Feature/OPED
Why Nigeria’s New Tax Regime Will Fail Without Public Trust
By Blaise Udunze
Millions of Nigerian citizens are watching with cautious anticipation as the federal government begins implementing its far-reaching 2026 tax reforms. This is to say that the official assurances that the new tax regime will be fairer, simpler, and more humane, as relished by the proponents of the reforms, are being listened to by both low-income workers, small business owners, professionals, and informal sector participants.
Still, behind the optimism is a familiar worry shaped by past experience that reminds us that taxation without accountability undermines both governance credibility and the legitimacy of the tax system, thereby making it hard to believe in.
For many Nigerians, the question is not whether taxes should be paid, but whether the state has earned the moral authority to demand them, judging by the lack of accountability over the years.
The Nigerian Tax Act and the Nigerian Tax Administration Act, two of the four pillars of the 2026 reforms, came into force on January 1, reshaping how individuals and businesses are taxed. According to proponents of the reforms, particularly the Chairman of the Presidential Committee on Fiscal Policy and Tax Reforms, Dr. Taiwo Oyedele, the changes are deliberately pro-poor and pro-growth. Workers earning below N800,000 annually are exempted from personal income tax. Basic food items, healthcare, education, and public transportation have been removed from the VAT net. Small companies with turnovers of N100 million or less are exempt from corporate income tax, capital gains tax, and the new development levy. Multiple tax laws have been consolidated into a unified code to reduce duplication, confusion, and harassment.
On paper, these reforms acknowledge Nigeria’s economic distress and signal a genuine attempt to lighten the burden on the majority of citizens. However, Nigeria’s tax crisis has never been about tax rates alone.
Nigerians have lived through decades of taxation that did not translate into visible development, social welfare, or improved quality of life, as this has succinctly shown that it is fundamentally about trust. No matter how progressive, for this singular reason, Nigerians see the announcement of the reforms via a long memory of disappointment and failure, while Nigerians have increasingly become vocal in demanding accountability from government at all levels, and social media has played a powerful role in amplifying public scrutiny in recent years.
Images and videos of the alleged lavish lifestyles of public office holders and their families are alarming and circulate widely, reinforcing the perception that public funds are misused or siphoned for private gain. While not all such claims are verified, the damage lies in the perception itself since governance credibility suffers when citizens believe that those entrusted with public resources live far above the realities of the people they govern.
The Nigerian Constitution, while not explicitly mandating accountability in narrow terms, establishes in Section 14 that the security and welfare of the people shall be the primary purpose of government. The state is expected to manage the economy in a manner that ensures maximum welfare, freedom, and happiness of citizens on the basis of social justice and equality. The provisions made in Section 22 further empower the media and arm it to the teeth to hold the government accountable to the people and beyond constitutional provisions, Nigeria voluntarily signed up to global transparency initiatives such as the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative, domesticated through the NEITI Act of 2007. Over the period, NEITI has helped improve disclosure in the extractive sector, as its mandate does not extend to tracking how revenues are spent, leaving a critical accountability gap.
This gap is most evident in the lived experience of Nigerian taxpayers. Intrinsically, the average Nigerian does not experience taxation as a collective investment in shared prosperity. Instead, taxation feels like an added burden layered on top of already crushing personal responsibilities. Nigerians generate their own electricity through generators, source water privately, pay for security, indirectly fund road maintenance through vehicle repairs, and bear healthcare and education costs out of pocket. When citizens pay taxes and still bear the full cost of survival, taxation begins to resemble organized extraction rather than civic contribution.
For instance, the stories of Mr. George and Mr. Kunle reflect this reality. Mr. George, is an earned salary worker who has personal income tax deducted monthly through PAYE. Meanwhile, George also pays for electricity, security, water, road repairs, and private schooling. What about Mr. Kunle, who is a small business owner and chooses not to pay taxes voluntarily with the belief that the government has failed to meet its obligations and other rights? Their frustration is widely shared. According to the IMF, only about 10 million Nigerians out of a labour force of 77 million are registered taxpayers. This low compliance is not a product of ignorance alone, but of a deeply broken social contract.
