Feature/OPED
Nigeria’s Booming Growth Leaves Citizens Trapped in Deeper Poverty
By Blaise Udunze
With the chanting of the ‘Renewed Hope’, it appears to be Uhuru in Nigeria, following the recent World Economic Outlook presented by the International Monetary Fund, which projected that Nigeria’s economy would expand by 4.1 per cent in 2026. Though this specifically shows an economy faster than economies like the United States and the United Kingdom, as it handed the administration of President Bola Tinubu a powerful narrative. No doubt, the projection happens to be a narrative of progress, of reform, of a nation supposedly turning the corner after years of instability and setting the kind of moment that reassures investors, quiets critics and signals competence.
But once its statistical sheen is put aside, the weight of reality takes centre stage. The truth is, while Nigeria may be growing on paper, it is simultaneously shrinking and does not in any way reflect the lived experience of its citizens, as the populace can attest to. With the current lived experience, nowhere is this contradiction more glaring than in the widening gulf between macroeconomic projections and the daily economic suffering of over 200 million people.
The truth is uncomfortable, but it must be said plainly that a country where poverty is deepening, inflation is persistent, debt is rising, and basic survival is becoming more difficult cannot meaningfully claim economic success, no matter what the growth figures suggest.
The most damning evidence against the “fastest-growing economy” narrative, as enumerated by the Special Adviser to President Tinubu on Policy Communication, Daniel Bwala, comes not from opposition voices or political critics, but this time it is coming from the World Bank itself. Alarming to this is that according to its latest Nigeria Development Update, poverty in the country rose to 63 per cent barely months back, translating to roughly 140 million Nigerians living below the poverty line. This is not just a statistic; it is a humanitarian crisis unfolding in real time, which in a real sense calls for quick interventions.
Even more troubling is the trend. Poverty has not plateaued; it is accelerating, worsening and not stabilising at all. From 56 per cent in 2023 to 61 per cent in 2024, and now 63 per cent in 2025, the trajectory is unmistakable, as can be seen the data shows a clear upward trend over time that calls for concern. And projections from PwC suggest that the numbers will climb even higher, with an estimated 141 million Nigerians expected to be poor in 2026.
It would surprise many that these figures expose a fundamental contradiction; it is a total irony that an economy is growing while its people are becoming poorer, hence, while no one would hesitate to say that the type of growth taking place is flawed. Well, without jumping to a hasty conclusion, the answer lies in that growth. To say that the economic growth taking place is imbalanced, it is uneven, exclusionary, and not absolutely linked or largely disconnected from the sectors that sustain the majority of Nigerians. Growth driven by services and capital-intensive industries does little for a population whose livelihoods depend heavily on agriculture and informal enterprise. When growth bypasses the poor, it ceases to be development and becomes mere arithmetic.
The government’s defence often leans on the argument that inflation is easing and that reforms are beginning to stabilise the economy. But even this claim is increasingly fragile, as reported that the recent data from the National Bureau of Statistics shows that inflation has begun to rise again. This now shows that the headline inflation is ticking up to 15.38 per cent in March 2026, alongside a sharp month-on-month increase of 4.18 per cent. The pain Consumer Price Index climbed to 135.4, underscoring sustained pressure on household spending.
Another aspect that raises further questions is that the most critical component for ordinary Nigerians, which is the food inflation, skyrocketed to 14.31 per cent, with a similar month-on-month surge. It must be made known that these are not just numbers on a chart; they represent the escalating cost of survival, mostly for the common man. The ripple effect of this, which is yet to change, is that families are compelled to pay more for basic meals, more for transportation, and more for the essentials of daily life.
Noteworthy is that even when inflation showed signs of moderation in previous months, the fact is that it did little to reverse the damage already inflicted. The World Bank has been clear on this point when it said that household incomes have not kept pace with price increases. The underlying point is that the earlier spikes in inflation eroded purchasing power to such an extent that any subsequent easing has been insufficient to restore real income levels, and this is where the figures churned out were misleading.
