“No functioning country plans schools, hospitals, infrastructure, security or social programmes without reliable population data. In Nigeria, however, planning has long been replaced by estimation.”
How many Nigerians are there? It is the most fundamental question any serious government should be able to answer without hesitation. Yet, after almost two decades, Nigeria still cannot.
Instead, the country continues to govern on demographic projections anchored to the disputed 2006 census, making decisions that affect millions of lives without knowing, with reasonable certainty, how many people it governs or where they live.
No functioning country plans schools, hospitals, infrastructure, security or social programmes without reliable population data. In Nigeria, however, planning has long been replaced by estimation. Population figures determine revenue allocation and representation in the legislature, creating enormous incentives to inflate numbers and resist independent verification.
Nigeria and the consequences of lack of planning
The result is a federation that has become comfortable relying on questionable statistics, while pretending they provide a sound basis for governance.
Since the return to democratic rule in 1999, Nigeria has failed to conduct a fresh, nationally-accepted census. The 2006 exercise generated immediate controversy, particularly in the South, where several states rejected the figures. Lagos State even conducted its own enumeration. Proposed censuses in 2016 and 2023 never materialised, defeated by familiar explanations, funding constraints, logistical difficulties, insecurity and, above all, an unwillingness to confront interests that profit from demographic uncertainty.
The National Population Commission (NPC) has remained in place throughout, occasionally demonstrating that a credible census is technically achievable. Under Festus Odimegwu, the Commission advocated a fully digital, biometric census supported by modern geospatial technology to minimise manipulation.
Instead of receiving political backing, those reforms met fierce resistance from interests that viewed an accurate census as a threat to their influence over revenue allocation and political representation. President Goodluck Jonathan eventually removed Odimegwu, reinforcing the perception that political convenience outweighed statistical integrity.
The present administration has repeatedly acknowledged the urgency of a new census. In February 2025, President Bola Tinubu established a high-level committee to review the proposed budget, identify funding options and recommend a date for the exercise.
More than a year later, Nigeria remains exactly where it was before the committee was inaugurated. No census has been conducted, no timetable has been announced, and no convincing explanation has been offered for the continued delay. Once again, official promises have failed to translate into measurable action.
The obstacles are well known. Enumerating more than 220 million people is a formidable undertaking. Insecurity in parts of the North presents genuine operational challenges, while the approach of the 2027 general election makes the exercise politically-sensitive.
Yet these difficulties are not unique to Nigeria, nor are they insurmountable.
Countries confronting conflict, economic hardship and difficult terrain have still managed to conduct credible censuses. Nigeria’s greater challenge has been the consistent reluctance to confront the political consequences of an accurate headcount.
The cost of that failure is borne daily by ordinary Nigerians. Education planners cannot accurately determine where schools are needed most or how many children remain outside the classroom. Health authorities estimate vaccine demand and maternal healthcare requirements without reliable population data. Security agencies operate with an incomplete understanding of the communities they are expected to protect. Urban planners in Lagos, Abuja, Kano and other rapidly expanding cities struggle to manage growth using outdated demographic assumptions. Public resources are therefore allocated on estimates rather than evidence, encouraging waste, duplication and misplaced priorities.
The deeper problem lies within Nigeria’s federal structure. As long as population remains one of the principal determinants of revenue allocation and political representation, every census will continue to be viewed as a political contest rather than a statistical exercise. Technical improvements alone cannot overcome incentives that reward inflated figures and discourage transparency.
The way forward is neither mysterious, nor unprecedented. The Federal Government should commit to a fixed timetable, preferably after the 2027 general election, removing the exercise from immediate electoral calculations. The methodology must be fully digital, combining biometrics, GIS mapping, satellite imagery, drone technology where necessary and real time electronic transmission of data.
The government should also build broad national consensus by engaging state governments, traditional rulers, political parties, civil society and faith-based organisations before the exercise begins.
At the same time, the revenue allocation formula deserves careful review so that internally generated revenue, measurable development outcomes and genuine need carry greater weight than raw population figures.
The NPC should enjoy stronger legal protection, supported by mandatory post-enumeration audits, independent verification and complete transparency in publishing both its methodology and results.
For almost 20 years, Nigeria has been governed largely by assumption. Successive administrations have acknowledged the need for a credible census, announced preparations, inaugurated committees and made promises, yet none has delivered an accurate national headcount. The Tinubu administration has, so far, followed the same pattern.
Until the government demonstrates the resolve to place empirical evidence above political convenience, every claim of evidence based planning will remain little more than rhetoric. A nation that does not know, with reasonable certainty, how many people it governs cannot govern the people effectively.