Over the years, successive governments have attempted to address low compliance through amnesty schemes such as the Voluntary Asset and Income Declaration Scheme. Though these initiatives temporarily expanded the tax base, their long-term impact remains questionable because compliance driven by fear of penalties or temporary incentives does not endure where trust is absent. In Nigeria, tax compliance is often compelled rather than voluntary, just as we are about to experience in this new regime, enforcement tends to replace persuasion. This approach may generate short-term revenue, but it weakens legitimacy and fuels resistance.
Academic studies on taxation and accountability in Nigeria reinforce this conclusion. While global literature suggests a strong relationship between government accountability and voluntary tax compliance, Nigeria’s experience has been distorted by weak institutions and limited political legitimacy. This should be noted by the policymakers that where citizens perceive government as unaccountable, coercion increases, collection costs rise, and evasion becomes normalized. Hence while, the result is a vicious cycle in which low trust breeds low compliance, prompting harsher enforcement that further erodes trust.
Other jurisdictions offer valuable lessons. For instance, today, a country like Sweden has one of the highest tax-to-GDP ratios in the world with remarkably high compliance rates, and this has been the norm despite imposing steep personal income taxes. The reason is simple, in the sense that transparency and visible benefits are not far-fetched. Citizens know how their taxes are spent and experience the returns through quality education, healthcare, social security, and public services. Taxation is viewed not as punishment but as a shared investment. In China, targeted tax deductions for healthcare and education similarly align taxation with social needs, reinforcing compliance through perceived fairness.
Nigeria’s challenge is not to replicate these systems mechanically, but to internalize their core principle that enables the people to comply willingly when they believe the system works and that everyone is treated fairly.
This principle is being tested anew by the recent controversy surrounding the Federal Inland Revenue Service’s (now branded as Nigeria Revenue Service) appointment of Xpress Payments Solutions Limited as a Treasury Single Account collecting agent. Though framed as a technical step toward modernizing digital tax infrastructure, the quiet nature of the appointment, coupled with limited public disclosure, has reignited fears of revenue capture and cartelization. Critics have drawn parallels with past private-sector dominance over state revenue systems, warning against concentrating sensitive national revenue functions in private hands without clear safeguards.
Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar’s reaction captured the broader public unease. He raised an alarm while warning against what he described as the nationalization of a revenue collection model that had previously raised serious transparency concerns and the Nigeria Revenue Service (NRS) has insisted that Xpress Payments is merely an additional option and not an exclusive gatekeeper, the controversy highlights a deeper issue, which authenticates the fact that in a climate of low trust, silence, and lack of clarity, suspicion. Even well-intentioned reforms can falter if citizens feel excluded from the process.
With broader concerns about governance, accountability, and democratic integrity in society, this moment coincides with it. Even the recent calls by leaders such as Rotimi Amaechi and civil society organizations like ActionAid Nigeria underscore the growing demand for responsible, transparent and people-oriented leadership as being raised from different quarters. Governance indices consistently rank Nigeria poorly on accountability, while poverty, unemployment and insecurity remain widespread. That is what, in such a context, asking citizens to trust the tax system without first restoring confidence in governance is unrealistic and unattainable.
At the core of the debate lies a fundamental moral question: when does a government have the right to tax its citizens? Taxation is not charity and it is not magic. It is a contract. Citizens surrender a portion of their income so the state can provide security, infrastructure, justice, and essential services that individuals cannot efficiently provide on their own. When this exchange functions, taxation feels legitimate. When it fails, taxation feels coercive.
No doubt, legally, the Nigerian state retains the power to tax, but morally, legitimacy depends on performance. Security is foundational. Infrastructure enables productivity. The government must understand that healthcare and education protect human capital, while transparency ensures fairness. And, when these pillars are weak, taxation loses its ethical grounding. All that Nigerians demand is not perfection; they demand evidence that their sacrifices matter.
As the implementation of the new tax reforms takes root, Nigeria stands at a defining moment. The reforms offer an opportunity to reset the social contract around taxation, broaden the tax base, and reduce dependence on dwindling oil revenues. But the point being flagged is that reform without accountability will only reproduce old failures in new forms. To buttress this further, taxation without accountability, as being practiced in the past, will invariably undermine governance credibility and erode the legitimacy of the tax system.
