Beyond politics: What defines a leader’s legacy?, By Akin Fadeyi

This conversation should not be directed at philanthropists alone. Governors and local government chairmen should take a cue. The latest FAAC figures demonstrate that resources are reaching all three tiers of government. The 774 local governments alone received ₦673.649 billion from the July 2026 allocation. A philanthropist could distribute food. But an even stronger intervention might combine emergency food support with agricultural productivity, food-processing enterprises, cold-chain infrastructure, market access and nutrition programmes.

In the 9^th century, Cordoba, Spain, made use of oil lamps along their public streets. By 1417, Mayor of London, Henry Barton ordered people to start hanging lanterns outside their homes. As the imperative to lighten up communities evolved, by 1792, an engineer, William Murdoch invented practical gas lighting that made use of coal gas, and by 1807, Frederick Albert Winsor introduced the first public gas street light. This was in Pall Mall in London.

Around the world, some of the most enduring legacies have been built not merely through wealth or political influence, but through a sustained commitment to improving lives. Bill Gates, through the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, has committed more than $100 billion to global health, development and other philanthropic causes. Warren Buffett has pledged tens of billions of dollars to philanthropy, while MacKenzie Scott has directed billions of dollars in largely unrestricted grants to organisations working across education, health, equity and community development. Their examples reinforce a universal truth: the highest expression of leadership is not accumulation, but contribution. Increasingly, global best practice measures influence not simply by the titles people hold, but by the lives transformed, opportunities created, and systems strengthened.

It is a habit of mine to occasionally stroll through social media, observing the conversations, ideas and actions shaping our society. On one such occasion, I found myself on the page of Mr Aderemi Abass Oseni, an engineer. As a development enthusiast who keeps contributing my quota to nation-building through the Akin Fadeyi Foundation, my work has largely centred on institutional collaborations with government agencies, development partners, multilateral organisations and civil society organisations. That responsibility demands that I remain non-partisan and refrain from endorsing politicians or political interests. In fact, I have never met Mr Oseni, nor have we had any prior relationship. But I have always believed that humanity should be acknowledged wherever it is genuinely demonstrated. Good deeds should inspire, irrespective of political affiliation, in as much as we set the boundary that ensures obsequious genuflecting does not constitute moral conflation. It was through that lens that I took a closer look at the interventions associated with Mr Remi Oseni, and I must admit that I was fascinated by the consistency, scale, and developmental orientation of his philanthropy.

In a political climate where public confidence is often tested by unfulfilled promises, citizens are becoming less interested in grand declarations and more interested in evidence. Leadership should ultimately be evaluated by outcomes. Are more children in school? Are young people finding opportunities? Are vulnerable families living with greater dignity? Are communities healthier, safer, and more economically resilient than they were before? These are the questions that came to mind as I examined the public service record of Mr Oseni. His approach offers an example of leadership that appears to place human development, rather than politics, at the centre of public service.

The evidence is substantial. In March alone, he disbursed ₦100 million to 820 traders, artisans, entrepreneurs and vulnerable residents, providing grants of up to ₦1 million to stimulate small businesses and expand economic opportunities at the grassroots. Barely three months later, another ₦90 million was invested in market traders across the constituency’s nine local government areas to strengthen micro-enterprises and improve household incomes.

Recognising agriculture as both an economic and food-security priority, his office supported more than 7,000 farmers with fertilisers, agrochemicals, farm tools and improved agricultural inputs. His investments have also extended into community infrastructure, including motorised boreholes, solar-powered streetlights, electricity transformers and improved access to clean drinking water. He has also responded to humanitarian emergencies, including through a ₦20 million intervention for traders affected by the Iso Alagbo market fire.

Through the Remi Oseni Foundation, indigent students have received support for WAEC, NECO and JAMB examinations, alongside scholarships and tertiary education support. The Foundation has established the Remilekun Food Bank and subsidised food markets for vulnerable households, while medical outreaches have provided health screenings, medications, eye care and reading glasses for elderly citizens. There is also the ₦250 million Work Tools Empowerment Programme for members of the Blacksmiths, Welders and Metal Technicians Association of Nigeria, an intervention that is particularly noteworthy because productive tools can generate income beyond the moment of the intervention itself.

