By M.D. Goyo
Policy Analyst and Public Commentator

The era of window dressing is coming to an end.

The time has finally come for stocktaking. As we approach another election cycle, elected officials, particularly governors seeking a second term, will have to give an account of their stewardship over the last three and a half years.

Re-election should ordinarily be a referendum on performance. It should be a simple assessment of what was promised, what was delivered and whether the lives of citizens have improved.

Unfortunately, Nigeria’s political history has demonstrated that removing an incumbent governor has never been easy, regardless of performance. But the environment in which elections are conducted is changing.

Since the beginning of the Fourth Republic, Nigeria’s electoral system has undergone significant reforms. Technology has gradually reduced the space for manipulation, while the ballot itself is becoming increasingly difficult to control.

The greatest threat to credible elections has never really been the ballot. It has been the human element: intimidation, manipulation, inducement, interference and the ability of political actors to exploit weaknesses in the system.

But Nigeria is gradually moving towards a more technology-driven electoral process in which those opportunities will continue to shrink.

That is why politicians should be worried.

The next election cannot simply be about who has the strongest political machinery. Increasingly, it will be about who can explain what they did with power.

By almost every important measure of living standards, Nigerians are struggling.

At the centre of the national conversation is the removal of petroleum subsidy. The policy itself is not necessarily the problem. Indeed, before the 2023 presidential election, the major candidates broadly acknowledged that the subsidy regime could not continue indefinitely.

The problem is what happened after it was removed.

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu told Nigerians that the reform would be painful and that the benefits would take time to materialise. Nigerians were asked to tighten their belts and endure the pain while government implemented the reforms.

But government must also understand the politics of optics.

When citizens are struggling with food prices, transportation costs, rent, school fees and electricity bills, every conspicuous act of government expenditure is scrutinised.

The purchase of a new presidential aircraft, the renovation of official residences and other expensive government projects may each have their own justification, but collectively they create a damaging impression when the same government is asking ordinary Nigerians to make sacrifices.

Public policy is not only about economics. It is also about confidence, fairness and trust.

The Federal Government has stated that the reforms generated substantial savings for government. The legitimate question is therefore not simply whether money was saved.

The question is what Nigerians can point to and say: this is what our sacrifice has produced.

If these resources are genuinely available for development, Nigerians should be able to see their impact in infrastructure, transportation, healthcare, education, security and productive investment.

Consider railway infrastructure. If trillions of naira can be committed to large-scale infrastructure, then the opportunity cost of how public resources are deployed becomes important.

A well-planned railway network could connect agricultural communities to markets, reduce the cost of moving food, improve passenger transportation and stimulate economic activity across several states.

That is the kind of investment that can affect the daily lives of millions of Nigerians.

Development is not simply about spending money. It is about spending money where its impact is greatest.

Then there is electricity.

During the campaign, President Tinubu made a remarkably bold commitment when he told Nigerians, in essence, that if he could not deliver reliable electricity, they should not vote for him.

That was a measurable promise.

It was also a difficult promise to make without first fully confronting the structural problems in Nigeria’s power sector: generation capacity, gas supply, transmission constraints, distribution losses, metering, liquidity and the financial weakness of the entire electricity value chain.

Today, Nigerians are still battling unreliable electricity.

The question is therefore not whether government has done something in the power sector. Every government can point to something.

The question is whether the average Nigerian is experiencing a substantial improvement in electricity supply.

Promises should be judged by outcomes.

A government cannot campaign on electricity, fail to deliver meaningful improvement and then expect citizens to forget the promise simply because new substations, transformers or power projects have been announced.

Nigerians live in houses, not government press releases.

The same principle applies to security.

The Federal Government has repeatedly made claims of progress in the war against insurgency, banditry and kidnapping. But such claims must be tested against what citizens experience on the ground.

If communities are still being attacked, if people remain in captivity, if schools and villages are still being abandoned because of insecurity, if soldiers are being killed and if citizens continue to live in fear, then the government must explain exactly what it means by significant progress.

