One of Nigeria’s greatest contradictions is how a nation so richly blessed continues to wallow in preventable crises. With a population of over 200 million people, Nigeria should be thriving as Africa’s largest market, a hub of innovation, and a powerhouse of skilled labor. Instead, unemployment and underemployment have become defining features of our national reality.
The tragedy is not our numbers; it is the absence of visionary leadership, proper planning, and an efficient system of data management. India and China, with far greater populations, have built industries and economies that thrive on their people. Population is not Nigeria’s curse. Mismanagement is.
For decades, Nigeria has refused to build systems that work. There is still no comprehensive, unified biometric database for workers. The absence of this simple tool has created space for corruption to thrive. Ghost workers appear on payrolls. Civil servants falsify their ages to remain in service years beyond retirement. Some hold two or three government jobs simultaneously while millions of qualified graduates wait endlessly for opportunity.
This rot is not hidden. Katsina State’s recent biometric audit revealed over 3,400 ghost workers, saving the state nearly ₦453 million every month. Among the fraud exposed were names of people long dead, yet still drawing salaries, and staff working in multiple ministries at the same time. If one state could uncover that much decay, what would a nationwide audit reveal? The scale of waste is unimaginable.
Meanwhile, the few recruitment exercises that do take place are marred by irregularities and corruption. Take for an instance, the ongoing Nigeria Customs Service recruitment, where applicants lamented poor handling of CBT tests and technical glitches. Or recall the EFCC recruitment of 2022. I was there. After traveling for documentation, writing an essay, and completing all requirements, I was confident I had performed well.
Later, I was told the entire process had been nullified. Insiders admitted the slots were quietly filled underground. That single experience reflected what many Nigerians know all too well: in this country, merit often stands no chance against connection.
Yet, official statistics tell us unemployment is only 4.3%. This figure is possible only because definitions have been stretched, anyone who works even one hour a week is now considered employed. But what about the graduates selling phone chargers by the roadside? What about the underemployed millions working menial jobs that cannot sustain them? On the streets, unemployment is not an abstract figure. It is a daily reality, visible in frustration, migration, and despair.
Unemployment in Nigeria is not only economic. It is moral and psychological. It erodes dignity, discourages excellence, and convinces the youth that integrity is worthless. It widens the gap between a privileged class who use ghost salaries to acquire estates in Abuja and Lagos, and the vast majority who are denied a fair chance. It is why brain drain intensifies. It is why crime finds fertile ground.
The path forward is neither hidden nor impossible. Nigeria must move beyond lip service. A functional national database is non-negotiable; it will curb ghost workers, detect double employment, and ensure transparency in recruitment. Biometric documentation of all civil servants must be compulsory. Retirement age laws must be enforced without compromise, and recruitment must be based on merit, not political loyalty.
Most importantly, leadership must shift from viewing our population as a liability to recognizing it as an unmatched asset. If China can feed, employ, and empower over a billion citizens, Nigeria can certainly do the same for 200 million if we have the will.
Our population has often been cited as Nigeria’s biggest problem. Politicians and policymakers repeat this refrain whenever unemployment figures are released. But the question must be asked: are we bigger than China, the United States, or India? These nations not only manage their populations but leverage them as assets, turning human capital into engines of growth. For Nigeria, the problem is not numbers; it is the persistent failure to see our people as resources rather than burdens.
Our population is not our problem. Our tragedy is that we have refused to turn numbers into strength. A country that cannot account for its workers cannot account for its future. If we do not confront the ghosts in our system, both literal and metaphorical, our unemployment crisis will persist, and our people will remain Nigeria’s most wasted resource.
Nigeria does not lack people. It lacks the courage to value them.
