Where Are the CEOs? Corporate Nigeria and the Cost of Political Violence

Nigeria’s business community spends a great deal of time talking about the investment climate. It publishes surveys, hosts conferences, lobbies for policy reforms and issues careful statements about exchange rates, taxes, power supply and ease of doing business. What it has said far less visibly, in recent weeks, is anything about a threat to that climate that no tariff or interest rate can fix: the rising pattern of violence around political campaigns.

This article asks an uncomfortable question about responsibility and leadership. When political gatherings are attacked, when citizens are shot, beaten or tear-gassed for attending a town hall meeting, and when the pattern appears to be spreading across states, does corporate Nigeria have a role? And if it does, why is its voice so hard to find?

A caveat on method is necessary. This piece does not claim that every business association or executive has been silent. Some may have spoken, privately or publicly, and the reader who knows of such statements should say so. The argument is about the public conversation: the absence, from the loudest part of it, of the people who have most to lose and arguably most power to influence the outcome.

What has been reported

In the weeks leading into the 2027 campaign season, a series of incidents has been reported across the country. In Lagos, a member of the Nigeria Democratic Congress said suspected thugs stormed a town hall meeting in Oregun allegedly armed with guns, cutlasses, axes and machetes. In Calabar, Peter Obi’s convoy was reportedly attacked, with supporters injured and vehicles damaged, and police said they arrested one suspect. In Enugu, the party reported that eight members were shot at a ward meeting in September, and police were later accused of firing tear gas at another NDC gathering, with elderly attendees reportedly hospitalised. In Imo, hoodlums reportedly attacked participants and destroyed hundreds of chairs.

The responsibility for these incidents is contested. The NDC has accused the ruling APC of sponsoring some of the attacks. APC representatives have denied involvement in similar allegations in other cases, and police have in some instances said they were investigating or had averted confrontations. Meetings of other opposition parties have also been disrupted in recent months. Nothing in this article assumes any party’s guilt. The point is that the pattern, whoever is behind it, is a risk to everyone who has a stake in Nigeria’s stability, and businesses are among them.

Why this is a business issue, not only a political one

It is tempting for companies to treat political violence as someone else’s affair. The instinct is understandable: partisan politics is fraught, and business leaders worry about offending those in power. But the economic stakes are concrete, and they run in several directions.

Investors price risk. Capital, both domestic and foreign, responds to perceptions of political stability and the rule of law. A campaign season marked by violence, impunity and doubts about the neutrality of security forces raises the risk premium on Nigerian assets. That means higher costs of borrowing, more cautious expansion decisions and capital that waits elsewhere. Every credible forecast of the Nigerian economy assumes a degree of political predictability, and violence erodes it.

Operations suffer. Violence disrupts transport, closes markets, endangers staff and interrupts supply chains. Even where businesses are not directly targeted, instability raises security costs, insurance premiums and the difficulty of moving people and goods.

The workforce is affected. Employees and their families live in the communities where violence occurs. Fear affects productivity, mobility and morale. A responsible employer cannot be indifferent to the safety of the people on whom its operations depend.

Trust is the foundation of commerce. Contracts are honoured, property is respected and disputes are settled because institutions are believed to work. When citizens see violence go unpunished, that confidence erodes, and with it the informal glue that business relies on.

Finally, there is the long-term question of legitimacy. Elections that are seen as unfair or unsafe produce governments whose authority is contested. Contested authority makes policy harder to implement and reforms harder to sustain. Businesses that benefit from reform have a direct interest in the integrity of the process that selects those who will implement it.

The ESG dimension: the S and the G

Corporate Nigeria increasingly speaks the language of ESG. Boards discuss environmental metrics, publish sustainability reports and commit to governance principles. Yet the “social” and “governance” pillars of ESG are not only about internal policies on staff welfare or board composition. They concern the operating environment: the rule of law, human rights, public safety and the quality of institutions.

If a company’s sustainability report celebrates community projects while ignoring the deterioration of the political environment in which it operates, something is missing. The report is describing the company’s contribution to society without confronting the society’s conditions. A serious approach to responsible leadership asks what role the company should play in protecting the civic space on which its own legitimacy depends.

That does not mean companies should take partisan sides. It means they should defend the basic conditions that make fair competition, in both politics and markets, possible.

Why silence happens

To be fair to business leaders, silence has explanations that deserve to be understood rather than simply condemned.