This explains the inconsistency at the heart of Nigeria’s economy, where nominal indicators are improving, but real conditions are deteriorating. Nigerians are earning more in absolute terms but are able to afford less. This is further confirmed by data showing that while nominal household spending increased significantly, real consumption declined, while it would be said that people are spending more money, but they are consuming less. That is not growth; but the right word for it is economic suffocation.
The structural consequences of ongoing reforms compound the situation. The removal of fuel subsidies, which was the gift to Nigerians for electing President Tinubu and the liberalisation of the foreign exchange market were framed as necessary steps toward long-term stability. And in theory, they are defensible policies. But in practice, the result has been an extraordinary cost-of-living crisis, especially for the larger section of struggling Nigerians.
Speaking of the fuel subsidy removal, which has driven up transportation costs across the country, affecting both urban commuters and rural farmers, the pain has been further intensified by the geopolitical conflict in the Middle East. The second policy shift, which was the exchange rate liberalisation, has led to currency depreciation, with the experiences biting hard across the board, making imported goods more expensive and fueling inflationary pressures. These policy choices, which were perhaps deemed necessary, and without further ado have imposed immediate and severe burdens on households that were already vulnerable.
The International Monetary Fund has warned that these pressures are far from over. Rising global tensions, particularly in the Middle East, are pushing up the cost of energy, food, and transportation. For Nigerians, especially those at the lower rung in society, this translates into even higher living costs and deeper economic strain to contend with.
In this context, the government’s insistence on celebrating growth projections begins to appear not just disconnected, but insensitive. For millions of Nigerians, the economy is not an abstract concept measured in percentages. It is a daily struggle defined by whether they can afford food, transport, and shelter.
Compounding these challenges is Nigeria’s growing debt burden. Unexpectedly, public debt has climbed to over N159 trillion, with projections indicating a continued rise in the coming years because of the government’s appetite for borrowing. While the debt-to-GDP ratio may appear moderate compared to global averages, this comparison is totally misleading. The question is why the debt is ballooning when Nigeria’s revenue base is narrow, heavily reliant on oil, and constrained by a large informal sector that contributes little to tax income.
The current position of things is that debt servicing consumes a disproportionate share of government revenue, leaving limited fiscal space for investment in infrastructure, healthcare, education, and social protection, which has continued to expose the majority of Nigerians to untold hardship. It is a precarious position, one where the government is borrowing more while having less capacity to translate that borrowing into meaningful development outcomes, and the part that is also critical is that Nigeria’s rising debt profile is entering discomforting quarters, as concerns shift from the sheer size of borrowings to the growing risks associated with refinancing existing obligations.
Even more troubling are the emerging questions around fiscal transparency and governance. Only recently, there were allegations by Peter Obi on the missing N34 trillion in federation revenue that remains unaccounted. This, according to him, has intensified concerns about systemic leakages and institutional corruption. The fact is, even though these claims remain contested, they resonate deeply in a country where public trust in government financial management is already fragile and has remained a subject of discussion for many Nigerians.
The truth is that if even a fraction of such resources were effectively managed and invested, the impact on infrastructure, social services, and poverty reduction could be transformative, but this has yet to be embarked upon. Instead, the persistence of such allegations reinforces the perception of an economy where wealth exists but is inaccessible to the majority, which brings to bare if there will ever be a respite in a situation like this.
Adding another layer to this complexity is the excessive contradiction of oil revenue. With global crude prices that were once sold above $113 per barrel and currently hovering around $85-$90, which is still far exceeding Nigeria’s budget benchmark, the country stands to hugely benefit from a significant windfall, as was the case in the past. You know that history is more revealing than ever; it suggests that such opportunities are often squandered.
Analysts repeatedly have continued to warn that without disciplined fiscal management, these revenues may be absorbed by debt servicing or recurrent expenditure rather than being invested in productive sectors. The risk is that Nigeria once again experiences a boom without transformation, a cycle that has defined its economic history for decades.
