Feature/OPED
The Nigerian Leadership Myth: A Satirical Safari…
By Prince Charles Dickson PhD
The recent arraignment of minors for treason in Nigeria has sparked widespread outrage and condemnation from various quarters. Their arraignment has raised concerns about the handling of juvenile cases and the implications of such actions on the children’s future. The federal government’s position on the matter has been criticized, with many calling for the immediate release of the minors. Sadly, it’s going to come and go like all such matters, no one will be held liable or accountable.
The incident highlights the challenges of leadership in Nigeria, so, let me tell us the story of leadership—a satirical safari through power and promise.
Nigerian leadership: Say those words in any social setting, and watch the room split into chuckles, sighs, and, sometimes, heated monologues. Nigerian leadership is a tale that could rival any Hollywood blockbuster in plot twists, suspense, and emotional rollercoasters. However, it’s also a tale layered with the mystique of myths—idealized versions of what leadership is supposed to be versus what we often get.
We are a Comedy of Errors…Nigeria, a land of contrasts, a nation blessed with immense potential, yet plagued by a leadership conundrum that seems to defy logic. The recurring theme is a leadership that promises much and delivers little, a leadership that often seems more interested in personal enrichment than national development. This has led many to question the very concept of Nigerian leadership, to wonder if it’s not just a grand illusion, a mirage in the desert of hope.
The Nigerian leader, in popular imagination, is a peculiar creature. He (and it’s almost always a he) is often portrayed as a demi-god, a messiah who will miraculously transform the nation overnight. He is expected to solve all problems, from poverty and corruption to insecurity and infrastructure decay.
Yet, time and again, these leaders fail to live up to the hype. They are often more concerned with power retention than problem-solving, more interested in enriching themselves and their cronies than uplifting the masses.
The myth of Nigerian leadership has had a devastating impact on the country. It has led to a culture of cynicism and apathy, where people have lost faith in the ability of their leaders to make a difference. This has, in turn, led to a decline in civic engagement and a rise in social unrest.
Let us start with the allure of the “Messiah Complex”. There’s a strange ritual that occurs every four years. Nigerians from all walks of life gather, united in collective hope, as politicians-turned-Messiahs make promises that sound like poetry. We’ve been told of visions of transforming deserts into oases and turning debts into riches. We’ve heard of a future filled with functional electricity, pothole-free roads, and hospitals that will make a Swiss watchmaker green with envy. These messianic figures appear every election season with a well-rehearsed script and an arsenal of grandiose claims that even Aesop himself would have had trouble believing.
Every so often, however, Nigerians fall for the shiny charisma, the promises of change, and the proclamations of patriotism. The hope is intoxicating. “Maybe this time it’s different,” people think. However, the “Messiah” quickly devolves into the “Excuse Machine,” because just like clockwork, the mirage fades and the landscape of reality becomes all too clear.
The Myth of Transformation: A word often sprinkled into campaign speeches and government slogans, like salt in a pot of jollof rice. Politicians sell transformation as if it were a buy-one-get-one-free deal at a Lagos market. The truth, however, is more of a slow simmer than a fast boil. Promises are made with the certainty of a Shakespearean tragedy. Our leaders assure us of mega-cities, free education, and top-tier health care — not unlike New York, Tokyo, or Paris — only to end up delivering results closer to rural Ajegunle, where even basic amenities are hard to come by.
Every politician tells us they’ll be different. They swear to bridge the gap between rich and poor, elevate the standard of living, and make Nigeria great again (though no one quite remembers when Nigeria was “great” by their implied standards). They preach transformation, yet reality reminds us more of the song “Nothing New Under the Sun.” And while “transformation” sounds beautiful in theory, it often translates to moving from one ineffective policy to the next, with very little real change in sight.
Now, here’s a real mystery: Nigerian leaders often amass incredible wealth while they’re in service to the nation. It’s almost as if there’s an invisible ATM in every office. Take a simple councilor position, and it might magically pay enough to build a mansion, fly first-class, and send children to Ivy League schools abroad. It is the Paradox of Wealth and Service.
Surely, one must wonder: Is public office in Nigeria blessed with some hidden oil well that the rest of us common folk don’t know about? Or maybe, just maybe, the lines between “public servant” and “private business mogul” are so blurred that even Picasso would have difficulty painting it.
