Nigeria at 66: The good, the bad, and the ugly

Picture a 66-year-old man. He was born with real advantages: fertile land, a large family, mineral wealth under his floor. By his forties, he had struck good fortune: oil, and for a while the money flowed. But he never wrote a proper succession plan. He kept postponing the hard decisions about how his children would earn a living once the oil money slowed down. Every decade he promised himself, and everyone around him, that this time would be different. It rarely was. Now he is closer to seventy than to sixty, his grandchildren are asking what they will inherit, and he is being told, again, that the current plan is finally the one that will secure the future. Nigeria turns 66 on October 1, and that is roughly its story. The good Nigeria did not begin its independent life empty-handed. In the 1960s, agriculture dominated the economy and provided a large share of employment and export earnings. Cocoa, groundnuts, palm products, cotton and other agricultural commodities connected Nigeria to international markets. The country entered independence with the foundations of an economy that could have developed beyond primary commodities. Then oil changed the scale of the economy. Commercial production began in the late 1950s, and by the 1970s and 1980s crude had become overwhelmingly dominant in exports. An IMF study found that oil accounted for more than 90 percent of exports through much of the 1980s, while non-oil exports collapsed as a share of the total. Yet Nigeria did not remain an oil economy in every other respect. It built a large services economy and a much more complex domestic market. In the second quarter of 2026, services accounted for 56.62 percent of real GDP, agriculture 26.15 percent and industry 17.23 percent. Real GDP grew 4.43 percent year-on-year, from 3.89 percent in the first quarter and 4.23 percent in Q2 2025. The non-oil sector generated 95.84 percent of real GDP. Telecommunications, banking, financial services, trade, real estate, technology, entertainment and professional services are now major economic activities. That diversification is one of the clearest achievements of the past six decades. Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Every decade he promised himself, and everyone around him, that this time would be different. It rarely was. Now he is closer to seventy than to sixty, his grandchildren are asking what they will inherit, and he is being told, again, that the current plan is finally the one that will secure the future. Nigeria turns 66 on October 1, and that is roughly its story. The good Nigeria did not begin its independent life empty-handed. In the 1960s, agriculture dominated the economy and provided a large share of employment and export earnings. Cocoa, groundnuts, palm products, cotton and other agricultural commodities connected Nigeria to international markets. The country entered independence with the foundations of an economy that could have developed beyond primary commodities. Then oil changed the scale of the economy. Commercial production began in the late 1950s, and by the 1970s and 1980s crude had become overwhelmingly dominant in exports. An IMF study found that oil accounted for more than 90 percent of exports through much of the 1980s, while non-oil exports collapsed as a share of the total. Yet Nigeria did not remain an oil economy in every other respect. It built a large services economy and a much more complex domestic market. In the second quarter of 2026, services accounted for 56.62 percent of real GDP, agriculture 26.15 percent and industry 17.23 percent. Real GDP grew 4.43 percent year-on-year, from 3.89 percent in the first quarter and 4.23 percent in Q2 2025. The non-oil sector generated 95.84 percent of real GDP. Telecommunications, banking, financial services, trade, real estate, technology, entertainment and professional services are now major economic activities. That diversification is one of the clearest achievements of the past six decades. Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The good Nigeria did not begin its independent life empty-handed. In the 1960s, agriculture dominated the economy and provided a large share of employment and export earnings. Cocoa, groundnuts, palm products, cotton and other agricultural commodities connected Nigeria to international markets. The country entered independence with the foundations of an economy that could have developed beyond primary commodities. Then oil changed the scale of the economy. Commercial production began in the late 1950s, and by the 1970s and 1980s crude had become overwhelmingly dominant in exports. An IMF study found that oil accounted for more than 90 percent of exports through much of the 1980s, while non-oil exports collapsed as a share of the total. Yet Nigeria did not remain an oil economy in every other respect. It built a large services economy and a much more complex domestic market. In the second quarter of 2026, services accounted for 56.62 percent of real GDP, agriculture 26.15 percent and industry 17.23 percent. Real GDP grew 4.43 percent year-on-year, from 3.89 percent in the first quarter and 4.23 percent in Q2 2025. The non-oil sector generated 95.84 percent of real GDP. Telecommunications, banking, financial services, trade, real estate, technology, entertainment and professional services are now major economic activities. That diversification is one of the clearest achievements of the past six decades. Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Nigeria did not begin its independent life empty-handed. In the 1960s, agriculture dominated the economy and provided a large share of employment and export earnings. Cocoa, groundnuts, palm products, cotton and other agricultural commodities connected Nigeria to international markets. The country entered independence with the foundations of an economy that could have developed beyond primary commodities. Then oil changed the scale of the economy. Commercial production began in the late 1950s, and by the 1970s and 1980s crude had become overwhelmingly dominant in exports. An IMF study found that oil accounted for more than 90 percent of exports through much of the 1980s, while non-oil exports collapsed as a share of the total. Yet Nigeria did not remain an oil economy in every other respect. It built a large services economy and a much more complex domestic market. In the second quarter of 2026, services accounted for 56.62 percent of real GDP, agriculture 26.15 percent and industry 17.23 percent. Real GDP grew 4.43 percent year-on-year, from 3.89 percent in the first quarter and 4.23 percent in Q2 2025. The non-oil sector generated 95.84 percent of real GDP. Telecommunications, banking, financial services, trade, real estate, technology, entertainment and professional services are now major economic activities. That diversification is one of the clearest achievements of the past six decades. Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Then oil changed the scale of the economy. Commercial production began in the late 1950s, and by the 1970s and 1980s crude had become overwhelmingly dominant in exports. An IMF study found that oil accounted for more than 90 percent of exports through much of the 1980s, while non-oil exports collapsed as a share of the total. Yet Nigeria did not remain an oil economy in every other respect. It built a large services economy and a much more complex domestic market. In the second quarter of 2026, services accounted for 56.62 percent of real GDP, agriculture 26.15 percent and industry 17.23 percent. Real GDP grew 4.43 percent year-on-year, from 3.89 percent in the first quarter and 4.23 percent in Q2 2025. The non-oil sector generated 95.84 percent of real GDP. Telecommunications, banking, financial services, trade, real estate, technology, entertainment and professional services are now major economic activities. That diversification is one of the clearest achievements of the past six decades. Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

