Nigeria says it is open for business. On paper, that statement is increasingly true. The government has passed the Business Facilitation Act. It has introduced new tax laws to simplify and harmonise the system. It has spoken clearly about reducing bottlenecks, eliminating multiple taxation, and protecting small businesses.
But on the streets, in markets, on highways, and at factory gates, many business owners are asking a different question:
If things are improving, why does it still feel so hard to do business?
The biggest enemy of business in Nigeria is not always lack of capital. It is friction. Friction is what happens when a simple activity becomes unnecessarily difficult. It is what turns a one-day process into a two-week struggle. It is what converts profit into loss before the business even sells its product. One of the clearest expressions of this friction is what many now describe as the “sticker economy.”
A delivery truck leaves a warehouse. Before it reaches its destination, it encounters multiple stops—local government task forces, state agencies, unions, and security checkpoints. Each stop comes with a demand: a permit, a levy, or a sticker.
Different names. Same outcome.
Time is lost. Costs go up. Prices increase. The final consumer pays. This is not simply regulation. It is duplication without coordination.
To be fair, recent reforms show that government understands the problem. The Business Facilitation Act aims to reduce delays and enforce transparency. The new tax laws aim to harmonise collection, reduce multiple taxation, and improve coordination across all tiers of government.
These are the right ideas. But the challenge is not intention. It is execution. There remains a deeper political reality that must be acknowledged.
The proliferation of task forces is not always accidental. In many cases, the exist as informal economic outlets—structures through which individuals are given opportunities to “earn” or be “settled.” These arrangements are often tied to political patronage systems, where enforcement bodies become tools for distributing economic benefits outside formal salary structures. In this context, enforcement is not just about regulation. It becomes a means of livelihood.
This creates a difficult cycle. Even when policies are introduced to simplify systems, the underlying incentive to maintain multiple points of collection remains. As a result, businesses continue to face pressure from various actors, each operating within an informal but deeply entrenched structure. Beyond this, operational challenges still weigh heavily on businesses. Power supply remains unreliable. Logistics are costly and inefficient. Security concerns persist. Access to finance is limited. Even a perfectly designed tax system cannot fully compensate for these realities.
When friction is high, businesses do not expand. Investors hesitate. Informality increases. Prices rise. If Nigeria truly wants to improve its business environment, the focus must shift from policy creation to policy experience. There must be a move toward unified enforcement, full digitisation of permits and payments, strict penalties for unauthorized collections, and real alignment across all levels of government. More importantly, there must be a deliberate effort to address the political economy behind enforcement structures. Until that is confronted, reforms will continue to struggle against entrenched interests.
Nigeria is not lacking ideas. Nigeria is not lacking policies. What remains is the task of aligning incentives, institutions, and enforcement with the true goal of enabling business. Until then, the enemies of business will remain—not in theory, but in everyday reality.
