Feature/OPED
America Borrows Power, Nigeria Borrows Survival
By Blaise Udunze
Findings show that the United States owes more than $36 trillion while Nigeria owes over N159.28 trillion, with external debt now standing at approximately $51.8 billion. At first glance, when comparing the debt profiles of the world’s largest economy and Africa’s largest economy, it may seem misplaced. America can borrow almost indefinitely because it issues the world’s reserve currency. Nigeria cannot. Yet both countries are confronting a similar worry. This has led to asking, when does debt cease to be a tool for development and become a permanent feature of national survival?
The difference is that while America may be testing the limits of how much debt a superpower can carry, Nigeria is testing how much debt a fragile developing economy can sustain before it begins to mortgage its future.
The latest proposal by the federal government to secure another $1.25 billion World Bank facility under the Nigeria Actions for Investment and Jobs Acceleration Programme has once again reignited a debate that refuses to disappear. What appears to be far from the daily lived experience of Nigerians over the years is having government officials insisting that the loan will support investment, expand access to finance, improve electricity, enhance digital services, and create jobs. According to the claims, these are worthy objectives. But Nigerians have heard similar promises before.
The more important question is no longer whether Nigeria should borrow. Virtually every modern economy borrows. The real question which calls for critical concern is what exactly Nigeria is borrowing for, and why the benefits of decades of borrowing remain largely invisible in the everyday lives of millions of citizens. This is where the national conversation becomes uncomfortable.
Funny enough, over the years, successive governments have justified borrowing as a necessary response to development deficits. Yet despite rising debt levels, many Nigerians struggle to identify corresponding improvements in their lived experiences. This justification has kept many wondering as the roads remain dilapidated, public hospitals are overwhelmed, and the electricity supply also remains unreliable. Talk of the public education system, this has continued to deteriorate badly, and unemployment remains stubbornly high. Inflation has eroded incomes, with the cost of cooking gas hitting N2,400 per kg, while businesses struggle under the weight of high operating costs.
If borrowing is supposed to finance development, where is the development? The concern becomes even more urgent and highly alarming when viewed against the backdrop of Nigeria’s worsening fiscal position. According to the Debt Management Office, public debt has climbed to over N159 trillion. With this outrageous figure, more troubling is the fact that debt servicing now consumes an alarming share of government revenue, which has continued to cripple economic growth and compromise the future. This development caught the attention of the Nigerian Economic Summit Group, as it recently noted that Nigeria’s debt-service-to-revenue ratio remains among the highest in the world. In simple and practical terms, this implies that the government is spending an increasingly large portion of what it earns paying creditors rather than investing in infrastructure, healthcare, education, security, or economic expansion.
This is the hallmark of a debt trap. The danger is not necessarily that Nigeria will default tomorrow. The danger is that the nation becomes trapped in a vicious cycle where governments borrow to finance deficits, then borrow again to service existing obligations, and then borrow even more to cover the consequences of previous borrowing. That cycle is already becoming visible.
Come to think of it, President Bola Tinubu’s administration has boldly defended borrowing as necessary to support reforms, cushion economic shocks, and stimulate growth. Yet critics have continued to point to the fact that since May 2023, borrowing has accelerated significantly.
According to economic analyst Dele Oye, the current administration has added approximately N65.9 trillion to Nigeria’s debt stock within just two years, a figure that exceeds several multiples of what Nigeria accumulated during its first five decades after independence.
Whether one agrees with the politics surrounding that claim is secondary. The underlying concern remains valid since debt is growing far faster than the visible capacity of the economy to generate sustainable revenue. This is why comparisons with the United States are useful.
America’s debt is enormous, but debt sustainability is not determined by the size of debt alone. It is determined by economic productivity. The United States supports its debt burden through a diversified economy, deep capital markets, technological innovation, globally competitive corporations, advanced research institutions, and an unmatched ability to attract global investment.
Debt is not what sustains America. Productivity does. Unlike Nigeria, it continues to rely heavily on crude oil revenues, a narrow tax base, volatile foreign exchange earnings, and a fragile manufacturing sector. The critical difference is that every dollar borrowed by Nigeria therefore carries greater risks than every dollar borrowed by the United States.
