NATHAN: Who will lighten the burden of flood-stricken school children?

The media have been awash with the story of young life that was extinguished by circumstances that seemed both mundane and shockingly preventable.

On his way to sit for the Middle Basic Assessment Examination, 12-year-old Nathan Spencer was swept away by floodwaters along the notorious Uselu‑Ugbowo Road. His fate was captured in a viral video: A man carrying his lifeless body, desperate pleas from onlookers bellowing like a painful echo of collective failure.

In the wake of this tragedy, the Edo State Government revoked licenses of two schools and placed a principal under arrest. These are legitimate first steps. But as Nathan’s death ignites public disgust and grief, a broader question is now unavoidable both for government and corporate society: What role can, and should, CSR play in protecting vulnerable citizens from predictable environmental hazards?

Nathan was a pupil of Future Leaders Academy, heading to Liberty Secondary School for his examination. He was alone. His fatal journey indisputably criticized by onlookers and by the Edo State Commissioner for Education, Dr. Paddy Iyamu. But even as parents are advised to monitor their children and schools shuttered, pinning the blame solely on guardians and educators skirts the systemic issue.

In Nigeria today, a child walking unnoticed into flood waters should never be a possibility. The failure here was not just individual, it was infrastructural, environmental, institutional and at the same time, palpable to everyone who lives in flood-prone regions every rainy season.

In such a context, corporate social responsibility cannot retreat behind philanthropy alone. It must transcend photo ops and press releases to sit at the centre of disaster prevention, resilience planning, and long-term social protection.

Imagine if companies operating in Edo State such as banks, telecoms, logistics giants partnered with local governments and communities to build real-time weather alert systems for schools, or financed the repair and elevation of flood-prone school routes. Consider the difference between a child rescued after a flood versus one prevented from stepping into it in the first place. That difference is what CSR can and should produce: prevention, not just compensation.

Several Nigerian companies have well-meaning CSR programmes tied to the environment. Oil majors, for instance, often donate flood relief materials or build drainage canals post-disaster. Breweries sponsor boreholes. Telecoms fund school renovations. But these tend to be reactive, not anticipatory. When floods hit, charities distribute rice and relief. When schools leak or collapse, corporations build brand-new blocks as public apologies. What remains rare is the strategic partnership: Companies embedding preventive action into their CSR strategies, designing interventions based on known risk profiles and recurring challenges.

Edo State’s flooding is not even new. Uselu‑Ugbowo Road floods every year with predictable intensity. That repeat occurrence creates predictable risk, which in turn demands predictable intervention. A company’s environmental audit should flag these locations. A bank’s CSR budgeting process can include partnerships to elevate or pave walking paths, drain water channels, or even provide solar-powered street lamps. Local manufacturers could sponsor reflective signs or road barriers to alert parents and children in rush hours when floods encroach. These are not idealistic dreams, they are feasible projects that require coordination, funding, and corporate goodwill.

One promising path emerges when firms leverage digital tools: Smartphone-based weather alerts, school messaging apps, community-only channels that update river levels and school closures. With basic funding, telecom providers could help schools implement free SMS alerts tied to Nigeria Meteorological Agency forecasts. That would inform school authorities to monitor attendance, cancel trips, or organize safe routes during heavy rains. The result is protection woven into everyday learning, not tacked on after tragedy.

Of course, responsibility is not the corporation’s alone. The Edo State Government acted by withdrawing school licenses and placing blame. That is necessary but incomplete. Accountability without systemic improvement can only echo tragedy. What is needed is a public-private collaboration where a principal’s arrest triggers a system review, where license revocations lead to collective action, and where schools in flood-risk zones are supported not abandoned. CSR should not compete with government; it should reinforce it. A school that loses its license must not be ghosted by corporate benefactors, but guided through safer protocols and interventional mechanisms.

In some parts of Nigeria, we’ve seen glimpses of this working: Mining companies sponsoring youth rescue teams; oil firms training volunteer emergency response squads; banks supporting civic infrastructure upgrades post-disaster. Those models prove that when CSR transcends donation and becomes capacity-building, it can protect lives as well as restore livelihoods. What Nathan’s death demands is that this paradigm spreads beyond pockets of readiness to systemic resilience.

There is also the matter of perception. A bereaved mother holds no consolation in police detainment or community blame. She wants assurance that her child would not die beneath a bridge next year or the year after. She deserves systems that prevent recurrence. Corporate funding of structural school safety measures would signal more than social responsibility, it would signal empathy, long-term commitment, and community trust. That is CSR done right.

What’s more, good CSR aligned with disaster resilience is increasingly part of global sustainability frameworks. The UN SDG 11, which advocates for “inclusive, safe, resilient and sustainable cities,” applies directly here. Corporate backing for flood risk reduction in schools isn’t just local goodwill, it positions companies as champions of global agendas.

But what happens next? Will corporations discuss the case of Nathan in boardrooms? Will they fund exit routes and homes for children during flood seasons? Will telecom giants sponsor apps that alert communities before waters rise? Will banks partner with insurance companies to underwrite school risk funds? Will companies combine their Ghana‑style bushfire emergency response with Nigeria‑style rainy-season disaster planning?

If not, CSR risks becoming an echo chamber.

At the end of the day, Nathan’s death is a failure not only of civil authority, but of collective responsibility. His life was taken not by water alone, but by the distances left unchecked, the paths left unlit, and the institutions left unprotected. CSR interventions rooted in community risk analysis, structural mitigation, and disaster alert systems could have stood between Nathan and the flood.

If corporations intend to claim their CSR investments are about “making lives better,” then they must prove it by preventing preventable deaths.  Should a corporation step up to light the way for thousands of pupils next rainy season, then maybe history will remember Nathan not only for his loss, but as the catalyst for systemic change in CSR thinking. Only then would his death mark the turning point we so desperately need in Nigeria.