Security is not measured by the number of military operations announced.

It is measured by how many communities have become safe, how many people have returned home, how many abducted citizens have been rescued, how many terrorists and bandits have been neutralised and whether ordinary people can travel, farm, trade and sleep without fear.

The public deserves evidence.

But the Federal Government is not alone in this conversation. The states have their own responsibilities.

Governors have increasingly mastered the art of creating the appearance of development. A road is constructed here, a flyover there, a government building is commissioned, streetlights are installed, billboards appear everywhere and photographs of the governor cutting ribbons dominate the media.

None of these things is inherently bad.

The problem begins when projects become a substitute for development.

A road is infrastructure. It is not necessarily development.

Development is what happens to the human being living within that infrastructure.

Does the citizen have a job? Can the family afford food? Can a pregnant woman safely deliver a child? Can a child receive quality education? Can a young person acquire a skill and find productive employment? Can a farmer produce and transport his crops profitably? Can a small business access affordable capital? Can a family afford healthcare? Is crime declining? Is poverty falling?

These are the questions that should define the performance of a government.

TARABA’S DEVELOPMENT CHALLENGE

For Taraba State, this conversation is particularly important.

Taraba cannot afford a government whose primary measure of achievement is the number of projects commissioned. The state has some of the most compelling natural and human resources in Nigeria, yet its development indicators remain deeply troubling.

Take poverty.

The National Bureau of Statistics’ 2018/19 Nigeria Living Standards Survey placed Taraba’s monetary poverty rate at approximately 87.72 percent, among the highest in Nigeria.

More recent data tell a slightly different but equally disturbing story. The 2022 Nigeria Multidimensional Poverty Index put Taraba’s multidimensional poverty headcount at 79.4 percent.

This measure goes beyond income and looks at deprivations in areas such as education, health, living standards and employment.

The distinction between the two measures matters, but the conclusion is the same: poverty in Taraba is not a marginal problem. It is the central development challenge.

A government that wants to transform Taraba must therefore ask a very simple question:

After four years, how many people have actually been lifted out of poverty?

Not how many roads were constructed.

Not how many offices were renovated.

Not how many people attended a commissioning ceremony.

How many families moved from poverty into productive economic activity?

That is the real scorecard.

HEALTHCARE: MEASURING LIVES, NOT BUILDINGS

Healthcare provides an even more compelling measure of governance.

Maternal mortality should not be reduced to the number of hospitals constructed. The real measure is whether mothers survive pregnancy and childbirth.

Available estimates have placed Taraba’s maternal mortality ratio at several hundred deaths per 100,000 live births, depending on the source, methodology and period covered.

Whatever estimate is adopted, the message remains unmistakable: maternal mortality remains a serious development emergency in the state.

And the story does not end with mothers.

The 2021 Multiple Indicator Cluster Survey reported troubling child mortality indicators for Taraba, including a neonatal mortality rate of 29 deaths per 1,000 live births, an infant mortality rate of 61 per 1,000 and an under-five mortality rate of 83 per 1,000 live births.

These numbers should determine government policy.

If 83 children out of every 1,000 live births are not surviving to their fifth birthday, the question for government should not simply be how many health centres were renovated.

The question should be: why are these children dying and what are we doing differently to stop it?

Are primary healthcare centres functional? Are there skilled birth attendants? Are essential drugs available? Are emergency referral systems working? Can women in rural communities reach hospitals in time? Are children fully immunised? Is malnutrition being identified early? Can poor families afford treatment?

And where universal access to affordable healthcare cannot be achieved immediately, what short-term interventions are being put in place to ensure that poor families are not left without care?

Those are development questions.

EDUCATION: THE OUTCOME MATTERS

Education presents another opportunity to move away from window dressing.

The number of schools renovated is not the ultimate measure of educational performance. The real question is whether children are learning.

Taraba should be able to measure its education system through teacher quality, attendance, supervision, literacy, numeracy, school completion, transition to secondary education and performance in national examinations.

WAEC provides one useful benchmark.

