THE ECONOMY OF HUNGER: HOW NIGERIAN POLICIES ARE STARVING ITS OWN PEOPLE By Eugene Nanven
THE ECONOMY OF HUNGER: HOW NIGERIAN POLICIES ARE STARVING ITS OWN PEOPLE By Eugene Nanven
When policies meant to manage an economy end up making bread unaffordable, it is not a coincidence. It is the predictable result of a string of choices: choices about fuel, currency, trade, farming inputs, and governance. This article explains, in clear and human terms, how a set of recent and long-standing policy decisions have combined to push millions of Nigerians closer to hunger. I will outline the mechanisms at work, examine how policy design and implementation distort incentives, and show how each policy decision has a direct and measurable effect on food availability and affordability.
First, the removal of petrol subsidies changed the cost structure of everything that moves food from farm to market. For decades the subsidy masked the true price of fuel and, with it, the real cost of transportation, refrigeration, and processing. When the subsidy was withdrawn, petrol prices rose sharply and the cost of moving goods increased across the supply chain. Transporters passed those costs to traders, traders passed them to market sellers, and consumers absorbed the resulting increases at the point of purchase. The net effect was a notable rise in food inflation within months of the change, and this is not abstract. Multiple assessments and market surveys recorded a sharp uptick in food price indices tied closely to higher transport and distribution costs after the subsidy was removed.
Even more troubling is the paradox of a government that continues to borrow heavily despite removing the fuel subsidy under the pretext of saving money and freeing up funds for development. The expectation was that the removal would stabilize the economy, strengthen the naira, and reduce the country’s reliance on debt, yet the opposite has unfolded. The currency keeps falling, inflation keeps rising, and life for the average citizen grows harsher by the day. What makes it worse is the illusion of normalcy presented to the public, as if the pain is part of a grand plan that is somehow working. In reality, the government is creating crises through its own policies, then attempting to solve them just enough to claim credit. The supposed fiscal relief from subsidy removal has not translated into better wages, stronger institutions, or improved public welfare. Teachers are still unpaid for months, schools shut down frequently over strikes, doctors protest over poor working conditions, and the health and education sectors remain in disrepair. The country has not progressed because the economic foundation was never rebuilt; it was merely repainted to look functional while the cracks beneath deepen.
Second, the treatment of the naira and foreign exchange policy made imports more expensive and local production less predictable. In attempts to unify exchange rates, attract investment, or squeeze black market activity, the government allowed the naira to depreciate significantly. That depreciation multiplied the cost of imported staples and agricultural inputs, from rice and wheat to spare parts for mills and refrigeration equipment. Suppliers who had priced goods in dollars suddenly faced a much larger naira bill, and because many food value chains in Nigeria are import-dependent at key points, the consumer paid the difference. The result is a structural rise in the baseline cost of food that is not easily reversed with short-term handouts.
Third, policies on agricultural inputs, particularly fertilizer, have been inconsistent and underfunded, undermining domestic food production. Fertilizer is not optional if a nation wants predictable yields from small and medium farms. Years of weak procurement, delayed subsidy payments, and import bottlenecks meant that many farmers could not access the quantities they needed at planting time. When fertilizer prices spiked globally, policy mechanisms meant to shield farmers either arrived late or were poorly coordinated, so many plots went under-fertilized and yields fell. Lower yields translate directly into less food in markets and higher prices for staples that millions depend on. Short-term relief that releases food stocks cannot compensate for a year of lost production.
Fourth, trade measures intended to promote domestic processing have sometimes backfired in the short run. A government that bans the export of a raw commodity to boost local value addition is pursuing a legitimate industrial policy objective. But unless that policy comes with immediate and effective investment in local processing capacity, the ban simply reduces incomes for producers who relied on export markets and shrinks the foreign exchange they earned. The shea nut ban is a recent example. The policy aims to capture more value domestically, yet without ready processing facilities, credit, and logistics improvements, the policy disrupts markets and household incomes for rural producers. When rural incomes fall, demand for food and investment in farming also fall, tightening supply and increasing hunger risk.
Fifth, the relationship between security policy and agricultural strategy is often ignored in economic calculations. Farmers do not plant on paper. They plant on land that must be safe to access during planting and harvest. Take a look at this; violence, banditry, or communal conflict has been preventing many farmers from reaching their fields, policy responses that focus only on subsidies or price controls do not restore the lost harvests. Worse, people fleeing insecure areas boost demand in urban centers where markets are stressed, pushing prices up further. Road closures and checkpoints imposed for security reasons add time and fuel cost to transport. The cumulative effect is an invisible tax on food that policy makers rarely account for when designing fiscal interventions.
Sixth, monetary and fiscal choices interact in ways that amplify pain for ordinary people. When central bank policy tightens to defend a currency or to curb inflation, lending to agriculture and small businesses tightens as well. Credit lines used to buy seed, hire labour, or repair irrigation equipment dry up. On the fiscal side, when government revenues are low and debt service claims much of the budget, social safety nets are left underfunded. This creates a squeeze: poor access to input finance reduces output, while weak social protection leaves families exposed to even modest price shocks. The visible face of this policy interaction is a market where prices climb while purchasing power falls.