These are meaningful interventions, and they deserve recognition. But they also raise a larger question: what happens when philanthropy meets the scale of Nigeria’s needs?

Nigeria’s needs are enormous, and no single philanthropist, however generous, can meet them alone. The latest FAAC figures illustrate the scale of public resources circulating through the federation. In July 2026, revenue, the Federal Government, 36 states and 774 local government councils shared a record ₦3.007 trillion. The Federal Government received ₦1.146 trillion, the states received ₦943.352 billion, while the 774 local government councils received ₦673.649 billion. An additional ₦243.478 billion was distributed to benefiting states as 13 per cent derivation revenue. Between January and July 2026, the three tiers of government shared approximately ₦15.997 trillion through FAAC. These figures matter because they remind us that Nigeria’s developmental challenge is not simply about the absence of resources. It is also about how resources are prioritised, converted into public goods, targeted at areas of greatest need, measured and institutionalised.

The question, therefore, is not simply whether government has resources. The question is: What are we doing with them?

Because while we applaud individual interventions, the wider Nigerian reality remains sobering. The National Bureau of Statistics’ Multidimensional Poverty Index found that 63 per cent of Nigerians, approximately 133 million people, were multidimensionally poor in its 2022 assessment. Food insecurity remains equally severe. The World Food Programme currently estimates that about 35 million Nigerians are facing acute food insecurity, with millions more living under conditions of severe vulnerability. These are not merely statistics. Behind every number is a household making difficult decisions about food, medicine, education, rent and livelihood.

Nigeria has made important investments in healthcare, and these should be acknowledged. The Federal Ministry of Health reports that more than 37,000 health workers have been recruited into federal tertiary hospitals since 2024, while nursing and midwifery enrolment has also been expanded. Yet, the deficits remain enormous. According to the Ministry, Nigeria’s doctor-to-population ratio remains approximately one doctor to 5,000 people, compared with a WHO benchmark of one to 600. The nurse-to-population ratio is approximately one to 2,000, compared with one to 300, while health workers remain heavily concentrated in urban areas. Thousands of primary healthcare centres are also not functioning optimally.

There is another important dimension: the cost of accessing healthcare. WHO data indicates that household out-of-pocket payments account for a very large proportion of current health expenditure in Nigeria. For many households, therefore, the question is not simply whether a health facility exists, but whether a sick person can afford to use it. Philanthropic medical outreaches matter greatly in such an environment. But the larger challenge is to build systems in which Nigerians do not have to wait for a philanthropic medical outreach before they can access basic healthcare.

The same principle applies to security. Nigeria continues to confront terrorism, banditry, kidnapping, communal violence and other forms of insecurity. The consequences extend far beyond the immediate victims. Security is also an economic issue, a food-security issue, a youth issue and a development issue. A farmer who cannot safely access his farm cannot produce food. A trader who cannot safely transport goods cannot grow a business. A child who cannot safely travel to school cannot fully benefit from education. This is why development interventions cannot be treated as isolated sectors.

And then there are our young people.

Nigeria is a profoundly young country. UN population data places Nigeria’s 2025 population at approximately 237.5 million, with about 48.8 million people aged 15–24. The broader youth population is considerably larger, particularly when the commonly used 15–35 age bracket is considered. This is not merely a demographic statistic. It is Nigeria’s greatest economic opportunity, or one of its greatest risks.

Empowering young Nigerians should therefore go beyond periodic cash rollouts. Cash assistance can provide immediate relief, but skills create earning capacity. Vocational training creates employability. Apprenticeships create pathways. Access to markets creates businesses. Industrial policy creates jobs. An economy capable of absorbing the energy and creativity of millions of young people creates dignity at scale.

This is where I believe Nigeria needs to think much more boldly.

We need to examine our macroeconomic architecture: how we produce, what we produce, how we finance production, how we support agriculture, how we build manufacturing, how we develop human capital, how we attract investment, how we create jobs, and how we connect local enterprises to national and international markets.

This is where China’s development experience offers useful lessons, not because Nigeria should copy China, but because it demonstrates what can happen when economic transformation becomes a long-term national project. Over roughly four decades, China lifted close to 800 million people out of extreme poverty. The World Bank attributes this transformation to a combination of broad-based economic growth, market-oriented reforms, agricultural productivity, industrialisation, infrastructure development, urbanisation, education, targeted poverty reduction and effective governance.

