What many don’t know about CSR

Most Nigerians hear the letters “CSR” and their mind goes blank or worse. They begin to assume it is another acronym cooked up in some air-conditioned boardroom that has no bearing on real life.

But the rider remains that Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) is not some faraway, high-level corporate ritual for CEOs and shareholders. It is not just that press release. It’s something you, dear citizen, live through, benefit from, complain about, or miss out on every single day, whether you know it or not.

Let’s even bring this home. You are walking through Ikeja and suddenly your child points at a new water fountain installed beside a playground in what used to be a barren, dusty park. You assume it is government work. Think again. That could very well be an MTN Foundation or Indomie CSR project.

Or imagine your local public secondary school, the one with leaking roofs and iron chairs since 1992, suddenly has a refurbished science lab, digital library and solar panels. You think government remembered you after elections? Look closer, it might just be Shell or TotalEnergies quietly ticking a box on their community development plan. CSR has entered your life again – uninvited, unacknowledged, but very real.

CSR is more than a fancy acronym. It is the way companies try to give back to society or more accurately, balance out the damage, noise, plastic waste, or extraction their business might cause. It is the oil company building boreholes in your village after flaring gas for years. It’s the bank running free coding bootcamps for unemployed graduates in Enugu. It’s even the brewery handing out scholarships to children in rural communities.

Brethren, CSR is the apology, the handshake, the love letter, the “we see you” from brands who understand that business should not just be about making money, it should also make lives better.

Still theoretical?

Okay. Let’s stop talking in theory. Let’s talk in real Nigerian examples, shall we?

A few years ago, Nigerian Breweries started the Maltina Teacher of the Year award. You probably didn’t enter. You probably didn’t win. But someone in your cousin’s wife’s sister’s church might have and now her students are being taught by a reinspired, better-funded teacher with national recognition. That’s ripple effect. That’s CSR. You feel it not because your name is on the certificate, but because the quality of life around you improves, silently.

Or take Airtel Nigeria’s “Adopt-a-School” initiative. In Ogun State, they didn’t just paint walls and drop textbooks. They rebuilt classrooms, provided uniforms, and kept the school running. It’s unlikely the average citizen knew it was Airtel’s money. But the children learning under new roofs without rain soaking their books definitely knew something had changed. You, the citizen, feel CSR when your younger brother starts bringing home better results because his school now has working toilets and desks.

Now switch lanes. Ever boarded an Air Peace flight and been offered discounts because you’re a teacher or member of the armed forces? That’s CSR wrapped in corporate patriotism. They didn’t have to do it. But they understand that brand loyalty can be built not just through adverts but by recognizing social contributions. And you? You benefit from it even if you don’t fly. Because the teacher who got that respect comes to class the next day with a little more dignity and a lot more motivation.

CSR shows up in places you don’t expect. You go to get free malaria treatment at a mobile clinic set up in Akwa Ibom and assume it’s an NGO. It’s actually ExxonMobil’s community health initiative. You attend a skills acquisition workshop for women in Jos and assume it’s church work. Surprise! it’s Nestlé Nigeria partnering with a local NGO. You think your free solar-powered street lights in parts of Kano were part of government urban renewal plans? Nope. That’s Kano Electricity Distribution Company’s CSR after months of public outcry about safety at night.

CSR doesn’t always come with neon signs or social media hashtags. Sometimes it’s a bag of relief rice during flood season from Dangote Foundation. Sometimes it’s a new water project in Taraba that cuts women’s trek to the river from 3 hours to 30 minutes. You, the citizen, are at the receiving end of CSR every time your burden gets lighter because a company decided to be less selfish and more human.

But wait o! What happens when they don’t do CSR at all? What happens when companies operate in your community, take the oil, sell the beer, mine the cement and vanish like spirits when it’s time to give back? You also feel it. In the form of potholes they didn’t fix, schools they didn’t adopt, boreholes they didn’t drill, and community needs they ignored. You, the citizen, carry the weight of their absence. It shows in the slow rot of public infrastructure and the loud silence when nobody steps in to help.

Yet here’s the part you may not realise, you’re not just a passive receiver of CSR. You can be a participant. You can ask questions. You can drag them on Twitter, tag their handles, attend stakeholder meetings, submit petitions, or praise them when they do right. CSR thrives in places where citizens pay attention. That is why companies often go above and beyond in states like Lagos or Rivers because communities there speak up, journalists are watching, and the people refuse to be ignored.

Let’s not romanticize it either. Some CSR is performative. Some brands give just enough to get photo ops, while spending triple on billboards to announce it. You’ve seen them. The one bag of rice donation dressed like a carnival, the 5 desks donated with full TV coverage. But even in the performance, something still gets done. A street still gets swept. A hospital still receives gloves. A child still gets a notebook.

And then there’s the quiet CSR. The kind that doesn’t REALLY bother with press releases. Stanbic IBTC hosting financial literacy for small business owners in Onitsha. Flour Mills Nigeria offering nutrition support for displaced families in Northern Nigeria. These don’t trend online. But they change lives offline. If you live in a city where the corporate presence is high, chances are your child’s school, your hospital, your community football pitch, or your local youth centre has been touched by one CSR initiative or another.

CSR may not pay your rent or fix the exchange rate. But it helps stitch together a broken system. It fills the gaps when government disappears. It says: We are making money here, and we recognize your humanity. That matters. It might come in form of educational scholarships, clean water, health outreach, solar-powered boreholes, gender-based programs, job creation, tree-planting, vocational skills, food relief, or mental health support. It might not look like much at first glance but to the person who receives it, it could be everything.

Hope this helps?

So next time you hear that a company is launching a CSR project, don’t roll your eyes. Lean in. Ask questions. Follow up. Celebrate the impact. Critique the gaps. Demand more. CSR is not charity. It is your share of the social contract. You are not begging, you are claiming what is due when companies profit off your land, labour, or loyalty.

And if you’re still wondering how CSR affects you, remember this: If your cousin learned coding in a free bootcamp and now works remotely from Aba; if your niece got a scholarship to complete school in Osogbo; if your mother got free hypertension drugs from a mobile clinic in Calabar; if the borehole near your street saves you from buying sachet water dailythen CSR has impacted your life, quietly and powerfully.

You didn’t need to apply. You didn’t need to know the MD. You didn’t even need to attend the launch. You just needed to be a citizen. Because sometimes, even in Nigeria, being a citizen is enough to deserve something good. That, right there, is what real CSR looks like!