In a nation where education is often lauded as the cornerstone of development, Nigeria’s higher education system is battling a hidden crisis, one that is not always visible from the glossy websites or accreditation brochures of new institutions. Across the country, a growing number of universities and polytechnics are operating from temporary campuses: borrowed buildings, repurposed hotels, converted residential flats, and even leased shopping plazas. These are what many students now call home for four or more formative years of their lives. But beneath this improvisational infrastructure lies a far deeper issue, the permanence of instability.
Over the last two decades, the proliferation of higher education institutions in Nigeria, both public and private, has been both a blessing and a burden. The need to expand access to tertiary education has led to the rapid approval and establishment of new universities. However, many of these institutions, particularly those in the private sector, often begin operations before their permanent sites are fully developed. They are granted provisional licenses and allowed to admit students with the understanding that infrastructural development will follow.
But often, it does not. Instead, these institutions remain in temporary facilities year after year, turning what was intended to be a stopgap solution into a long-term compromise. Lecture halls are fashioned from old hotel conference rooms. Laboratories, when they exist, are makeshift. Hostels double as classrooms. Libraries are afterthoughts. With classrooms that are quite literally “on the move,” academic continuity is compromised, student morale is low, and the institution’s reputation suffers.
The instability of temporary campuses disrupts every layer of academic life. Students may start a semester in one building and end it in another town entirely. Faculties are sometimes relocated with little notice, requiring students, staff, and their belongings to be moved across local government areas or even state lines. These constant relocations make it nearly impossible to build consistent academic routines or cultivate a learning community.
For example, a student studying engineering at a makeshift campus may find that practical sessions are cancelled or indefinitely postponed due to a lack of laboratory equipment or space. A university department may be split between multiple rented buildings, making collaboration and access to resources difficult. These realities are not abstract; they happen every semester, affecting thousands of students across Nigeria.
Temporary campuses often lack the foundational infrastructure necessary to sustain academic excellence. Proper libraries, well-equipped laboratories, lecture theatres, faculty offices, recreation centres, and student support services are often absent or insufficient. Without these components, the quality of education is significantly diluted. Lecturers are often overburdened, teaching across dispersed locations without stable resources. Students often become frustrated and disengaged, resorting to self-learning without guidance or support.
Worse still, these conditions hinder research, innovation, and critical inquiry, the core functions of any serious university. A campus that is constantly in transition cannot attract top-tier faculty, nor can it develop research centres or host international collaborations. Temporary campuses, by their very nature, lack the rootedness necessary for academic depth and institutional memory.
The toll of academic instability extends beyond academics. For many students, university life is a time of identity formation, social bonding, and emotional development. When campuses are unstable, physically and administratively, students experience heightened anxiety, a sense of detachment, and a diminished connection to their institution. Alumni identity becomes weak or non-existent, and traditions that typically define academic life never take root.
Additionally, students who feel shortchanged by their academic environment begin to question the value of their degrees. Employers, too, grow wary, particularly of institutions with no physical identity or known legacy. Graduates of these institutions may struggle to gain the recognition or career traction their counterparts from better-established universities enjoy.
While regulatory bodies like the National Universities Commission (NUC) have minimum standards for licensing, the enforcement of those standards remains inconsistent. Many institutions operate in rented or incomplete facilities for years without consequence. Some secure provisional accreditation for programmes that barely meet requirements, relying on borrowed resources and hastily arranged visits to impress inspection teams. Once accreditation is granted, there is little follow-up to ensure continued compliance. The result is a system in which regulatory oversight is not only weak but, at times, complicit. When authorities fail to enforce development timelines or disregard violations, they indirectly endorse the continuation of mediocrity and instability.
At the macro level, the implications are grave. Nigeria’s development depends on a strong, stable, and innovative tertiary education sector. Universities are meant to be engines of national progress, training professionals, generating ideas, fostering innovation, and solving problems. However, how can institutions function as think tanks or centres of excellence when they are nomadic, under-resourced, and constantly in a state of flux?
Temporary campuses create a climate of impermanence that is antithetical to the goals of education and national development. They symbolise a lack of seriousness, a culture of expediency over excellence, and a troubling disregard for the future of Nigerian youth.
Reversing the trend of makeshift and unstable campuses is not only possible, but it is also urgently necessary. To restore integrity to Nigeria’s higher education system and ensure students receive the quality of education they deserve, several decisive steps must be taken.
First, there must be a strengthening of licensing requirements. No university should be permitted to admit students until its permanent site is at least 70 per cent developed and operational. The current regulatory loopholes that allow institutions to operate indefinitely from temporary locations must be decisively closed to prevent abuse.
Secondly, accreditation processes should be tied to clear infrastructural development milestones. Institutions that fail to meet these benchmarks within specified timelines should face firm consequences, including the suspension of further student admissions until compliance is achieved. This will compel institutions to prioritise long-term investment over short-term convenience.
Transparency is also essential. The National Universities Commission (NUC) should maintain and regularly update a publicly accessible list indicating which universities are still operating on temporary campuses and for how long they have been doing so. Such information will empower students and parents to make informed decisions and put pressure on institutions to fulfil their development obligations.
In addition, the government must play a more proactive role in supporting genuine institutions that are committed to building permanent, quality infrastructure. This support could take the form of special infrastructure grants, subsidies, or public-private financing models that reduce the financial burden on emerging institutions while ensuring that standards are not compromised.
Lastly, communities and alumni must be more actively involved in the oversight of these institutions. Universities do not exist in isolation; they are integral parts of their host communities and repositories of public trust. By engaging local stakeholders, we establish a system of accountability that fosters a shared responsibility for quality and sustainability in education. Ultimately, universities must be more than just places where classes are held; they must be environments that nurture intellectual growth, foster innovation, and stand as enduring symbols of national progress.
The makeshift campus phenomenon is not merely an infrastructure issue; it is a philosophical one. It reflects how we, as a nation, think about education, whether we see it as a transaction or a long-term investment in human capital. Classrooms on the move may be a logistical convenience, but they breed a culture of transience, instability, and academic shallowness. If Nigeria is serious about building a knowledge-based economy, then the foundations of its learning institutions must be solid, both in terms of physical infrastructure and academic quality. We must insist that our universities stop operating on borrowed time and borrowed spaces. Academic excellence cannot grow in transit. It must be rooted in place, purpose, and permanence.
■ Adesola, Executive Director, Initiative for Quality Education (I-QUE), sent this piece from Abuja. He can be reached at: iquesola9801@yahoo.com
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