And, as the scripture says, you cannot put “old wine in a new wineskin.” Failure to adhere to this instruction will lead to combustion. Yesterday’s methods or mindsets on taxation will rupture new strategies, which cannot thrive or survive because of a lack of accountability.
If the government is serious about improving voluntary compliance, it must go beyond policy announcements. Hence, must demonstrate transparent use of tax revenues, strengthen oversight institutions, limit monopolistic control over revenue collection, and communicate clearly and consistently with citizens. Most importantly, it must deliver tangible improvements in the daily lives of all Nigerians.
When citizens see roads fixed, hospitals working, schools improving, and security strengthened, compliance will follow. Voluntary tax compliance is not an act of generosity; it is a rational response to trust. Fix the system, restore confidence, and Nigerians will pay, not because they are forced, but because the contract finally makes sense.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: [email protected]
Feature/OPED
Avoiding the Coming Deaths in 2027 Elections
By Michael Owhoko, PhD
Inevitable deaths are in the offing in 2027. Those familiar with Nigeria’s electoral mythology, history and patterns know that the 2027 general elections will be a harbinger of death, powered by electoral violence. It will take a miracle to escape what will play out. People will die. Nigerians will perish. Hospitals will be overwhelmed. Nigerians must therefore brace up for the coming calamity, as the intensity and scale will make it a memorable year of regrettable carnage. All six geopolitical areas of the country will be affected.
The event will further rub off on the country’s troubling global perception, and worsen its negative profile as the 5th most violent country in the world, and 4th in the Global Terrorism Index 2026, ranking as the 6th deadliest and 7th most dangerous country for civilians in the world. Besides, the elections will threaten democratic norms, political stability, and erode faith in public institutions due to brazen manipulation of the electoral process.
The coming calamity will largely be fueled by electoral insecurity engendered by the desperation of political parties to outwit one another, particularly the ruling party, the All Progressives Congress (APC) and the main opposition parties, including the African Democratic Congress (ADC) and the Nigeria Democratic Congress (NDC). While the APC will go all out and spare nothing to retain the incumbent government of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu for a second term in office, the ADC and the NDC will deploy every resource at their disposal to dislodge and replace the current APC Government, causing public uproar.
Though other political parties will also show strength and slug it out, the election will be fiercely contested by the APC, NDC and ADC. The stakes are high, and driven by illogical greed and lust for power to control political authority and economic resources, even though the resources are poorly appropriated, and most times, thoughtlessly deployed to protect pride, fund vanity, and maintain empires, as against judicious application for improved living conditions for citizens.
The political parties are likely to deploy political thugs masked as party officials to the field to reinforce their internal strategic plans to achieve programmed goals. By their planned political conduct and indifference, the political parties will, unwittingly, diminish the value of human lives during the general elections. This is the picture of what the country will experience in next year’s general elections.
Before you ask me for proof, go and verify the antecedents of political parties and how their leaders ignited the political atmosphere to set the tone for violence and rigging through their utterances and body language, influenced by irrational desires to achieve electoral victory at all costs. Except for former President Goodluck Jonathan, all presidential candidates since 1999 to date are guilty of stoking the polity through their predilection and declarations.
For example, prelude to the April 2007 Presidential election, the then President Olusegun Obasanjo had alluded that the election would be a “do-or-die affair”. As simple as the statement was, it encouraged supporters of the Peoples’ Democratic Party (PDP) to go the extra mile to push for victory at all costs without thought of probable consequences. Evidently, this resulted in violence and fatalities across the country.
Also, during the 2011 elections, when former and late President Muhammadu Buhari, then candidate of Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), lost to Goodluck Jonathan, his demeanour and post-election utterances, undeniably, provoked and encouraged election violence in parts of the country, particularly in the north-west.
According to Human Rights Watch, over 800 people were killed, and more than 65,000 persons were displaced in the 2011 general elections following widespread protests and riots by Buhari’s supporters in the northern states. The killings, which were worsened by sectarian colouration, occurred in Adamawa, Bauchi, Borno, Gombe, Jigawa, Kaduna, Kano, Katsina, Niger, Sokoto, Yobe, and Zamfara.