There is a cultural paradox here too. In Nigeria, if a person “makes it” in government, they become a hero in their village. While the rest of the country might bemoan corruption, friends and family back home celebrate their “son’s” success. This celebration of political “achievement” is ingrained, and while the culture venerates “serving the people,” the individuals themselves are often held up as “untouchable” figures, immune to scrutiny or criticism. It’s a complex paradox, and one that feeds the myth.
Another pillar of Nigerian leadership myth is the promise of security. Each administration vows to end the violence that has plagued parts of the country, whether it’s the Northeast, plagued by insurgency, or the Northwest, suffering under banditry. Every president is the Commander-in-Chief of the Nigerian Armed Forces, yet they seem more skilled in speeches than in strategies. One might think, given their promises, that each new administration would make Nigeria one of the safest nations on earth. Yet, security remains elusive, like trying to catch rain with a sieve.
The real irony is in the way leaders themselves are heavily guarded while citizens fend for themselves. It’s not uncommon to see a convoy with enough SUVs to form a motorcade protecting one individual while the ordinary citizen walks home through streets dimly lit and streets less patrolled. And yet, Nigerians are resilient. In the face of so much insecurity, they go about their lives, praying that one day, security will be more than a lofty campaign promise.
Leadership in Nigeria is much like a soap opera — long, dramatic, and filled with cliffhangers. And just like the characters in these dramas, Nigerian leaders are often concerned with their legacy. But what does legacy even mean in the context of Nigerian leadership? The legacies that some leaders leave are more about buildings, statues, and airports bearing their names than about sustainable development. And when the next leader comes in, one of the first steps is often to dismantle, rename, or outright ignore the predecessor’s “legacy.”
What this means for Nigeria is a series of disjointed projects, half-hearted initiatives, and policies abandoned halfway. In place of real progress, Nigeria has a collection of monuments to political egos, a scrapbook of half-completed buildings, and a string of reforms that never quite made it to completion.
But here’s the twist: for all the comedy and tragedy of Nigerian leadership, Nigerians themselves are the true leaders. They are the ones who hustle, adapt, and thrive despite the odds. While politicians grandstand, ordinary Nigerians build businesses from scratch, create art and culture that captivate the world, and maintain a resilient spirit that no amount of hardship seems to quench.
The myth of Nigerian leadership persists because, deep down, we all hold out hope that one day, the leaders we elect will reflect the best of us — not the worst. Nigerians deserve leaders who understand that leadership is a service, not a birthright, a responsibility, not a ticket to personal paradise.
In the end, perhaps the myth will give way to reality. Maybe the Messiah Complex will be replaced by the Public Servant. But until then, Nigerians will do what they have always done — lead themselves, rise above, and continue to believe that one day, true leadership will emerge, not as myth but as reality, and Nigeria may win—Only time will tell.
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CBN’s $1trn Mirage: Why Nigeria’s Real Sector Holds the Missing Key
By Blaise Udunze
When the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) recently declared that the country was on course to becoming a $1 trillion economy through ongoing banking reforms, the statement was met with cautious optimism. To many, it sounded like a long-awaited promise of prosperity as a declaration that Nigeria’s economic renewal is finally underway. But behind the projection lies a critical question, if banking reforms alone drive the kind of broad-based, sustainable growth required to make Nigeria a trillion-dollar economy?
The truth, according to several experts and economic data, is that banking reforms though necessary are insufficient. The structure of the Nigerian economy is still too fragile, the real sector too weak, and the policy framework too inconsistent to sustain such lofty growth. Without targeted reforms that strengthen production, industry, and exports, the trillion-dollar dream risks remaining what one economist aptly described as a “mirage.”
Tilewa Adebajo, Chief Executive Officer of CFG Advisory, did not mince words when he addressed the subject on ARISE NEWS earlier this year. “We said Nigeria already has the potential of a $1 trillion economy. But $1 trillion economy is a mirage. We shouldn’t go there again,” he said. “If you do not have your policies in place, you cannot reach that $1 trillion economy.”
Adebajo’s caution strikes at the heart of the matter, saying potential is not performance. Nigeria has abundant human and natural resources, but poor policy implementation, weak governance, and persistent inflation continue to choke productivity and investment.
