Beneath the Surface

Leading in a Storm By Dakuku Peterside

When the path ahead is clear and institutions work as they should, leadership feels simple—steady, practical, and almost invisible. But Nigeria has not known such calm in a long while. The numbers and the lived experience no longer match. On paper, reforms are happening, GDP is expanding, and the Central Bank reports progress. Yet, for the average family, food has never been this expensive, transport fares bite deeper, and the paycheck stretches shorter each month. The contradictions are glaring. That is why the 31st Nigerian Economic Summit in Abuja felt like déjà vu—a familiar ritual of optimism performed in an environment of growing hardship. For thirty-one years, we have gathered our best minds to chart the nation’s economic direction. The language has remained elegant; however, the results still trail behind the rhetoric.

It is easy to notice two kinds of leaders at such gatherings. The first group is comprised of those who confront reality head-on, speak the inconvenient truths, and demand measurable results, even at a personal cost. The second are the echoers—those who are comfortable repeating official optimism and retreat to silence when hard questions arise. Fear of exclusion, fear of retribution, and the desire to belong have created a strange quiet among those who should speak most boldly. Leadership is not about being liked; it is about being useful when the storm rages. And make no mistake—Nigeria is in a storm.

Against that backdrop, a new macro story emerges, and it is not trivial. The World Bank’s October 2025 Nigeria Development Update (NDU) notes signs of stabilisation from recent reforms—foreign exchange unification, fuel subsidy removal, and tax changes. Output and external balances have strengthened, reserves have improved, and fiscal indicators appear less precarious than they did two years ago. But the same report is explicit about the central test: translating reform gains into welfare gains. An estimated 139 million Nigerians are living in poverty, and food price inflation has made a basic basket multiple times more expensive than in 2019. In short, the macro engine is turning, but the torque has yet to reach the wheels of household welfare.

Power supply remains the nation’s most significant constraint. Between January and March 2025, the country generated an average of only 4,771 megawatt-hours per hour for a population exceeding 220 million. That is roughly what a single mid-sized city in Asia consumes. Nearly 40 per cent of electricity is lost to technical faults, poor billing, and theft, costing the system over N200 billion in just three months. Only 47 per cent of registered customers are metered. Transmission losses stand at approximately nine per cent. This means that, regardless of how much we generate, almost half is lost before it reaches homes or factories. Every manufacturing plant, every hospital, every small shop that must buy fuel for a generator pays the hidden cost of our collective dysfunction.

Our logistics backbone tells a similar story. Rail transport, the cheaper and safer alternative, is making a comeback after decades of neglect. Passenger numbers grew by 45 per cent in 2024, freight volume doubled to approximately 144,000 tons; yet, that is still a fraction of what we need. The roads, clogged with trucks, pay the price through accidents, delays, and higher costs. Every bag of rice or cement that moves across Nigeria carries a silent tax called inefficiency.

On the macroeconomic front, there are signs of progress that deserve recognition. According to the World Bank’s latest Nigeria Development Update, the economy grew by 3.9% in the first half of 2025. Foreign reserves rose above $42 billion, and the current account showed a surplus equivalent to 6.1% of GDP. The debt-to-GDP ratio has finally begun to edge down. The removal of fuel subsidies and the unification of the exchange rate have corrected structural distortions that long distorted public finances. But the same report reminds us of the deeper issue—139 million Nigerians now live in poverty. The average food basket costs five times what it did in 2019. For millions, every reform feels like a fresh round of sacrifice without reward. Growth on spreadsheets is meaningless if it doesn’t feed families or create jobs that pay a living wage.

Inflation, while easing from its 2024 peak, still bites hard. Headline inflation hovers around 20 per cent, and food inflation is higher still. The Central Bank recently cut the policy rate by half a percentage point to 27 per cent—a symbolic nod to optimism—but prices in markets have yet to respond. The labour market paints a troubling picture of its own. Unemployment appears to be lower after a statistical revision, but informality reveals the truth: 93 per cent of Nigerians work outside the formal system. It is an economy of survivalists—graduates driving tricycles, engineers running point-of-sale kiosks, teachers selling snacks online. People are busy, but not necessarily making progress.