Meanwhile, the irony in all of this is that, despite having plenty, every day Nigerian continues to bear the brunt of systemic inefficiencies. As the people bear the brunt, the country’s transportation costs are rising, food prices remain volatile, and access to basic services is increasingly strained, while the rural areas are not left out of the equation, as insecurity continues to disrupt agricultural production. This has further constrained food supply and driven up prices. In urban centres, the cost of living is pushing more households into financial distress.
The cumulative, as well as the ripple effects of these pressures, are a society under strain. Lest we mistake this, economic hardship is not just a financial issue; it has social and psychological consequences, while unbeknownst to many, its resultant effect fuels frustration, erodes trust in institutions, which also leads to fertile ground for instability.
What makes the current situation particularly troubling is the widening disconnect between official narratives and lived reality. There are two instances in which it was noted that, on the one hand, the government points to IMF projections and macroeconomic indicators as evidence of progress. On the other hand, citizens experience rising poverty, declining purchasing power, and limited opportunities. Another good example stems from when President Tinubu declared in September of last year that the federal government had met its 2025 non-oil income goal by August.
However, the former Minister of Finance, Wale Edun, stated that the Federal Government lacked sufficient funds to appropriately fund its capital budget during a public hearing at the National Assembly late last year. The minister stated that in order to pay the N54.9 trillion “budget of restoration,” which was intended to stabilise the economy, ensure peace, and create prosperity, the federal government had estimated N40.8 trillion in income for 2025.
These two reports sounded and appeared contradictory, and it was probably one of many factors responsible for the fallout.
This disconnect is more than a communication gap; it is a credibility crisis. When people’s lived experiences contradict official claims, trust erodes. And without trust, even well-intentioned policies struggle to gain acceptance.
The claim that Nigeria is growing faster than advanced economies may be technically accurate, and perhaps it must be seen as an absolute insult to Nigerians and it must be noted that it is fundamentally irrelevant to the country’s core challenges. This key fact must be taken into cognisance that growth rates, in isolation, do not capture the quality, inclusiveness, or sustainability of economic progress, and this is because they do not reflect whether growth is creating jobs, reducing poverty, or improving living standards. Note that in Nigeria’s case, the evidence suggests otherwise, in which the reality continues to dominate outcomes, and this is not the case.
For growth to be meaningful, it must translate into tangible improvements in people’s lives. At this point, it is necessary to understand that it must create jobs, raise incomes, and expand opportunities. Another important factor that must not be left out is that it must be inclusive, reaching not just the top tiers of society but the millions at the base of the economic pyramid. At present, Nigeria falls short on all these counts.
The path forward requires more than optimistic projections and reform rhetoric. It demands a fundamental rethinking of economic priorities. Policies must be designed not just for macroeconomic stability but for human welfare, and while investment must be directed toward sectors that generate employment and improve productivity, particularly agriculture and manufacturing. Social safety nets must be strengthened to protect the most vulnerable from economic shocks, which has yet to be considered by the government of the day.
Equally important is the need for transparency and accountability in public finance. Without trust in how resources are managed, even the most ambitious economic plans will struggle to gain legitimacy.
Nigeria is not lacking in potential, and this is one of the ironies of it all since it has a young population, abundant natural resources, and a dynamic entrepreneurial spirit. But potential, without effective governance and inclusive policies, remains unrealised.
The uncomfortable reality is that Nigeria is at risk of normalising a dangerous illusion, which connotes that growth on paper is equivalent to progress in practice. The truth is that it is not and cannot be contested. And until this illusion and deception are confronted, the gap between economic narratives and human realities will continue to widen.
In the end, the true measure of an economy is not how fast it grows, but how well it serves its people. By that standard, Nigeria’s current trajectory raises serious questions, take it or leave it. Because in a nation where over 140 million people live in poverty, where inflation continues to erode incomes, where debt is rising and where basic survival is becoming more difficult, the claim of being a “fast-growing economy” is not just misleading. Yes, it is a mirage!