Seventh, price controls and emergency market interventions often look good on paper but fail in practice because they ignore incentives. When a government sets maximum prices for staples without ensuring supplies, traders withdraw from the market rather than sell at a loss. When the state attempts to release grains from reserves, timing and scale matter. Small, poorly targeted releases fail to lower prices in markets that are truly tight. Worse, lack of transparency and weak monitoring open space for diversion and corruption, so aid and subsidy funds do not reach the people who need them most. Emergency measures without strong governance therefore become temporary theater while the structural problems persist.
Eighth, the structure of Nigeria’s food economy itself makes policy outcomes fragile. Large numbers of smallholder farmers, fragmented value chains, poor storage, and underdeveloped rural infrastructure mean that shocks amplify quickly. A weather shock in one region can create national shortages if storage and transport systems are weak. A policy error in import regulation or a delay in fertilizer distribution cascades because the system lacks redundancy. Policy must therefore be designed with an understanding of this fragility, prioritizing predictable, well-timed interventions rather than headline-friendly but poorly calibrated moves.
Ninth, corruption and weak institutions convert every policy into a gamble. Good policy, badly executed, can do more harm than a bad policy implemented transparently. Procurement that bypasses competitive processes, delayed payments to contractors, and opaque licensing all raise the cost of doing business and reduce the effectiveness of public spending. When public resources meant to stabilise food markets are siphoned off or spent on projects that do not increase food availability, the people who pay the price are those in the markets and farms.
Corruption has become the silent architect of Nigeria’s economic decline, ensuring that even the most well-intentioned policies end up strangling the people they were meant to help. Each policy rollout becomes an opportunity for political allies and middlemen to divert funds or inflate contracts while the real objectives fade into bureaucratic shadows. The absence of strong institutional checks means no one is truly held accountable; audits are delayed, that is if they are not corrupt themselves. I spoke with an auditor who came to my office about two weeks ago, about the loopholes in audits, and he told me a lot of ways auditors in Nigeria participate in fraud by helping the fraudulent and thieves escape. It was surprising because these are the people we are supposed to trust, although I admired his integrity from his experiences, as he was trained in the United Kingdom, and have 43 years of experience. A lot of Investigations have been buried, and committees formed only to pacify outrage. What should have been tools for national growth—intervention funds, subsidy savings, agricultural grants—are often swallowed by a network of rent seekers who feed off government inefficiency. The irony is that these same actors then appear on national television to defend their failures, calling for “patience” as though hunger can wait. Corruption, therefore, is not just stealing money, it is also stealing time, opportunity, and life itself from millions of Nigerians who have done nothing but hope their leaders would finally mean what they say.
Finally, the human cost matters because every percentage point of food inflation is measured in consumed meals and foregone nutrition. Families respond to price rises by reducing portion sizes, skipping meals, or switching to cheaper and often less nutritious foods. In the medium term this reduces human capital through malnutrition, especially among children, with consequences for learning, productivity, and lifetime earnings. Policies that appear to be macroeconomically sound in isolation may, when combined, create a distributional shock that erodes the physical health and future prospects of an entire generation.
So what would policy look like if the objective was to prevent hunger rather than to score quick fiscal wins? If fuel subsidy reform is necessary, it must be phased with targeted transport vouchers, rapid scale-up of alternative fuel programs, and clearly communicated timelines so businesses can plan. Currency reform should be accompanied by measures to stabilise import-dependent food chains, such as short-term lines of credit and hedging tools for millers and processors. Fertilizer and seed distributions must be predictable, timed to planting windows, and delivered through trusted local channels to ensure uptake. Trade policies that aim to encourage value addition should be launched with concurrent investment plans for factories, skills, and logistics, and with transitional arrangements to protect producers and consumers.
Accountability matters. Competitive procurement, real-time public reporting of reserve releases, and third-party monitoring can limit diversion and ensure emergency interventions reach markets that need them. Social protection must be scaled not as charity but as insurance. Cash transfers tied to price indices and targeted at vulnerable households can stabilize demand and prevent catastrophic coping strategies. Finally, the political will to secure farmland and to invest in rural infrastructure is not an optional extra. Roads, storage, and electrification reduce post-harvest loss and lower transport costs, making every naira invested in agriculture go further.
The story of Nigeria’s recent food crisis is a story of policy design, implementation choices, and governance. It is a story in which each decision nudged incentives in the wrong direction and where the cumulative effect has been to make food less available and more expensive for millions. Understanding that story is the first step toward changing it. A policy that listens to farmers, traders, and market women, that sequences reforms with care, and that insists on transparency and predictability will not deliver miracles overnight. But it will convert policies from instruments of scarcity into tools for security. If that shift is made, the next generation will remember how leaders acted to protect their plates rather than how policies hollowed them out.
Making Nigerians understand the economic situation of the country is part of my effort in making the world a better place for all.
Thank you for reading through!
Eugene Navan writes from Gwagwalada Abuja FCT
The above is the opinion of the writer and not the opinion of Ebony Herald Editorial Board.
