The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) has come a long way since its creation, and its contribution to Nigeria’s fight against corruption cannot be dismissed. But neither can its failures, contradictions and growing credibility problems.
It started strongly under its pioneer chairman, Nuhu Ribadu. The incumbent, Ola Olukoyede, has his work cut out for him. Beyond the sheer scale of corruption confronting the country, the EFCC must contend with a damaging perception that its operations are sometimes influenced by politics.
At a recent interactive session with the media to review his stewardship, Olukoyede disclosed that more than 40 EFCC personnel had been dismissed for corruption and financial malpractice since he assumed office. More than five of the dismissed officers are already facing trial, while case files are reportedly being prepared against others.
That is commendable. But it also raises an uncomfortable question: how did so many people accused of corruption find their way into an agency established to fight corruption in the first place?
An anti-graft agency cannot credibly police the country while its own officers are suspected of compromising the very principles they are sworn to uphold. The EFCC must therefore be as ruthless with corruption within its ranks as it is with suspects outside its walls.
Its new policy on the acceptance and declaration of gifts is a step in the right direction. Officers will reportedly be required to declare assets above a specified threshold, including gifts received from relatives abroad.
Such rules are necessary because corruption does not always arrive in a brown envelope. Sometimes it comes disguised as a “gift,” a favour, an overseas package or an expensive dinner.
Timothy Tong, a former Commissioner of the Independent Commission Against Corruption in Hong Kong, faced scrutiny over lavish official entertainment, luxury dinners and expensive gifts during his 2007-2012 tenure. In 2013, he became the first former ICAC commissioner to face a criminal investigation by the agency he once headed.
Although Hong Kong’s Department of Justice eventually cleared him in 2016 on the ground that there was insufficient evidence for a criminal conviction, the scandal prompted the ICAC to tighten its rules on entertainment, gifts and overseas travel.
That is how an anti-corruption institution should behave. No sacred cows, including those within its own house.
Nigeria’s corruption problem, meanwhile, remains enormous. Shortly after assuming office in 2015, former President Muhammadu Buhari told a global audience in New York that Nigeria had lost $150 billion to theft in the oil industry.
The military has not escaped the stain. Several senior officers have faced corruption allegations and prosecutions. Former ministers and senior civil servants have had assets seized or subjected to forfeiture proceedings.
Yet, despite years of anti-corruption campaigns, Nigeria remains deeply embedded in the corruption league table. In Transparency International’s 2026 Corruption Perceptions Index, Nigeria ranked 142nd out of 182 jurisdictions, scoring just 26 out of 100. That was only a marginal improvement in ranking from 140th in 2025 and hardly evidence of a country turning the corner.
The National Bureau of Statistics has also estimated the prevalence of corruption in the public sector at 32.3 per cent.
There is, however, another side to the story.
The EFCC reportedly recovered N1.23 trillion and $684.48 million in proceeds of crime between October 2023 and July 2026. It received 49,673 petitions and investigated 39,614 cases. Of the 14,476 cases that ended in court, it secured 10,872 convictions, while interim and final forfeiture orders covered 10,053 assets.
Those figures are substantial. They deserve recognition.
But recovery figures alone cannot be the yardstick for measuring success. The ultimate test is whether the system is becoming more difficult to corrupt in the first place.
And here, the EFCC cannot operate in isolation.
Nigeria’s procurement system, for instance, remains riddled with questions. Why was there no open competitive bidding for the Lagos-Calabar Coastal Highway? Is the Bureau of Public Procurement sufficiently independent and effective? How many inflated contracts, abandoned projects and sweetheart deals escape scrutiny because they are politically inconvenient?
These are the questions that matter if Nigeria wants to attack corruption at its roots rather than merely chase the proceeds after the damage has been done.
Worse, the EFCC increasingly faces accusations of selective enforcement. An anti-corruption agency that is perceived as targeting political opponents while treating allies with kid gloves loses the moral authority necessary to prosecute anyone.
The freezing of the Osun State Government’s account days before the August 15 governorship election was a case in point. The EFCC cited suspicious movements in the account. The action provoked a national backlash, forcing President Bola Tinubu to intervene and direct the agency to vacate the order.
Whatever the merits of the EFCC’s suspicion, the timing was politically explosive. An anti-graft agency must understand that in a democracy, perception can be almost as damaging as reality.
The controversy surrounding former Bayelsa State Governor, Timipre Sylva, reinforces the problem. Shortly after announcing his resignation from the All Progressives Congress, Sylva alleged that his departure could trigger a renewed EFCC “witch-hunt” against him and his associates, describing the commission as a political tool of the APC.
