The N12.3 Trillion Sleeping Giant: Can Nigeria Wake Its Tourism Dream Without Crushing Its Communities?

In Abuja, Nigeria celebrated World Tourism Day with a vision that transcends economic gain, aiming to harness tourism as a force for peace and unity. The then Minister Lola Ade-John's speech underscored the transformative power of tourism to foster understanding and respect among diverse communities. Despite the promising forecast of a N12.3 trillion economic boost and 2.6 million new jobs by 2032, the nation faces the critical challenge of ensuring this burgeoning sector benefits its people equitably, without sidelining the very communities it seeks to uplift. ODIMEGWU ONWUMERE examines in this report, that Nigeria's journey to becoming a tourism powerhouse is fraught with the need to balance ambitious economic targets with the imperative of inclusive growth. The success of this venture hinges on crafting a tourism model that not only awakens a sleeping economic giant but does so by empowering local communities, preserving cultural heritage, and promoting peace. The article hinges that this narrative is a call to action: to shift from grandiose plans to grassroots empowerment, ensuring the tourism boom does not bypass those it's meant to benefit. It's a pivot towards a future where tourism development is measured not just by revenue, but by its ability to enrich and uplift every Nigerian life

On September 27, 2024, the drums came out in Abuja. At the FCT Arts Pavilion, the scene was one of polished optimism as Nigeria marked World Tourism Day.

The global theme was "Tourism and Peace," a concept that can feel achingly distant in a nation grappling with its own complex security.

But for Lola Ade-John, the then nation's Minister of Tourism, the theme was not an abstract hope; it was a concrete policy.

She spoke of tourism's "profound impact" beyond mere economics, casting it as a bridge-builder that "dissolves prejudices and builds mutual respect." This, she declared, was Nigeria's new path.

This is the official story of Nigerian tourism, a dazzling narrative written in the ink of staggering projections. The World Travel and Tourism Council (WTTC) has laid out the golden promise: a N12.3 trillion (over $12 billion) contribution to the economy and 2.6 million new jobs by 2032.

This is the dream that fuels the revitalization of a Presidential Council on Tourism and a ministry buzzing with digital-first plans—new websites, mobile apps, and virtual tours supported by private partners like Cavista Holdings.

It’s a vision of reactivated national treasures, of the mist-covered hills of Obudu Mountain Resort and the wild expanse of Yankari Game Reserve, all brought back to life through new collaborations with state governments.

But beyond the official celebrations and the eye-watering numbers lies a much harder, more complex reality. This N12.3 trillion giant is, for now, fast asleep, and it is chained by the very forces the then minister hoped to overcome.

While the government crafts its top-down master plans, a chorus of voices from the private sector, academia, and local communities is asking a different, more urgent question: Who is this all for? For decades, Nigeria's tourism model has been a story of state-controlled assets, crumbling infrastructure, and, most critically, communities left on the outside looking in, "aggrieved" and "sidelined" from their own heritage.

The new ministry is a good start, but as Nigeria entered the second half of 2025, the real challenge was not just waking the giant—it's ensuring that when it rises, it doesn't trample the very people it's meant to save.

This is the central, multi-trillion-naira paradox. The problem has never been a lack of assets. As one academic study of Southeastern Nigeria confirms, natural attractions are "evenly distributed across Nigeria," with "each local government area featuring at least one unique tourism resource."

The failure is in the follow-through. It’s the "funding shortfall," the "inadequate support," and the systemic failure to transform raw potential into world-class destinations.

This disconnect was laid bare at a 2025 BusinessDay Tourism Conference in Lagos. While the then minister in Abuja spoke of policy, the practitioners on the ground spoke of lived reality.

"We fly to Zanzibar for beaches and waterfronts that we already have in Badagry, Calabar, and other places in Nigeria," declared Wonuola Olatunde-Lamidi, the co-founder of Diamond and Pearl Travels.

Her plea was a direct challenge to the old model. "Local communities," she insisted, "must own, protect, and profit from their beaches."

This single statement cuts to the heart of Nigeria's decades-long failure. This research confirms it: "state control often limits local input in decision-making," leading to communities being "sidelined" and missing "crucial opportunities."

The result is unplanned, exploitative tourism that leaves locals aggrieved, a stark contrast to the planned, community-centric model that could revive their culture and provide real economic benefits.

Stella Fubara, Managing Director of Del-York Development Company, hammered this point home. Using Dubai as a case study, she noted that while Nigeria's tourism sector languishes at less than four percent of GDP—compared to Kenya's nine percent or Morocco's twelve—this should be seen as a "significant room for growth." The federal government is targeting a $1 trillion economy by 2030, and Fubara implored the stakeholders in the room to see tourism as the "critical engine ready for acceleration."

But how do you accelerate an engine that has never been properly assembled? The source highlights the "shortage of literature" on tourism impacts in Nigeria, meaning the country is, in many ways, flying blind. And the one thing everyone knows, the elephant in every room, is the "terrorism and insecurity" that plagues the land.

