to political campaigns. A probe was conducted. Some officials were arrested. But to date, no one has been convicted.
Under President Buhari, there were similar allegations. Committees were set up. Reports were submitted. But the cycle repeated itself, promises followed by inaction, inaction followed by amnesia. This is the context in which Oshiomhole’s call must be understood. It is not the first time a prominent figure has demanded a probe. And unless something changes, it will not be the last.
So where does that leave us? Let me offer my judgment, as I always do.
I am sympathetic to Oshiomhole’s call. The figures are staggering. Nigeria’s defence and security allocation rose from N2.98 trillion in 2023 to N5.41 trillion in 2026, nearly 10 percent of the total budget. Yet, despite these record allocations, a recent report by SBM Intelligence recorded 4,722 abductions and at least 997 kidnapping incidents nationwide between July 2024 and June 2025, with victims paying approximately N2.57 billion in ransom.
The Senate’s refusal to even second Oshiomhole’s proposal, not to debate it, not to vote against it, but to simply ignore it, is a shameful indictment of the legislature’s oversight function. I do not say this lightly. I have great respect for the institution of the National Assembly. But institutions are judged by what they do, not what they say they will do. And by that measure, the Senate has failed.
However, I also believe that a public, televised probe, the kind that Oshiomhole seems to be advocating, may not be the most productive approach. Such probes often descend into theatre. Politicians grandstand. Witnesses prevaricate. The real issues get lost in the noise.
A more productive approach would be a quiet, comprehensive, and independent audit, conducted by professionals with access to all classified documents, and with a mandate to report directly to the President and the National Assembly in private. The findings could then be summarised for the public, with sensitive details redacted. This would balance the need for accountability with the need for security.
But for that to work, two things must happen. First, the President must demonstrate the political will to follow through, not to shield anyone, but to get to the truth. Second, the National Assembly must resist the temptation to turn the process into a political circus.
A Closing Reflection
There is an Igbo proverb that says: “When a man is being carried away by a flood, he does not ask where the water came from.” Right now, Nigeria is being carried away by insecurity. We can argue about the origins of the problem, or we can focus on stopping the flood.
For me, that means investigating the defence budget. Not for politics. Not for headlines. But because the lives of ordinary Nigerians depend on it.
Oshiomhole asked a simple question: if previous resolutions changed nothing, why should today’s be any different? The Senate, by refusing to even second his proposal, has answered that question for him. The video is a warning. The numbers are a scandal. And the silence from the Senate is a betrayal of the trust that Nigerians have placed in them.
I hope someone in power is watching.
By Eshioromeh Sebastian
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