According to Adebajo, reforms alone cannot drive growth. “Reforms on themselves cannot be the solution or answer to growing the economy,” he explained. For him, the CBN’s focus on financial sector restructuring must be complemented by microeconomic solutions such as job creation, poverty alleviation, and social intervention policies that ease the hardship of ordinary Nigerians.
“There has to now be a human face,” he emphasized. Economic transformation, he argues, must not only be about GDP numbers but about improving the quality of life for millions trapped in poverty.
While the CBN’s recapitalisation directive aims to strengthen the banking system and attract foreign capital, many industry players insist that banking strength is meaningless without productive outlets for credit. The Group Managing Director of UBA Plc, Oliver Alawuba, made this clear at the Annual Conference of the Finance Correspondents Association of Nigeria (FICAN).
He stated that achieving the $1 trillion economy target “requires not just incremental growth, but structural shifts in how we approach banking, financial innovation, and sectoral development.”
For Alawuba, the real sector in agriculture, manufacturing, and services must become the true engine of growth.
“A vibrant real sector will drive employment, foster innovation, and strengthen the overall economy by reducing dependency on the oil sector,” he said.
Recapitalization alone, he noted, “is not enough; it must be followed by focused lending to strategic areas that promise the highest economic returns.”
This sentiment reflects a broader consensus among economists that credit must flow to where value is created. Yet, Nigerian banks often prefer the comfort of investing in risk-free government securities over financing industrial or agricultural expansion. The result is a financial system that thrives on paper profits but contributes little to real economic output.
Indeed, Nigeria’s real sector has remained under pressure for years. Manufacturing’s share of GDP still hovers around 10 to 12 percent, hampered by erratic power supply, high logistics costs, and dependence on imported inputs. Agriculture, employing over one-third of the population, remains largely subsistence-based and technologically backward. Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs), which make up 90 percent of businesses and contribute 48 percent of GDP, continue to struggle with limited access to affordable, long-term credit.
Alawuba suggests that this is where the banking recapitalisation drive must meet fintech innovation. By creating products specifically tailored to SMEs such as flexible loan packages, digital lending tools, and market access platforms which banks can unlock exponential growth. He argues that the future of Nigeria’s economy depends on “the strategic alignment of policy, investment, technology, and, most importantly, our collective will to innovate and grow.”
However, achieving this alignment requires more than monetary engineering; it demands a complete rethink of fiscal and industrial policy. As Isa Omagu of the Bank of Industry (BoI) explained during the same forum, “The economy stands on both the monetary and fiscal sides; we need both sides to work together.” While the monetary side stabilizes prices, fiscal authorities must “come in on the issue of governance.” Nigeria’s biggest economic problem, he said, is simple: “We are not producing enough, and we cannot continue to consume imported goods and expect the economy to be robust.”
Omagu’s statement underscores the country’s most pressing contradiction as a consumption-driven economy that produces little of what it consumes. He called for deeper investment in agriculture, infrastructure, and services to minimize importation and reduce pressure on the foreign exchange market. “We cannot achieve a $1 trillion economy without focusing or boosting our production capacity,” he warned.
The Deputy Director of the Banking Examination Department at the Nigeria Deposit Insurance Corporation (NDIC), Emeka Udechukwu, echoed a similar concern. He warned that “without a vibrant real sector, the economy might not grow fast enough to hit the $1 trillion target.” He argued that while the CBN’s loan-to-deposit ratio policy was designed to compel banks to lend more to the productive sector, “fundamental infrastructural deficits” and policy inconsistencies have undermined its impact. “If there is challenge in the real sector of any economy, that economy is already challenged,” he said. “We have to go back to the real sector and do what we are supposed to do.”
This diagnosis aligns with what many analysts have long argued that Nigeria’s economic problem is not lack of money but lack of production. Trillions of naira circulate within the financial system, yet they rarely translate into new factories, expanded farms, or exportable goods. A $1 trillion GDP projection, therefore, may reflect currency devaluation or statistical rebasing more than genuine productivity gains.
The country’s overreliance on oil further complicates the path to sustainable growth. Data from the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) shows that in the last quarter of 2023, crude oil accounted for over 81 percent of total exports, while non-oil exports amounted to just around N1 trillion. Even though non-oil exports grew by 38.5 percent in early 2024, their value remains meagre for an economy seeking diversification.