In the second quarter of 2026, services accounted for 56.62 percent of real GDP, agriculture 26.15 percent and industry 17.23 percent. Real GDP grew 4.43 percent year-on-year, from 3.89 percent in the first quarter and 4.23 percent in Q2 2025. The non-oil sector generated 95.84 percent of real GDP. Telecommunications, banking, financial services, trade, real estate, technology, entertainment and professional services are now major economic activities. That diversification is one of the clearest achievements of the past six decades. Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Telecommunications, banking, financial services, trade, real estate, technology, entertainment and professional services are now major economic activities. That diversification is one of the clearest achievements of the past six decades. Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Oil production has also improved. NUPRC reported 1.68 million barrels per day of crude and condensate in August 2026, including 1.50 million barrels of crude, allowing Nigeria to meet its OPEC quota for the fourth consecutive month. External buffers have strengthened too. The IMF reported gross reserves of $49 billion at end-March 2026, while subsequent CBN data and market analysis put reserves above $54 billion in September. Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Nigeria has therefore not spent 66 years standing still. It has survived civil war, military rule, oil crashes, debt crises and repeated political transitions while building businesses, cities, banks, universities and a digital economy. The good story is that the country kept building despite the weaknesses around it. The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The bad The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The problem is that economic size has not consistently translated into higher living standards. The World Bank puts Nigeria’s GDP per capita at $1,224 in 2025, down sharply from $3,190 in 2019 and $2,139 in 2023 in current US-dollar terms. Exchange-rate movements affect these dollar figures, but the direction of change illustrates how recent macroeconomic shocks have reduced Nigeria’s measured income per person. The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The IMF’s 2026 assessment estimates national poverty at 63 percent, while about 27 million Nigerians faced food insecurity in late 2025. Nigeria’s separate 2022 multidimensional poverty survey found 62.9 percent, or about 133 million people, to be multidimensionally poor, reflecting deprivation in areas including education, health, and living standards. Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Inflation has now fallen considerably, but households are still dealing with the price level created by earlier inflation. NBS reported headline inflation at 15.39 percent in August 2026, down from 15.43 percent in July. Core inflation was 13.29 percent, while food inflation remained 19.57 percent. That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

That distinction matters. Falling inflation means prices are rising more slowly, not that they have returned to where they were before the cost-of-living crisis. The minimum-wage dispute captures the problem. Nigeria’s national minimum wage rose from N125 in 1981 to N250 in 1991, N5,500 in 2000, N18,000 in 2011, N30,000 in 2019 and N70,000 in 2024. The latest increase was a 133 percent nominal jump. Yet organised labour is already seeking another increase. In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

In September, the Nigeria Labour Congress backed the Joint National Public Service Negotiating Council’s demand for a N500,000 minimum wage, an immediate wage award and petrol at N500 per litre. The council gave the Federal Government until September 30 to respond and proposed N500,000 as the minimum salary for Grade Level 01, Step 1 under a proposed 2027 wage structure. The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The proposed wage is more than seven times the current statutory minimum. That demand is not simply about workers asking for more money. It is also evidence of how quickly purchasing power has been squeezed by food, transport, energy and housing costs. The International Labour Organization has also highlighted a structural limitation: Nigeria’s large informal economy means statutory minimum-wage increases do not automatically reach most workers. So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

So, the problem is bigger than wages. It is the relationship between wages, prices and productivity. If workers repeatedly need large nominal increases simply to maintain living standards, the economy is not generating enough productivity gains to make higher incomes sustainable. The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The ugly The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The ugliest part of Nigeria’s story is the gap between what the country possesses and what those assets actually produce. Electricity is the clearest example. Nigeria has 13,625MW of installed generation capacity, but NERC reported that only an average 4,286MW was available for dispatch in April 2026, a plant availability factor of 31 percent. By August, average available capacity had improved to 4,758MW. A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