And for millions of Nigerians struggling to get by each day, it is a mirage that offers no relief, no hope, and no future.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: bl***********@***il.com
By Blaise Udunze
It is considered that in every organised society, the home is supposed to be a place of security. It should be where families find peace after a hard day’s work, where children grow, where dreams are nurtured, and where the pressures of life temporarily fade away. This narrative comes with keen interest, having witnessed that for millions of Nigerians, home has become the country’s newest economic battlefield. This is fast becoming the experience for the vast majority of Nigerians.
Across the length and breadth of Nigeria, citizens are deeply lamenting the skyrocketing rent. Regrettably, this has become one of the fastest-rising costs of living. An unexpected trend which has become a huge concern is that currently apartments that were rented for N700,000 or N1 million just a few years ago are now advertised for N3 million, N5 million or even higher. Amidst this bizarre development, do you know that they are often without significant improvements to the property itself? One key troubling development is that recent estimates suggest that house rents in many Nigerian cities have surged by between 100 and 300 per cent over the last two years, a pace that far exceeds the country’s official inflation rate and has placed unprecedented pressure on households already struggling with rising food, transportation and energy costs.
Landlords, through estate agents, increasingly demand one or two years’ rent upfront. Tenants are expected to pay 10 per cent of the principal rent toward agency fees, legal fees, agreement charges, caution deposits, and, in most cases, the service charge (which appears to be higher), security levies, and utility-related costs before receiving the keys. In many cases, these additional charges add hundreds of thousands or even millions of naira to the advertised rent, making the total cost of securing accommodation far beyond the reach of average-income earners. Equally disturbing is the unchecked exploitation by agent marauders, who prey on desperate house seekers by imposing outrageous and often illegal fees that further deepen Nigeria’s housing crisis. What should ordinarily be a routine life event has become a financial ordeal.
Nigeria’s housing crisis is no longer simply a property story. It has evolved into an economic emergency with profound implications for families, businesses, public health and national development.
The Federal Government’s National Housing Data Technical Committee estimates that Nigeria faces a housing deficit of approximately 15 to 20million homes. At the same time, millions of existing houses are considered structurally inadequate and lack access to essential infrastructure. If this figure is something to consider, anyone would know that these figures reveal two overlapping crises. First, this shows that millions of Nigerians cannot find decent accommodation, whilst millions more live in overcrowded, unsafe or poorly serviced housing.
At the same time, Nigeria’s population continues to expand rapidly, with cities absorbing hundreds of thousands of new residents every year.
One of the challenges is that urbanisation has consistently outpaced housing development, widening the gap between supply and demand while, predictably, rents continue to rise and affordability continues to decline.
Remarkably, housing experts generally recommend that households should spend no more than 30 per cent of their income on accommodation. For many Nigerian families, that recommendation has become almost impossible to achieve.
Teachers, nurses, journalists, police officers, civil servants, young bankers, entrepreneurs, artisans and other middle-income earners increasingly devote more than half of their annual income to rent alone. For many, housing has become the single largest financial obligation, leaving very little for every other necessity of life.
After paying landlords, food budgets shrink. Healthcare is postponed. Children are transferred to less expensive schools. Retirement savings disappear. Business investments are suspended. Vacations become unimaginable luxuries. The rent bill has become the first expense families think about and the last financial burden they can escape.
The effects extend far beyond individual households. This is totally outrageous, as financial analysts have long observed that when accommodation consumes a disproportionate share of disposable income, consumer spending across the economy inevitably weakens.
Families postpone replacing household appliances. Vehicle purchases are delayed. Furniture sales decline. Restaurants receive fewer customers. Clothing retailers experience lower patronage. Small businesses lose purchasing power from consumers whose earnings are now tied up in rent. The result is a vicious economic cycle in which rising housing costs suppress consumption, reduce business activity, and ultimately slow economic growth.
Behind every rent increase lies a deeply personal story. Consider a fictional but representative family whose experience mirrors that of countless Nigerians. The aspect of receiving notice that the annual rent for their modest two-bedroom apartment would rise from N1.2 million to N3 million comes with uneasiness. At this point, the Blessings’ family had spent months desperately searching for an alternative.
