By Dr. Donald Peterson
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the conversations happening in Nigerian homes, offices, and markets. Walk into any Lagos restaurant or Abuja taxi, and you’ll hear heated debates about two things that seem unrelated but actually aren’t: our government’s latest borrowing spree and the sudden renaming of streets that have carried Igbo names for decades. These aren’t just policy discussions they’re conversations about our future, our identity, and frankly, whether we’re heading in the right direction as a nation.
The National Assembly just approved President Tinubu’s request for another $21 billion in foreign loans. That’s a staggering figure by any measure. Meanwhile, Lagos State has quietly renamed 24 streets, replacing names like Imo Eze, Uzor, and Emordi with what many see as a deliberate erasure of Igbo contributions to the city’s development. On the surface, these might seem like separate issues one economic, one cultural. But I’d argue they’re two sides of the same coin, both reflecting how we handle our resources and relationships as a nation.
Here’s what keeps me up at night: we’re not having the right conversation about borrowing. Everyone’s asking whether $21 billion is too much, but that’s like asking whether buying a car is expensive without knowing if you’re getting a Honda Civic or a Ferrari. The real question isn’t how much we’re borrowing it’s what we’re doing with the money.
I remember reading about South Korea in the 1960s. They were poorer than most African countries at the time, borrowing heavily from international lenders. Today, they’re home to Samsung and Hyundai. The difference? Every borrowed dollar went into building something that could pay for itself: schools that trained engineers, factories that exported goods, infrastructure that attracted more investment.
Now look at our numbers. Our debt servicing has jumped from ₦3.52 trillion in 2022 to a projected 15.81 trillion for 2025. That’s alarming, sure, but it’s not the full story. The question we should be asking is simple: what did we build with that money, and is it generating enough value to justify the cost?
Here’s where I think we need to get serious, and I mean really serious, about accountability.
The Federal Ministry of Finance needs to stop treating debt like a necessary evil and start treating it like what it is: an investment tool. Here’s my prescription:
First, create something I’d call a National Debt Productivity Index by December. Every quarter, publish exactly how much economic activity each borrowed naira generated. Jobs created, businesses started, revenue generated make it all public. No more hiding behind complex financial jargon. If we borrowed ₦100 billion for a road project, show us the economic activity that road generated. Did trucking costs drop? Did new businesses open along the route? Did travel time decrease enough to boost productivity?
Second, implement what I call sectoral debt capping by March next year. Here’s a radical idea: limit borrowing for salaries, allowances, and other recurrent expenses to just 15% of total annual borrowing. The remaining 85% must go to things that grow our economy infrastructure, education, healthcare, technology. If a minister wants to borrow for anything else, they should have to explain to Nigerians why that’s more important than building the future.
Third, create an automatic debt relief mechanism by June. When oil prices are high and government revenues exceed projections by 20%, don’t throw a party pay down debt. Make it automatic, so politicians can’t be tempted to spend windfalls on projects that coincidentally help their reelection campaigns.
Now, about those Lagos street names. I’ll be honest when I first heard about the renaming, my initial reaction was, “Really? In the middle of everything else we’re dealing with?” But then I started thinking about what this represents, and it worried me more than I expected.
Think about it this way: if you were an Igbo businessman considering a major investment in Lagos, and you keep hearing about Igbo names being erased from public spaces, what would you think? If you were a young Igbo graduate wondering whether to relocate to Lagos for work, would these signals make you more or less likely to come?
Here’s what really concerns me. Economic research from countries that have experienced ethnic tensions shows that this kind of social fragmentation can reduce GDP growth by 2-3 percentage points annually. That might sound abstract, but let me put it in concrete terms: if Nigeria’s economy grows at 2% instead of 4% because people stop investing across ethnic lines, we’re talking about millions of jobs that won’t be created, thousands of businesses that won’t start, and countless opportunities lost.
I keep imagining Nigeria in 2035 if we let these tensions fester. Instead of our diversity being our strength the Igbo entrepreneurial spirit, Yoruba commercial networks, Hausa trading routes, the innovative energy of our smaller ethnic groups we could end up with economic silos. Igbo money staying in the Southeast. Yoruba investments concentrating in the Southwest. Everyone retreating into ethnic corners instead of building the integrated economy we need to compete globally.
The Lagos State Government has an opportunity to turn this controversy into a model for how Nigeria can celebrate diversity while building unity. Governor Sanwo-Olu’s team should act quickly.
Create a Lagos Unity Economic Council by September not another talking shop, but a real decision making body with equal representation from all of Nigeria’s major ethnic groups. Give them actual power to review naming decisions, major infrastructure projects, and policies that could affect inter-ethnic business relationships. Make it impossible for future governments to make decisions that appear ethnically motivated without broad consensus.