Without showing empathy for the high number of Nigerians killed, including innocent National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) members, Buhari further threatened that if the next elections scheduled for 2015 were rigged like the 2011 elections, “the dog and the baboon would all be soaked in blood”, implying that violence and death would be inevitable in the 2015 elections. Clearly, Buhari’s comment was an indication of political desperation, intended to use the threat of force and violence to effect the outcome of the political contest, as against allowing the impartial verdict of the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC).
Luckily for Nigeria, former President Jonathan conceded defeat, preventing Buhari’s threat from coming to pass in 2015. Jonathan’s action not only doused tension, but it also averted widespread killings and bloodshed that would have accompanied the announcement of the result in his favour, particularly in the northern part of the country. Jonathan’s position was obviously dictated by his philosophy that his ambition and that of anybody was not worth the blood of any Nigerian, which he held as an article of faith throughout the period of the 2015 general elections, preferring a credible and peaceful election.
Also, the incumbent President, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, is not immune from utterances that have encouraged violence. While addressing party members in London in 2023, Tinubu said political power was not served a la carte, but must be secured through intense efforts by “fighting for it, grabbing it, snatching it and running with it”. Whatever that means, this remark was not only unhelpful, it encouraged rigging and violence, as well as opened a new vista of political desperation and redefinition of new premises for an unhealthy autochthonous political process.
A parallel can be drawn between Tinubu’s statement and an incident that occurred at a polling unit in the Lekki axis of Lagos during the 2023 general elections. After queuing for hours in the sun to cast votes, just when ballot papers were to be counted at the end of voting, some thugs emerged from nowhere, scared away voters, seized the ballot box and left with it, perhaps, to thumbprint fresh ballot papers. Surely, there is a correlation between their actions and the political philosophy of “fighting for it, grab it, snatch it and run with it”.
In a similar vein, the Secretary of the Board of Trustees of the New Nigeria People’s Party (NNPP), Alhaji Buba Galadima, recently advised Nigerians to defend their votes in the coming 2027 elections with “bottles and jerry cans of kerosene”. This is an obvious reference to violence and an invitation to anarchy. Indeed, it is a precursor, as a worst-case scenario marked by an unhealthy electoral struggle will be thrown up in the 2027 general elections, where the value of human lives will be degraded.
The culture of killings in every election circle in Nigeria has become legendary. Among all African countries, and indeed, the world over where elections are conducted, Nigeria is reputed for election manipulation and violence, attracting undue global spotlight. As elections draw closer, skepticism, uncertainty, fear, and apprehension permeate the atmosphere due to expected violence.
Though it is the responsibility of the government to protect and guarantee the safety of lives during elections, past assurances by the government to protect the lives of citizens did not translate to safety. When a few successes are discounted, you find that security agencies have proved to be incapable of handling high-level violence, like what happened in the 2011 elections, where over 800 people lost their lives.
From antecedents, politicians are careless about deaths and can sacrifice the blood of innocent Nigerians on the altar of electoral victory. Their interests and activities are driven more by the value of votes, as evident during post-election litigations where they seek legal redress for electoral malpractice rather than justice for the dead.
Sadly, the coming deaths will dwarf all previous politically related killings in the country, necessitating the need to prioritise personal safety. It is imperative to identify and avoid electoral black spots that are notorious for violence. Political thugs are likely to trigger violence by creating an atmosphere of fear and intimidation at polling units aimed at electoral manipulations.
Citizens are therefore advised to devise safety nets that will shield and guarantee personal safety in the event of an obvious threat to life, even if it means avoiding polling booths. Recalled that Nigerians who died during previous election cycles had since been forgotten, and the country moved on without them. Therefore, citizens need to protect themselves to avoid being counted among the dead in the pending catastrophe in 2027.
Dr Mike Owhoko, Lagos-based public policy analyst, author, and journalist, can be reached at www.mikeowhoko.com and followed on X (formerly Twitter) @michaelowhoko.
