Feature/OPED
A Generation Under Siege as Nigeria’s Drug Crisis Deepens
By Blaise Udunze
This piece speaks directly to the current consciousness of many Nigerians as some crises erupt with noise, explosions of violence, economic shocks, political upheavals and then some unfold quietly, steadily, almost invisibly, until their consequences become impossible to ignore.
Nigeria today is living through the latter. Today, this hardly or rarely dominates the front pages of newspapers with the same sustained urgency. Still, the truth is that it depends on whether it is reshaping communities, distorting futures, and hollowing out the very foundation of the nation’s promise.
With the rate at which drug abuse has festered among young Nigerians, it is no longer a social concern. It is a national emergency, silent, systemic, and dangerously underestimated.
The big picture of a bright future led by the youth of today and leaders of tomorrow is gradually fading away, thanks to the menace of drugs. Unfortunately, it is a national problem linked to all other criminal activities, but the system does not consider it critical. A generation of people is gradually being wiped out. The implications of these are too dire even to contemplate.
It is now alarming, as the numbers alone are staggering. Looking closely at the report by the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime reveals that 14.4 per cent of Nigerians between the ages of 15 and 64, roughly 14.3 million people, use psychoactive substances, nearly three times the global average. Even more troubling, which calls for public concern, is that one in five of these users suffers from drug-related disorders requiring urgent treatment. The implication is clear since this is not casual use; it is a deepening public health crisis.
To many Nigerians, these statistics, as revealed, appear alarming, but the underlying fact is that they are only a scratch on the surface of a much darker reality, which the eyes cannot see.
Across Lagos, Kano, Onitsha, and countless towns in between, drug abuse is no longer hidden. It is visible in motor parks where tramadol is sold as casually as bottled water, in university hostels where “home mixes” circulate as social currency, and in street corners where teenagers inhale toxic concoctions in search of escape. Substances that were once tightly regulated, codeine, opioids, and benzodiazepines, are now frighteningly accessible. Others, far more dangerous, are improvised through mixtures of gutter water, chemicals, and pharmaceuticals designed not for healing, but for oblivion.
What is emerging is not just a culture of drug use, but an ecosystem of addiction.
Let us consider the disturbing normalisation of concoctions like “Omi Gutter” (gutter water) or “Jiko”, lethal blends of tramadol, codeine, cannabis, and other substances, just to mention a few. The fear in all of this is that these are not isolated experiments; they are part of a growing subculture among young people seeking relief from pressures they can neither articulate nor escape. Let us see the irony from the point that the deaths incurred from overdoses, seizures, and organ failure are increasingly reported, yet rarely provoke sustained national outrage.
This silence is part of the problem, and what society has failed to recognise is that they are yet to understand the scale of the crisis; one must go beyond the streets and into the systems that have failed to contain it.
What must be known today is that Nigeria’s drug epidemic is deeply intertwined with a mental health crisis that remains largely unaddressed, which appears difficult to deal with because the system’s attention is divided by other trivialities. According to the World Health Organisation, one in four Nigerians, an estimated 50 million people, suffer from some form of mental illness. This is such a fearful trend, whilst among adolescents, the situation is even more fragile. Today, the trend in Nigeria, globally, is also on record that 14 per cent of young people experience mental health challenges, with suicide ranking among the leading causes of death for those aged 15 to 29.
In Nigeria, however, these issues are compounded by stigma, neglect, and systemic absence.
A study conducted in a Borstal Institution in North-Central Nigeria found that 82.5 per cent of adolescent boys had psychiatric disorders. The breakdown actually revealed that disruptive behaviour disorders accounted for 40.8 per cent, substance use disorders 15.8 per cent, anxiety disorders 14.2 per cent, psychosis 6.7 per cent, and mood disorders five per cent. These are not marginal figures; they point to a generation grappling with profound psychological distress.
Many of these boys, according to the timely warning from Professor Olurotimi Coker of the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, which he revealed, is that they suffer in silence. This, he discloses, is constrained by societal expectations that equate vulnerability with weakness. In a culture where young men are expected to “be strong,” emotional struggles are buried, not addressed. Drugs, in this context, become both refuge and rebellion, a way to cope, to escape, and sometimes, to belong.