When America borrows, it borrows largely in its own currency. When Nigeria borrows externally, it exposes itself to exchange-rate risks that can dramatically increase repayment costs whenever the naira weakens, as this calls for utmost caution. Every currency depreciation effectively inflates the burden of external obligations. What appears manageable today can become overwhelming tomorrow. This reality makes Nigeria’s current debt trajectory particularly concerning, which is the truth.
The World Bank itself has raised concerns about governance risks and structural weaknesses within Nigeria’s fiscal architecture. Even more troubling are recent revelations indicating that more than N34.5 trillion was reportedly deducted through pre-distribution mechanisms before revenues reached the Federation Account between 2023 and 2025. According to the findings, approximately 41 per cent of government revenues were removed as first-line charges before distribution.
Whichever way it is viewed, perhaps as fiscal leakages, weak oversight, or institutional inefficiency, the implications are profound and of critical concern. If we must begin to tell ourselves the factual truth, a nation cannot continue borrowing aggressively while simultaneously failing to maximise the value of revenues it already generates.
This brings us to the central question confronting Nigeria today. The point is, are these loans building future productive capacity, or are they merely financing continuity?
Borrowing can be justified when it funds projects that expand economic output. Investments in power generation, transport infrastructure, agriculture, industrialisation, technology, and education can create long-term growth that eventually pays for the debt itself. In such cases, debt becomes a bridge to prosperity.
But it must be known that borrowing to fund recurrent expenditure, sustain bloated government structures, finance consumption, cover inefficiencies, or service previous debts transforms borrowing into a treadmill. The irony here is that the country runs harder every year but remains trapped in the same place. Unfortunately, much of Nigeria’s fiscal reality increasingly resembles the latter.
The tragedy is that this debt burden is not abstract. It is already affecting ordinary Nigerians. The adverse implication and critical point are that every naira directed toward debt servicing is a naira unavailable for schools, hospitals, security, electricity, or social protection. Every external loan increases future repayment obligations. Every missed opportunity to invest borrowed funds productively transfers today’s policy failures to future generations.
The consequences are visible everywhere. Businesses face prohibitively high borrowing costs. Today in Nigeria, it is no longer news that manufacturers struggle with energy expenses, which adversely affect the citizens. The same applies to youth unemployment, which remains widespread. Also, infrastructure deficits persist. Another critical issue is that states remain heavily dependent on monthly allocations from the federal level. With the developments, economic growth remains too weak to significantly improve living standards.
The result is a contradiction in which debt rises while prosperity stagnates. This is perhaps the greatest lesson Nigeria must learn from America’s debt experience.
The debate should not focus exclusively on how much debt a nation carries. The more important progressive question is whether the economy is productive enough to sustain that debt.
What every Nigerian should know is that Nigeria as a country cannot borrow its way to prosperity because it must first strengthen the foundations that generate sustainable growth. With the lingering challenging surrounding the borrowing and the mountain of debts, one key fact is that it cannot rely indefinitely on external creditors while neglecting domestic productivity. Also, it cannot continue to depend on oil revenues while failing to broaden its tax base. Another loose end that has been a critical matter is that it cannot expect debt-financed development without strong institutions, transparency, accountability and effective project execution.
The solutions are neither mysterious nor impossible. This entails that Nigeria must aggressively expand domestic revenue mobilisation without suffocating businesses and ensure it digitises tax administration, eliminates leakages, enforce fiscal responsibility laws. Also, it must reduce the cost of governance, strengthen public procurement systems, while ensuring that every borrowed naira and kobo is linked to measurable economic outcomes.
Equally important, the government must rebuild public trust. The truth is that citizens are more willing to support reforms when they can see tangible results. Some of the developments in the past that have continued to erode public trust are when subsidy savings are announced, people expect better roads, improved healthcare, reliable electricity, and enhanced security. When new loans are obtained, they expect visible projects and measurable returns, but the reverse has been the case. Those at the helm of affairs of this country must understand that transparency is not merely good governance; it is an economic necessity. History offers a warning.