A factory does not produce with installed capacity. It produces with electricity that actually reaches its machines. The same principle applies to roads, ports, irrigation, schools and hospitals. Nigeria has farms but remains dependent on food imports. It has minerals but has struggled to build processing industries around them. It has oil but spent years importing refined petroleum products. The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The fiscal numbers explain why the gap persists. The IMF estimates consolidated government revenue and grants at only 10.2 percent of GDP in 2025, compared with projected expenditure of 15.5 percent of GDP in 2026. Oil and gas revenue was just 3.1 percent of GDP in 2025. Meanwhile, federal government interest payments consumed 53.2 percent of FGN revenue in 2025 and are projected at 53.7 percent in 2026. That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

That leaves limited fiscal room for the infrastructure and human capital that could raise productivity. Nigeria can increase oil production, collect more taxes and borrow more money. But if a large share of government revenue is absorbed by debt service and recurrent obligations, the economy receives less of the investment needed to become more productive. This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

This is where the oil story becomes important. Oil did not simply give Nigeria money. It allowed the country to postpone difficult economic choices. It could earn foreign exchange without building a globally competitive manufacturing base. It could finance imports without developing a broad export economy. Governments could collect substantial revenue from crude without building a tax system capable of financing the state from a diversified economy. The result was a recurring pattern: Nigeria found money before it found a durable system for converting that money into productivity. What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

What 66 years should have taught Nigeria Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Nigeria did not need to become Norway or Singapore. It needed to use natural wealth to build an economy that could eventually depend less on natural wealth. The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The agricultural economy of the 1960s could have evolved into a major food-processing and export industry. Oil revenues could have financed reliable electricity, efficient ports and transport networks. Minerals could have become inputs for manufacturing. A growing population could have become an economic advantage through better education, healthcare and skills. Some of that happened. Not enough. The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The current reform cycle is another attempt to change the pattern. Since 2023, the government has removed the petrol subsidy, changed the foreign-exchange regime, tightened monetary financing of fiscal deficits and pursued stronger revenue mobilisation. The IMF says the reforms have improved macroeconomic stability and resilience, although poverty, food insecurity, infrastructure constraints and weak productivity remain significant challenges. The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The improvement in the headline numbers is real. GDP grew 4.43 percent in Q2. Oil production has returned to around 1.5 million barrels per day in crude terms. Reserves have strengthened. Inflation has fallen to 15.39 percent. But stabilisation is not the same as transformation. The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The harder questions are whether faster growth will raise productivity, whether higher oil production will strengthen public finances without recreating dependence on crude, whether lower inflation will eventually translate into more affordable living costs, and whether additional government revenue will produce infrastructure rather than simply higher recurrent spending. The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The minimum-wage debate brings all of these questions together. A N500,000 demand may be negotiated down or changed before becoming law, but its emergence only two years after the N70,000 wage became law shows the pressure facing households. The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

The long-term answer cannot be a wage increase alone. It has to be an economy capable of producing more value per worker, so that higher wages come from higher productivity rather than simply being chased by higher prices. At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

At 66, potential is no longer enough Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Nigeria has been called a country of enormous potential for so long that the word has almost lost its meaning. At 66, the more useful question is not what Nigeria could become. It is what Nigeria has built. Nigeria is more urbanised, connected, entrepreneurial and economically sophisticated than it was in 1960. It has built banks, universities, telecommunications networks, technology companies, cities, industries and a huge services economy. But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

But the numbers inside the household remain the harder test. GDP growth matters. Foreign reserves matter. Oil production matters. Inflation matters. So does a worker asking for N500,000 because N70,000 no longer stretches far enough. So does a manufacturer paying for unreliable electricity. So does a farmer producing in a country that still imports food. So does a graduate entering an economy that does not create enough productive jobs. That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

That is the unfinished business of Nigeria at 66. The country has spent six and a half decades proving that it has potential. The next stage is harder: turning potential into productivity, and productivity into prosperity. A 66-year-old man does not get another 66 years to get his succession plan right. Nigeria does not either. Related News Ports must triple cargo capacity to meet $1trn economy ambition Can Nigeria finally turn energy into industrial power? 10 failed capital projects that could have transformed Nigeria’s economy Oluwatobi Ojabello Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers. Share

Oluwatobi Ojabello, PhD, is a dynamic and multi-dimensional Assistant Editor for Economy and Markets with over two years of professional journalism experience. He delivers authoritative, data-driven coverage of fiscal policy, financial institutions and capital markets, using clear analysis to explain Nigeria’s most complex economic developments. His work focuses on macroeconomic policy, financial stability and corporate performance, turning technical issues into accessible narratives that inform both experts and everyday readers.