Soon afterwards, the EFCC invited him for questioning over an alleged $14.86 million fraud. A court had previously issued an arrest warrant against him in November 2025.
The timing inevitably raised eyebrows.
But the larger problem goes beyond individual cases. Nigeria’s political class has repeatedly demonstrated that the fight against corruption ends at the doorstep of political expediency.
Some former governors convicted at home escaped the consequences of their crimes through legal manoeuvres or political intervention. Two former governors convicted in the United Kingdom after their Nigerian cases suffered serious setbacks provide a particularly embarrassing comparison.
Worse still, former President Buhari pardoned two former governors convicted of fraud. What message does that send to prosecutors, investigators and citizens who are told that corruption will not be tolerated?
Another former governor was convicted, only for the Supreme Court to overturn the conviction on a technicality relating to the judge’s subsequent elevation to the appellate court.
Whatever the legal reasoning, such outcomes leave ordinary Nigerians wondering whether justice is ultimately about proving innocence or finding the right procedural escape route.
The case of former Petroleum Minister Diezani Alison-Madueke is equally complicated. The EFCC seized several assets linked to her in Nigeria, while years later a UK court cleared her of corruption charges. Such divergent outcomes underline the need for painstaking investigation and prosecution rather than headline-grabbing seizures that may eventually collapse in court.
The political establishment has also continued to send mixed signals.
Former Kogi State Governor Yahaya Bello remains on trial over allegations involving between N80 billion and N110 billion in corruption and money laundering. Yet this has not prevented him from securing the APC senatorial ticket to contest the Kogi Central seat in the 2027 elections.
Similarly, corruption allegations against former Minister of Humanitarian Affairs and Poverty Alleviation, Betta Edu, remain unresolved, yet she has been named Director of Women Mobilisation for President Tinubu’s 2027 re-election campaign council.
Ngozi Olejeme, former chairperson of the Nigeria Social Insurance Trust Fund Board, has also been appointed South-South Zonal Director for Election Planning, Coordination and Mobilisation despite facing trial over allegations of fraud and money laundering.
To be clear, none of these individuals should be presumed guilty merely because they are facing prosecution. The presumption of innocence is fundamental.
But there is also a moral and ethical question. Why should people facing serious unresolved corruption allegations be entrusted with sensitive political responsibilities before their names are cleared?
A country serious about fighting corruption must distinguish between legal innocence and ethical fitness for public responsibility.
This is where Nigeria’s standards have repeatedly collapsed.
In a society with stronger ethical conventions, credible allegations against senior officials often trigger resignation or suspension pending investigation. In Nigeria, the accused frequently retains political influence, receives appointments, contests elections and sometimes even becomes more powerful while the case crawls through the courts.
That culture makes the EFCC’s job harder and diminishes the impact of its successes.
The commission must also improve the quality of its prosecutions. Conviction statistics may look impressive, but failed cases involving high-profile suspects can do enormous damage to public confidence. A spectacular arrest followed by a weak prosecution is not an anti-corruption victory. It is an advertisement for impunity.
The EFCC should, therefore, concentrate relentlessly on the big fish, not simply because they steal more, but because prosecuting powerful people successfully demonstrates that nobody is above the law.
The whistleblower policy offers another cautionary tale. Promoted vigorously under the Buhari administration, it initially generated significant results. Between 2017 and 2023, the policy reportedly helped recover about N800 billion in cash and assets for the Federal Government, according to the Ministry of Finance.
Yet the initiative gradually lost momentum.
Nigeria cannot afford to allow every anti-corruption reform to begin with a bang and end in bureaucratic silence.
And Nigerians deserve to hear much more about major corruption cases than the regular spectacle of young people arrested for alleged cybercrime, popularly known as Yahoo-Yahoo.
Cybercrime is a crime and should be prosecuted. But an anti-corruption agency whose public image is dominated by arrests of students and young internet fraud suspects risks obscuring the more consequential corruption taking place in government offices, boardrooms and procurement departments.
The real issue is not how many suspects the EFCC arrests. It is how many powerful people it successfully prosecutes, how much stolen wealth it recovers and, more importantly, whether its work makes corruption harder to commit.
Nigeria needs an anti-corruption strategy that goes beyond raids, arrests, forfeitures and press conferences. It needs strong institutions, transparent procurement, effective asset declaration, political neutrality, swift courts and serious consequences for those who abuse public office.
The EFCC has done much good. But it must confront the bad and the ugly within its own operations and in the wider political system.