In 2006, under the leadership of Olusegun Obasanjo, Nigeria celebrated its exit from the Paris Club debt burden after securing one of Africa’s most significant debt relief achievements. Not too long but for a brief period, the country stood relatively free from the crushing obligations that had constrained development for decades. Two decades later, that achievement appears increasingly distant.
The danger is not simply that Nigeria is borrowing. The danger is that borrowing is becoming normalised as a substitute for difficult reforms.
A nation can borrow to build industries or borrow to pay bills. It can borrow to create future wealth or borrow to postpone present challenges. One path expands prosperity; the other compounds dependency.
America’s debt mountain demonstrates that even wealthy nations are not immune to the consequences of structural borrowing. Nigeria’s debt burden demonstrates how much more dangerous that reality becomes when economic productivity fails to keep pace. Borrowing can buy time. It cannot buy prosperity.
Sooner or later, every nation must generate the economic value necessary to justify the debts it accumulates. Nigeria’s future will depend not on how much it can borrow, but on how effectively it can produce, innovate, industrialise, and grow.
That is the lesson hidden underneath America’s debt mountain. It is also the lesson Nigeria ignores at its own peril.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
By Blaise Udunze
Daily, the world watches Nigeria through a familiar lens in what appears to be a gory situation. Especially in cases when the news headlines tell stories of farmer-herder clashes, bandit attacks, kidnappings, villages reduced to ashes or deserted by the dwellers, as thousands of Nigerians have been displaced across states such as Zamfara, Plateau, Benue, Niger, Kaduna and Nasarawa. Subliminally, this is about to become a similarly ugly occurrence in southwestern Nigeria, which is fast becoming obvious if not nipped in the bud quickly.
Recorded data have shown that bandits, Boko Haram, and others killed over 190,000 Nigerians in 17 years and displaced 3.7 million people.
A human rights organisation, the International Society for Civil Liberties and Rule of Law (Intersociety), in its fearful revelation, has said that no fewer than 190,150 Nigerians have been killed by bandits, Boko Haram insurgents, and suspected armed herdsmen between July 2009 and March 19, 2026, as this calls for concern.
The dominant explanations often point to ethnic tensions, religious divisions, climate change, shrinking grazing routes or weak security institutions. No doubt, those factors are certainly part of Nigeria’s complex security crisis. Yet another question deserves serious examination.
What if, in some locations, the violence is also serving another purpose? What if some of the territories experiencing repeated displacement are the same places sitting atop some of Nigeria’s most valuable mineral deposits? More importantly, if such a pattern exists, who benefits when communities disappear?
Of a truth, these questions are uncomfortable, but undeniably they deserve careful investigation rather than dismissal.
For ages, Nigeria has been naturally endowed, and it is estimated to be rich in enormous significant reserves of gold, lithium, uranium, tin, columbite and other strategic minerals increasingly sought after in the global transition to clean energy technologies. As international demand for battery minerals continues to rise, these resources have become far more valuable than they were only a decade ago.
If one overlays publicly available geological information with maps showing persistent violence, some observers argue that striking geographical overlaps appear in several regions. Such overlaps alone cannot establish causation. Correlation is not proof of conspiracy. However, they raise questions worthy of independent scrutiny.
One issue attracting increasing attention and adequately yearns for answer is whether prolonged insecurity may inadvertently or deliberately create conditions that make mineral extraction easier.
Under Nigeria’s Nigerian Minerals and Mining Act 2007, mineral resources belong to the Federal Government, while mining rights are granted through licences and leases. Community engagement and land access are expected to form part of the licensing process, although implementation varies depending on circumstances. This raises an important policy question.
What happens when the communities expected to participate in those processes have already fled because of violence?
Displacement changes the dynamics of land ownership, consent and access. While no evidence automatically proves that attacks are orchestrated to facilitate mining, the sequence of violence followed by renewed commercial activity in some locations deserves closer examination by regulators, lawmakers and investigative journalists.
In conflict studies, researchers have long observed that wars often generate economic winners alongside humanitarian losers. Could elements of Nigeria’s insecurity also be producing economic beneficiaries?