The tragedy is that what begins as coping often ends in captivity. The clear fact, which the system must not ignore, is that the crisis does not exist in isolation, yes! because it feeds into and is fed by Nigeria’s broader challenges of insecurity and alongside economic instability. Research by scholars from Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu University highlights a dangerous nexus between substance abuse and national security. Drug trafficking networks do not merely distribute substances; they sustain criminal economies, fund violent groups, and perpetuate cycles of instability.
A review of some of the developments will drive us to the activities in the Lake Chad Basin, for instance, an open secret is that insurgent groups such as Boko Haram and Islamic State West Africa Province have been linked to drug trafficking operations. According to regional security analyses, these groups rely on narcotics, from tramadol to cocaine, to finance operations, recruit fighters, and embolden combatants. The use of drugs to suppress fear and heighten aggression among fighters underscores a chilling reality, which obviously shows that Nigeria’s drug crisis is not just a health issue; it is a security threat. To confirm this, only recently, during an interview with Arise TV, General Christopher Musa, the Minister of Defence, concurred that when many of these terrorists are arrested, they are often found to be under the influence of drugs.” He stated that they use different substances, including injectables, which affect their thinking and reduce their fear or sense of pain. In General Musa’s words: “You are dealing with somebody whose mind is made up that if he dies, he doesn’t care. Most times when we arrest them, they are on drugs, so they don’t care, they don’t even feel it, they have Injectables, you get them with all those drugs. So that is how they operate.”
This convergence of addiction and violence creates a vicious cycle. History has shown that drugs fuel crime; crime sustains drug networks, and for this reason, young people, caught in the middle, are both victims and instruments, recruited as couriers, enforcers, and, in some cases, political thugs. One recent example that occurred earlier this month is that of a teenager aged 15 named Tijjani. He was arrested by the Nigerian Army in connection with the Boko Haram deadly attack on military positions in Borno that claimed the life of Brigadier-General Oseni Braimah and other soldiers.
In the political space, history offers a warning because it brings to mind the scenario that played out during the 2011 post-election violence in Nigeria, which claimed over 800 lives in just three days, with the same pattern occurring in the 2023 elections. What Nigerians must know is that these trends expose how easily unemployed, disillusioned youths can be mobilised for violence. In most cases, this happens under the influence of substances, and of concern is that similar patterns are re-emerging currently, raising urgent questions about the future of Nigeria’s democracy.
At the same time, economic realities continue to deepen vulnerability. Youth unemployment and underemployment remain persistently high despite the official rate currently at 5 per cent, which appears to be low under the newer methodology, while the alternative estimate was around 22 per cent in 2025, leaving millions in limbo today. The fact is that, regrettably, for many, the promise of education has not translated into opportunity. As a matter of fact, in many homes, degrees hang on walls, but jobs remain elusive. And that is why, in this vacuum, drugs offer something the system does not in the case of temporary relief from frustration, anxiety, and stagnation.
Even more alarming is how early exposure begins.
A quick look at some reports in Nigeria reveals that hardly any month passed in 2021 without any significant cases of vast amounts of drugs seized at the import gateways in Nigeria or a Nigerian caught abroad with a large consignment of drugs being smuggled into another country. These seizures have shed light on how the work of trafficking networks is facilitated by a range of actors, including alleged businesspeople, politicians, celebrities, and students. Nigeria’s porous borders, weak institutions, corrupt practices, political patronage, poverty, and ethnic identities enable traffickers to avoid detection by the formal security apparatus. There are even times when the conventional security apparatus itself provides cover for traffickers, giving rise to legitimate concerns about the ability of criminal networks and illicit drug monies to infiltrate security and government agencies, transform or influence the motivations of its members, reorient objectives towards the spoils of drug trafficking activity, thus undermining the democratic processes. Still on the supply side is the new availability of cheap opioids in the open market under different brand names.
In Lagos State alone, a 2024 study by the combined team of the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA) and the Federal Ministry of Education found an alarming fact that 13.6 per cent of secondary school students had experimented with drugs, while 6.9 per cent were active users. Unbeknownst to most Nigerians is the fact that these figures represent not just experimentation, but a pipeline into long-term dependency.
