By Rekpene Bassey
Amid the polished rhetoric of progress and development, a familiar legislative enthusiasm has returned to the chambers of the Nigerian Senate.
This time, it is cloaked in academic robes. Senate President Godswill Akpabio, in a recent public hearing, expressed wholehearted support for the establishment of six new federal universities across the federation.
His voice joined a long tradition of political grandstanding wherein new institutions are unveiled as tokens of national advancement.
The intention, on the surface, appears noble: to expand access, promote innovation, and tailor education to scientific and technological needs. Yet beneath this veil of enlightenment lies a troubling paradox; an educational system bloated in size but crippled in substance.
The proposed universities, specialising in Education, Health Sciences, Technology, Vocational Studies, and Geomatics, are to be mostly scattered across southern states and only one northern state. Should the bills be passed, Nigeria’s federal universities will number over 60.
Add to this the growing catalogue of 66 state universities and 111 private ones, and the total reaches nearly 240 universities nationwide. This figure, startling in its magnitude, might suggest an intellectual renaissance. But reality paints a bleaker portrait.
The proliferation of institutions has not coincided with academic excellence. Instead, it has strained an already fragile educational infrastructure to a breaking point.
Universities were once hallowed spaces —universitas magistrorum et scholarium, communities of masters and scholars. In Plato’s “Republic,” education is the noble chisel that carves the soul toward virtue and knowledge.
Nigeria’s current trajectory, however, reduces universities to mere geographical landmarks, symbols of federal presence in senatorial districts and tools for political patronage. As more institutions sprout, funding is diffused, oversight is weakened, and academic standards erode.
The Nigerian government allocates less than 5% of its annual budget to education, far below the UNESCO benchmark of 15-20%. As a result, classrooms are overcrowded, libraries outdated, laboratories under-equipped, and lecturers poorly paid.
In many cases, newly established universities begin operations in borrowed facilities without permanent staff or functioning departments. The quantitative expansion has not been matched by qualitative reinforcement. Instead, we are constructing intellectual temples without priests.
This is not to say Nigeria does not need more universities. With a population exceeding 250 million, nearly half under the age of 25, the demand for tertiary education is undeniable.
Each year, over 1.5 million young Nigerians seek admission through the Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination (UTME), yet less than 500,000 are admitted. But the answer to this pressure cannot be endless duplication of institutions. Instead, it lies in strengthening existing universities, reforming governance, and restoring academic integrity.
Indeed, a deeper malaise plagues the system. According to the 2024 Global Talent Competitiveness Index, Nigeria ranks 112th out of 134 countries, reflecting its inability to produce a globally competitive workforce.
Graduate unemployment stands at over 35%. Employers lament the poor communication, critical thinking, and technical skills among graduates. The World Bank has warned that Africa’s largest economy is producing degree holders who are “educationally qualified but functionally illiterate.”
A telling sign of the decay is Nigeria’s performance on global university rankings. In the 2024 Times Higher Education rankings, only two Nigerian universities made it into the top 1,000, far behind institutions in smaller African countries like South Africa, Egypt, and Kenya.
The University of Ibadan, once Africa’s intellectual beacon, now struggles to maintain global relevance due to inadequate research funding and staff brain drain. A nation that fails to value its thinkers will inevitably haemorrhage its intellect.
The proliferation of universities has also blurred the distinction between academic mission and political ambition. Senators and governors now champion university bills as a rite of legacy. The criteria for location are often not based on need, capacity, or regional balance but on ethnic appeasement or electoral bargaining.
Specialised universities, such as the proposed University of Geomatics, are introduced without national frameworks or feasibility studies. The result is a series of half-built institutions littering the landscape like forgotten monuments of misplaced optimism.
The rot extends beyond infrastructure. In many universities, academic corruption is rife. “Sorting,” the euphemism for bribing lecturers, is normalised. Research is often plagiarised or nonexistent.
The lecture halls become arenas not of enlightenment but of transactional learning. As Aristotle warned in ethics when institutions forsake telos, their purpose, they degenerate into tools for base utility rather than noble ends.
There are solutions, but they require courage and candour. First, Nigeria must pause the expansion frenzy. No new federal university should be approved without a comprehensive audit of existing institutions. Second, funding must be centralised and increased, tied not just to enrollment numbers but to measurable outcomes: employability, research output, and student satisfaction. Third, a national higher education strategy must be developed, one that integrates universities, polytechnics, and colleges into a cohesive system.
Moreover, a reinvestment in the humanities is crucial. The obsession with STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) is commendable, but it must not eclipse the foundational disciplines of philosophy, history, and literature.
A nation that produces engineers without ethicists, doctors without humanists, and scientists without thinkers builds skyscrapers without foundations. Non scholae sed vitae discimus — we learn not for school but for life.
Quality assurance bodies like the National Universities Commission (NUC) must be truly autonomous and ruthless in accreditation.
Any university, federal or private that fails to meet basic academic standards must face suspension or closure. This is not cruelty. It is care. A university that misleads its students is worse than no university at all.
The private sector, too, must step up. Nigerian employers must forge partnerships with universities to redesign curricula, offer internships, and co-develop training modules. This would bridge the long-standing gap between theory and practice. Alumni networks and philanthropic endowments must be encouraged to reduce dependence on unstable government subventions.
Technology offers a lifeline. With investments in digital infrastructure, universities can expand access without building new walls. Online courses, remote research collaborations, and virtual libraries can democratise education. But these tools must be adopted strategically, not as substitutes, but as supplements to classroom rigour.
The moral dimension is unavoidable. To flood the land with universities that cannot teach, laboratories that cannot experiment, and degrees that cannot empower is to mock the aspirations of our youth.
The tragedy is not merely academic; it is existential. Each failed institution becomes a factory of disillusionment, a site where hope is quietly buried.
As we debate new bills and herald new groundbreakings, we must ask: Quo vadis, Nigeria? Where are we going with this unchecked expansion? Are we building minds or just buildings? Are we nurturing intellect or merely increasing enrolment?
In Dante’s Inferno, those who pervert for noble purposes suffer the most. Let us not turn our universities, once conceived as temples of truth, into monuments of mediocrity. Nigeria’s greatness will not be measured by how many universities it builds but by how many minds it frees.
*Rekpene Bassey, President, African Council on Narcotics (ACON), and Security and Drug Prevention Expert.