Reports over the years have documented concerns about illegal mining operations across parts of northern Nigeria. Government agencies themselves have repeatedly acknowledged that criminal networks profit from the country’s vast mineral wealth. The unresolved question is whether isolated criminality has, in some instances, evolved into more sophisticated alliances involving political influence, financial interests and international supply chains. If so, the implications extend far beyond Nigeria.
Invariably, it is clearly known that lithium has become one of the world’s most strategic commodities, powering electric vehicle batteries and renewable energy storage systems. Gold has always remained one of the safest global investment assets during periods of uncertainty. Meanwhile, it is well confirmed that the global appetite for these minerals creates enormous financial incentives.
Suppose violent displacement reduces resistance to extraction. Suppose shell companies subsequently acquire mining interests. Suppose minerals then leave Nigeria through legitimate-looking export documentation while their true value remains understated.
These scenarios remain allegations unless supported by verifiable evidence. Yet they outline a framework that investigators may wish to test rather than ignore. Financial crime experts frequently identify trade mis-invoicing as one of the most common methods of illicit financial flows worldwide.
Could Nigeria’s solid minerals sector be vulnerable to similar practices? If valuable lithium ore is deliberately but inaccurately described as lower-value material on export documents, substantial wealth could potentially leave the country without reflecting its true market value. Likewise, if unrefined gold exits through privileged channels with limited scrutiny, questions naturally arise about oversight, transparency and accountability over criminal activities which have continued to stunt and disrupt the country’s socio-economic growth and at the same time cause carnage.
Such possibilities are not accusations against any particular institution or company. Rather, they illustrate why stronger monitoring systems are increasingly essential. Another question concerns logistics.
With the high level of criminal activities, industrial mining requires heavy machinery, diesel supplies, transportation networks and specialised personnel. These are not operations that can remain invisible indefinitely.
If certain territories are genuinely too dangerous for security agencies, how do industrial-scale extraction activities reportedly continue in some remote locations? If they do, who protects those operations? Who authorises their movement? Who verifies what is extracted? Who ensures royalties and export revenues reach public coffers? These are governance questions that demand institutional answers.
Equally important is the international dimension. Minerals extracted in Nigeria ultimately enter global supply chains. Gold may pass through international refining hubs before entering financial markets. Lithium may become part of battery manufacturing destined for electric vehicles, which are being sold across Europe, North America and Asia.
One known fact is that consumers purchasing products containing these minerals rarely know the full story of where they originated.
Increasingly, however, investors and governments are demanding ethical sourcing standards that trace minerals from extraction to final manufacture.
A critical factor that must be taken into cognisance is that if insecurity is creating opportunities for illegal or unethical extraction anywhere in the world, multinational companies have responsibilities alongside national governments, of which the onus falls on the Nigerian government.
Transparency cannot stop at the mine gate. Nor should accountability end at national borders. Another issue requiring attention concerns beneficial ownership.
Across many jurisdictions, shell companies can obscure the identities of individuals ultimately controlling commercial assets. If politically exposed persons or powerful business interests are hidden behind complex corporate structures registered offshore, identifying beneficiaries becomes significantly more difficult. This challenge is hardly unique to Nigeria.
Findings showed that from Latin America to Central Africa and Southeast Asia, resistant corporate networks have frequently complicated efforts to combat corruption and illicit resource extraction. That is precisely why open corporate registries, beneficial ownership databases and transparent mining licence disclosures are becoming global governance priorities. For Nigeria, the stakes could hardly be higher.
The country stands at the centre of the world’s emerging critical minerals economy. The Nigerian government can’t feign ignorance of the fact that, when handled transparently, these resources could finance infrastructure, education, healthcare, and industrial development for generations.
In no way would the government claim not knowing that when handled poorly, they risk becoming another chapter in the well-documented “resource curse,” where extraordinary natural wealth coincides with persistent poverty, insecurity and institutional weakness.
The ultimate challenge, therefore, is not simply about mining. It is about governance. It is about whether public institutions possess both the independence and capacity to ensure that natural resources benefit citizens rather than narrow interests. It is about whether conflict zones receive genuine peacebuilding efforts instead of becoming forgotten frontiers. And it is about whether international markets demand accountability with the same enthusiasm they demand raw materials.