Instead of renaming existing streets, launch a Heritage Preservation Initiative by November. Every new development in Lagos should include streets named after prominent figures from all six geopolitical zones. Build neighborhoods that tell Nigeria’s full story, not just part of it.
Most importantly, start requiring Economic Impact Assessments for cultural decisions by January. Before any street gets renamed or any cultural policy changes, study the potential effects on business confidence, property values, and inter-ethnic economic relationships. Make the cost of ethnic targeting visible and real.
Rwanda offers us perhaps the most relevant lesson. After the 1994 genocide, they had every reason to remain divided. Instead, they made a conscious choice to build unity while managing debt strategically. They channeled borrowed funds into sectors that created jobs across ethnic lines tourism, technology, agriculture. They implemented strict transparency for all government borrowing. Most interestingly, they made ethnic discrimination economically costly by giving preferential treatment to businesses that hired across ethnic lines.
The result? Rwanda achieved average GDP growth of 8% annually for two decades while maintaining social stability. They proved that you can’t separate economic policy from social cohesion they either reinforce each other or they both fail.
What if we stopped seeing debt management and national unity as separate challenges? What if the $21 billion borrowing became an opportunity to demonstrate that Nigeria works for everyone?
By December, establish joint committees between the Federal Ministry of Finance and state governments. Every debt-financed project should include explicit requirements for ethnic integration employment quotas that reflect Nigeria’s demographic diversity, procurement policies that ensure broad participation, management structures that bring different communities together around shared economic goals.
Starting in January, use portions of the approved borrowing to create “One Nigeria Economic Zones” in each geopolitical region. These wouldn’t be charity projects or ethnic set-asides they’d be jointly owned and managed industrial parks that demonstrate how our diversity creates economic value. Imagine a textile hub in Kano managed by a team that includes Hausa trade expertise, Igbo manufacturing knowledge, and Yoruba marketing networks.
From July next year through December 2027, implement revenue-sharing mechanisms that reward states for measurable improvements in inter-ethnic economic cooperation. States that can demonstrate increased cross-ethnic business partnerships, reduced discrimination complaints, and higher inter-regional investment would receive additional federal support.
Look, I understand the fears about Nigeria’s debt burden. When you see those astronomical figures ₦15.81 trillion in debt servicing costs it’s natural to worry about mortgaging our children’s future. And I understand the anxiety many Igbos feel about what seems like systematic marginalization in Lagos, especially after incidents like the Landmark Beach demolition for the Lagos-Calabar coastal highway.
But here’s what I’ve learned from studying countries that have successfully navigated similar challenges: the real danger isn’t in the borrowing or even in isolated incidents of perceived bias. The real danger is in our failure to see these challenges as opportunities for better governance and deeper unity.
Malaysia and Indonesia both faced moments like this managing substantial debt while navigating complex ethnic dynamics in rapidly growing economies. Their leaders understood something crucial: economic prosperity and social cohesion aren’t competing priorities. They’re mutually reinforcing. You can’t have sustainable growth without social stability, and you can’t maintain social stability without economic opportunity for everyone.
Nigeria stands at one of those rare historical moments when crisis creates opportunity for transformation. The $21 billion in approved borrowing could finance the infrastructure and institutions that finally unlock our potential as Africa’s largest economy and most diverse democracy. The current tensions over street names and cultural recognition could catalyze the honest conversations about inclusion and belonging that we’ve been avoiding for too long.
But only if our leaders choose integration over division, strategic thinking over reactive politics, and long-term vision over short-term gains.
I think about my children’s generation Nigerians who will inherit whatever we build or destroy in the next decade. They won’t care about the ethnic origins of street names if those streets are bustling with businesses, filled with opportunities, and connecting communities rather than dividing them. They won’t worry about debt levels if that debt created the schools, hospitals, and infrastructure that power their success.
The world is watching Nigeria right now. International investors are making decisions about where to place their bets for the next twenty years. Our own citizens the engineers, entrepreneurs, and innovators who could drive our growth are deciding whether to stay and build or leave for opportunities elsewhere.
We can continue the pattern of managing crises as they arise, borrowing without clear strategy, and allowing ethnic tensions to simmer beneath the surface. Or we can use this moment to show that Nigeria’s diversity is our competitive advantage, that our borrowing serves our people’s interests, and that our leadership understands the stakes.
History won’t remember whether we borrowed $21 billion in 2025. It will remember whether we were wise enough to invest it in our shared future and courageous enough to build the Nigeria that works for all 220 million of us prosperous, united, and proud.
The choice is ours, and the time is now.
Written by Dr. Donald Peterson