Unable to afford the increase and harassment from the landlord, they eventually relocated nearly 30 kilometres away from their former neighbourhood. The consequences were immediate. Their children had to change schools. The family’s daily commuting time doubled. Transportation costs rose sharply. Family time disappeared.
The father now leaves home before sunrise and returns late at night. The mother spends more each month commuting than she once spent on groceries. Their financial burden has not disappeared. It has merely shifted from rent to transportation and also deals with other issues like epileptic power supply and flooding, especially during this rainy season.
Unfortunately, such stories are no longer exceptional. They have become increasingly common across Nigeria’s major cities. Perhaps no demographic feels this pressure more acutely than young professionals.
Come to think of it, graduates entering the workforce quickly discover that entry-level salaries cannot support decent accommodation close to their workplaces. You would also see many remaining with their parents far longer than anticipated. Other effects include seeing them share apartments with several unrelated adults to reduce costs, whilst some endure daily commutes lasting three or four hours because affordable housing exists only in distant suburbs.
The fact is that the consequences extend beyond inconvenience because long commuting hours reduce productivity, increase fatigue, heighten stress levels and significantly diminish quality of life. Another aspect of this, which is discouraging, is that for many talented young Nigerians, financial independence, home ownership and family formation are becoming increasingly distant aspirations. Several interconnected forces explain why rents continue to climb so aggressively.
Inflation has significantly increased the cost of cement, steel, roofing sheets and virtually every construction material required to build houses. The depreciation of the naira has made imported building materials substantially more expensive. No doubt, from recent findings, there are clear indications that there is a significant increase in the prices of building materials. Let us see the period between 2024 to 2026, Cement: N6,500 – N13,000; blocks: N600 – N1100; 30T of sand: N165,000 – N250,000; 30T of granite: N530,000 – N780,000; rebars (iron) ton: N850,000 – N1,150,000 amongst others. To be fair, it is a known fact that high interest rates have increased borrowing costs for developers, while land acquisition remains prohibitively expensive in many urban centres. The very question at heart is, how has this recent development significantly impacted the apartments built five years ago and beyond?
The government has made it difficult to the point that obtaining development approvals can be slow and costly. Developers also contend with multiple taxes, infrastructure levies and rising labour costs before construction even begins. No doubt, these expenses inevitably find their way into rental prices. But one question keeps running through the minds of many, which is, how do these directly impact apartments built many years back? The truth is that market realities alone do not explain every increase.
In many locations, speculative pricing has taken hold. Some landlords have raised rents far beyond what can reasonably be attributed to maintenance or inflation, taking advantage of overwhelming demand and the severe shortage of available accommodation.
The inability of many Nigerians to purchase homes has further intensified the pressure on the rental market. Inflation, high mortgage rates and limited access to long-term housing finance have pushed home ownership beyond the reach of millions, forcing them to remain tenants for much longer than planned. This should be blamed on the government of the day, as more people compete for a limited supply of rental properties, landlords possess even greater leverage to increase prices.
Housing insecurity is also producing a less visible but equally damaging consequence for deteriorating mental health.
The constant fear of eviction, the uncertainty surrounding annual rent reviews and the enormous pressure of raising large lump sums every one or two years create persistent psychological stress.
Think of the impact of parents’ worry about disrupting their children’s education. Young couples postpone marriage because they cannot afford accommodation. Family disagreements increasingly revolve around financial pressures. Consider the part of many Nigerians who quietly or secretly or unknowingly battle anxiety, emotional exhaustion and depression arising from the struggle to secure decent housing.
None of these psychological costs clearly appear in official economic statistics, but the truth is that they profoundly affect productivity, family stability and overall well-being. It is equally obvious that the crisis is also affecting employers and businesses.
Workers forced to travel long distances arrive at work exhausted. Traffic congestion consumes valuable productive hours each day. It turns out that companies increasingly struggle to retain staff who relocate in search of affordable accommodation. Also, know that many employers face mounting pressure to increase housing allowances simply to remain competitive.