None of these questions should be answered through speculation. They require rigorous investigations, forensic financial analysis, satellite imagery, mining license audits, customs records, beneficial ownership disclosures and courageous journalism.
They require governments willing to open their books. They require international cooperation capable of tracing money across borders. Most importantly, they require asking questions that have too often remained unasked.
Perhaps Nigeria’s security crisis is exactly what it appears to be: a tragic convergence of historical grievances, weak institutions, criminality and environmental pressures. Or perhaps, in some places, another layer of economic incentive deserves closer scrutiny.
Until those questions are thoroughly investigated, one possibility will continue to linger. Maybe the world’s attention has been fixed on the blood spilt above ground, while too little attention has been paid to the extraordinary wealth lying beneath it.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
Feature/OPED
What Does Nigeria’s $51bn Reserves Milestone Mean if Most New Foreign Money Can Leave Quickly?
Nigeria’s foreign reserves have climbed to about $51 billion, a decade-plus high, according to the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN). EBC Financial Group (EBC) notes that this reflects stronger investor confidence, but the second half may show whether it holds, as the build rests on three cyclical drivers: oil earnings, short-term foreign money and a narrowing official-to-street naira gap.
Reserves rose from about $32 billion in April 2024, during a dollar shortage, to about $51 billion now, near the CBN’s target. Much came from two cyclical sources, strong oil earnings and money chasing high-yielding naira assets, so EBC expects the pace to slow or reverse. Fitch Ratings, a major international credit rating agency, expects a marginal decline to about $47 billion by the end of 2026, citing higher spending and external pressures.
David Precious, Senior Market Analyst at EBC Financial Group, said, “Nigeria’s reserve build is real but may not be durable yet, because nearly all of the new money is the kind that can leave quickly. Of the $10.37 billion that came in over the first quarter, the overwhelming majority was short-term portfolio funds rather than long-term investment, so a shift in oil prices, global interest rates or confidence in the naira might pull a large part of it straight back out.”
Most New Money Can Still Leave Quickly
The composition of the foreign inflows explains the caution over how long the build can last. The country attracted $10.37 billion in foreign investment in the first quarter of 2026, up 83.83 per cent year-on-year, according to the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS). Of that, $9.86 billion or 95.09 per cent, was portfolio money, largely short-term naira debt such as Treasury bills that investors can sell at the next auction, while foreign direct investment, the long-term kind that builds factories and jobs, was $135.08 million, or 1.30 per cent. Put simply, of each dollar coming in, about 95 cents can leave quickly, and barely one cent stays.
That money supports reserves while it stays. Dollars brought in to buy naira assets add to market supply, letting the CBN hold more reserves and steady the naira. It leaves when conditions change. Nigeria earns most of its export dollars from oil and gas, so lower oil prices mean fewer dollars, and as a member of the Organisation of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), it cannot simply produce more, output capped by quota and reduced by theft and ageing fields. Higher global interest rates draw money toward safer returns abroad, and a weakening naira prompts investors to sell early. When oil fell in 2016 and 2020, foreign investors withdrew and could not convert naira to dollars as supply dried up, leaving the CBN to clear more than $7 billion in trapped obligations into 2024.
The Oil Boost is No Longer Certain
Oil looked like a dependable source of the dollars behind the reserves only months ago. Earlier in 2026, concern over disruption around the Strait of Hormuz lifted crude prices, and stronger receipts flowed in, with crude oil export earnings of $8.11 billion in the first quarter in the CBN’s balance-of-payments data. That support is now easing. The tension has subsided, and Brent traded near $72 on June 29, down about 24 per cent over the month, back to pre-conflict levels. With the price boost gone and output constrained, reserves are more exposed, leaning on non-oil earnings and investor patience rather than oil.
The Naira Still Trades at Two Prices
The naira has traded at two prices, an official rate and a higher parallel-market rate, and closing that gap into one trusted price is what many investors might watch most. Before committing funds, they may want assurance they can convert naira to dollars at a fair rate when they exit, and a wide gap revives the fear of being trapped that lingers from earlier shortages. The gap has narrowed to roughly N20 to N30, with the CBN’s official rate near N1,380 per dollar on June 26 against parallel-market quotes around N1,400. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) 2026 Article IV review urged Nigeria to depend less on this fast-moving portfolio money and to keep phasing out its multiple exchange-rate practices. The CBN’s Foreign Exchange Manual, in force from 1 June, is intended to make the market clearer, though such rules build confidence only once investors can freely trade dollars at the posted rate.