This is also confirmed by the Chairman/Chief Executive Officer of the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA), Buba Marwa, who said substance abuse had moved beyond the streets and was now a growing problem within lecture halls and campuses when he spoke on “High Today, Lost Tomorrow: The Real Cost of Drug Abuse on Campus.” Marwa, who further raised concerns over the increasing use of social media platforms for drug distribution, as well as the involvement of students in trafficking, stated that the drug scene had evolved from the use of traditional substances, like cannabis, to more dangerous synthetic opioids and designer drugs, such as Colorado, Loud, and Methamphetamine.
It is more fearful to know that beyond the university students, children as young as 12 are being introduced to substances not through sophisticated cartels, but through peers, neighbourhood influences, and easy market access. Drugs that require prescriptions are sold openly in markets and motor parks, often cheaper than a soft drink. A sachet of tramadol can cost as little as N100.
One surprising revelation is that some of the more dangerous substances, such as petrol fumes, glue, sewage mixtures, are used freely because they are costless. It is now understood that this is not merely a matter of accessibility, but a systemic failure.
Law enforcement efforts, while significant, remain insufficient relative to the scale of the problem, as large-scale numbers of drugs have found their way into society. They can still claim to have succeeded as the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency said to have recorded notable successes, though, with over 57,000 arrests, more than 10,000 convictions, and nearly 10 million kilograms of seized drugs in recent years. Even with these records, it is glaring that society has continued to witness thousands of addicts being rehabilitated, and millions of students have been reached through advocacy campaigns.
Yet, as described earlier, these achievements, though commendable, are dwarfed by the magnitude of the crisis, which gives no room for law enforcement to make any holistic claims of sanitising the system. Seeing the sheer volume of drug inflows, from heroin in Asia, cocaine from South America, cannabis from North Africa, and synthetic drugs from Europe, suggests a system under siege. Enforcement alone cannot outpace demand.
And demand, in Nigeria today, is expanding. Nowhere is the human cost more visible than among the homeless youth population. Along the Oshodi rail corridor in Lagos, thousands of young people live in precarious and questionable conditions, sleeping under bridges and railway platforms, exposed daily to drugs, violence, and exploitation, as they carelessly lose their lives, and some have spent years, even decades, in these environments. Sincerely, there must be this understanding that for many, addiction is both a cause and a consequence of their circumstances.
Some struggling segments of people in society can be linked to broader socio-economic and systemic failures that are associated with widening inequality, lack of social housing, inadequate education, and the absence of structured rehabilitation programs. Another aspect of this that can’t be left out and should be addressed expeditiously is that these vulnerable youths are reportedly recruited into political violence, reinforcing a dangerous cycle of neglect and exploitation, and it must be established that it has become a norm in society.
This is where the conversation must shift, from individual responsibility to systemic accountability.
Drug abuse in Nigeria is not simply about bad choices, as most people perceive it; it is about limited choices if properly looked into. Just as well said, the trend shows that it is about a young man who takes tramadol to endure the physical strain of daily labour, and continues using it long after the pain is gone because addiction has taken hold. Sometimes, it can also be about a teenager who experiments out of curiosity and eventually finds herself trapped in dependency. It is about a boy who cannot and is unable to express or confront his emotional pain, so he copes by suppressing or numbing it instead, while also looking at a society that has normalised survival at the expense of well-being.
The policy response, however, has yet to match the urgency of the crisis, and with this challenge, it will be said that Nigeria lacks a fully integrated national strategy that connects drug prevention, mental health care, education reform, and economic inclusion.
The consequence is a reactive system in a crisis that demands prevention. What would a meaningful response look like?
First, it would reframe drug abuse as a public health emergency. This means prioritising treatment, rehabilitation, and prevention alongside enforcement. Addiction must be treated as a medical condition, not merely a criminal offence.
Second, it would integrate mental health into primary healthcare. Access to counselling, therapy, and early intervention must be expanded, particularly for young people. Schools, communities, and digital platforms should become entry points for support, not just discipline.
Third, it would invest in education reform that goes beyond academics. When this is done, life skills, emotional intelligence, and drug awareness must be embedded in curricula. Students need tools to navigate pressure, not just pass exams.
Fourth, it would address economic exclusion. Job creation, vocational training, and entrepreneurship support must be scaled to match the size of Nigeria’s youth population. Opportunity is one of the most powerful antidotes to despair.