Feature/OPED
Trapped Between Nigeria’s Failure and South Africa’s Xenophobic Violence
By Blaise Udunze
When the word “xenophobic” is talked about, most affected African countries tend to focus on the pains being experienced by their citizens in South Africa. For a moment, it calls for Nigeria and the rest of the African continent to pause and ask, how did we get here?
The recent happenings across the streets of Johannesburg, Pretoria, and Durban, a painful pattern continues to unfold with frightening and fearful regularity, as Nigerian-owned businesses are looted, migrants hunted, families displaced, and African nationals reduced to targets of rage. If asked, the majority would chorus that the recurring images of xenophobic violence in South Africa are disturbing enough, and no doubt, yes, but the deeper tragedy is beyond the flames and bloodshed. It lies in the silent failures back home that forced many Nigerians into vulnerable exile in the first place.
The reality, as a matter of fact, is that to understand the suffering of Nigerians in South Africa, one must first confront the uncomfortable truth that xenophobia is not merely a South African problem. It is also a Nigerian governance problem exported abroad.
Nigeria, often celebrated as the “Giant of Africa,” has now become the “Mama Africa” who has failed to nurture her many children, with the fact that behind every Nigerian fleeing hardship for survival, known as the “japa” syndrome, in another African country is a story shaped by economic frustration, failed institutions, poor leadership, unemployment, and a financial system disconnected from the realities of ordinary citizens.
One apt way to confirm these inimical factors, the South African president, Cyril Ramaphosa, recently acknowledged this uncomfortable reality when he urged African leaders to address the domestic failures driving mass migration across the continent. Speaking amid renewed anti-foreigner tensions, Ramaphosa identified “misgovernance” as one of the factors forcing Africans to seek refuge in countries like South Africa. Of a truth, his comments may have generated debate, and some “patriotic Nigerians” may also want to prove him wrong, but they reflected a painful reality many African governments would rather avoid.
Nigeria, despite its vast human and natural resources, has increasingly become a country where millions no longer see a future at home. This is a critical irony and the height of it all because a nation blessed with oil wealth and entrepreneurial energy and one of the youngest populations in the world is yet burdened by systemic corruption, policy inconsistency, infrastructural collapse, and a leadership class that has often prioritised politics over productivity, especially with the imminence of an election.
It is so detestable and at the same time fearful that the result is a generation of young Nigerians trapped between hopelessness and migration.
One regrettable experience that has continued to haunt the country for decades is that successive governments have squandered opportunities that could have transformed Nigeria into an industrial and economic powerhouse. Public resources that should have been invested in power, roads, healthcare, manufacturing, education and enterprise development have either disappeared into private pockets or become trapped in wasteful bureaucratic structures.
Reports indicating that over $214 billion in public funds may have been lost, diverted, or trapped in opaque fiscal systems over the last decade capture the scale of Nigeria’s accountability crisis. Whether exact or conservative, such figures reveal a country losing resources or funds rapidly from severe bleeding that could have changed millions of lives.
Looking intently at these developments, one would know that the tragedy is not merely corruption itself but the opportunities corruption destroyed.
Come to think of this fact that with proper governance and strategic economic planning, Nigeria could have developed a thriving SME ecosystem capable of employing millions of citizens. Instead, unemployment and underemployment have become defining realities of national life. The World Economic Forum recently identified unemployment and lack of economic opportunity as Nigeria’s greatest economic threat, yet the country continues to struggle with coherent employment data and long-term economic direction.
This economic suffocation explains why migration has become less of a choice and more of a survival strategy for many Nigerians.
At the centre of this crisis is another troubling contradiction, which is that Nigeria’s banking sector appears increasingly profitable while the real economy continues to deteriorate.
Ordinarily, banks in developing economies are expected to function as engines of growth by financing productive sectors, supporting innovation, and empowering small businesses. Across the world, SMEs are recognised as the backbone of grassroots economic development, and the tangible result is that they create jobs, stimulate local production, and expand economic participation.
In Nigeria, SMEs account for over 70 per cent of registered businesses, contribute nearly half of the country’s GDP and generate between 84 and 90 per cent of employment. Yet, despite their enormous economic importance, SMEs receive barely between 0.5 per cent and one per cent of total commercial bank lending.
