Campuses for Rent, Futures on Hold: The Temporary Tragedy in Nigerian Higher Education
By Emmanuel Magnus
In a dramatic twist in the story of Nigerian higher education, the National Universities Commission (NUC) has recently come under public scrutiny for granting licenses to dozens of private universities operating from rented apartments, shopping complexes, and temporary facilities. This move, while intended to expand access and liberalise the sector, has instead sparked a national debate: Is the future of Nigeria’s youth being mortgaged in the name of higher education?
At the heart of the matter is a growing perception that the NUC, the statutory body responsible for regulating university education in Nigeria, is lowering the standards. The emergence of “rent-a-campus” universities has highlighted critical issues surrounding standards, accreditation, equity, and the true essence of a university experience. What should have been an opportunity to address Nigeria’s chronic shortage of university spaces has instead become a troubling portrait of educational improvisation, where ambition outpaces infrastructure, and students pay the price.
Over the past decade, the number of private universities in Nigeria has increased significantly, with many emerging in response to the substantial demand for tertiary education. With over two million applicants vying for fewer than 600,000 slots in federal and state universities each year, the pressure on the system is undeniable. The private sector was a welcome solution.
However, the rapid proliferation has raised red flags. In recent NUC approvals, it was discovered that some new universities were operating from rented duplexes, shared office buildings, or even shopping plazas, spaces that lack the basic character and facilities typically found on a university campus. No amphitheatres. No research labs. No student accommodations. In many cases, not even libraries.
Critics argue that these temporary campuses are not just a breach of educational ethos but a breach of trust. A university is not a mere location for lectures; it is an ecosystem of learning, interaction, growth, and discovery. A rented flat with whiteboards and Wi-Fi cannot deliver the same transformative experience that a purpose-built campus does.
The NUC’s role is to ensure that universities meet minimum academic standards before being licensed to operate. Its guidelines are clear: Institutions must demonstrate the ability to provide adequate physical, administrative, and academic facilities. However, recent events suggest a troubling inconsistency in enforcement.
Some insiders defend the NUC’s decisions, arguing that licenses are granted provisionally, that is, pending the development of permanent campuses. In theory, this allows for phased investment and early startup. However, in practice, the provisional stage is stretching into years, with no clear timelines for relocation or infrastructure development.
This lenient approach raises questions about the credibility of the entire regulatory framework. If a university can admit students without a library, a campus, or full-time faculty, what message does that send about quality assurance? Moreover, more importantly, what future is being promised to the students who enrol in this program?
The students enrolled in these makeshift institutions are the most significant casualties. Many of them are unaware that their “campuses” are rented or that their degrees may face recognition issues in the job market. Others are simply desperate for admission, having spent years being rejected by federal and state universities due to capacity constraints.
However, even beyond student awareness, the quality of education suffers. Without access to laboratories, studios, proper lecture halls, student services, or even on-campus life, the learning experience is hollow. Degrees may be conferred, but what of the knowledge, competence, and critical thinking those degrees are meant to represent?
The broader society is also affected. Employers become wary of graduates from certain institutions. The public loses faith in private education. Moreover, the goal of national development through a skilled, educated populace is delayed. In a country already battling brain drain, educational fraud, and mass youth unemployment, this is a crisis we cannot afford.
Some argue that private investment should be welcomed, even applauded, in a country where public institutions are underfunded and overburdened. They highlight the entrepreneurial spirit of these university founders and the employment opportunities they generate.
However, there is a difference between entrepreneurship and profiteering. When education becomes a business transaction with minimal regard for academic standards, students are no longer seen as scholars; they become customers. This market logic undermines the university’s integrity as a social institution. When “campus for rent” becomes the default entry point for higher education, we must ask: Is this about expanding access or exploiting desperation?
The time has come for a national reckoning. The NUC must clarify its standards, enforce relocation timelines for provisional campuses, and introduce stiffer penalties for institutions that fail to develop permanent sites. Transparency is critical. Students and parents deserve to know the physical status of the institutions they are applying to. The NUC’s website must publish detailed infrastructure audit reports alongside accreditation statuses.
Moreover, accreditation should not be a one-time affair. Periodic reviews, public hearings, and third-party assessments can strengthen public confidence. Where necessary, erring institutions should face sanctions, including the withdrawal of their licenses. The NUC must return to its mandate of promoting academic excellence rather than merely expanding numbers.
State governments also have a role. They can partner with serious-minded private institutions to provide land, infrastructure, or incentives for co-managed campuses in underserved areas. This could encourage genuine investment while safeguarding standards.
A rented duplex is not a university. A whiteboard in a hallway is not a lecture hall. Moreover, a certificate without competence is not an education. The current situation is not just a logistical misstep; it is a moral failure.
Suppose Nigeria is serious about empowering its youth, building a knowledge economy, and playing a competitive role in global affairs. In that case, higher education must be treated with the urgency and dignity it deserves. The private sector has a vital role to play, but not at the cost of quality. Moreover, regulators must protect the system, not just expand it.
The tragedy unfolding in Nigeria’s private university sector remains ongoing. However, unless urgent reforms are made, we risk normalising mediocrity and betraying the very future we claim to nurture. It is time to move from campuses for rent to campuses for transformation. Anything less is a betrayal of the next generation.
• Emmanuel Magnus lives in Abuja.
