Inside Nigeria’s Multi-Trillion-Naira Quest for the Ultimate Debt Trophy
If Nigeria’s borrowing habit were a football competition, the country would have earned a place among the favourites. Every so often, another loan request arrives, another approval is sought from the National Assembly, and Nigerians are given another explanation of why the country needs more money. On social media, the joke has acquired its own name: the Loan d’Or, a playful adaptation of football’s Ballon d’Or, the coveted award given to the world’s finest footballer. In this Nigerian version, however, the competition is not about goals, assists or individual brilliance. It is about borrowing.
The humour is understandable. The figures behind it are not particularly amusing.
According to the Debt Management Office (DMO), Nigeria’s public debt stood at ₦166.79 trillion as of June 30, 2026. When President Bola Tinubu assumed office in May 2023, the figure stood at ₦87.38 trillion. That represents an increase of ₦79.41 trillion in the naira-denominated debt stock. It is important to acknowledge that this increase does not represent fresh borrowing alone. The depreciation of the naira has raised the domestic-currency value of existing foreign obligations, while the securitisation of historical Ways and Means advances has also contributed to the figures. Nevertheless, the scale of the country’s present debt obligations deserves serious attention.
What makes the situation particularly interesting is the economic philosophy with which this administration began.
Tinubu came into office announcing some of the most consequential economic decisions in Nigeria’s recent history. Petrol subsidy was removed, the foreign exchange regime was altered, and Nigerians were told that the country could no longer afford to sustain an economic arrangement that was draining public resources. The message was clear: difficult decisions had become unavoidable, and citizens would have to endure some hardship before the economy could recover.
Millions of Nigerians have since had to reorganise their lives around the consequences. Transport costs rose, businesses struggled with higher operating expenses, and the prices of everyday necessities became increasingly difficult for ordinary households to manage. The government defended these decisions on the grounds that they would improve public finances, increase revenue and create room for investment.
That explanation naturally raises a question. If Nigerians were asked to make such enormous sacrifices partly to improve the government’s financial position, why does the administration continue to approach the borrowing market with such enthusiasm?
Nobody seriously expects subsidy removal to eliminate the need for government borrowing. Nor is borrowing itself evidence of economic failure. But a government that asks its citizens to accept painful reforms in the name of fiscal discipline must be prepared to explain how the additional resources have been used and why further borrowing remains necessary on such a scale.
In March 2026, the National Assembly approved another $6 billion external borrowing arrangement sought by the President. The package included a $5 billion financing facility involving First Abu Dhabi Bank and a $1 billion facility arranged through a United Kingdom export finance structure. The government said the financing would support budget implementation, existing debt obligations and the rehabilitation of the Lagos and Tin Can Island ports.
Then came another request.
On October 27, 2026, Tinubu asked the National Assembly to approve a supplementary external borrowing programme worth approximately $21.7 billion, comprising $20.52 billion and €1.05 billion, for the 2026–2027 period. The proposed financing is intended to support projects across infrastructure, transportation, agriculture, healthcare, education, water supply and national security, among other areas. It is important to distinguish this latest request from an approved or disbursed loan: it is a proposal awaiting legislative consideration.
The list of intended beneficiaries is impressive. There is hardly a sector in Nigeria that does not need substantial investment. Our roads are in poor condition, electricity remains a serious obstacle to industrial growth, hospitals need better facilities, and insecurity continues to disrupt economic activity in several parts of the country. Nobody disputes these needs.
But listing the problems a loan is supposed to solve is not the same as demonstrating that the money will solve them.
This is where previous borrowing decisions become relevant. On October 30, BusinessDay published an investigation examining four federally backed projects associated with nearly $857 million in external loan financing. They included the National Public Security Communications System, a rural electrification programme, an urban water project and the National Rural Telephony Programme. The investigation found abandoned infrastructure, incomplete programmes and facilities that had failed to deliver the services for which they were established.
One of the projects was the National Public Security Communications System, awarded to China’s ZTE Corporation in 2010. It was intended to provide security agencies with surveillance cameras, command centres and communication facilities to improve coordination and public safety. The project was backed by a $399.5 million loan from China Exim Bank. Yet, according to BusinessDay’s investigation, some of its facilities have deteriorated, been vandalised or fallen into disuse.
