By Elvis Eromosele
Numbers have power. They tell stories, shape opinions, and guide policies. But numbers can also mislead. They don’t always tell the whole story. Nowhere is this more true than what experts call Simpson’s Paradox. This is a statistical phenomenon where the averages tell a different story from the details. In simple terms, the big picture can look good while the smaller, more detailed parts show decline. In a country as large and complex as Nigeria, this paradox is not a classroom puzzle. It plays out in our economic statistics every day, often with damaging consequences for policymaking and public trust.
To understand this paradox, think of a simple example. Imagine that both male and female students improve their pass rates in mathematics. Yet when their results are combined, the overall pass rate actually falls. How? Because the number of students in each group changes, and the averages shift in misleading ways. This is Simpson’s Paradox. It warns us to be careful with “averages” because they often hide important differences.
Now take poverty and growth. Official statistics show that Nigeria’s GDP grew by about 3.13 per cent year-on-year in the first quarter of 2025, up from 2.27 percent in the same period of 2024. On paper, that looks like economic progress. Yet, millions of Nigerians remain trapped in poverty, especially in the northern states. The truth is that much of this growth is driven by Lagos, Abuja, and a few other urban centres. For the majority, particularly in rural areas, hardship deepens. In the aggregate, the economy is expanding. In reality, prosperity is uneven, and many more are being left behind.
Unemployment figures tell a similar story. The official rate fell from 5.3 percent in the first quarter of 2024 to 4.3 percent in the second quarter. This suggests progress. But the breakdown tells a different tale. Youth unemployment remains stubbornly high at 6.5 percent. Women face unemployment of 5.1 percent compared with 3.4 percent for men. In urban areas, the rate is 5.2 percent, against just 2.8 percent in rural areas. Once again, the headline number masks the struggles of young people, women, and city dwellers. Without subgroup analysis, policymakers might assume the labour market is improving evenly. It is not.
Education offers another striking example. The West African Examinations Council (WAEC) announced that in 2024, about 72.12 percent of candidates earned five credits including English and Mathematics. A year later, that figure dropped sharply to 62.96 percent. The national average paints the picture of a system under strain. But even these results don’t capture the deeper divide. Students in southern states consistently perform better, while those in many northern states continue to lag. When the results are averaged nationally, these stark differences disappear. Yet, if policies are designed only around the national figure, the regions in crisis will not get the urgent attention they deserve.
Inflation provides perhaps the clearest case of Simpson’s Paradox in Nigeria. Official data shows headline inflation easing in 2025, from 22.97 percent in May to 21.88 percent in July. Policymakers hail this as success. But Nigerians shopping in the markets know otherwise. Food inflation tells the true story. In Borno, prices rose by 47.4 percent. In Ebonyi, by 30.62 percent. In Bayelsa, by 28.64 percent. For rural households, who spend most of their income on food, the national average seriously underplays the pain of soaring prices. The paradox here is obvious: while the average looks encouraging, the reality for millions of poor families is worsening.
The danger of Simpson’s Paradox is not just academic. It creates policy blind spots. When government focuses on averages, it risks designing one-size-fits-all solutions that fail to address real needs. It also fuels public distrust. Citizens quickly lose faith in official statistics when those figures don’t match the reality of their daily lives. And it undermines equity in development, because averages tend to reward the groups already doing relatively well, leaving behind those in need of targeted intervention.
The way forward is clear. Nigeria must commit to disaggregating data, by gender, age, income level, state, and urban-rural location. Averages should always be reported alongside subgroup details. Agencies like the National Bureau of Statistics must also be more transparent in reporting, ensuring that disparities are not buried in technical tables but highlighted in plain language. Most importantly, policies should be tailored to specific subgroup needs. Food support should target rural communities most affected by price spikes. Job creation initiatives should focus on young people and women. Education reform should prioritise the states where pass rates remain abysmally low.
There is no such thing as the “average Nigerian.” Aggregate statistics on GDP, unemployment, inflation, or exam results are too blunt to capture the realities of a country as vast and unequal as ours. Simpson’s Paradox reminds us that progress on paper can conceal deep suffering on the ground. Policymakers, journalists, and citizens must always look beyond the averages. Only then can Nigeria’s growth and development be both real and inclusive.
Elvis Eromosele, a corporate communications professional and sustainability advocate, wrote via elviseroms@gmail.com.
