Is there a course of study that can guarantee a life free from joblessness? It is a seductive question that is simple, hopeful, almost magical. Yet, like many seductive questions, it hides a complex truth: there is no such course. Not in Nigeria, not anywhere in the world. Degrees do not employ people; economies do. Certificates do not create opportunities; systems do. And increasingly, what determines who thrives or struggles is not what one studied, but what one can actually do within the shifting tides of society.
At a time when political leaders themselves are locked in fierce contests over scarce positions, where many qualified actors remain “jobless” simply because only one person can occupy an office, the irony is striking. The Minister of Education, Dr. Tunji Alausa, proposes that unemployment can be reduced by scrapping certain university courses. Yet, as critics would wryly note, perhaps the physicians should first heal themselves. Politics itself offers a living laboratory of scarcity: countless capable individuals, yet only a handful of seats. This is not a failure of “courses” but of structure, a classic illustration of what labor economists describe as structural unemployment, where the number of available roles simply cannot absorb the number of qualified participants.
Observe the political arena closely and it becomes a mirror of the wider labor market. Many aspirants, alliances, and oppositions are not merely ideological, they are driven by exclusion from opportunity. Only one candidate emerges, while others, equally credentialed, are rendered redundant. This dynamic aligns with conflict theory, notably advanced by scholars like Karl Marx, which argues that competition over scarce resources inevitably produces winners and losers, inclusion and exclusion. What we call “unemployment” in politics is not due to lack of competence, but lack of space.
This same pattern repeats itself across institutions. Universities, once serene centers of scholarship, now experience intense competition for leadership roles, with dozens of professors vying for a single vice-chancellorship. In sports, thousands dream of becoming global icons, yet only a few rise to prominence. In entertainment, talent shows parade brilliance and passion, but crown only one winner. In business, markets are crowded with effort and ambition, yet only a fraction achieve dominance. The underlying principle is consistent: scarcity of opportunity in the face of abundance of aspiration.
Scholars of labor economics, such as Gary Becker, have long argued through Human Capital Theory that education enhances productivity and employability. Yet, even Becker acknowledged that education alone does not guarantee employment, it merely improves the odds.More recent research from the World Bank and the International Labour Organization reinforces this: unemployment in developing economies like Nigeria is less about educational mismatch and more about insufficient job creation and weak economic absorption capacity. In simple terms, too many people are chasing too few opportunities.
Consider the so-called “safe” professions such as medicine, law, engineering. Evidence suggests that even these fields are no longer immune. Reports indicate significant unemployment or underemployment among medical doctors due to limited residency slots and inadequate healthcare infrastructure. Legal practitioners often struggle to secure clients in an economy where many disputes are resolved informally. Engineers face similar constraints in a country where industrial expansion remains limited. This reality reflects what sociologists describe as credential inflation, a concept popularized by Randall Collins, where increasing numbers of degree holders dilute the value of qualifications without corresponding growth in opportunities.
Technology further complicates the equation. Once-secure professions are being reshaped or displaced by automation and artificial intelligence. Tasks that required years of training can now be executed by software in seconds. This aligns with Joseph Schumpeter’s notion of creative destruction, where innovation continuously dismantles old structures while creating new ones thereby leaving many temporarily or permanently displaced.
The Nigerian context adds another layer of complexity. A significant portion of the economy operates in the informal sector, where formal degrees often have limited direct application. Studies consistently show that unemployment persists not because certain courses exist, but because the economy lacks the capacity to integrate graduates into productive roles. In such an environment, scrapping courses does not solve the problem, it merely shifts it. If social science students are redirected into engineering without corresponding industrial growth, the result is not employment, but engineers without engineering jobs.
Education, in its truest sense, has never been merely about employment. Since the earliest universities, its purpose has been to cultivate critical thinking, civic awareness, and intellectual depth. Philosophers like John Dewey emphasized that education is not preparation for life, it is life itself. To reduce it to a narrow pipeline for jobs is to misunderstand its essence. Innovation, after all, often emerges from unexpected intersections, where technology meets philosophy, where data meets human behavior, where science meets society.
Yet, the frustration driving the current debate is not misplaced. Many graduates do lack practical, marketable skills. Employers increasingly seek individuals who can solve problems, adapt to change, and create value. Research in organizational psychology consistently shows that skills, adaptability, and creativity outweigh mere credentials in determining employability. This explains why two individuals with the same degree can experience vastly different outcomes and one thriving, the other struggling.
The more compelling question, then, is not which course guarantees employment, but what combination of factors makes employment more likely. Evidence points to a blend of relevant knowledge, specialized skills, geographic flexibility, and problem-solving ability. Fields such as healthcare support, skilled trades, digital technology, and essential services currently show stronger demand, not because they are inherently superior, but because they align more closely with immediate societal needs. Even so, their advantage is temporary, subject to the same forces of change and saturation.
What, then, is the way forward? Scholars and policy analysts converge on a common recommendation: reform, not elimination. Curricula must evolve, integrating technology, entrepreneurship, and interdisciplinary learning. Governments must focus on creating jobs, not merely reshaping education. Transparency in labor market data can empower students to make informed choices. Above all, there must be recognition that employment is an ecosystem issue that is rooted in economic policy, infrastructure, governance, and innovation.
The danger in scrapping courses lies not only in its immediate consequences such as displaced students, unemployed lecturers, intellectual gaps, but in its long-term implications. Societies need historians to preserve memory, sociologists to understand conflict, political scientists to design governance, and philosophers to interrogate ethics in an age of artificial intelligence. To erase these disciplines is to weaken the very foundation upon which sustainable development rests.
Finally, the truth remains both simple and profound: no course can make a person jobless-proof. What determines survival in the modern world is not the title of a degree, but the substance behind it, the ability to think, adapt, create, and solve problems. As the saying goes, it is not the course that feeds a person, but what the person can do with it. Reform the system, strengthen the economy, equip individuals with real skills, but do not burn the library in the hope of producing more coders.
Bagudu can be reached via bagudumohammed15197@gmail.com or 07034943575.
