A Secret Health Deal, Faith, and the Perils of Governing Nigeria in the Dark

A Secret Health Deal, Faith, and the Perils of Governing Nigeria in the Dark

By Adewale Pedro 

Nigeria’s greatest internal challenge has never been a lack of resources or partnerships. It has always been trust between government and citizens and trust among Nigerians themselves. That trust is once again being tested by the revelation of a secretly negotiated health Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) between Nigeria and the United States, signed in December 2025 under Washington’s America First Global Health Strategy.

At first glance, the agreement appears harmless. Official summaries describe a five-year partnership to strengthen disease surveillance, improve laboratory systems, support frontline health workers, and expand access to essential services for HIV, tuberculosis, malaria, maternal and child health, and polio. Nigeria reportedly committed to increased domestic health financing, while the United States pledged substantial grant support.

Had the matter ended there, few Nigerians would object. But it did not.

International reporting on the MoU repeatedly references “expanding faith-based healthcare,” with emphasis on Christian faith-based providers as strategic delivery partners. This framing raises serious constitutional questions in a country that is formally secular, religiously plural, and historically sensitive to sectarian imbalance.

Nigeria’s Constitution leaves little room for ambiguity. Section 10 of the 1999 Constitution (as amended) provides that “the Government of the Federation or of a State shall not adopt any religion as State Religion.” Nigerian courts have consistently interpreted this provision as imposing a duty of neutrality on the state, not merely a ban on formal religious establishment.

While religious organizations may lawfully participate in public service delivery, the state is constitutionally restrained from structuring public policy in a manner that elevates or entrenches religious advantage. Cooperation is permissible; preference is not.

What is most troubling, however, is not only the faith-based framing of the MoU but also the process by which it was concluded.

There was no public notice. No prior National Assembly debate. No stakeholder consultation. The full text of the agreement has not been published. Nigerians learned of its existence after the fact, through foreign government releases and international media reports.

This secrecy raises an additional constitutional concern. The Supreme Court has affirmed that international agreements involving Nigeria derive democratic legitimacy through constitutional processes and legislative oversight, particularly where such agreements affect public policy or citizens’ rights. Even where formal domestication under Section 12 is not required, secrecy in international commitments offends the spirit of constitutional accountability.

The pattern is worrying. Only weeks earlier, Nigerians were confronted with reports of an MoU with France on taxation matters, again negotiated outside public scrutiny. One opaque agreement may be explained away. Two indicate a governance culture that treats transparency as optional.

Beyond Section 10, the implications of the health MoU engage Section 42 of the Constitution, which guarantees freedom from discrimination on the grounds of religion, ethnic group, or circumstances of birth. Nigerian jurisprudence is settled that discrimination need not be explicit to be unconstitutional; policy effects matter as much as stated intent.

Applied to healthcare — a life-preserving public service — any perception that access, funding, or institutional support is filtered through religious identity is constitutionally dangerous.

Nigeria is not hostile to faith-based contributions. Christian and Muslim institutions have long filled gaps in education and healthcare. But the Nigerian state must not appear to outsource public health through a religious lens, especially one externally defined and politically charged.

Healthcare must remain a neutral civic space, not a marker of religious alignment.

In a nation already strained by insurgency, mutual suspicion, and historical grievance, agreements that appear to privilege one faith — even unintentionally — risk deepening internal rifts rather than fostering unity. Constitutional law exists precisely to prevent such fractures.

Supporters of the MoU may argue that its intentions are noble and that no faith is explicitly excluded. But Nigerian courts have long recognized that constitutional breaches often arise from consequence, not motive. Transparency is therefore not optional in a democracy; it is the source of legitimacy.

Why was the MoU not laid before the National Assembly?

Why was its text not published prior to signing?

Why was Nigeria denied the opportunity to interrogate its faith-based framing under the Constitution?

Silence is not reassurance.

This is not a rejection of international cooperation, nor an attack on religious institutions. It is a demand for constitutional fidelity, transparency, and national sensitivity. Agreements that touch on faith, identity, and social cohesion cannot be negotiated in the shadows and defended with selective disclosure.

The government owes Nigerians clarity:

Release the full MoU.

Explain its faith-based provisions plainly.

Demonstrate compliance with Sections 10, 12, and 42 of the Constitution.

And end the creeping culture of secret diplomacy on matters of national consequence.

Nigeria cannot be governed in the dark. In a country as diverse and delicate as ours, unity survives only where the Constitution governs openly and equally.  Anything less is not reform.

It is a risk.

Footnotes

 1. Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria 1999 (as amended), Section 10.

 2. Bishop Okogie v. Attorney-General of Lagos State (1981) 2 NCLR 337.

 3. Abacha v. Fawehinmi (2000) 6 NWLR (Pt. 660) 228.

 4. Garba v. Federal Civil Service Commission (1988) 1 NWLR (Pt. 71) 449.

Ilorin, Nigeria 

December 2025