Hauwa Ali
For years, Nigeria’s public universities—pillars of elite education across Africa—have been creaking under mounting pressure: unpaid salaries, crumbling facilities, overworked staff, and frustrated students.
Federal University lecturers and non-academic staff are losing steam, physically and mentally across Nigeria, they are burning out—not just from low pay, but from years of broken promises, chronic underfunding, and a system many say has abandoned them.
Nigeria’s federal universities have long been a source of national pride. They’ve produced presidents, Nobel laureates, and global scientists. But today, those same institutions are struggling to stand.
With over 90 federal universities serving more than 1.3 million students, the system is massive—and failing.
Infrastructure is crumbling. Salaries have stagnated. Research funding is almost non-existent. And trust between university staff and the federal government has worn dangerously thin.
According to the National Universities Commission (NUC), nearly 50% of federal university lecturers don’t hold a PhD. This isn’t due to laziness—it’s because professional development has become unaffordable and unsupported.
In 2022, the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) went on strike for eight months. It was the 16th time since 1999. Non-academic unions—SSANU and NASU—have also staged walkouts.
What are they asking for? Implementation of the 2009 agreement that promised revitalization funds and wage reviews; payment of withheld salaries and allowances and removal of universities from the federal IPPIS payroll system, which staff say leads to delayed or incomplete payments.
When ASUU went on strike in 2022, they demanded the release of a ₦1.3 trillion revitalization fund—only a fraction of which (₦200 billion) has ever been paid, according to ASUU president Prof. Emmanuel Osodeke. (Vanguard, 2023).
Lecturers weren’t paid for the strike period, and the government has only partially restored salaries in 2024 (Premium Times, Feb. 2024). Non-teaching staff remain excluded, leading to renewed tension (Punch, March 2024).
In 2009, a senior lecturer earned between ₦222,000–₦350,000 per month. Fifteen years later, the salary is virtually unchanged, even though Nigeria’s inflation has skyrocketed to over 30% (NBS, 2024).
A 2023 report by SBM Intelligence found that university workers are now among the poorest-paid public professionals in the country when adjusted for inflation.
Some sleep in offices during the week to avoid transportation costs. Others take night jobs tutoring or driving ride-hailing services to make ends meet.
Many Nigerian students learn in overcrowded lecture halls with broken chairs and no projectors. Laboratories are relics—fume cupboards without suction, computers with no internet, shelves with no reagents.
TETFund (Tertiary Education Trust Fund) has spent billions on capital projects, but implementation has been inconsistent. A 2021 NEITI audit showed that only 60% of TETFund infrastructure projects were completed on time, with many universities citing corruption and lack of transparency.
At the University of Benin, students in physics and chemistry use outdated lab manuals from 1996. Some are forced to simulate experiments verbally because of lack of materials.
Nigeria produces fewer than 1,000 peer-reviewed research articles annually per university, a tiny number compared to regional peers like South Africa.
According to Scopus data and the African Academy of Sciences, Nigeria’s research output per capita is one of the lowest in Sub-Saharan Africa.
Why? No research grants; no funding for conference travel, no sabbatical replacement or research relief, and no working equipment.
“Doing research in a Nigerian university is like trying to bake a cake with no flour,” says Dr. Amina Sule, a microbiologist at ABU Zaria.
Nigerian academics are leaving in record numbers. Canada, the UK, and even Rwanda are welcoming experienced Nigerian professors with open arms.
According to a 2023 report by the National Association of Nigerian Academics in Diaspora, over 5,600 Nigerian lecturers have left in the past five years.
“They’re not just running from bad pay,” says Prof. Femi Ajibola, a Nigerian academic now teaching in Toronto. “They’re running from disrespect, from decay, from being ignored.”
The effects of all this aren’t abstract. Students are the biggest casualties.
In a recent survey by EduRights Africa, 73% of final-year students in public universities said they do not feel ready for the job market.
Many are learning outdated theories, unable to do fieldwork, internships, or gain practical lab experience. The frustration runs deep.
“I should have graduated last year,” says 24-year-old Simi, a student at UNILAG. “Because of the strike, I’m stuck in school. I’ve lost a job offer. I’m just tired.”
There’s no single villain, but several decades of short-term thinking, budget cuts, and failed promises.
Only 4.5% of the 2024 national budget was allocated to education—far below the UNESCO-recommended 15–20%.
Government after government has delayed or ignored university funding agreements. University councils have little autonomy to hire, fire, or innovate.
Even private universities are now hiring from the same pool of overworked, underpaid federal lecturers, creating a parallel system rather than a fix.
There’s no quick fix—but the solutions are well known to include: full implementation of the 2009 Agreement and releasing remaining revitalization funds. This isn’t charity—it’s overdue investment in national infrastructure.
Next, review salaries and allowances by establishing a wage scale that reflects inflation and living standards. Academic work is not casual labor.
Also, fund research and training by creating national research endowments. Support travel grants, postdocs, and fellowships. Invest in brains, not just buildings.
Respecting university autonomy is crucial. Remove universities from IPPIS. Let governing councils manage their own payrolls, promotions, and finances.
Fixing infrastructure with oversight by deploying a transparent, third-party audit system for all TETFund and ministry-funded capital projects is key.
Protecting academic calendars cannot be overemphasized. Students should be supported during strikes with bridging semesters or online options as well as mental health support.
This isn’t just about university staff. It’s about the soul of Nigeria’s development.
No country has ever built a thriving economy without a strong university system. From Singapore to South Korea, higher education drove innovation, industrialization, and global relevance.
Nigeria is blessed with talent, youth, and ambition. But if the institutions meant to train future doctors, scientists, engineers, and leaders are allowed to collapse, the country will pay the price for decades.
Lecturers are not asking for luxury. They’re asking to live with dignity. To teach with pride. To guide the next generation without wondering how they’ll feed their families or afford fuel next week.
Students aren’t asking for miracles. They want stable calendars, qualified teachers, working labs, and a shot at a meaningful future.
And Nigeria? Nigeria should not settle for a broken system. Not when it holds so much promise.
Until higher education is treated not as a budget line but as a national strategy, the steam will keep running out—and with the hopes of millions as well.