Fifth, it would strengthen community-based interventions. Families, religious institutions, and local leaders must be empowered to recognise early warning signs and provide support. Addiction is rarely an individual battle; it is a collective one.
Finally, it would demand accountability. Data must guide policy, and outcomes must be measured. Good intentions are no substitute for measurable impact.
Nigeria stands at a defining moment and must be aware that its youth population remains its greatest asset but also its greatest risk. The fear today that should be in the heart of many and must suffice as a warning is that a generation lost to addiction is not just a social tragedy; it is a national failure.
The warning signs are already here in the statistics, in the streets, in the stories that rarely make headlines. The question is whether the country is willing to listen. Because silence, in this case, is not neutrality. It is complicity.
And if this silent emergency continues unchecked, Nigeria may soon discover that what it is losing is not just its youth but its future.
By Timi Olubiyi, PhD
Currently, many are passing through one of the most difficult times due to inflationary pressures. From transportation to food, electricity, healthcare, school fees, rent, and communication, the rising cost of living has altered the daily experience of millions of households. What used to be considered necessities have now become luxuries for many families. Across the country, the average citizen is under enormous pressure to survive amid worsening inflation, shrinking purchasing power, and economic uncertainty.
While inflation is a global phenomenon, the Nigerian experience has become particularly severe because of the combined effects of fuel subsidy removal, exchange rate volatility, high transportation costs, insecurity in food-producing regions, and weak wage growth. The reality of petrol selling at nearly N1,400 per litre in some parts of the country has significantly changed household economics and business sustainability. The consequences are visible everywhere in markets, offices, homes, schools, hospitals, and on the streets.
In practical terms, transportation fares have more than tripled in many cities within a short period. Food inflation has equally become alarming. Bread, eggs, cooking gas, yams, tomatoes, beans, and other staple foods continue to rise beyond the reach of average Nigerians. Electricity tariffs and telecommunications costs have also increased, while rent in urban centres keeps climbing. Unfortunately, salaries and wages have not kept pace with these realities. This is perhaps the greatest crisis confronting workers and small business owners today. Many employees still earn wages negotiated several years ago under entirely different economic conditions. Yet the value of those salaries has been severely eroded by inflation. In real terms, many workers are poorer today despite remaining employed.
The truth is that the salary structure available now can no longer effectively support decent living standards for many households. Even professionals with stable employment now struggle to meet basic obligations. Civil servants, teachers, artisans, small traders, entrepreneurs, and even middle-income earners are feeling the weight of the economic squeeze.
For many families, survival now depends on borrowing, reducing consumption, postponing healthcare, or sacrificing savings and investments. More troubling is the psychological effect of this prolonged hardship. Economic pressure is increasingly and significantly affecting mental health, marriages, productivity, and social stability.
Anxiety, frustration, depression, anger, and emotional exhaustion are becoming common experiences among citizens trying to survive difficult conditions. Difficult times and hardship often fuel marital conflicts, domestic tension, and reduced emotional well-being. In workplaces, economic uncertainty lowers morale, concentration, and productivity as employees struggle to cope with transportation costs, food, and other basic needs.
In fact, many people now live permanently in survival mode, uncertain about what tomorrow may bring. Businesses are equally under pressure. Rising operational costs continue to threaten sustainability, especially for small and medium-scale enterprises. Diesel prices, transportation costs, imported raw materials, electricity bills, taxation, and weak consumer spending have reduced profitability across many sectors. Several businesses have downsized operations, reduced staff strength, or shut down completely. Others remain in operation but merely struggle to survive.
Consequently, the era when a single salary could comfortably sustain a family is gradually disappearing in Nigeria. One of the clearest lessons from the current economic climate is that relying solely on one source of income has become increasingly risky. Economic realities now require individuals and households to think beyond traditional salary structures and embrace income diversification. In fact, multiple streams of income are no longer optional; they are becoming a necessity for financial survival and resilience. Families that depend entirely on one monthly salary are highly exposed to economic shocks, inflation, job loss, or business disruptions. The harsh reality is that even regular employment no longer guarantees financial security.