Education, meant to be the ladder out of poverty, has become another source of division. Over 10 million children remain out of school. Among those in classrooms, most cannot read a simple passage by age ten. The World Bank estimates that three out of every four Nigerian children suffer “learning poverty.” In a world where knowledge is the new oil, this is a national emergency. Without urgent fixes, the next generation will inherit not only debt and poor infrastructure but also the inability to compete.

It is tempting to succumb to despair, but leadership means facing the facts, not fleeing from them. There are examples to learn from. Countries like Singapore and Rwanda did not attend endless economic summits; they built systems that punished corruption, rewarded competence, and publicly measured results. Their secret was not foreign aid or magic; it was integrity and discipline. Nigeria does not lack ideas—it lacks a culture of follow-through. We have had thirty-one summits, yet power supply remains erratic, railways underperform, food insecurity grows, and poverty deepens. It is time to replace conferences with scorecards, speeches with measurable outcomes.

What would storm-time leadership look like now? First, sensemaking: face facts fast, put the stubborn problems on one page, and name trade-offs without euphemism. Second, choose five must-win battles for the next 18 months—power reliability, rails and freight, food security, jobs and skills, and anti-corruption—and tie them to time-bound, public KPIs. In power, lift the average generation from 4.8 gigawatts to at least six. Cut system losses from forty to thirty per cent, raise metering to sixty per cent, and hold Discos accountable for performance. In transport, double freight capacity, open up two freight spines linking ports with agricultural belts, and reduce Lagos port dwell time by 10 per cent.

In agriculture, focus on six value chains—rice, maise, cassava, poultry, tomatoes, and aquaculture—targeting a 10 to 20 per cent increase in yield and reducing post-harvest losses by at least five points. On jobs, aim to place 250,000 apprentices in industry-linked training with proof of retention after one year. Focus on sectors with near-term absorption capacity, such as construction, manufacturing, Healthcare, and digital services. Tie government payments to verifiable outcomes. To combat corruption, move most government procurement online, publish all contract awards exceeding a defined threshold, and track leakages, such as revenue losses.

None of this will stick without rebuilding the engines of social mobility. A narrow, targeted education reset—focused on foundational literacy and numeracy, teacher quality, and a dual TVET track developed in collaboration with employers—will have a greater impact on earnings than any single grant programme. Regional equity necessitates tailored packages for the North’s poverty concentration and the South’s urban precarity; a one-size-fits-all approach is a polite way to overlook the diverse needs of different groups.

If this sounds technocratic, it is because the counterfactual—relying on mood and momentum—has already been tested. The World Bank’s message this week is not that Nigeria lacks progress; it is that progress must pay people before it loses political air. Reform windows close. Currency and fuel reforms have provided us with macroeconomic breathing room; however, food inflation and poverty threaten to exhaust this breathing room. The economy is growing again, but households buy food, not GDP.

There is also room for smart cushioning. Reforms come with pain, and people need evidence that the pain leads somewhere. Tariff lifelines must protect the poorest consumers, cash transfers must actually reach households, and supply-side fixes—such as improving logistics and expanding local food processing—must lower prices. Otherwise, public patience will expire long before reforms yield fruit.

The data tell a story of a country still fighting to find its rhythm. GDP is growing, but poverty is expanding. Power generation increases modestly, but so do losses. Freight tonnage doubles, but it is still negligible. Inflation slows, but prices continue to rise. School enrolment grows, but learning stagnates. Nigeria is not short of summits; it is short of sincerity. Not short of ideas, but of integrity. Not short of resources, but of responsibility.

Leading in a storm is not about delivering fine speeches or perfect plans—it is about making measurable progress, month after month, until citizens begin to feel the tangible change. It is about fixing power lines that stay on, railways that move goods cheaply, farms that produce affordable food, and schools that truly educate. The storm will not pass because we gathered to talk about it. It will pass because we built through it. And when that happens—when food prices fall, the lights stay on, and work begins to pay again—Nigerians will start to believe in leadership once more, not because we told them to, but because they can see the results with their own eyes. This article is inspired by the author’s book, “Leading in a Storm”, to be presented publicly in Abuja on October 14th and in Lagos on October 16th.