Nigeria’s non-oil export base including manufactured goods, agricultural products, and services remains underdeveloped. Experts argue that to escape this trap, Nigeria must learn from Asian success stories like Singapore and Vietnam, where industrialization, export-oriented manufacturing, and human capital investment transformed poor economies into global competitors.
Singapore, for instance, transitioned from high unemployment and poor infrastructure in the 1960s to one of the world’s richest nations through massive investment in education, manufacturing, and technology. Its top exports today include integrated circuits and machinery products that drive global industries. Similarly, Vietnam evolved from an agrarian, war-torn economy to a manufacturing hub exporting electronics, textiles, and footwear worth over $370 billion in 2022. Nigeria, by contrast, has watched its GDP fall from $400 billion in 2013 to around $250 billion by 2023.
Both countries demonstrate that industrialization, not financial speculation, drives long-term growth. As Uchenna Uzo, a marketing professor at Lagos Business School, put it, “Manufacturing and local production are the key things that can set Nigeria apart.” He added that Nigeria can also attract diaspora investment if it builds the right infrastructure and policy stability.
The lesson is clear; a trillion-dollar economy cannot be decreed from monetary policy statements or achieved through banking reforms alone. It must be earned through production, value addition, and innovation. Nigeria’s manufacturing base must expand, its agricultural productivity must rise, and its infrastructure such as power, transport, and logistics must be modernized.
Banking reforms should therefore serve as an enabler, not a substitute, for real sector development. The CBN’s recapitalization drive, while commendable, must be tied to sectoral targets. Banks that expand credit to manufacturing, agriculture, or export-oriented businesses should enjoy regulatory incentives, while speculative investments in non-productive assets should be discouraged.
Equally important is the need to tame inflation and stabilize the currency. As Adebajo noted, Nigeria can only sustain GDP growth of 8-10 percent if inflation is kept below 12 percent. Persistent inflation erodes purchasing power, deters investment, and undermines long-term planning. Without macroeconomic stability, even the best-intentioned reforms will falter.
Furthermore, there must be a coordinated industrial policy that aligns monetary, fiscal, and trade objectives. For instance, while the CBN seeks to strengthen the naira, the fiscal authorities must simultaneously support local manufacturers through tax incentives, infrastructure investment, and export facilitation. Import restrictions, when necessary, should be strategically designed to protect emerging industries without stifling competition.
Nigeria’s SME ecosystem also deserves targeted support. As the Bank of Industry’s Omagu and UBA’s Alawuba both emphasized, SMEs are the backbone of employment and innovation. Yet, they are often the most credit-starved. Government-backed credit guarantees, venture funds, and fintech-driven micro-lending could bridge this gap, helping small enterprises become the foundation of Nigeria’s industrial base.
Equally, agricultural transformation must move beyond subsistence farming to agro-industrialisation such as processing, packaging, and exporting value-added products rather than raw materials. This approach will not only increase farmers’ incomes but also create jobs and reduce pressure on foreign exchange demand. A focus on value chain development from farm to factory to market will ensure that the benefits of growth reach ordinary citizens.
At a time when 133 million Nigerians are multidimensionally poor, according to NBS data, the urgency for real sector reforms cannot be overstated. An economy that depends overwhelmingly on oil exports, consumes more than it produces, and imports most of its essential goods cannot claim to be on the path to a trillion dollars in any meaningful sense.
The government’s projection of achieving a $1 trillion economy by 2030 could still be attainable but only if the country embarks on deep structural reforms. These include ensuring reliable power supply, revamping transport infrastructure, tackling corruption that inflates project costs, and improving governance and policy consistency.
Nigeria must also invest aggressively in education and skills development, following the example of countries like Singapore, which turned human capital into its greatest economic asset. A young, skilled population can drive innovation, entrepreneurship, and technological adoption which is the real levers of modern economic power.
The road to a trillion-dollar economy will not be paved by balance sheets and banking reforms alone. It will be built by factories, farms, and entrepreneurs. It will depend on a nation’s ability to produce, innovate, and trade competitively. It will require a deliberate shift from policy announcements to policy execution, where government actions translate into measurable outcomes for citizens.
