By Dr Joachim Ibeziako Ezeji
Gulf of Guinea Risk and Resilience Institute (GoGRRI), Gudu, Abuja Email: ggrresilienceinstitute@gmail.com
I am deeply worried about the state of affairs in Nigeria. This concern is not about the attitudes or moral failings of Nigerians, but about a disturbing coping mechanism that is fast becoming normalized: begging within family and social networks. Nigeria is sliding into what can aptly be described as a begging economy—an informal, largely unmeasured survival system whose scale may be unclear, but whose presence is now unmistakable.
Poverty in Nigeria remains pervasive and deepening. Available estimates suggest that more than half of the population lives below the poverty line, with rural poverty rates nearly double those in urban areas. Inequality continues to widen, and living standards are under sustained pressure. Inflation, though showing signs of moderation, has already inflicted lasting damage on household purchasing power. Years of high food and transport costs have eroded savings and resilience across income groups.
Unemployment and underemployment further complicate the picture. Official figures often mask the reality of widespread informal work, low wages, and job insecurity. For Nigeria to meaningfully stabilize employment, tens of millions of new jobs would be required over the next decade—an ambition far removed from current economic performance.
Within this environment, begging has emerged as a widespread survival strategy. Though viewed by some as a nuisance, it has become a lifeline for many navigating a country marked by weak institutions, limited social protection, and failing public value. Funds raised through this informal economy are used to pay rent, school fees, medical bills, funerals, weddings, and even to start small businesses. Survival and social obligation have fused into a fragile economic system.
What is striking is how far this culture has spread. Begging is no longer confined to close family circles. It now permeates places of worship, schools, workplaces, town unions, social clubs, and informal associations. While often presented as voluntary, participation is frequently underpinned by subtle compulsion—social pressure, moral expectations, and fear of reputational damage.
Life events such as weddings, birthdays, funerals, child dedications, and thanksgiving services are now routinely preceded by the creation of WhatsApp fundraising groups. Friends, acquaintances, and sometimes strangers are added without consent and implicitly expected to contribute. These groups often persist for months, normalizing prolonged solicitation.
Alongside group fundraising is the phenomenon popularly known as “urgent 2k”—direct messages or calls requesting small sums of money, often repeatedly, and sometimes escalating into much larger demands. What begins as a minor appeal can evolve into persistent financial pressure that strains relationships and personal boundaries.
Two simple tools enable this economy: smartphones and bank accounts. Smartphones provide reach, immediacy, and constant visibility, while bank accounts allow instant transfer and receipt of funds. Together, they have digitized begging, making it efficient, scalable, and difficult to ignore.
At its core, this reliance on family and friends reflects systemic failure. In functional economies, social welfare systems, affordable credit, insurance, pensions, and stable employment provide buffers against hardship. In Nigeria, their absence has forced citizens to replace the state with informal social safety nets. What should be short-term assistance has become a permanent survival strategy.
The consequences are profound. Extended families and social networks are increasingly strained as many unemployed or underemployed individuals depend on a shrinking pool of earners. Savings are depleted, financial security weakened, and trust eroded. Those who work often earn too little in a high-cost, high-transaction economy to sustainably support both themselves and others.
Retirement has become another pathway into poverty. Many Nigerians retire from poorly paid jobs only to face delayed or unpaid pensions and gratuities, while still supporting unemployed spouses, children, and extended family members. Decades of labour offer little security in old age.
While the begging economy enables short-term survival, it carries a high societal cost. It shifts attention away from banks, cooperatives, and government institutions, weakening accountability. Rather than demanding effective governance and social protection, citizens are trapped in private coping mechanisms that silently normalize state failure. Opacity further compounds the problem, as funds raised within social and cultural groups are often poorly accounted for once collections end.
Ultimately, reversing this trend requires addressing fundamental economic conditions: rising incomes, decent jobs, affordable housing, reliable public services, and functional social protection systems. Without these, Nigerians will continue to borrow from one another to survive.
A society cannot indefinitely sustain itself by exhausting its own social capital. The expansion of Nigeria’s begging economy is not a cultural flaw; it is an indictment of governance failure. Until poverty is confronted with seriousness, accountability, and structural reform, begging will remain not just a coping mechanism—but a quiet verdict on the failure of the state.