By Olugbenga George
Enough is enough.
The year is 2026, and Nigeria’s new tax laws have descended upon us — not as tools for nation-building, but as instruments of mass punishment.
While the architects of this “catastrophic legislation” luxuriate in flagrant opulence, the rest of us are handed a bill for a country we did not break.
The price of food, shelter, and dignity has been launched into the stratosphere, yet our only collective offering to the altar of a failing state is an ever-increasing slice of our survival.
They speak of sacrifice. They preach patriotism. But let us ask the two questions that burn in the heart of every Nigerian staring at an empty pantry and a looming tax demand:
First, will the kings of the castle pay their share? Do not be deceived by legalistic whispers.
In theory, the law binds all. In practice, a different rulebook exists for the anointed.
While your salary is taxed at source, their wealth is shrouded in a fog of allowances — housing, transport, “constituency projects” — crafted to vanish from the taxman’s gaze.
They enjoy the enforcement of discretion, the luxury of loopholes, and the arrogance of impunity.
They preach austerity from balconies of obscene wealth. This is not taxation; it is a protected class looting the struggling class.
Second, where is the social contract? They weaponize Chapter IV of our Constitution to punish, while Chapter II — the chapter that commands them to provide for us — is dismissed as a mere “directive,” a polite suggestion with no force of law.
It is the grandest betrayal in our legal scripture: the state’s duty to ensure our welfare is non-justiciable, but your duty to fund their failure is enforced with military zeal.
You can be jailed for tax evasion, but who will jail them for evading their fundamental duty to keep you safe, fed, and employed?
This is the Orwellian nightmare realized: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”
Our protest is not for a bland, forced equality.
It is a cry for RIGHTEOUS INEQUALITY: a system that rewards the intellect of the innovator, the sweat of the laborer, and the resilience of the Nigerian spirit — not the connections of the political parasite.
We are the generation raised on the plundered future left by the visionless Baby Boomers.
We inherited their debt, their corruption, and their crumbling infrastructure. And now, they demand we pay for the repair of the very house they burned down.
God does not desire the death of a sinner, but what of a system that sins with such calculated precision against its own people? The heavens will not intervene where courage is absent.
Our tears have watered the ground for decades, yet only weeds of further suffering have grown.
It is time to trade cries for questions, and questions for action.
True justice is not a passive gift. It is seized. It is built on transparency we demand, on fairness we enforce, and on equity we design.
They have taken our patience for weakness. They have mistaken our resilience for perpetual consent.
Let this be the line in the sand. We reject a social contract signed in our blood and with our money, yet offering us nothing but neglect.
We demand a tax system that serves the people, not one that parasitically drains them. We insist that the directive principles of state policy become the enforceable bedrock of our nationhood.
The pen that writes this protest is a prelude. The next chapter will be written by our collective will, our votes, our voices, and our unwavering refusal to be victims of this great theft any longer.
They have taxed our pockets. Let us now tax their conscience. Let us tax their legacy. Let us tax their peace until justice is served.
This is not a lament. It is a warning.