Nigeria’s trillion-dollar dream is achievable, but not on the current trajectory. Without revitalizing the real sector, ensuring macroeconomic stability, and investing in people and production, the CBN’s optimism risks sounding like rhetoric detached from reality. Banking reforms may stabilize the system, but only real sector reforms can sustain growth.
In the end, Nigeria’s economic destiny will not be determined in banking halls but in the fields, factories, and workshops where real value is created. The trillion-dollar economy will not come from financial statements, it will come from the sweat of productive Nigerians who, if properly empowered, can transform potential into prosperity.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional writes from Lagos, can be reached via: [email protected]
Feature/OPED
Is the Fear of Missing Out Draining Your Productivity?Here is an Answer!
By Timi Olubiyi, PhD
We have all been there. You pick up your phone “just to check something quickly” before work, and suddenly, thirty minutes have vanished. You have scrolled through endless social media reels, skimmed the latest headlines, and perhaps even replied to a message that could have waited. Sound familiar? Today, the explosion of content creation fueled by monetization where creators are incentivized to produce viral content for likes, shares, and revenue is making this habit even harder to resist. Every swipe and scroll is now part of an economic game, designed to capture attention and keep users engaged longer. Technology was intended to make our lives easier, yet it often leaves us feeling more overwhelmed than ever.
In recent time, breaking news about political developments about Trump sending troops to Nigeria, Omoge Saida’s viral drama, different viral celebrity drama, or the constant stream of weddings, divorces, and high-profile events keeps eyes glued to screens even when focus should be on productivity or on other pressing tasks. These constant barrage of stories makes us feel like we need to stay connected to stay in the social media loop. This is where FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) comes in. We feel like if we don’t check the latest post or see who’s at the wedding party this weekend, we are somehow disconnected from the world, out of touch, and falling behind.
In fact, the average worker checks their phone more than 150 times a day, and a survey by Deloitte revealed that over 60% of professionals struggle to focus at work due to constant digital interruptions. This relentless pursuit of digital engagement is draining creativity, reducing effectiveness, and leaving us more exhausted than before. Here is the deeper truth: technology has fundamentally rewired the way we think, work, and rest. Psychologists call this state “continuous partial attention,” in which we are never fully present. We bounce between screens, applications, and thoughts without ever concentrating on a single task.
Research shows that multitasking does not enhance productivity; it undermines it. Every time we switch tasks, we deplete cognitive energy. The result is a workforce that is always connected but rarely engaged, constantly busy but seldom productive. This challenge extends to personal life as well: family dinners are interrupted by notifications, relaxation is stolen by scrolling, and vacations are no longer escapes from the digital noise.
What is truly unsettling is that social media platforms and applications are deliberately designed to be addictive You experience phantom of vibrations and fear of missing out (FOMO) every minute of the day. Infact, in the authors opinion, every like, comment, or share releases a small dose of dopamine, reinforcing habitual behavior and connections on the social media.It’s a trap that many of us fall into without even realizing it.
FOMO has become an ever-present companion, encouraging us to scroll mindlessly through updates that are, in reality, often irrelevant to our daily goals or well-being. Over time, this fosters compulsive digital patterns that are difficult to break. The consequences are significant: shortened attention spans, mental fatigue, and anxiety when disconnected. The World Health Organization identifies excessive screen time and digital multitasking as major contributors to burnout, especially among younger professionals. In short, we are living in a world that is digitally rich but mentally depleted.
The irony is that technology itself is not the enemy; it is our relationship with it that is the issue. When used mindfully, digital tools can enhance efficiency, foster communication, and drive innovation. However, when technology dictates our behavior, it becomes toxic. Consider a typical workday: emails open in the morning, followed by a LinkedIn notification, a trending post on X (formerly Twitter), and then a YouTube video.
Suddenly, an hour has passed. This constant micro-distraction erodes what is known as “deep work,” the focused, uninterrupted effort that drives meaningful success. According to Cal Newport, author of Deep Work, the capacity for such focus is rapidly diminishing.
For leaders, the consequences are even more severe. Decision fatigue, information overload, and screen-induced stress erode judgment and creativity, leaving teams in reactive mode and mistaking busyness for productivity. Official meetings are not left out, you find attendees distracted with lack of full attention at the meetings in recent times instead the gaze is usually on the phones, most times attending meetings absent minded which at the end of the day affect the decision makings at such meetings.
