When Presidential Adviser on Media and Policy Communications Daniel Bwala argued that a Nigerian earning ₦60,000 a month is “better off” than many Nigerians who relocated abroad five years ago, he reignited one of the country’s most contentious debates: whether the “japa” movement has delivered the economic gains many hoped for.
Speaking on The Morayo Show, Bwala maintained that rising living costs overseas have left many Nigerians in countries such as the United Kingdom working multiple jobs simply to pay rent, utilities, transport and food. He also described the situation of many degree holders working in care homes and warehouses as “modern-day slavery.”
While his comments reflect the experiences of some migrants grappling with inflation and rising housing costs abroad, they also raise several questions about the assumptions underpinning the comparison.
What does “better off” actually mean?
Perhaps the biggest challenge to Bwala’s argument is that it leaves the phrase “better off” undefined.
Economic well-being can be measured in several ways: disposable income, purchasing power, quality of life, savings, career progression, healthcare access, home ownership, or long-term wealth creation.
Without identifying which of these indicators he is referring to, comparing someone earning ₦60,000 in Nigeria with someone earning between £2,600 and £2,800 in the UK becomes difficult to evaluate objectively.
Can ₦60,000 sustain an average Nigerian?
Bwala’s comments also invite scrutiny of what ₦60,000 actually buys in today’s Nigeria.
With inflation remaining elevated in recent years and living costs rising sharply across major cities, housing, transportation, electricity, food, internet access and healthcare consume a growing share of household income.
For many workers, ₦60,000 falls below what economists and labour advocates consider a living wage, particularly in urban centres such as Lagos, Abuja and Port Harcourt.
This raises a critical policy question: should a monthly income of ₦60,000 be presented as evidence of economic resilience, or as an indication of the income challenges many Nigerians continue to face?
The assumption of family support
Another pillar of Bwala’s argument is that Nigerians earning ₦60,000 can depend on family members or friends during difficult times, while those abroad often lack such support.
However, this assumption may not apply universally.
Many Nigerians come from households where relatives are themselves facing financial hardship. In many cases, workers earning modest incomes are supporting parents, siblings or extended family rather than receiving assistance from them.
Treating family support as an economic advantage also raises another question: if a worker depends on relatives to meet basic needs, does that demonstrate financial well-being, or simply reflect an informal coping mechanism for inadequate income?
Bwala also suggested that Nigerians abroad have “nobody to fall back on.”
Yet many migrants rely on extensive diaspora networks, including relatives, churches, cultural associations and community groups that provide accommodation, employment referrals and financial assistance.
Although migration can involve isolation and financial pressure, assuming that social support exists only within Nigeria oversimplifies the realities experienced by many Nigerians living overseas.
Why do Nigerians continue to leave?
Perhaps the most significant question arising from Bwala’s remarks is why migration remains attractive despite the well-documented challenges of living abroad.
If remaining in Nigeria on ₦60,000 genuinely offers a better standard of living than relocating, why do thousands of Nigerians continue to seek opportunities overseas each year?
The answer may extend beyond monthly earnings.
Many migrants cite access to stable electricity, stronger public institutions, better healthcare, educational opportunities, safer communities, career advancement and long-term financial security as major motivations for leaving. For many, migration is viewed less as a search for immediate wealth than an investment in future opportunities.
Another limitation of the comparison is its focus on monthly earnings without considering long-term wealth accumulation.
While migrants abroad often face high living costs, many also earn in stronger currencies, contribute to pension systems, build credit histories, qualify for mortgages and acquire assets that may appreciate over time.
Conversely, Nigerians earning modest incomes at home may struggle to save or build wealth after meeting daily expenses. Evaluating financial well-being therefore requires more than comparing salaries against monthly bills.
A debate that demands evidence
Bwala’s remarks are likely to resonate with some Nigerians abroad who have experienced rising rents, demanding work schedules and financial pressure.
However, whether someone earning ₦60,000 in Nigeria is genuinely “better off” than someone earning several thousand pounds in the UK is ultimately an empirical question rather than a political one.
Answering it would require comprehensive evidence comparing purchasing power, household consumption, savings, career mobility, wealth accumulation and quality-of-life indicators across both populations.
Until such evidence is presented, the debate is likely to remain one driven more by personal experiences and political narratives than by measurable economic data.
The broader issue may not be whether life abroad has become more expensive—it clearly has—but whether conditions in Nigeria have improved sufficiently to reduce the economic incentives that continue to drive thousands of citizens to seek opportunities elsewhere. As long as those migration pressures persist, comparisons between ₦60,000 salaries and life overseas will continue to invite scrutiny.