The national picture itself is disturbing. In 2024, 72.12 percent of candidates obtained at least five credits including English and Mathematics. In 2025, that figure fell dramatically to 38.32 percent.

For Taraba, the problem was even more embarrassing when some candidates were reported to have written WAEC examinations at night because of emergency changes to examination arrangements.

Whatever the immediate circumstances, a state should never become comfortable with a situation in which children have to write a major national examination under conditions that compromise their learning environment.

This is precisely why education must be treated as a measurable development outcome.

A governor should be able to say:

When I came into office, our students were performing at this level; after four years, they are performing at this level.

EMPLOYMENT AND THE QUALITY OF JOBS

Then comes employment.

This is another area where statistics can sometimes give a misleading impression.

If the unemployment rate is 1.9 percent, it does not mean that only 1.9 percent of the population has a good job.

The unemployment rate essentially measures the share of people in the labour force who are available and seeking work but do not have a job.

Someone who works a few hours a week, survives on irregular casual labour or operates a tiny informal business may not necessarily be counted as unemployed. Yet that person may still be desperately poor.

That is why unemployment must be considered alongside underemployment, income, productivity and the quality of jobs available.

For Taraba, the real objective should therefore not simply be to employ more people in government.

Government cannot employ everyone.

The state must deliberately create an environment where agriculture becomes commercial, where farmers can process and store what they produce, where manufacturing can take root, where tourism can become an industry, where logistics and services can expand and where young people can build businesses instead of waiting for government appointments.

That is how a state becomes economically stable.

Poverty is not the only cause of crime, but severe poverty creates an environment in which crime, insecurity, child labour, school dropout and social instability can thrive.

That is why Taraba’s poverty figures should concern every government.

If almost eight out of ten people are multidimensionally poor, government cannot continue to treat poverty alleviation as an occasional intervention.

Poverty reduction must become the central organising principle of economic policy.

Every major government decision should answer one fundamental question:

Does this create productive economic opportunity for ordinary Tarabans?

If the answer is no, government must reconsider its priorities.

THE NEW POLITICAL ERA

We are entering a new political era.

The days when political leaders could intimidate citizens into voting for them are gradually disappearing. The days when political machinery alone could determine electoral outcomes are being challenged by technology, social media, citizen awareness and electoral reforms.

Citizens are beginning to ask different questions.

They want to know what happened to the money.

They want to know where the jobs are, why their children are not learning, why hospitals are not working, why electricity remains unreliable and why roads are being constructed while the cost of transportation continues to rise.

They want to know why billions are spent on projects that do not significantly alter their lives.

And they want to know why, after four years, poverty remains almost exactly where it was.

This is why every governor seeking re-election should prepare for a proper examination of his stewardship.

If you have built roads, explain their economic impact.

If you have built schools, show us the improvement in learning outcomes.

If you have renovated hospitals, show us the reduction in maternal and child mortality.

If you have created jobs, show us how many are sustainable private-sector jobs.

If you have attracted investment, show us how much capital came in and how many people were employed.

If you have spent billions on poverty reduction, show us how many people actually moved out of poverty.

If you have borrowed money, explain what the borrowing produced.

If you inherited problems, explain what you have done differently to solve them.

People are no longer asking for photographs.

They are asking for results.

The era when a governor could commission a project in the morning, erect a billboard in the afternoon and declare himself a transformational leader in the evening is coming to an end.

The era of window dressing is over.

It is time for stocktaking, evidence and accountability.

Ultimately, sustainable economic growth based on clear standards, productivity and measurable outcomes benefits everyone.

When an economy genuinely grows, productive businesses expand, jobs are created, incomes become more stable, investment increases and even those at the top of the economic ladder have more opportunities to prosper.

A growing and inclusive economy also reduces the desperation and social conditions that allow criminality to thrive.

That is the kind of development Nigeria and Taraba should be pursuing.

And when the ballot comes, the people should be allowed to make their judgement based not on intimidation, propaganda or political machinery, but on one simple question:

Are we better off today than we were when you came into office?