It is…unsurprising that a budget which already defies logic would allocate billions for palaces in locations where no recognised chiefdom, kingdom, or emirate exists. The irony becomes even more disturbing when genuine government institutions continue to struggle for funding. One recalls the Federal Ministry of Health’s disclosure that only about seven per cent of its approved capital allocation was eventually released last year. While deserving MDAs are starved of funds, phantom palace projects appear to flourish.
The recent revelation that the 2026 federal budget contains ₦5.85 billion earmarked for the construction of palaces in non-existent kingdoms, illustrates the widening disconnect between government and the citizens it claims to serve. At a time when millions of Nigerians are struggling with inflation, unemployment, failing public services, and worsening economic hardship, palace construction should be the least of our national worries.
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By no stretch of the imagination are palaces a priority. They are luxuries that symbolise the ironic interplay of elite satisfaction, eroding public trust, and widespread deprivation. To now know that no palaces actually exist to be constructed is the height of looting and the plundering of public resources.
Yet the absurdities in the 2026 budget continue to unravel.
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Available details show that a total of ₦22.15 billion has been allocated for 106 projects involving the construction, renovation, rehabilitation, furnishing, and electrification of traditional rulers’ palaces across Nigeria. These projects are spread across 45 Ministries, Departments, and Agencies (MDAs), despite the fact that many of the implementing agencies have no statutory responsibility for traditional institutions or palace infrastructure.
Public scrutiny has exposed glaring concerns about transparency and accountability. Investigations by civic organisations found that 11 palace projects worth about ₦5.85 billion lacked clearly identified locations, making it virtually impossible for citizens, auditors, and oversight institutions to monitor their implementation. Analysts have also questioned the rationale behind assigning palace projects to agencies whose mandates bear no relationship to traditional institutions. Such practices only complicate oversight, weaken accountability, and create fertile ground for abuse. The lack of transparency appears too glaring to be dismissed as mere administrative oversight.
The reality is that leakages exist everywhere in Nigeria’s public finance system. The little revenue that finds its way into government coffers is further depleted by procurement fraud, inflated contracts, and what many Nigerians have come to describe as “pen robbers” operating within a weak and opaque bureaucracy. What remains is often diverted through questionable projects, obscure agencies, or carefully crafted budget insertions controlled by a privileged clique that determines what gets funded, where funds are released, and ultimately how public money disappears.
It is therefore unsurprising that a budget which already defies logic would allocate billions for palaces in locations where no recognised chiefdom, kingdom, or emirate exists. The irony becomes even more disturbing when genuine government institutions continue to struggle for funding. One recalls the Federal Ministry of Health’s disclosure that only about seven per cent of its approved capital allocation was eventually released last year. While deserving MDAs are starved of funds, phantom palace projects appear to flourish.
These are, in many respects, pocket palaces – budgetary creations designed not to serve communities but to facilitate the movement of public funds into private hands. Money intended for non-existent projects finds its way into Bureau de Change outlets, is converted into foreign currencies, and ultimately ends up financing private wealth, rather than public development. Such allocations are often among the first to receive funding because those who inserted them into the budget also control the machinery that ensures their release. The result is growing public cynicism about legislative oversight and a civil service increasingly perceived as compromised. Citizens watch billions disappear into constituency projects and capital expenditures that exist only on paper.
For many Nigerians, these allocations are not simply examples of poor judgment; they reveal the scale of institutionalised corruption and the absence of meaningful scrutiny. Increasingly, citizens view the budget process as an annual jamboree in which public resources are negotiated for private benefit, rather than national development.
The controversy surrounding these palace allocations has emerged at a time of severe fiscal constraints and competing national priorities. Nigeria is borrowing heavily to finance its budget, while grappling with mounting debt obligations. Under such circumstance, scarce public resources ought to be directed toward healthcare, education, infrastructure, agriculture, security, and social welfare. Even where palace renovations may be justified, they largely fall within the constitutional responsibilities of state and local governments, rather than the federal government.
For many Nigerians, these allocations are not simply examples of poor judgment; they reveal the scale of institutionalised corruption and the absence of meaningful scrutiny. Increasingly, citizens view the budget process as an annual jamboree in which public resources are negotiated for private benefit, rather than national development. Lawmakers who should exercise oversight are often perceived as participants in the very process they are expected to police.
Coming amid the raging controversy surrounding the so-called Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council (PFIPC), the questions over its promoter, Mr Adeniyi Adeyemi Mathew, and the wider scandal involving its operations and the alleged involvement of the President’s Chief of Staff, Femi Gbajabiamila, these budget revelations only reinforce public concerns about systemic governance failures. Whether or not the controversies are ultimately resolved, together they create the impression of institutions struggling to inspire public confidence.
Nigerians have long joked about politicians who campaign by promising to build skyscrapers in the sky, construct bridges where there are no rivers, and deliver grand projects that never materialise. The allocation of billions for palaces in non-existent kingdoms represents another manifestation of this political culture. It is yet another reminder of the budget-padding scandals that once dominated national discourse.
Sadly, many of the political figures associated with those earlier allegations remain influential actors in today’s political landscape. No meaningful sanctions followed those scandals. When impunity becomes the norm, violations naturally become recurring features of governance, rather than isolated exceptions.
A budget that finds billions for palaces in places that do not exist, while hospitals remain underfunded, schools deteriorate, roads collapse, and millions struggle to survive, says far more about our priorities than any official speech ever could.
The billions allocated for imaginary palace projects could instead transform lives if invested in healthcare, education, roads, water supply, or social protection programmes. Such spending benefits only a privileged few, while reinforcing the perception that government exists primarily to protect elite interests.
The obvious question therefore remains: If some of these kingdoms do not exist, who exactly are these palaces being built for? Have we not had enough ghosts in our public institutions?
Only recently, the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission (ICPC) uncovered 908 suspected ghost workers across about 50 federal MDAs and recovered approximately ₦942 million in fraudulent salary payments. The discovery served as yet another reminder that payroll fraud remains deeply entrenched within Nigeria’s public service.
The controversy surrounding the PFIPC, the persistence of ghost workers, and the recurring questionable budget allocations all point to the same underlying problem: a governance culture that often projects the image of a wealthy nation, while millions of its citizens endure poverty and deprivation. The country’s wealth increasingly appears concentrated in the hands of a privileged minority, while the majority bear the burden of economic hardship.
A budget that finds billions for palaces in places that do not exist, while hospitals remain underfunded, schools deteriorate, roads collapse, and millions struggle to survive, says far more about our priorities than any official speech ever could.
Zainab Suleiman Okino (FNGE) chairs the Blueprint Editorial Board. She is a syndicated columnist and can be reached via: [email protected]
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