This is not just a policy failure; it is an economic tragedy. Rather than financing entrepreneurs and productive enterprises, Nigerian banks have increasingly found comfort in investing heavily in government treasury securities. In 2025 alone, major Nigerian banks reportedly generated N6.68 trillion from total investment securities and treasury bills, benefiting from high-yield government debt instruments instead of supporting businesses capable of creating jobs.
The banking sector’s recapitalisation exercise, which successfully raised N4.56 trillion, was celebrated as a regulatory achievement. But the critical question remains. The recapitalisation is for what purpose?
If stronger banks continue to avoid the productive economy while SMEs remain starved of affordable credit, recapitalisation merely strengthens financial institutions without strengthening national development.
Today, private sector credit in Nigeria remains significantly low compared to many African economies. High interest rates, excessive collateral demands, weak credit infrastructure and risk-averse banking practices have created an environment where small businesses struggle to survive, and these implications are devastating.
Every denied SME loan is a denied employment opportunity. Every failed business is another frustrated entrepreneur. Every frustrated entrepreneur is another Nigerian considering migration.
This is how economic dysfunction transforms into human displacement. In a situation like this, it is noteworthy to state that South Africa naturally becomes an attractive destination because of its relatively advanced infrastructure and larger economy. Today, this has informed Nigerians and other African countries alike to migrate there, not because they hate their country but because they are searching for dignity through work and enterprise.
Yet, in a cruel twist, many become targets of xenophobic violence. Foreign nationals are accused of “taking jobs,” dominating businesses, and contributing to crime. Shops are attacked. Businesses are burned. Lives are lost.
It is not a surprise anymore that the disturbing rhetoric surrounding xenophobia has become increasingly normalised and perceived as fighting against saboteurs. Another major concern is that social media posts celebrating violence against Nigerians reveal a frightening and fearful dehumanisation of fellow Africans. This has continued to be heralded unaddressed, as some extremist anti-migrant groups now openly mobilise hostility against foreign nationals under the guise of economic nationalism.
Yet, as opposition leader Julius Malema rightly asked during one of the recent xenophobic debates. “After attacking foreigners and shutting down their businesses, how many jobs have actually been created?” If you are smart enough to know, it is glaring that this is a question that cuts through the emotional manipulation surrounding xenophobia, which also reflects the fact that destroying a Nigerian-owned shop does not solve unemployment, nor does killing migrants create prosperity. Violence against fellow Africans does not fix structural inequality.
Malema’s argument was blunt but accurate in revealing that xenophobia is not an economic strategy. It must be perceived with the right perspective as the symptom of deeper failures, poverty, inequality, weak governance, and political frustration.
Historically, just like other colonised African countries, South Africa itself carries deep old wounds. The legacy of apartheid left enduring economic inequalities, spatial segregation, unemployment, and psychological scars, but this should not continue to shape social tensions today. What is of concern is that the same people, like other African countries, experienced, were expected to remain forward-looking and forge ahead rather than dwell in the past.
It is even more pathetic that decades after the fall of apartheid, millions of Black South Africans remain trapped in poverty and exclusion; perhaps they are not to be blamed for their failures as they claimed, but the foreigners who didn’t stop them from exerting their skills become the scapegoats.
That frustration often seeks an outlet, and immigrants become easy scapegoats. This, however, does not excuse the brutality.
The stories emerging from xenophobic attacks are horrifying and very dastardly and humiliating, as African migrants have reportedly been beaten, burned alive, stoned, and hunted in communities where they once sought refuge, as two Nigerian citizens were said to have been beaten and burnt to death. To say the least, the pain becomes even more ironic when viewed against history.
Because Nigeria played a major role in supporting South Africa’s anti-apartheid struggle, ranging from financial assistance to diplomatic pressure, scholarships, activism, and cultural solidarity, Nigerians stood firmly with Black South Africans during some of apartheid’s darkest years, which was enough to prevent such ugly events. Nigeria did so much to the point that Nigerian students contributed financially to anti-apartheid campaigns. Nigerian musicians used music to mobilise continental resistance. Successive governments invested enormous diplomatic and material resources into the liberation struggle.