So, what is the solution? A digital detox- a deliberate pause from technology designed to reset our relationship with it. Think of it as recalibration rather than deprivation. Research published by the Harvard Business Review shows that professionals who take regular digital breaks report improved focus, better sleep, and enhanced emotional regulation. Even small adjustments, such as not using screens during meals or setting application limits, can boost creativity and concentration within days. The key is intention. A digital detox does not require abandoning technology; it is about regaining control over it. Individuals can designate “no-notification” periods, or schedule specific times for social media use instead of mindlessly scrolling.
Forward-thinking organizations are already adopting “digital wellness” initiatives. Such as screen-free meetings which are becoming more common, and mindfulness and productivity training is being introduced as part of corporate development programs. These small interventions yield significant benefits for both individual well-being and corporate performance. Digital detoxing is not easy initially. The first few days can feel disorienting, almost like withdrawal.
You may experience phantom vibrations or fear of missing out. Yet this is where transformation occurs. When the noise is stripped away, clarity emerges. Conversations deepen, work feels more meaningful, and creativity flows. You rediscover productivity with focus and the satisfaction of completing tasks without constant interruptions. Once consciousness is introduced to time on social media or online presence, it becomes evident how much attention was previously consumed by trivial distractions.
How can one start a digital detox without neglecting professional or social responsibilities? The answer is moderation rather than total abstinence. Begin by auditing digital habits and tracking time spent on social media or checking devices. The results are often startling. Next, set clear boundaries: disable unnecessary notifications, schedule specific times for email, and charge devices outside the bedroom. Replace digital downtime with activities that recharge your mind, such as reading, journaling, walking, or sitting in silence.
In workplaces, for meetings “focus blocks,” can be encourage where teams’ mute communication and concentrate on uninterrupted work or meetings. Organizations that model this behavior can regulate productivity. Ultimately, the goal of a digital detox is not disconnection but reconnection with time, thoughts, creativity, and the people who truly matter. The more we master our attention, the more control we gain over our work and our lives.
In a society obsessed with staying online, one of the most radical acts of productivity may be learning how to log off. The next time you feel compelled to check your phone before breakfast, pause. Take a deep breath. Ask yourself: is this urgency real, or is it simply another notification attempting to steal your focus? The answer may surprise you and mark the first step toward reclaiming your time, focus, and freedom. 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.
Feature/OPED
Banks’ N1.96trn Black Hole: Who Took the Loans, Who Defaulted, and Why the Real Economy Suffers
By Blaise Udunze
Nigeria’s banking sector has entered a season of reckoning. Eight of the nation’s biggest banks have collectively booked N1.96 trillion in impairment charges in just the first nine months of 2025 which represents a staggering 49 percent increase from the N1.32 trillion recorded in the same period of 2024.
Behind these figures lies a deeper question that speaks to the very soul of Nigerian finance on who received these loans that have now turned sour? Were they the small and medium enterprises (SMEs), entrepreneurs, and job creators that fuel real economic growth, or were they politically connected insiders and corporate giants whose failures are now being quietly written off at the expense of the public trust?
The Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) is unwinding its pandemic-era forbearance regime, a policy that allowed banks to restructure non-performing loans and delay recognizing potential losses. It was a relief measure meant to protect the economy during the COVID-19 shock. But as the CBN begins to phase out this regulatory cushion, the hidden weaknesses in many banks’ balance sheets are now coming to light.
The apex bank has since placed several lenders under close supervisory engagement, restricting them from paying dividends, issuing executive bonuses, or expanding offshore operations until they meet prudential standards. Those that have satisfied the conditions are being gradually transitioned out ahead of the full forbearance unwind scheduled for March 2026. This shift, though painful, is forcing banks to confront the true state of their loan books and the picture emerging is anything but flattering.
A review of financial statements of Nigeria’s top listed banks reveals the distribution of impairment charges as of the third quarter of 2025.
– Zenith Bank Plc leads the pack with an eye-popping N781.5 billion in impairments, a 63.6 percent jump from N477.8 billion in 2024. Most of this amount to about N711 billion which occurred in the second quarter of 2025, driven by losses on foreign-currency loans and the end of regulatory forbearance. The bank’s gross loans declined by 9 percent to N10 trillion, and though its non-performing loan (NPL) ratio improved to 3 percent, that was largely due to massive write-offs.