There was also a $7.5 million rural electrification project intended to extend electricity to communities in Enugu, Cross River and Ogun states. Years after the infrastructure was installed in some locations, residents were still without the expected electricity supply. Transformers and other equipment were reportedly left unused.
The $250 million Third National Urban Water Sector Reform Project, originally approved to improve water supply in Bauchi, Ekiti and Rivers states, also fell short of its objectives. Its actual disbursement was substantially below the original approved financing, an important distinction when assessing the money involved. The first phase of the National Rural Telephony Programme, associated with a $200 million Chinese loan, similarly remained incomplete despite a 2017 House of Representatives resolution reporting that the principal and interest had been repaid.
These projects did not all fail in the same way, and it would be inaccurate to suggest that the entire $857 million was simply stolen or wasted. Their individual histories are different. But together, they raise an uncomfortable question about Nigeria’s ability to turn borrowed money into functioning public infrastructure.
What happened to the facilities after the contractors left? Who was responsible for maintaining them? Why were some projects allowed to deteriorate, and who answered for the money already committed?
These are not questions that should disappear simply because the administrations responsible have changed. A loan does not become somebody else’s problem when a government leaves office. Its repayment obligations remain with the country.
And this is precisely why the proposed $21.7 billion borrowing programme deserves particularly careful legislative scrutiny. Before approving another enormous financial commitment, lawmakers should demand a clear account of previous loans: how much was actually drawn, which projects received the funds, what has been completed and what remains unfinished. Nigerians should not have to rely on investigative journalism years later to discover that infrastructure financed with public debt has been abandoned.
There is also the question of what happens to the economy when so much public money is committed to servicing existing obligations. Interest payments compete with spending on education, healthcare, security and infrastructure. Heavy domestic borrowing can make credit more expensive for businesses that need money to expand, while foreign debt exposes government finances to exchange-rate movements. The fact that Nigeria has not defaulted on its obligations does not mean that the cost of carrying those obligations is insignificant.
For the small business owner trying to keep a factory running on expensive diesel, the market trader whose customers can no longer afford what they once bought, or the young graduate searching for employment, the debate about borrowing may appear distant. But these are the people who ultimately depend on government spending producing something useful. They cannot eat loan approvals, and a country cannot manufacture prosperity from impressive figures in budget presentations.
There is another consideration that should trouble anyone involved in making these decisions. The officials approving today’s loans will not necessarily be in office when the obligations mature. A young Nigerian entering the workforce today could spend a significant part of his working life paying taxes towards debts accumulated before he had any meaningful opportunity to influence how the money was spent.
That is a serious responsibility. Borrowing for a railway, a functional power project or a modern port can leave something useful behind for the people who will eventually repay the loan. Borrowing for projects that are abandoned, poorly executed or allowed to deteriorate leaves a very different inheritance.
The Tinubu administration is entitled to argue that Nigeria needs external financing to close its infrastructure gap. It is also entitled to point to improved revenue collection and other economic indicators as evidence that its reforms are beginning to produce results. But those claims must be accompanied by evidence of what the borrowed money has delivered. The public deserves project details, implementation timelines, contractors, disbursement records and independent assessments of completed work. The National Assembly must also do more than approve figures presented in presidential letters.
After all, the money being borrowed is not a personal facility for the government of the day. It is a commitment being made on behalf of a country whose citizens will be expected to repay it.
The Loan d’Or may remain a social-media joke, but there is something rather sobering about the joke. Nigerians were told that the country needed painful reforms because government could no longer afford to continue as before. They accepted the removal of subsidies and the disruption that followed, with the promise that the sacrifices would eventually count for something. They now have every right to ask why the borrowing requests keep coming and where all the money is going.
Perhaps the country should stop celebrating the size of its borrowing approvals and start paying closer attention to what those approvals actually produce. The next generation will not inherit the press conferences, the legislative ceremonies or the assurances that accompanied today’s loans. It will inherit the repayment obligations.
In football, the Ballon d’Or winner gets to take home a trophy. Nigeria’s version comes with something considerably less glamorous: interest, maturity dates and a bill that somebody must eventually pay.
Stephanie Shaakaa shaakaastephanie@yahoo.com
08034861434