All these call for a balancing as employees demand higher wages to offset escalating living costs, further increasing operating expenses for businesses already contending with inflation, unstable exchange rates and rising energy prices.
Housing affordability is therefore no longer merely a social concern. It has become a business and national competitiveness issue.
Though Nigeria is not alone in confronting housing affordability challenges, its recent trend calls for attention. Across Africa, rapid urbanisation continues to outpace housing supply.
For this reason, Kenya has introduced ambitious affordable housing programmes aimed at expanding supply, although implementation challenges remain; this can’t be compared to Nigeria’s current situation. Ghana is not left out of the equation as it continues to battle a significant housing deficit. Ghana is also grappling with the irony of completed homes that remain unaffordable for many citizens. South Africa, despite possessing a relatively more developed mortgage market, continues to experience severe affordability pressures in cities such as Johannesburg and Cape Town.
Nigeria’s situation, however, is intensified by its enormous population, rapid urban expansion, limited mortgage penetration and one of Africa’s largest housing deficits.
Nigeria has witnessed successive governments introducing affordable housing initiatives, mortgage schemes and public-private partnerships which fails before implementation. While these programmes represent positive intentions, delivery has consistently fallen far behind growing demand.
Housing experts argue that meaningful reform requires far more than constructing a limited number of housing estates.
Nigeria must simplify land acquisition processes, reduce infrastructure costs, expand mortgage accessibility, improve planning approvals, encourage private-sector investment in affordable housing and strengthen incentives for developers willing to build homes for middle- and low-income earners.
Improving housing data is important, but accurate statistics alone cannot reduce rents. Effective implementation remains the country’s greatest policy challenge.
Let’s consider some of these salient points proffered by urban planners who insist that Nigeria’s housing crisis cannot be solved exclusively through market forces. According to them, governments at all levels must invest strategically in infrastructure and create financing mechanisms that reduce development costs. To further help reduce the housing gap, they encourage the construction of affordable rental housing rather than focusing disproportionately on luxury developments.
The truth is that if housing continues to consume an ever-growing share of household income, consumer spending, investment and long-term economic growth will remain constrained. Another key barrier that must be addressed quickly, as highlighted by researchers, is inflation, limited housing finance, weak regulatory enforcement and inconsistent policy implementation, which happen to be major bottlenecks to affordable housing delivery.
One key question that yearns for answers is whether it is not obvious to the government and other stakeholders that housing is far more than concrete walls, roofing sheets and painted ceilings? The fact is that shelter, as the meaning implies, shapes educational outcomes, influences public health, determines productivity, strengthens families, supports social mobility and contributes directly to national competitiveness.
At this stage, it is a complete shame and at the same time an irony that a nation where hardworking teachers, nurses, journalists, entrepreneurs, artisans, security personnel and civil servants cannot comfortably afford decent shelter risks weakening its middle class, widening inequality and undermining sustainable economic growth.
If the truth must be told, Nigeria’s rent crisis is therefore not merely about landlords and tenants. For a fact, it is about the future of work, family stability, economic opportunity and social justice. Clearly, it is about whether millions of hardworking citizens can enjoy the dignity that comes with secure and affordable housing.
The mistake all along, which must be eschewed, is that a country’s progress is being measured solely by the number of luxury estates it builds or the height of its skyscrapers. More importantly, it should also be measured by whether ordinary citizens can afford a safe place to call home without sacrificing their children’s education, healthcare, savings or future aspirations.
If this is not adequately addressed, this rent trap will persist until affordable housing becomes a genuine national priority backed by bold reforms and sustained implementation; millions of Nigerians will continue facing an impossible choice, which would invariably lead them to surrender their financial future to keep a roof over their heads or abandon the comfort, security and dignity that every family deserves.
Concerned stakeholders shouldn’t continue to believe that the true cost of Nigeria’s rent crisis is therefore measured only in naira. It is measured in postponed dreams, delayed marriages, fractured families, declining productivity, abandoned ambitions, struggling businesses and the quiet erosion of hope among citizens who work tirelessly every day but find the simple promise of a decent home slipping further beyond their reach.
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.”
