THE MISINFORMATION ECONOMY IN ABIA: A Rebuttal to Ekwedike
Public discourse in Abia State has entered a troubling phase where emotion has begun to overpower evidence and where assertions, repeated loudly enough, are mistaken for fact. The viral commentary by Ekwedike is a prime example of how selective outrage, historical amnesia, and financial illiteracy can combine to create an illusion of scandal where none exists. His argument collapses the moment it encounters verifiable data, yet it thrives on a nostalgia for a past that, in truth, was marked by opacity, debt, arrears, and administrative paralysis.
Let us begin with the foundation of his claim: that Abia receives “₦38 billion monthly revenue.” This figure exists nowhere in any federal publication. The official FAAC bulletin shows that Abia’s average monthly FAAC inflow between 2024 and 2025 was approximately ₦6.8 billion, and after mandatory deductions, the net available inflow averaged ₦5.4 billion. When VAT and internally generated revenue are added, the total state liquidity averages between ₦8 billion and ₦10 billion monthly—not ₦38 billion. A house built upon false numbers collapses under its own weight, and this single misrepresentation alone invalidates the fiscal outrage that follows in his narrative.
Ekwedike also accuses the Otti administration of an “official policy of secrecy,” ignoring the fact that Abia is now one of the only three states in Nigeria that publish quarterly budget performance reports, citizens’ budgets, debt profiles, and procurement disclosures. This new transparency is publicly accessible on the Abia Open Fiscal Portal—a platform that did not exist under the previous administration he attempts to sanitize. For the record, the World Bank’s SFTAS programme repeatedly rated Abia among the weakest states in fiscal transparency from 2017 to 2022, and it is only after Otti’s reforms that Abia began appearing on the transparency map again.
His treatment of the Port Harcourt Road project betrays a superficial understanding of engineering economics. Port Harcourt Road is not a cosmetic project; it is a geotechnical rebuild of a 5.7-kilometre industrial artery that has been structurally dead for over 40 years. The drainage system had collapsed, the sub-base was non-existent, and oil seepages had destroyed the soil integrity. Julius Berger’s engineering assessment confirmed these failures publicly during their ARISE TV presentation. Comparing that to the surface renovation of Presidential Hotel in Enugu is like comparing a heart transplant to a facelift. One is structural reconstruction; the other is aesthetic improvement. The costs are not remotely comparable.
The dollarisation argument regarding Enyimba Hotels follows the same pattern of misunderstanding. International-standard hospitality retrofitting relies on imported HVAC systems, elevators, fire-suppression networks, MEP units, and integrated building-management systems—all priced globally in USD. Even Lagos Eko Hotel’s upgrades were costed in dollars. The claim of “$50 million” circulating online was never released by the Abia State Government, yet it is quoted as gospel. Again, a rumour is being used to prove a scandal that exists only in the imaginations of those desperate for one.
His interpretation of the AfDB loan displays a lack of familiarity with how multilateral financing works. AfDB loans are not political cash transfers; they come with third-party monitoring, tranche-based disbursement, international procurement reviews and annual audits. No governor—friend or foe—can “hide” AfDB funds. They are watched more closely than federal allocations. Suggesting that such a loan can be secretly diverted is a confession of ignorance, not an accusation of corruption.
His reference to water fountains as proof of waste is equally misguided. Urban beautification is not a substitute for water supply; it is a different line item entirely. His claim that the generators powering fountains consume ₦144 million yearly is mathematically flawed, built on unrealistic assumptions and incorrect fuel-use estimations. Even under exaggerated calculations, the cost remains negligible in a budget exceeding ₦200 billion, and it is absurd to hold fountains responsible for decades of abandoned water infrastructure that Otti inherited, not created.
Where Ekwedike’s argument collapses completely is in his attempt to rewrite history. Under the previous administration, salary arrears stretched 36 to 46 months across multiple institutions. Transparency was non-existent; procurement laws were routinely flouted; LG allocations disappeared without trace; and debt ballooned with little infrastructural justification. Under Otti, arrears were cleared, salaries have been maintained monthly, procurement has been digitized, revenue systems automated, debt disclosures published, roads reconstructed at a scale unseen since 1999 and the state now meets transparency standards it consistently failed in the past. To claim that transparency was better under the administration he served is not merely selective memory—it is revisionism bordering on satire.
The deeper worry here is not that critics speak; criticism is healthy. It is that some critics rely on fiction while ignoring the documented failures of the past. Governance must be evaluated on evidence, not emotion. Abia is not perfect, but it is undeniably more transparent, more structured, more audited and more fiscally disciplined today than at any point in the last two decades. Ekwedike’s outrage thrives only because he assumes the public does not check data. But the public is watching, learning and reading. And facts—unlike propaganda—do not fear scrutiny.
In the end, the past built potholes; the present is building roads. The past hid financials; the present publishes them. The past normalized arrears; the present cleared them. Facts do not need to shout. They simply wait for truth to catch up.
AProf Chukwuemeka Ifegwu Eke