Therefore, Nigerians must begin to intentionally explore additional income opportunities that can complement existing earnings. This does not necessarily mean abandoning primary jobs or businesses, but rather creating alternative sources of income that can provide support during difficult times. Technology and digital platforms have made this more possible than ever before. Social media, e-commerce, freelancing, online consulting, digital content creation, virtual training, and remote services now offer opportunities for additional income generation.
Many professionals can monetise their knowledge, experience, or talents through side engagements without compromising their primary employment. In a way, passive income opportunities such as agriculture, cooperative investments, real estate, dividend-paying stocks, mutual funds, and small-scale trading can help cushion economic shocks over time. Land acquisition, for instance, remains one of the most reliable long-term stores of value in Nigeria despite current economic challenges. Assets that appreciate over time can provide financial protection against inflation. More so, living below one’s means may no longer be a matter of choice but a practical necessity under present realities. The culture of excessive social competition and pressure to maintain appearances despite declining income can worsen financial stress. Economic survival today requires financial honesty, discipline, and strategic planning.
In conclusion, the current economic realities in Nigeria demand a shift in mindset, financial behaviour, and survival strategies. Fuel at N1,400 per litre is not merely an energy issue; it affects transportation, food prices, school fees, healthcare costs, business operations, and overall quality of life.
Inflation has redefined daily living for millions of Nigerians. Therefore, building multiple streams of income, improving financial literacy, embracing prudent spending, and investing for the future are no longer luxury ideas but necessary responses to economic realities.
The truth is simple: depending solely on salary income in today’s Nigeria may no longer be sufficient for financial stability. The earlier households adapt to this reality, the better positioned they may be to survive and thrive despite the challenges ahead. Good luck!
How may you obtain advice or further information on the article?
Dr Timi Olubiyi is an expert in Entrepreneurship and Business Management, holding a PhD in Business Administration from Babcock University in Nigeria. He is a prolific investment coach, author, columnist, and seasoned scholar. Additionally, he is a Chartered Member of the Chartered Institute for Securities and Investment (CISI) and a registered capital market operator with the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). He can be reached through his Twitter handle @drtimiolubiyi and via email at [email protected] for any questions, feedback, or comments. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author, Dr Timi Olubiyi, and do not necessarily reflect the views of others.
By Blaise Udunze
Nigeria’s banking industry appears to be booming, largely driven by the policies of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN), under Governor Olayemi Cardoso, while the real economy continues to suffocate.
At a time when millions of Nigerians are sinking deeper into poverty, when inflation continues to erode household incomes, when businesses are collapsing under unbearable operating costs, and when migration has become a survival strategy for many young professionals, Nigerian banks are announcing staggering profits, stronger capital positions and unprecedented liquidity growth.
According to the bank’s financial statements, the financial system appears healthy. In reality, the economy where citizens work, trade and survive is gasping for breath.
This growing disconnect between financial sector prosperity and economic suffering now represents one of the gravest threats to Nigeria’s long-term economic stability and its ambition of building a $1 trillion economy.
The numbers are indeed impressive. Nigerian banks’ shareholders’ funds reportedly surged to about N27 trillion following the recapitalisation exercise. The top five banks now command balance sheets estimated at over N164 trillion. Tier-1 banks collectively generated trillions in profits within the first quarter of 2026 alone, while the sector-wide recapitalisation exercise raised over N4.56 trillion.
Ordinarily, such figures should inspire confidence about the future of the economy. Stronger banks are expected to translate into stronger businesses, more jobs, industrial expansion and wider economic opportunities. But Nigeria’s experience is proving otherwise.
Instead of serving as engines of productive growth, banks are increasingly becoming custodians of liquidity trapped within the financial system itself. That is the real danger.
Even as banking liquidity expands sharply, lending to the productive economy remains weak and constrained. Reports indicate that banks parked a record N24.13 trillion with the CBN, while simultaneously increasing investments in government securities and treasury bills because these avenues are safer, more profitable and less risky than lending to businesses operating within Nigeria’s harsh economic climate. This reality exposes a dangerous contradiction.
A developing economy desperately in need of industrialisation, manufacturing growth, infrastructure expansion and job creation cannot afford a banking system that prefers financial safety over productive economic risk.
