Tinubu’s Welfare Fund and the Unfinished Duty to Nigeria’s Soldiers
By Kabir Abdulsalam
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu chose his 74th birthday to announce the donation of his salaries to wounded soldiers and families of fallen troops, it was more than a ceremonial flourish.
The President directed the immediate creation of a special account to draw from his earnings since assuming office in May 2023. He said: ‘those who stand in harm’s way, and those who bear the consequences of their sacrifice, deserve more than routine acknowledgment.’
In a sense, the announcement touched a national nerve. For years, Nigeria’s war effort has been measured in operational updates, the Defence headquarters consistently provides update on the numbers of terrorists neutralised, hostages rescued, and weapons recovered. These metrics are important; they demonstrate a military that is active and, in many respects, adaptive. But they often obscure a quieter reality: the human cost borne by the soldier and his family.
Tinubu’s intervention brings that reality back into focus. The proposed fund, estimated to run into over N100 million when allowances are considered, is intended as targeted support—distinct from existing welfare and insurance frameworks. It is designed for the wounded soldier who must rebuild his life with a missing limb, for the widow navigating sudden loss, and for children whose futures are abruptly reshaped by conflict.
Yet, as compelling as the gesture is, it also raises an inconvenient question: why should such a gap exist in the first place?
Nigeria has been at war, formally and informally for over a decade. From the insurgency in the North-East to banditry in the North-West and the fluid violence across the North-Central, troops have remained in near-constant deployment. Thousands have been killed. Many more have been injured. Entire families have been drawn into the consequences of a conflict that shows little sign of disappearing.
Over time, successive military leaderships have acknowledged that welfare is central to operational effectiveness. Under the current Chief of Army Staff, Lt. Gen. Waidi Shaibu, the “Soldier First” doctrine has become a recurring theme in official communication. The idea is straightforward: a motivated, well-supported soldier fights better, endures longer, and maintains discipline under pressure.
There is evidence that this thinking is beginning to translate into policy.
According to findings by the News Agency of Nigeria, operational allowances for frontline troops have seen a notable increase, rising from about N20,000 to roughly N60,000 monthly. While still modest by global standards, the increment has been acknowledged by soldiers themselves as a meaningful improvement. Feeding arrangements have also been restructured, with soldier-managed committees introduced to enhance accountability and ensure better nutrition.
Accommodation remains a longstanding challenge, but there are ongoing efforts to address it. New housing projects for junior ranks, including developments in key cantonments, aim to improve living conditions for personnel and their families. Medical support systems are also being strengthened, with upgrades to reception stations and increased focus on treating combat-related injuries.
Perhaps less visible, but equally significant, are the changes in troop rotation and mobility. Welfare flights introduced in recent years now enable soldiers deployed in distant theatres to reconnect with their families more efficiently. Rotation policies have been tightened, reducing the duration of continuous frontline deployment and, by extension, the risk of burnout.
Mental health, long neglected in military discourse, is gradually receiving attention. Sensitisation programmes on stress management and post-traumatic stress disorder are being introduced, acknowledging that the wounds of war are not always physical.
Taken together, these initiatives suggest a military institution that is attempting to recalibrate moving, however gradually, from a purely kinetic focus to a more holistic understanding of warfare.
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And yet, the structural issues remain. The most persistent of these is compensation. For many non-commissioned officers the corporals and sergeants who form the backbone of combat operations—l the financial reality is still tight. The risks they face are immediate and unfiltered. Improvised explosive devices, ambushes, and close engagements do not distinguish between ranks. But the compensation structure does.
The disparity between commissioned officers and rank-and-file soldiers is not merely a function of hierarchy; it is a question of proportionality. When those who bear the heaviest operational burden struggle to meet basic economic needs, the implications extend beyond individual hardship. They affect morale, cohesion, and ultimately, operational effectiveness.
There is also the broader issue of resource allocation.
Nigeria commits significant funds to security annually. Federal and state budgets allocate billions to defence and related activities. Yet, the translation of these resources into tangible welfare for frontline troops remains uneven. This disconnect has become a recurring theme in public discourse, raising concerns about efficiency, prioritisation, and accountability.
Civil society analyses have repeatedly pointed to the gap between security spending and outcomes. While it would be simplistic to attribute this entirely to mismanagement, the perception persists that funds do not always reach the point where they are most needed, the soldier in the field.
Tinubu’s donation, in this context, is both symbolic and corrective. It acknowledges, implicitly, that the system requires reinforcement. He urged governors, lawmakers, and private sector actors to contribute to the fund further expands the conversation, framing troop welfare as a shared national responsibility.
But symbolism has its limits. A sustainable welfare system cannot depend on voluntary contributions, however well-intentioned. It must be anchored in policy—clear, structured, and consistently implemented. This includes not only improved salaries and hazard allowances but also efficient pension systems, accessible healthcare for veterans, and timely compensation for families of fallen soldiers.
There are encouraging signs in some of these areas. Insurance schemes within the military are being strengthened, and there is growing emphasis on financial security for personnel. Efforts to standardise allowance payments and reduce delays have also yielded results, according to both official sources and anecdotal accounts from troops.
Still, the post-service welfare. Veterans often face bureaucratic hurdles in accessing benefits, while families of fallen soldiers sometimes navigate complex processes before receiving support. These are not merely administrative issues; they shape perceptions of fairness and institutional commitment.
Another dimension that deserves attention is equipment and logistics. Welfare, in its broadest sense, includes the tools a soldier is given to do his job. A well-compensated soldier operating with inadequate equipment remains vulnerable. Conversely, improved equipment armoured vehicles, protective gear, and reliable intelligence can significantly enhance both safety and effectiveness.
Here, too, there are signs of progress. Government investments in military hardware and operational capabilities have increased, reflecting a recognition that modern conflicts require modern tools. But as with welfare, the challenge lies in consistency and scale.
Ultimately, the question is not whether Nigeria values its soldiers. The ceremonies, the tributes, and the rhetoric all suggest that it does. The real question is whether that value is consistently translated into systems that support those who serve—not only in moments of crisis, but as a matter of routine.
If the President can commit his personal earnings to support soldiers, then the state through its institutions, budgets, and policies must demonstrate an even greater level of commitment. Anything less risks reducing a powerful gesture to a symbolic footnote.
That is the unfinished duty. And it is one that no single gesture, however commendable, can fully discharge.