Fear of retaliation. In a political economy where government contracts, licences, regulatory approvals and tax treatment can influence a company’s fortunes, executives worry about consequences. Speaking out can feel risky, especially for firms with significant dealings with the state.

A desire for neutrality. Many leaders believe that businesses should stay out of politics, and they are right to avoid partisan endorsement. The danger is confusing neutrality between parties with indifference to violence.

Collective action problems. Each company reasons that if only it speaks, it will be exposed, whereas if everyone speaks, the risk is shared. Without coordination, everyone waits for someone else to go first.

Habit. Nigerian business associations have traditionally focused on economic policy, and many are not set up to speak about political security. Their statements are carefully worded and slow.

These pressures are real. But they point to a solution rather than an excuse: collective, non-partisan statements through established associations, which spread the risk and amplify the message.

The special problem of CSR and political proximity

There is a delicate point that deserves candour. Corporate social responsibility spending in Nigeria sometimes sits uncomfortably close to political life. Donations to state governments, sponsorship of political events, contributions that blur the line between social investment and political goodwill: these practices exist, and they raise questions about independence.

If companies want credibility in calling for peaceful politics, they need to be able to show that their own conduct is clean. That means clear policies on political donations, transparency about sponsorships, and a firm separation between community investment and political favour. A company that calls for restraint while quietly funding the machinery of intimidation, directly or indirectly, would deserve the scorn it received. The call for peaceful campaigns therefore begins with the company’s own house.

What corporate leadership could look like

What would responsible corporate engagement on political violence actually involve? Several modest but meaningful steps come to mind.

A joint public statement through the main business bodies, such as chambers of commerce and manufacturers’ associations, calling on all parties and security agencies to protect lawful campaign gatherings and to investigate and prosecute violence impartially. The statement need not name any party. It should name the principle.

Public commitments on the companies’ own conduct: not to fund or equip any group that engages in intimidation, to disclose political contributions, and to decline to be associated with violence.

Support for independent monitoring. Businesses could support credible civil society and election observation efforts that document incidents and publish findings. Data is the enemy of impunity, and funding that data collection without influencing its conclusions would be a real contribution.

Engagement with security agencies. Companies that work closely with police and security services can raise, constructively, the importance of neutrality and professional conduct, particularly given reports of police being accused in some of the incidents.

Protection of staff and communities. Companies can ensure that employees who wish to take part in lawful political activity are not penalised, and can support community peace initiatives where they operate.

Business leaders can also use convening power. The kinds of forums that bring executives and officials together to discuss the economy could be used to discuss the integrity of the election environment, with leaders from across the political spectrum.

The counter-arguments

A responsible analysis should consider the objections.

Some will say that business should stay out of politics altogether. There is merit in avoiding partisanship, but defending the conditions for peaceful political competition is not partisan. Business leaders routinely speak on the rule of law when it concerns contracts and property; the physical safety of citizens exercising political rights belongs in the same category.

Others will argue that speaking out is futile, since politicians will not listen. That may sometimes be true, but collective business voices carry weight, particularly when they are specific, constructive and sustained. And silence guarantees that nothing changes.

Some will say the risk to individual companies is too high. That is why collective action through associations matters, and why leading firms with the strongest balance sheets and the least exposure carry a particular responsibility to go first.

Finally, there is the argument that the situation is not as serious as alarmists suggest. It is true that Nigeria has experienced violent campaign seasons before, and that elections have continued. But the history of political violence elsewhere shows that complacency is costly. Normalised intimidation tends to escalate when it goes unchallenged. The time to speak is before the pattern hardens.

A test of leadership

It is easy to be a responsible leader when responsibility is cheap: when the cause is uncontroversial, the audience is friendly and the cost is a press release. The harder test is the one that tempts silence, where speaking invites risk and staying quiet seems prudent. Those are the moments that distinguish leadership from management.

Nigeria’s business community has more influence than it sometimes admits. Its leaders sit on boards, finance campaigns of every kind, employ millions and speak to ministers in rooms that ordinary citizens will never enter. If they use that influence to defend the basic safety of political participation, they protect not just democracy but the economy that depends on it. If they do not, they should not be surprised when the investment climate they care so much about deteriorates for reasons no policy reform can fix.

The question in the title deserves a direct answer, from the people it addresses. Where are the CEOs? The country is listening, and so are the investors.