A sustainable economy cannot thrive where the real sector is starved of funds. Yet this is exactly where Nigeria now stands.
Despite the massive liquidity in the banking system, growth in lending to the private sector continues to lag behind the pace of liquidity expansion. The implication is clear. Financial sector strength is no longer translating into real economic development. This is not how healthy economies function.
Ordinarily, banks in developing economies are expected to operate as catalysts for economic transformation. Across successful economies, commercial banks finance manufacturing, agriculture, innovation, infrastructure and entrepreneurship because those sectors generate jobs, productivity and national wealth.
Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs), especially, are globally recognised as the backbone of grassroots economic development. Nigeria is no exception.
SMEs account for over 70 per cent of registered businesses, contribute nearly half of Nigeria’s GDP and generate between 84 and 90 per cent of employment opportunities. Yet despite their overwhelming importance, SMEs reportedly receive barely between 0.5 per cent and one per cent of total commercial bank lending. That is not merely a policy failure. It is an economic tragedy.
Every denied SME loan is a denied employment opportunity. Every failed business represents another frustrated entrepreneur. Every frustrated entrepreneur becomes another Nigerian contemplating migration.
This is how economic dysfunction transforms into human displacement. The so-called “Japa” phenomenon did not emerge in isolation. It is deeply connected to economic hopelessness. When productive citizens lose faith in their country’s economic future, migration stops being a lifestyle choice and becomes a survival mechanism.
Unbeknownst to the policymakers is that Nigeria cannot realistically build a $1 trillion economy while productive sectors remain financially suffocated.
A closer glance at the trend of events helps to reveal that the danger becomes even more severe when viewed against the backdrop of the recent outcome of the 305th Monetary Policy Committee (MPC) meeting, where the CBN retained the Monetary Policy Rate (MPR) at 26.5 per cent in its bid to sustain disinflation and macroeconomic stability.
It is understandable and certain that inflation control is important, but the fact is that at 15.69 per cent, inflation remains painfully high and continues to weaken purchasing power. Food prices remain elevated. Transportation costs remain unbearable. Consumer demand is weakening. The middle class is shrinking rapidly.
But maintaining elevated interest rates also comes with painful consequences. Simple arithmetic tells us that higher interest rates mean higher lending costs. Higher lending costs mean higher production costs. Higher production costs worsen inflationary pressures and weaken business survival rates.
Invariably, this also tells us that for Nigerian manufacturers and corporates already battling a weak naira, volatile exchange rates, expensive diesel, energy insecurity and declining consumer demand, access to affordable credit is becoming almost impossible.
Many businesses are no longer borrowing to expand production or employ workers. They are borrowing merely to survive. This is economic suffocation.
Meanwhile, banks continue to profit massively from high-yield government securities and treasury investments. Reports indicate that major Nigerian banks generated over N6.68 trillion from investment securities and treasury bills instead of financing productive enterprises capable of stimulating growth and employment.
The government’s appetite for borrowing itself shows no sign of slowing down. Public borrowing reportedly climbed above N39 trillion. Historically, excessive government borrowing crowds out private sector investment because banks naturally prefer lending to the government rather than exposing themselves to risks associated with businesses operating in unstable economic conditions.
The result is predictable. The real sector weakens while speculative and non-productive financial activities flourish. This explains why Nigeria increasingly resembles a financial system disconnected from the realities of ordinary citizens.
While banks celebrate rising profits, poverty and hunger worsen visibly across the country. Unemployment continues to rise. Small businesses are dying quietly. Household purchasing power is collapsing under inflationary pressure.
Yet the financial system appears more liquid than ever. That contradiction should alarm policymakers. The recapitalisation exercise itself now raises difficult questions.
What exactly is the purpose of stronger banks if stronger banks do not strengthen national productivity?
If recapitalisation merely empowers banks to deepen investments in government debt instruments while manufacturers, farmers, exporters and SMEs remain starved of affordable credit, then the exercise risks becoming financially impressive but economically hollow.
Indeed, the current monetary environment appears to reward financial conservatism over productive risk-taking.
The stringent Cash Reserve Requirement (CRR), elevated interest rates and broader macroeconomic uncertainty continue to discourage aggressive lending to the private sector. Banks understandably seek safety. But nations do not industrialise through excessive financial caution.