The lesson for Nigeria is not simply to give people money.

It is to create an economy in which people can produce, participate and prosper.

Our ageing population also deserves far greater attention. Nigeria is a young country, but it is also ageing. The population aged 60 and above is projected to grow substantially in the coming decades. That means the question of how we care for our elderly is not a distant problem. It is already here.

Nigeria has taken important institutional steps. The National Senior Citizens Centre Act 2017 established the National Senior Citizens Centre, with a mandate covering the health, social inclusion, dignity, security, productive participation and wellbeing of older Nigerians. Nigeria has also developed a National Policy on Ageing and a Strategic Roadmap on Ageing 2022–2032.

But policy architecture must ultimately translate into lived reality. Research continues to identify gaps in healthcare access, financial security, social protection and elder care. Nigeria’s contributory pension system also does not cover every older person, particularly those whose working lives were spent outside the formal sector.

This is where philanthropy, government and the private sector can converge.

Why shouldn’t Nigeria have properly equipped geriatric homes and community-based elder-care centres? Why shouldn’t corporations adopt senior-care facilities as part of their social investment portfolios? Why shouldn’t governors and local government chairmen institutionalise programmes for older citizens within their jurisdictions? Why shouldn’t faith organisations, foundations, development partners and private companies sponsor meals, healthcare, mobility support, companionship and assisted living for vulnerable seniors? Why shouldn’t we train and certify a new generation of professional geriatric caregivers?

We can. And we should. The world already offers models we can learn from.

Canada provides an instructive example. Its approach is not limited to building institutions for older people. Canada places significant emphasis on ageing, helping older people remain safe and independent within their homes and communities for as long as possible. Home and community care can include nursing, personal care, physiotherapy, social work, meal delivery, housekeeping, transportation and respite support for caregivers, while long-term care facilities provide more intensive assistance where people require round-the-clock support. Canada also provides income support through programmes such as Old Age Security and the Guaranteed Income Supplement for eligible seniors.

Denmark offers another useful model. Municipalities have significant responsibility for elderly care, including home care and care accommodation. Older people who cannot safely manage independently can receive appropriate housing, assisted living or nursing-home accommodation based on assessed need. Municipalities can also provide respite and relief for family caregivers.

Neither model is perfect. That is not the point. Best practice does not mean perfection. It means continuously building better systems.

These models point towards something Nigeria can adapt: care should not depend entirely on whether an individual has a generous relative, a benevolent politician or a philanthropic benefactor. There should be system. 

And this brings me back to Mr Remi Oseni.

I applaud his work. I applaud the interventions. I applaud the generosity. I applaud the attention to traders, farmers, artisans, students, vulnerable families, and elderly citizens.

But I am also quick to make a larger observation.

The next stage is institutionalisation.

The next stage is a more concerted, data-driven architecture that captures areas of need, identifies who is being left behind, measures outcomes and institutionalises interventions.

Imagine a constituency-level needs and vulnerability architecture that maps households facing food insecurity, unemployed and underemployed young people, persons with disabilities, older persons living alone, children at risk of dropping out of school, communities without functional healthcare, farmers affected by insecurity, entrepreneurs requiring productive assets and communities lacking water and sanitation.

Imagine that data being updated regularly. Imagine interventions being designed around the evidence. Imagine every naira spent having a measurable social return.

That is how philanthropy begins to evolve from generosity into development architecture.

A philanthropist could build a geriatric home. But a stronger intervention might be to build a geriatric-care system involving government, corporations, hospitals, universities, NGOs, faith institutions and trained caregivers.

This conversation should not be directed at philanthropists alone. Governors and local government chairmen should take a cue. The latest FAAC figures demonstrate that resources are reaching all three tiers of government. The 774 local governments alone received ₦673.649 billion from the July 2026 allocation. A philanthropist could distribute food. But an even stronger intervention might combine emergency food support with agricultural productivity, food-processing enterprises, cold-chain infrastructure, market access and nutrition programmes.

A philanthropist could give young people cash. But a more transformative model could combine start-up capital with vocational training, tools, apprenticeships, market access, mentorship and procurement opportunities.

That is the difference between offering relief and building resilience.

Akin Fadeyi is the executive director at the Akin Fadeyi Foundation. Email: [email protected]