– Ecobank Transnational Incorporated (ETI) followed closely, provisioning N393.7 billion, up 47 percent year-on-year. Inflation, exchange-rate volatility, and macroeconomic stress in Nigeria and Ghana all contributed to loan-quality deterioration. Its total loan book stands at N21.1 trillion, with a modestly improved NPL ratio of 5.3 percent.
– Access Holdings Plc posted impairments of N350 billion, representing a 141.5 percent surge year-on-year. About N255 billion of this came from loans to corporate entities and organizations, while the rest were loans to individuals. The bank cited changing macroeconomic conditions, inflationary pressures, and continued regulatory adjustments as the main culprits.
– First HoldCo reported N288.9 billion, up 68.6 percent from N171.4 billion a year earlier. The bank attributed the spike to revaluation losses and write-downs of legacy exposures in the energy and trade sectors. Notably, about N100 billions of this was incurred in the third quarter alone.
– United Bank for Africa (UBA) saw a dramatic improvement, cutting impairments from N123.5 billion to 56.9 billion, thanks to recoveries of N50.4 billion. The bank’s proactive loan-book management and collateral recoveries were credited for this performance.
– Guaranty Trust Holding Company (GTCO) posted N69.8 billion, up slightly from N63.6 billion last year. The group wrote off a key oil-and-gas exposure but maintained strong profitability, with pre-tax return on equity (ROAE) of 39.5 percent.
– Stanbic IBTC Holdings Plc recorded N11.6 billion, a sharp 80 percent decline year-on-year following recoveries of N16.3 billion on previously impaired loans.
– Wema Bank Plc, with N11 billion in impairments, reported one of the lowest provisioning levels in the industry, despite 30 percent loan growth.
Altogether, these eight banks have set aside almost N2trillion in provisions to cover potential losses, a sum roughly equivalent to Nigeria’s entire federal capital expenditure for 2025.
There have been recent claims of a modest level of loan growth that is not commensurate with the overall expansion of the banking system’s balance sheet. Data from MoneyCentral shows that the combined total loans of the nine banks stood at N65.37 trillion as of September 2025, representing a 7.42 percent increase from N60.86 trillion in 2024. This contrasts sharply with a 52.63 percent surge in combined loans recorded in the 2024 financial year and a 32.64 percent increase in 2023, according to data gathered by MoneyCentral.
The underlying question, therefore, is which sectors of the economy are actually benefiting from this reported loan growth?
The real puzzle behind these numbers is who actually received these loans that are now being impaired. While banks have long positioned themselves as engines of private-sector growth, evidence suggests that much of their lending goes to a narrow base of corporate borrowers, politically connected elites, and oil-and-gas companies. These sectors offer large-ticket deals and quick interest earnings but also carry enormous risk.
In contrast, the SME sector, which employs more than 80 percent of Nigeria’s workforce, continues to face credit starvation. Many small businesses are forced to rely on expensive informal loans or personal savings because banks deem them too risky. The pattern is clear that banks chase safety and short-term profits over inclusive growth. When their big corporate bets fail, they write them off through impairment charges, but the cumulative effect is that real economic activity suffers while the credit system grows more fragile.
Another dimension to the problem is the banking industry’s heavy investment in government securities. Over the past two years, Nigerian banks have channeled N20.4 trillion into treasury bills, bonds, and other fixed-income instruments, reaping risk-free returns rather than funding productive ventures. This “securities trap” is profitable for banks but disastrous for the economy. Instead of financing factories, farmers, or tech innovators, banks earn easy money by lending to government thereby crowding out private investment and weakening the transmission of credit to the real sector. When interest rates rise or currency values swing, the market value of these securities falls, forcing banks to record mark-to-market losses that translate into impairment charges. Thus, the same safety net that shields banks from loan risk ends up creating financial volatility of its own.
Beyond macroeconomic challenges, Nigeria’s banks are also grappling with homegrown problems like insider abuses, weak corporate governance, and ineffective risk management. Past crises in the banking sector, from the 2009 consolidation fallout to the 2016 oil-sector shock, reveal a consistent pattern: directors and senior executives often have outsized influence over loan approvals, sometimes extending credit to themselves or politically exposed entities without proper collateral or due diligence. These insider-related loans frequently turn toxic, hidden under layers of restructuring and accounting manoeuvres until a regulatory audit forces exposure.
