In 2023, Nigeria’s Ministry of Education reported “100% completion” of 50 new schools in rural areas—until independent auditors found that 30% of these schools were ghost projects, existing only on paper.
The buildings were never constructed, the funds unaccounted for, and the children never enrolled. Sadly, this is not an anomaly—it is the norm in a system where planning thrives on guesswork, not facts.
Nigeria’s chronic underdevelopment stems not only from underfunding or corruption but from a deeper, more systemic failure: the lack of reliable data. Policymaking in the country is often reactive and anecdotal, driven by politics rather than evidence.
Budgets are crafted without baselines, projects launched without monitoring frameworks, and outcomes measured through photo-ops instead of metrics. In the 21st century, when nations are harnessing data for real-time governance, can Africa’s largest economy afford to fly blind?
At independence, Nigeria inherited a bureaucratic structure built for colonial extraction—not for citizen-focused planning. In his 1966 treatise Planning Without Facts, economist Wolfgang Stolper warned that Nigeria’s development efforts were doomed without a foundation of credible statistics.
Decades later, the symptoms of his prognosis remain: inflated census figures, ghost workers siphoning over $1.5 billion annually, and phantom projects declared “completed” without any evidence.
From the $16 million Ajaokuta Steel Mill to the East-West Road, projects are declared “completed” without independent verification.
One striking example is the 2004 Universal Basic Education Act, which was launched with great fanfare and generous funding. Yet, in many states, school enrolment and literacy rates barely budged—because implementation was not tracked, and funds disappeared into unmonitored channels. The result is a vicious cycle where failed plans lead to wasted resources, and failed outcomes fuel public distrust. The Act allocated $2 billion, yet literacy rates in Northern Nigeria stagnated at 38%. Without data to track enrollment or teacher attendance, funds evaporated into a bureaucratic black hole.
“We don’t just plan in the dark—we’ve convinced ourselves the dark is normal,” laments a former National Planning Commission director.
Across the globe, data has become the backbone of governance. In India, the Aadhaar biometric ID system has helped eliminate 50% ($12 billion annually) of welfare fraud by ensuring that benefits reach real people, not fictitious names. Rwanda’s health system uses real-time data analytics to track maternal health, reducing maternal mortality by 60% over a decade—a feat unimaginable without granular data.
Why does this matter? Because development is not just about building roads or launching programmes—it’s about results. Data transforms vague claims like “500 roads completed” into measurable impacts: “travel time reduced by 40% in region X, improving access to emergency services.”
Data is also a powerful anti-corruption tool. In Kenya, the OpenCounty platform allows citizens to monitor county budgets and compare allocations against delivery. In Estonia, every citizen has access to their personal records and government transactions through e-governance dashboards—ensuring transparency and trust.
These examples show that in the digital age, data isn’t optional—it’s essential.
Nigeria’s data landscape today is riddled with contradictions. In 2023, the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS) reported that poverty had dropped to 40%, while the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) cited a 63% poverty rate. Which should the policymaker believe?
Too often, policy decisions are made based on politics, not proof. Ministers commission projects without baseline surveys or cost-benefit analysis. Few MDAs (12%) publish their annual performance reports, and even fewer (fewer than 5%) link those reports to real-world impact. For example, the National Health Insurance Scheme (NHIS) claims millions of enrollees—yet most Nigerians seeking care at public hospitals find no coverage.
As one federal director lamented privately: “We budget in billions, but we evaluate in anecdotes.” Without consistent, reliable data, planning becomes guesswork, and governance becomes theatre.
Not all hope is lost. The Public Sector Performance Index (PSPI) is emerging as a critical tool in Nigeria’s journey toward data-driven governance. Developed to track performance across MDAs and state governments, the PSPI evaluates input (budget), process (efficiency), output (delivery), and outcome (impact).
Preliminary data from the PSPI is already revealing stark disparities: Lagos State scored 65/100 on transparency metrics, while Kano State struggled at 30. On average, federal MDAs demonstrated only 42% compliance with basic data disclosure laws.
But more importantly, the PSPI introduces consequences. It makes it possible to benchmark performance, identify inefficiencies, and reward improvement. Scaling this index nationwide, while integrating it into budget allocation and promotion systems, could revolutionize the incentives within the public service.
What Nigeria urgently needs is not just new tools or technological platforms—it needs a full-fledged data culture. A data culture is one in which decisions at every level of governance are guided by accurate information, where performance is measured by results rather than rhetoric, and where public accountability is rooted in transparency. To cultivate this culture, several deliberate and coordinated efforts must be undertaken.
First, there must be a bold policy shift. A National Open Data Act should be enacted to mandate that all capital projects across the three tiers of government are tracked in real time. Every infrastructure project—from roads and schools to health facilities—should be assigned a digital tracking ID, with progress updated quarterly and accessible on publicly available dashboards.
These dashboards should be directly linked to budget portals so that citizens and oversight bodies can verify whether allocations are translating into tangible outcomes. Such legal backing would institutionalize transparency as a non-negotiable standard, not a voluntary act of goodwill.
Equally important is the empowerment of citizens and civil society. For data to drive accountability, it must be not only available but usable. Media practitioners, civic tech innovators, NGOs, and grassroots organizations must be equipped with the skills to interpret datasets, submit Freedom of Information (FoI) requests, and utilize platforms like the Public Sector Performance Index (PSPI) to spotlight inefficiencies and corruption. Data literacy must become a central part of civic education, enabling ordinary Nigerians to become informed watchdogs of public performance.
Third, there must be leadership by example.
Accountability must start from the top. From the President to governors and local government chairpersons, public officials should be evaluated not by political allegiance or oratory flair but by measurable, verifiable results. Performance reviews should be publicly documented, and appointments or promotions within the civil service must be directly tied to data-backed outcomes.
When leaders are seen to be judged by evidence, it sets a precedent that cascades through the system.
Lastly, institutional reform is non-negotiable. Every ministry, department, and agency should establish and adequately fund a dedicated data and performance unit. These units must be responsible for collecting, analyzing, and disseminating data on project implementation, service delivery, and policy impact.
Rather than being reactive or symbolic, these units should be staffed with trained professionals, embedded into the strategic operations of the organization, and subject to regular audits to ensure data integrity.
Together, these reforms will lay the groundwork for a governance system where information is not hoarded but harnessed; where decisions are not arbitrary but evidence-based; and where citizens are not mere spectators but active participants in shaping the future. In the end, building a data culture is not a luxury—it is a democratic imperative.
As Dr. Oby Ezekwesili once said: “Data is the antidote to propaganda. Without it, democracy is a shouting match.” Indeed, evidence is what separates governance from guesswork, policy from propaganda.
Data isn’t just about numbers. It is the language of justice, the foundation of inclusive growth, and the bedrock of public trust. A government that fears facts ultimately fears its people. As Nigeria debates the 2024 budget, the question must not only be about how much is spent—but what difference it makes.
Where’s the evidence?
Until we plan with facts, we are merely planning to fail.
Oluremi Morakinyo Alao writes from Ibadan via [email protected]