Cross River: A Case Study in Renewed Hopelessness, by Enobong Udoh
A recent report on Value Added Tax (VAT) contributions to the Federation Account for February 2026 showed a painful revelation. Cross River was at the bottom among all States. For many, it just may have been another economic statistic buried in the endless cycle of national headlines. But for some of us, it felt like an obituary for a State that once stood tall in commerce, tourism, agriculture, and national relevance. VAT is not merely a tax figure. It is a reflection of economic life — of people buying, selling, travelling, investing, eating in restaurants, lodging in hotels, and engaging in commercial activity. The largest drivers of VAT in Nigeria remain retail and consumer goods, hospitality, and services. Therefore, when a State records the lowest VAT contribution in the country, it points to something deeper than poor taxation. It signals weak economic activity and a shrinking productive base.
What makes this especially heartbreaking is that this is Cross River State — a place once celebrated as Nigeria’s tourism capital and one of the most culturally vibrant destinations in Africa. There was a time when friends from across the country would call to ask for directions to spend vacations in our tourist sites. Calabar was not just a city; it was an experience. Hospitality was an industry. Tourism created movement, excitement, and opportunity. Today, much of that glory feels distant.
The troubling reality is that if internally generated revenue (IGR) figures for February 2026 are carefully examined, Cross River may still find itself at the bottom because VAT and IGR are closely linked, as both depend on the volume of economic activity within a State. When businesses thrive, governments earn. When commerce dies, revenues collapse.
Yet Cross River was not always this economically fragile. There was a period when the state aggressively promoted cash crops such as pineapple, oil palm, cashew, and castor oil. Agriculture created wealth across communities. I still remember hearing a woman stand to testify in church that pineapple farming made her a millionaire. Then, there was a pineapple juice concentrate factory in the Calabar Export Processing Zone designed as an off-taker for farmers. Today, many of those initiatives exist only in memory.
What hurts even more is the comparison with states battling severe security challenges. Northern States such as Yobe, Zamfara, and Kebbi — despite years of insurgency and banditry — now appear to generate more commercial activity than Cross River which is baffling. A state blessed with ports, tourism assets, fertile land, rich culture, and strategic geography should never become economically invisible.
Sadly, while these indicators worsen, political conversations within the state seem disconnected from the urgency of economic revival. As another election cycle beckons, the political atmosphere is already dominated by scheming, alignments, and permutations. The government house is more concerned about writing the names of who get APC tickets to National and State Assemblies.
Even with that the style of politics practiced in the State has steadily weakened Cross River’s influence at the federal level. Nigeria has more than 600 statutory agencies, commissions, and parastatals, yet Cross River does not have a single DG or CEO. This reflects a broader decline in political relevance and bargaining power within the Nigerian federation. Nigeria’s political establishment only sees us useful during campaigns. What is troubling is that it seems many Cross Riverians have slowly become comfortable with the decline.
Perhaps this embarrassing VAT ranking should provoke a new conversation about the future of Cross River State. A conversation beyond election campaigns. A conversation about rebuilding agriculture, reviving tourism, attracting technocrats, modernising infrastructure, attracting manufacturing, and restoring confidence in governance.
VAT may just be one statistic, but I fear we are at the bottom in many more, which has triggered a state of hopelessness. With the elections coming and the calibre of pretenders clamouring to continue as leaders, I see renewed hopelessness, which is why I weep for Cross River.
Dr Enobong Udoh
Writes from Lagos Island