The children and grandchildren of those who made such sacrifices are now among those facing hostility in South Africa today.
History makes the tragedy even heavier. Yet, Nigeria must also confront its own failures honestly. The truth is, if Nigeria had invested half the energy it spent supporting external liberation struggles into building a functional domestic economy, perhaps millions of Nigerians would not be fleeing abroad in search of economic survival today.
The painful reality is that many Nigerians abroad are not economic adventurers; they are economic exiles.
The ugliest side of it all is that they are exiled by unemployment, exiled by corruption, and exiled by policy failures. Again, they are exiled by a system that has repeatedly failed to convert national wealth into shared prosperity but into embezzlement that still finds its resting place in a foreign account.
This is why solving xenophobia requires more than diplomatic protests or emotional outrage, as exuded in the National Assembly by some members like Adams Oshiomhole and others. This calls for the political actors and those in the financial space to fix the conditions that force Nigerians into vulnerable migration in the first place.
One undeniable fact is that, as a country, Nigeria must fundamentally rethink governance and economic management as it takes into consideration the following solutions.
First, public accountability must become non-negotiable and should not be compromised anywhere. Corruption and resource mismanagement are critical and have robbed generations of opportunities, and these are the major traits fueling the exile. Infrastructure, industrial development, education, and healthcare must become genuine priorities rather than campaign slogans, as all these must become a reality, not a feeble promise.
Second, the banking sector must reconnect with the real economy. Financial institutions cannot continue generating enormous profits from government securities while productive sectors collapse. The government should hold a roundtable discussion with banks, which must be incentivised and, where necessary, compelled to increase lending to SMEs and productive industries capable of generating employment.
Third, there must be deliberate and conscious investment in skills, innovation, and entrepreneurship. Young Nigerians should not have to leave their homeland merely to survive because it is an aberration for a country that is enormously rich but still has some of its best hands eloping from the country.
Finally, African governments must reject the politics of division and scapegoating. This contradiction is at its height because Africa cannot claim to pursue continental unity while Africans are hunted in other African countries.
In all of the deliberation, the truth remains the same, in the sense that the story of Nigerians suffering xenophobic violence in South Africa is ultimately a story about failed systems on both sides, one on the side of economic failures pushing migrants out and the social failures turning migrants into enemies.
Until these structural realities are confronted with honesty and urgency, the cycle will continue. More young Nigerians will leave. More migrants will become vulnerable. More African societies will turn inward against each other.
But this trajectory is not irreversible. One gift that can’t be taken away from Nigerians is that Nigeria still possesses the talent, entrepreneurial energy, and human capital necessary to build a prosperous economy that gives its citizens reasons to stay rather than flee. The truth is that what has been lacking is not potential but responsible leadership and economic vision.
The true solution to xenophobia may therefore begin far away from the streets of Johannesburg or Durban. It may begin in Abuja, with governance that works, institutions that serve, banks that invest in people, and leadership that finally understands that national dignity is measured not by speeches but by whether citizens can build meaningful lives at home.
Until then, the “japa” flag will keep flying, as many Nigerians will remain exiled, not merely by borders, but by the failures of the country they still desperately want to believe in.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: [email protected]
Feature/OPED
Why East Africa is Emerging as Africa’s Trade Growth Engine
By Elvis Ndunguru
East Africa, led by Kenya, is emerging as a powerful trade hub driven by infrastructure investment, regional integration and expanding intra-African trade. As a gateway for natural resources, it boasts rare earths, gold, nickel, cobalt, graphite, and other commodities the world needs.
Trade finance is the key to unlocking cross-border flows, supporting SMEs and enabling regional value chains, opening up economic benefits for the region.
As East African trade accelerates, better Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) policies have a stronger bearing on the Tanzanian mainland and Zanzibar, attracting capital movement. As stronger regional demand reshapes trade patterns, increased urbanisation and population growth are driving intra-African trade in fast-moving consumer goods (FMCG), construction materials, and processed goods. Improving macro-stability boosts investability as better fiscal and monetary management emerge.
