Walk through Lagos traffic and witness Nigeria’s entrepreneurial spirit in action. Young men balance trays of bottled water and soft drinks on their heads under the scorching sun. From Kano’s dusty streets, where men sell fresh tomatoes from wheelbarrows between car lanes, to flood-prone urban shanty communities where residents construct makeshift wooden bridges and charge crossing fees, these scenes capture the profound truth that Nigerians are not lazy.
They rise before dawn, hustle under harsh conditions to transform necessity into livelihood. Notwithstanding these efforts, poverty clings like a shadow. Nigeria, Africa’s most populous nation, now wears the undesirable crown as the world’s poverty capital, with over 133 million people (more than half its population) living in multidimensional poverty, according to the 2022 National Bureau of Statistics report.
This is not just a statistic; it is a daily grind that strips dignity from millions. The roots run deep. Poverty and inequality stem from two fundamental failures. First, a lack of equal chances to create wealth. Second, an inability to share the nation’s riches fairly, including the oil wealth that has flowed for decades but rarely reaches the bottom.
Governments worldwide grapple with poverty, but success stories are rare. In modern times, only China, beginning with Deng Xiaoping’s reforms over 45 years ago, has been able to pull over 750 million people out of extreme poverty through aggressive industrialisation, rural investments, and education drives. India, with a population seven times Nigeria’s, has slashed its poverty rate from 45% in the 1990s to about 15% today, thanks to schemes like the rural employment guarantee that provides 100 days of paid work annually to households in need.
Inequalities between rich and poor are not new. They have haunted human societies since ancient times, from feudal Europe to primordial Africa. The timeless question remains. How does a nation protect its vulnerable — the sick, the elderly, the orphaned? What values should shape its response? In a democracy, economic gains mean little if they enrich only a tiny elite while the masses scrape by.
So, how can Nigeria redistribute wealth more effectively? Tax reforms offer a start. The current system is leaky, with evasion rampant among the elite. President Tinubu’s administration has pushed for broader tax nets, aiming to boost revenue from non-oil sources. If implemented well, this could fund social programmes without crippling growth. But taxes alone would not suffice. Consider reallocating subsidies.
Nigeria spends billions on fuel subsidies each year, yet much of it benefits middle-class car owners rather than the rural poor who rely on kerosene for lamps. Redirecting those funds to direct cash transfers, tied to basic community public works, could make a real difference.
Beyond cash handouts, which often vanish into corrupt networks favouring party loyalists, creative approaches are essential. Education stands out. Nigeria’s literacy rate hovers at 62%. Investing in vocational training, like Germany’s apprenticeship model adapted locally, could equip young people with skills for jobs in agriculture or tech. Another example could be focused community cooperatives where farmers pool resources for better seeds and markets. The current anchor borrowers’ programme could be expanded to provide low-interest loans to small farmers and traders, but with stricter oversight to prevent defaults that plagued past efforts.
Scandinavian countries offer lessons in leaving no one behind. Sweden, for instance, uses progressive taxes (up to 57% on high earners) to fund universal healthcare, free education, and unemployment benefits that cover 80% of lost wages. This is not charity; it is a social contract built on trust and strong institutions. Poverty in most Scandinavian countries is below 1%, according to OECD data, because the system emphasises prevention over cure.
Aid and philanthropy help, but they are bandages on a gaping wound. Governments must lead by fostering conditions for all to produce wealth, not just the connected few. This means securing property rights so informal traders can access loans against their assets and unlock “dead capital.” Unregistered land ties up billions in potential value. On equitable distribution, what safety nets exist for the frail, like widows in rural Enugu who receive meagre pensions but struggle with basics? Ethiopia’s Productive Safety Net programme blends cash with public works and has cut hunger by 25% in vulnerable regions.
Economic metrics like GDP growth, of which Nigeria averaged 2% annually since 2015, tell only half the story. They ignore distribution. A rising tide does not lift all boats if some are anchored in mud. There are other ways to measure true progress, like the Gini coefficient, where Nigeria scores 35.1, signalling high inequality per World Bank figures. Reducing poverty demands more inclusive policies that value human potential over elite enrichment.
Nigeria’s democracy cannot claim success while serving only its wealthiest one percent. Economic prosperity that bypasses the majority is not prosperity, it is a systematic exclusion dressed in development rhetoric and metrics. Waiting for wealth to trickle down is an exercise in futile hope. Real change demands deliberate policy choices that expand opportunity and share prosperity equitably.
Nigeria’s people are resilient and hardworking. Young men ferrying passengers across flooded slums deserve better. It is time for leaders to act with reforms that create opportunities, not hollow promises. Only then can the nation shed its poverty label and build a future where no one drowns at the bottom.