These fears, researchers note, "will significantly threaten residents' potential acceptance" of any new tourism initiative. Incidents of kidnapping and farmer-herdsman clashes are not just headlines; they are direct barriers to development. This is where the ex-Minister Ade-John's "Tourism and Peace" theme transforms from a slogan into the central challenge of her tenure.

The ministry's plan to tackle this is multi-pronged. It's about "sustainable tourism," a model that respects local communities and the environment, fostering "a sense of pride and ownership" that can lead to more peaceful co-existence.

It’s about education, a strategic collaboration with the Ministry of Education to weave Tourism and History subjects back into the national curriculum, ensuring "future generations understand the significance of Nigeria’s rich cultural landscape."

And it's about uplifting communities directly, especially women and youth, through skills development programs like the EcoGenesis Incubator Series. These, the ministry believes, are the efforts that can address the "root causes of conflict."

Yet, the pundits argue that for these well-intentioned, top-down plans to work, they must be met by a radical "bottom-up" strategy. The "new" Ministry of Tourism, researchers propose, must "collaborate with state tourism ministries to establish local government agencies dedicated to tourism development."

The real power, the real change, must come from the ground. The most promising model, and perhaps the most realistic for a country with Nigeria's challenges, is "community-based homestay tourism."

This is not the N12.3 trillion promise of sprawling resorts and international hotel chains, which Statista projects will drive earnings of $3.7 billion by 2025.

This is a different, more intimate, and perhaps more sustainable vision. It’s a model that aligns perfectly with the National Tourism Policy's goal of "small-scale tourism initiatives focusing on local arts and crafts."

It’s about "recognizing rural people as the true guardians of tourist potential." This is a direct challenge to the old, failed model. It involves creating a system where local communities, not distant state capitals, can establish guesthouses, offering authentic experiences to travelers.

Hannatu Musa Musawa (Minister of Art, Culture, Tourism)

Those with more knowledge point to Timor-Leste, where the Ministry of Tourism provides grant funding to existing, locally-owned guesthouses to help them improve facilities.

This approach, however, is fraught with its own set of challenges. First, it requires communicating the economic benefits—job creation, support for local business—to a skeptical populace.

As the World Bank notes, this requires "strategic and collaborative use of communication" to get buy-in.

Second, it demands absolute transparency. Researchers warn that communities "often worry about revenue distribution," and any "lack of accountability" can evoke bitter "memories of past exploitative initiatives."

Third, it requires empowering local leaders. This isn't just about community participation; it's about local leadership, a "crucial" element for success.

And it requires confronting the fear. The national government may be "performing well by strengthening the security architecture," but the National Orientation Agency must simultaneously "increase awareness about the importance of trusting homestay activities" to reduce the fear of acceptance.

Technology is vital here. A robust booking system with two-factor authentication is not a luxury; it's a necessity for hosts "welcoming strangers, especially with family present."

This system must verify visitors while accurately showcasing homestays, building trust on both sides.

This new model also demands a new workforce. Operating a homestay is technical. Academia and NGOs must "collaborate to train those interested in homestay operations."

State governments can partner with local universities to offer short courses in hospitality management, housekeeping, nutrition, tour guiding, and first aid, helping locals "operate at a level that justifies visitor prices."

This is how tourism directly creates sustainable, dignified jobs and alleviates poverty.

Perhaps most powerfully, this model activates Nigeria's single greatest, most underutilized asset: its youth. Young people, researchers note, are "energetic, open to new experiences, and form friendships easily."

They are the "tech-savvy" marketers who, "with their strong social media presence," can bypass Nigeria's traditionally lackluster marketing.

They can "effectively market destinations within Nigeria to foreign friends and contacts" on TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook, platforms where a standardized, state-run website simply cannot compete.

This, then, is the new paradigm: "co-management." It is a collaborative partnership between the government, NGOs, and the local communities.

It is not one group dictating to the others, but a system that "promotes equity for marginalized groups by involving a broader range of stakeholders in decision-making."

This is how you build a resident-friendly, sustainable, and peaceful tourism industry. It’s how you ensure, as researchers warn, that you don't "commodify and disrupt" local culture, but rather help it flourish.

The drums from World Tourism Day have long gone silent. The promises of N12.3 trillion and 2.6 million jobs are tacked to the ministry's walls.

But the future of Nigerian tourism will not be decided in the conference halls of Abuja or at international summits in Georgia. It will be decided in a small villages of the South East, where a community must choose between fear of outsiders and the promise of a homestay.

It will be decided in Badagry, where locals must be empowered to "own and protect" the same beaches that make Zanzibar a global destination. It will be decided by whether the new, top-down policies from the ex-Minister's office can be humble enough to listen to the bottom-up wisdom of the people who have been the guardians of Nigeria's culture all along.

The path is clear. It is a pivot from state control to community co-management, from grand announcements to grassroots training, from relying on foreign investment to empowering local youth.

Nigeria is, indeed, a sleeping giant. The only question now is whether the government will try to command it to wake, or if it will simply, and finally, give the giant a reason to rise.

•Onwumere is Chairman, Advocacy Network On Religious And Cultural Coexistence (ANORACC)