No economy develops when capital circulates primarily within treasury bills and government securities instead of flowing into factories, farms, logistics, housing, innovation and production.
This is the larger danger confronting Nigeria today. Economic crises rarely begin with recession statistics alone. Sometimes, they begin when financial institutions become detached from the suffering realities of the wider economy. They begin when growth exists only within banking balance sheets but disappears from households, factories and streets.
Without productive credit expansion, economic growth becomes artificial and exclusionary. Without affordable financing, businesses cannot scale. Without business expansion, jobs cannot emerge. Also, it must be noted that without jobs, insecurity, poverty and migration inevitably worsen. The implications for social stability are enormous.
One painful fact is that citizens already burdened by inflation, debt pressures and widespread distrust now face a system where economic opportunities continue shrinking despite apparent financial sector prosperity. One of the lurking dangers is that this deepens resentment, weakens confidence in institutions and threatens long-term economic cohesion.
The CBN’s inflation fight may be necessary, but monetary stability alone cannot substitute for productive economic expansion. Financial stability without inclusive growth eventually becomes unsustainable.
The real economy matters more than banking optics. Nigeria urgently needs policies that incentivise real sector lending, reduce structural risks facing manufacturers and SMEs, strengthen credit infrastructure, lower production bottlenecks and redirect liquidity toward productive economic activity.
As a matter of fact, it is high time for Nigeria to start rethinking the growing dependence on debt-driven fiscal management that continues to crowd out private investment. Development cannot occur when government borrowing consumes the financial oxygen needed by businesses.
Ultimately, banking profitability should not become an isolated island of prosperity surrounded by a collapsing productive economy.
A nation cannot celebrate trillion-naira banking profits while millions of citizens sink deeper into economic despair. No society sustains such a contradiction indefinitely.
If Nigeria truly hopes to build a resilient and inclusive economy, then the banking sector must once again become a vehicle for national development rather than merely a beneficiary of government debt and monetary tightening.
Otherwise, the country risks creating a contradictory economy where banks grow richer while citizens grow poorer and where financial prosperity exists only on paper while economic hardship defines everyday life.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: [email protected]
By Kehinde Ogundare
Africa has always found its own way around barriers. When fixed-line banking proved too slow and too exclusionary, Kenya did not wait for the infrastructure to catch up. It built M-Pesa instead, a mobile payments platform that by 2022 had 50 million customers across seven African countries and processed nearly 20 billion individual transactions annually.
That story is now so well-worn that it risks becoming a cliché. But it contains a genuinely instructive logic: constrained circumstances, properly understood, can become a design brief.
Today, Africa faces a new set of constraints, around software development capacity, technical talent, and the cost of building digital tools, which demands exactly the same creative leap. Meeting these challenges will require the same kind of practical innovation that previously reshaped financial inclusion across the continent.
The numbers make the challenge plain. Africa’s internet economy was projected to contribute $180 billion, or 5.2% of aggregate GDP, by 2025. Meanwhile, cloud adoption is expanding at 25 to 30% annually, outpacing Europe and North America, while thousands of African companies are already experimenting with AI-enabled operations. Yet, the human infrastructure required to sustain this momentum is not keeping pace.
Unless the continent finds smarter and more scalable ways to build digital systems, Africa risks becoming the world’s largest consumer of a digital future it did not help design.
The build gap is structural, not incidental
Africa’s AI challenge is not a lack of ambition or demand, but the widening gap between the pace of technological change and the availability of skills needed to support it. Across the continent, organisations are under growing pressure to build AI capability quickly, as shortages in specialised talent increasingly affect innovation, competitiveness, and the ability to fully participate in the global digital economy.
A 2024 ICT Skills Survey found that more than 28,000 high-end developer and cybersecurity roles in South Africa had to be outsourced because local talent was simply unavailable, with enterprises poaching the same scarce professionals from one another in a cycle that drives up costs and squeezes out the SMEs that form the backbone of most African economies. Nigeria and Kenya, despite recording developer population growth of 28% and 33% respectively between 2023 and 2024, still represent only a fraction of the global developer community.