The recent impairments may well reflect a new cycle of these historical sins as loans extended under pressure, influence, or misplaced optimism, now coming home to roost as the CBN tightens oversight. Corporate-governance codes exist, but enforcement remains uneven. Some banks continue to operate “relationship banking,” were loyalty trumps prudence. The lack of whistleblower protection, combined with weak internal-audit independence, further compounds the problem. Until boards and regulators impose real consequences for reckless lending, the system will continue rewarding the wrong behaviour and punishing taxpayers and shareholders in the long run.
At its heart, impairment is a measure of how well banks anticipate and manage risk. A rise in impairments signals that too many loans were made without properly assessing the borrower’s ability to repay, or that risk models failed to adjust to changing macroeconomic conditions. Several banks blamed their losses on exchange-rate volatility and inflation, but these are hardly new risks in Nigeria’s economic environment. The fact that impairments ballooned even as profits remained high suggests that risk-management frameworks were reactive rather than preventive which focused on compliance rather than foresight. In some cases, the sheer scale of provisioning, such as Zenith’s N781 billion or Access’s N350 billion, points to systemic underestimation of credit risk.
Every naira written off as an impairment represents not just a failed loan but a lost opportunity for the real economy. N1.96 trillion could have funded tens of thousands of new small businesses, millions of jobs, and critical infrastructure projects. Instead, these funds are trapped in the closed circuit of banking losses or vanish into opaque corporate failures. This has broader implications: as banks absorb losses, they tighten lending criteria, making it harder for genuine borrowers to access loans. High impairments signal instability, discouraging foreign investors and depositors, while credit flow dries up, productivity and job creation suffer. The result is a paradoxical economy where banks post impressive profits yet the productive sector languishes.
If there is a silver lining, it is that some banks, notably UBA, Stanbic IBTC, and Wema Bank are demonstrating improved loan-recovery strategies, more disciplined credit models, and a stronger focus on risk-weighted assets. Their experiences prove that impairment is not inevitable; it is the outcome of choices like governance, culture, and accountability. For others, the current round of provisioning should serve as a wake-up call to rethink their business models, diversify exposures, and strengthen compliance culture.
To its credit, the CBN’s forbearance unwind is a critical step toward transparency. By compelling banks to recognize their true loan losses and restricting dividend payouts until they meet prudential standards, the regulator is forcing a long-overdue cleansing of the system. However, reform must go deeper than technical compliance. The CBN must enforce public disclosure of insider-related loans, tighten penalties for concealment, and promote lending to productive sectors through targeted incentives. For instance, a tiered capital framework could reward banks that extend a higher proportion of credit to SMEs and manufacturing, while imposing stricter capital charges on speculative or insider-related lending.
Nigeria’s banking sector has shown resilience through crises, from the global financial meltdown to oil-price collapses. But resilience should not become an excuse for complacency. The N1.96 trillion impairment charges of 2025 are more than a balance-sheet adjustment; they are a mirror reflecting structural flaws in lending culture, governance, and the alignment between finance and development. To rebuild trust and relevance, banks must reorient lending toward real-sector growth, invest in credit analytics and risk intelligence that anticipate shocks, enforce transparency in board-level loan approvals and insider exposures, and collaborate with regulators to design sustainable credit frameworks for SMEs. Above all, there must be a moral recalibration of banking purpose from chasing short-term profits to fueling long-term national prosperity.
The spike in impairment charges does not mean Nigeria’s banks are collapsing. Rather, it signals an industry confronting its hidden fragilities. As the forbearance curtain lifts, the system has a chance to reset to clean up bad debts, rebuild credibility, and reconnect finance with development. But that opportunity will be wasted if the same patterns persist: insider lending, governance lapses, and a preference for easy returns over real investment. Until these issues are confronted head-on, the question will continue to echo through boardrooms and regulatory halls are Nigerian banks truly financing growth or merely recycling risk and protecting privilege? Only transparency, discipline, and a renewed sense of purpose can answer that question in the affirmative.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional writes from Lagos, can be reached via: [email protected]
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