What could Make the Build Durable
A few signs that may show the build turning durable include a smaller gap between the official and street naira rates, more long-term foreign investment, and steadier oil earnings. A gap that stays small, now roughly N20 to N30, may mean investors trust the official rate and no longer need the street market. A clear rise in foreign direct investment, only $135 million last quarter against $9.86 billion of short-term money, might mean lasting capital is replacing funds that can leave at the next auction. Oil earnings that hold up, rather than sliding from the low $70s, should help keep reserves steady, since oil and gas bring in most of Nigeria’s export dollars.
“Reserves built on money chasing high yields can fall as fast as they rose, as they did after the last two oil shocks, when investors left, and the CBN spent years clearing a foreign-exchange backlog,” Precious added. “What holds through a downturn is slower money, direct investment, steady oil and non-oil export earnings and one credible naira rate, and that is the shift Nigeria has yet to make.”
By Olajumoke Bello
Across Nigeria, small and medium enterprises remain the backbone of economic activity. They drive trade, create jobs, and sustain millions of livelihoods. Yet, despite their importance, many SMEs continue to operate below their full potential due to persistent structural challenges.
Access to finance remains one of the most cited constraints. However, the issue today goes beyond the availability of capital. Many businesses struggle with financial readiness, weak documentation, and limited understanding of what lenders require. This often leads to missed opportunities, even when funding options exist.
At the same time, SMEs face gaps in market access and visibility. Business owners operate in highly localised environments, with limited exposure to broader networks that can unlock partnerships, new markets, and growth opportunities. This isolation can constrain scalability and reduce long-term competitiveness.
Equally important is the capability gap. Many entrepreneurs grow through resilience and experience but lack structured knowledge on critical areas such as financial management, export readiness, and digital adoption. Without this, even well-capitalised businesses can struggle to sustain growth.
These challenges point to a clear need for a more practical and integrated approach to SME support. It is no longer sufficient to offer standalone solutions. SMEs require ecosystems that combine knowledge, access, and direct engagement in ways that reflect how they actually operate.
A key shift is the move from centralised interventions to localised engagement. SMEs are deeply influenced by their immediate environments, whether markets, industrial clusters, or trade corridors. Solutions must therefore be brought closer to where these businesses function, allowing for more relevant support and stronger relationships.
Another important shift is from awareness to action. Business owners do not only need information; they need insights that they can apply immediately. This includes understanding how to structure their finances, how to access trade opportunities, and how to connect with the right partners to scale their operations.
There is also a growing need for continuity. Many SME-focused initiatives deliver strong initial impact but lack follow-through. For support to be effective, it must extend beyond one-off engagements into sustained relationships, with clear pathways for onboarding, advisory, and growth.
For financial institutions, this presents both responsibility and an opportunity. Supporting SMEs now requires moving beyond transactional banking to deeper partnership models. It requires understanding businesses at a granular level and co-creating solutions that evolve with their needs.
At Stanbic IBTC, this perspective continues to shape our approach to SME development. Our focus is on delivering practical support that translates into real business outcomes, helping enterprises grow, compete, and contribute more meaningfully to the economy.
As part of this commitment, we are extending our SME engagement to the regions through the Nigeria Business Summit Regional Tour. The tour will take structured, on-ground activations into key commercial hubs, where SMEs can access funding guidance, trade insights, advisory support, and direct engagement with financial experts.
The regional tour will take place across five strategic locations, bringing these solutions closer to business owners in Aba, Onitsha, Ibadan and Kano.
This approach reflects an important principle. When support moves closer to businesses and when solutions are delivered in ways that are practical and continuous, SMEs are better positioned to grow sustainably. In turn, this strengthens not only individual enterprises but the broader economy.
Olajumoke Bello is the Head of Enterprise Banking at Stanbic IBTC Bank