The challenge is further intensified by the continued loss of skilled talent to more developed markets, limiting the continent’s ability to build and retain the expertise needed for long-term digital growth. However, this is not simply a pipeline issue that can be solved through education alone. It reflects deeper structural constraints, from uneven investment in technical infrastructure and digital training to the high cost of reliable connectivity and power instability. Across African markets, many businesses and communities are still forced to operate within systems that make full participation in the digital economy significantly harder. These are not isolated operational challenges. They are systemic barriers that risk slowing Africa’s ability to fully realise the opportunities of the AI era.
Intelligent tools as strategic infrastructure
This is precisely why the emergence of AI-assisted low-code and vibe coding approaches represents something more than a developer trend. It represents a potential structural response to a structural challenge.
Vibe coding, a term popularised by AI researcher Andrej Karpathy in 2025, refers to building functional applications through natural language descriptions rather than conventional code. You describe what you want; the system generates the structure, logic, and connections required to make it work.
For the continent’s millions of entrepreneurs operating without a developer on staff, this creates a genuine shortcut to working software, whether it is a South African small business looking to digitise operations, a Kenyan agritech startup building supply chain tools, or a Nigerian SME trying to automate customer approvals and customer service workflows.
Consider a small logistics company trying to manage deliveries across multiple regions without the resources to hire a full development team. AI-assisted low-code tools can help build routing dashboards, automate customer notifications, and digitise inventory tracking in days rather than months.
AI-assisted low-code development goes further still, bringing machine learning, predictive analytics, and self-learning algorithms into the development process, making it suitable not merely for quick prototypes but for the scalable, data-intensive applications that banking, healthcare, and logistics at a continental scale genuinely require.
Recent research found that Kenya’s approach to digital adoption, characterised by grassroots digital literacy programmes and simplified onboarding, demonstrates that informality need not be a barrier to digital innovation. That finding points toward something important: the tools that matter most in Africa are not necessarily the most sophisticated ones. They are the ones who meet builders where they actually are. A fast-moving startup operating out of a co-working space in Lagos’s Yabacon Valley has different needs from an established financial services firm in Cape Town navigating compliance requirements, and both have different needs from the first-time builder in a smaller city with no developer network at all.
What connects all three contexts is the principle that lowering the cost and complexity of building software expands who gets to shape Africa’s digital future. Africa requires massive scaling of its digital workforce, with reports indicating that 650 million training opportunities will be needed to meet the demand for digital skills across the continent by 2030. Traditional pipelines cannot close that gap at the required speed. Tools that extend the productive capacity of existing builders and draw non-technical entrepreneurs into the act of building are critical.
Leapfrogging requires foundations, not just shortcuts
The risk, and it is a real one, is mistaking these tools for a substitute for the deeper investments Africa still needs to make. As analysts have argued, mobile money dramatically increased financial inclusion but did not replace the need for a stable, well-regulated banking sector, a tension that Nigeria’s rapidly maturing fintech ecosystem is navigating in real time as it moves beyond its breakout years.
The same logic applies here. Vibe coding and AI-assisted development cannot paper over the infrastructure deficits that still constrain the continent. Across many parts of Africa, inconsistent access to reliable electricity and high-quality connectivity continues to shape who can fully participate in the digital economy. While AI-powered tools may lower technical barriers to innovation, their impact will ultimately depend on broader progress in digital infrastructure, energy reliability, and equitable access to technology and stronger governance frameworks around cybersecurity and data sovereignty.
McKinsey has observed that Africa has a proven track record of leapfrogging traditional development pathways, from mobile payments to cloud adoption, often outpacing what established markets achieved through slower, incremental routes.
What Africa needs, then, is not a choice between vibe coding and AI-assisted development, nor between either of those and conventional software engineering. It needs an intelligent layering of all three: accessible, prompt-driven tools for the entrepreneurs and administrators who need working solutions now; robust AI-assisted platforms for the developers and institutions building systems that must scale across borders and regulatory environments; and sustained investment in producing and retaining the senior technical talent that no tool, however intelligent, can fully substitute.
Africa’s AI market will be worth $16.5 billion by 2030. Whether African organisations are building that future or merely consuming it will depend on whether the means to build it are genuinely within reach, across the continent’s established tech hubs and deep into the cities and towns that sit beyond them.
Kehinde Ogundare is the Country Head of Zoho Nigeria
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