But global flows demand dependence on solid infrastructure. As corridor-led infrastructure unlocks trade flows, investments in establishing ports, rail, and roads enable trade in new ways. For example, the Port of Mombasa and the Standard Gauge Railway are reducing transit times and connecting important inland markets like Uganda and Rwanda. Regional integration is being driven particularly under the East African Community (EAC) and the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA), resulting in lowered tariff and non-tariff barriers.
Between South Tanzania and North Kenya, strategically placed ports improve both inter- and intra-continental trade flow. To bolster regional connectivity, Tanzania will spend 12 trillion shillings (TZS) on port expansions. Meanwhile, the $1.4 billion Tazara (Tanzania-Zambia Railway Authority) Railway rehabilitation is underway. Kenya is investing in rail, and a new fuel pipeline is being established from Uganda to Tanzania. The Tanzania Standard Gauge Railway is indeed positioned to complement and strategically link with the Lobito Corridor, even though they originate in different parts of the continent. The strategic connection lies in creating a transcontinental logistics network for DRC: goods (especially critical minerals like copper and cobalt) can move more efficiently across Africa, either east to Indian Ocean markets or west to Atlantic routes. This reduces reliance on single export routes, improves resilience, and enhances intra-African trade under frameworks like the African Continental Free Trade Area.
These developments give life to new trade flows, like transporting fuel from Uganda to the Middle East, or moving copper from Congo to China.
In the SADC and EAC regions, comprising over half a billion people, the demand for goods and services, including fuel, is significant. Regional agreements must be fostered to harmonise customs, tariffs, regulations, and the movement of goods, people and services. Frameworks like the EAC Customs Union and AfCFTA have reduced tariffs, but the system is often plagued by border delays and inconsistent enforcement, which dilute the impact of trade.
If banks with trade finance capabilities, including institutions like Absa with a growing pan-African footprint, support infrastructure development, this will boost connectivity, lower transport costs, and improve trade opportunities. Currently, it’s cheaper to move goods from China to Dar es Salaam than to transport them from Dar es Salaam to Mwanza, a region within Tanzania.
Trade finance is most impactful in sectors with predictable cross-border demand, such as agriculture, energy, and FMCG. Structured trade finance and supply chain finance help large corporates extend terms to suppliers, indirectly supporting SME participation.
The East African economy is largely driven by SMEs. In Tanzania, 96% of our economy depends on SMEs, but they lack funding to support themselves. The majority are trade-based, with imports from the Middle East, China, India, and others, and exports like minerals or agri-commodities to other parts of the world. While banks can help support SMEs, the locals must also support them to benefit the local market.
Besides raising capital, risk perception and informality are constraints to their success. Better credit data with digital identities and scalable guarantee schemes backed by Development Finance Institutions (DFIs) helps to mitigate risk. While simplified, digital trade finance products are now available, these are still limited. Anchor-led eco-systems with stronger linkage to large corporates are manifesting in the mining, FMCG, manufacturing and agricultural sectors.
DFIs, as key stakeholders, can work alongside financial institutions to help enhance trade routes. While it might be difficult for them to be on the ground, they can collaborate with the banks in certain markets within the continent to extend their reach.
To help with digitisation, we must empower fintechs to enable much stronger platforms. In Tanzania, SME customers work together to collaborate on small platforms to submit bulk orders to China. There’s strength in numbers.
Banks have the capabilities to support trade flows and payments via digitisation in areas like Ethiopia and the DRC. While some markets like DRC are high-risk, our competitors are growing there. Last year, a regional bank made 30% of its profit in Congo, for example. We can find safe ways to play in those markets, selecting the sectors in which we can perform.
Banks with a Pan-African presence, such as Absa, which operates across key trade corridors, must bring a true corridor strategy to build sector-specific solutions like agri-value chains across multiple countries; use digital platforms to serve mid-market clients, not just large corporates; partner with DFIs to expand risk appetite in frontier markets; and position themselves as a trade enabler, not just financiers, by integrating advisory, foreign exchange, and working capital solutions.
The real differentiator will be the ability to intermediate not just capital, but meaningful connectivity, helping to link clients across markets, currencies, and the supply chain.
Elvis Ndunguru is the Managing Executive for Absa Corporate and Investment Banking, NBC, Tanzania
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