Education in Nigeria has always been both a privilege and a challenge for millions of families across the country. The limited capacity of federal universities, coupled with increasing population pressures, has created a situation where access to higher education is a scarce resource. Private institutions have risen to fill this gap, and among them, church-owned universities have become a prominent, but controversial, option for many Nigerians.
Omoyele Sowore, a well-known journalist, human rights activist, and political figure, recently made comments that reignited the debate about accessibility and social responsibility in these institutions. His remarks, made on the Honest Bunch podcast, highlighted the growing tension between religious institutions, economic inequality, and the promise of education in a country where millions of children still struggle to access quality learning.
Who Is Omoyele Sowore
Omoyele Sowore, often referred to by the nickname Yele, has been a consistent voice in the Nigerian public sphere against social and political injustices. He founded Sahara Reporters, an online platform dedicated to exposing corruption and amplifying marginalized voices in Nigeria. Sowore later launched the African Action Congress, a political party aimed at challenging entrenched systems of inequality and promoting transparency in governance.
Over the years, Sowore has positioned himself as a critic of both state and non-state actors, whose actions he believes fail ordinary Nigerians. His recent critique of church-owned universities fits into this pattern, as he directly challenges the moral and social responsibilities of religious institutions that run these schools.
The Context of Church-Owned Universities in Nigeria
Church-owned universities in Nigeria occupy a unique space within the education sector. Unlike federal universities, which are subsidized by the government and attempt to maintain relatively lower tuition fees, these private institutions are fully funded by their owners and rely on tuition, donations, and internal revenue to operate. Among the most notable are Covenant University, owned by the Living Faith Church or Winners Chapel; Babcock University, run by the Seventh-Day Adventist Church; Redeemers University, also under the auspices of the Redeemed Christian Church of God; and Bowen University, operated by the Nigerian Baptist Convention. These universities have gained a reputation for combining faith-based moral teachings with conventional academic curricula.
While their academic standards are often praised, their fee structures are widely criticized. The cost of tuition at these universities often ranges from hundreds of thousands to over a million naira per academic session. This pricing excludes additional charges, such as accommodation, meals, textbooks, and other fees, which collectively place the total annual cost far out of reach for many average Nigerians. The argument Sowore presented centers on the disconnect between the wealth of church congregations and the limited accessibility of the educational institutions those congregations support.
Large Congregations and Limited Access
Many Nigerian megachurches boast memberships that stretch into tens of thousands across multiple branches. For example, the Living Faith Church claims millions of followers nationwide. These churches often organize large-scale events, conventions, and weekly services that attract ordinary citizens from low-income communities, such as Ajegunle in Lagos, Bariga, and other urban poor areas. Sowore pointed out that while these churches expand their reach and influence, the tangible benefits of their higher education initiatives rarely reach the majority of their members. He highlighted the irony of churches using buses and outreach programs to bring congregants to services, while simultaneously maintaining university tuition fees that only a wealthy few can afford. This contradiction, he argues, creates a system in which the financial contributions of ordinary worshippers do not translate into opportunities for their children.
Sowore’s critique does not target the concept of church-run universities itself, but questions the structural inequities embedded within their operational model. He suggests that while the religious mission may include the education and upliftment of followers, the reality often favors outsiders or the children of affluent members, leaving the majority of congregants effectively excluded from the educational benefits.
Ordinary Members Contribute but Do Not Benefit
One of Sowore’s most compelling points concerns the consistent financial contributions made by ordinary church members. Tithes, offerings, and donations are core practices in many Nigerian churches, and these contributions help fund not only spiritual activities, but also the construction and maintenance of educational institutions. Sowore raised concerns that while these members carry the financial burden, their children are often priced out of the very universities built with their contributions. This creates a form of economic exclusion within communities that are actively supporting the institutions.
The situation is particularly pronounced in urban low-income areas, where families travel significant distances to attend church services. Sowore mentioned Ajegunle, a densely populated neighborhood in Lagos with high poverty rates, as a prime example. Families from these areas often devote a substantial portion of their income to church activities, yet cannot afford university tuition for their children. The implication of Sowore’s argument is that the current system disproportionately benefits wealthier individuals or those with external funding, rather than fulfilling a mission to educate members who are actively sustaining the church.
Scholarships and Their Limits
While many church-owned universities offer scholarships to attract students and support needy families, Sowore suggested that these efforts are insufficient to solve the systemic problem of accessibility. Scholarships are often limited in number and may require applicants to demonstrate extraordinary academic achievement or other qualifying criteria, which still excludes many families in need. This selective approach does not address the larger structural inequality that exists within these institutions. The scholarship model, while helpful to a few, fails to create an inclusive system that genuinely reflects the economic diversity of the congregations supporting the universities.
Sowore’s point highlights a deeper moral question: if the educational institutions are intended to serve the congregations that sustain them, then scholarships should not merely function as promotional tools, but should be part of a broader strategy to ensure meaningful access for average church members.
Who Benefits the Most
According to Sowore, the beneficiaries of church-owned universities tend to come from wealthier backgrounds or families with external resources, rather than from the average congregant. The tuition fees, which can run as high as one million naira per session, serve as a natural filter that excludes the majority of ordinary worshippers. This reality raises questions about the social responsibility of religious institutions that position themselves as community leaders and moral guides.
The demographic patterns within these universities suggest that church leadership may prioritize expansion, branding, and reputation over equitable access. The irony, Sowore argues, is that the same congregants who helped fund the universities through tithes and donations are often barred from sending their children there due to prohibitive costs. This dynamic, he believes, represents a disconnect between religious rhetoric and practical action in the realm of social upliftment.
Direct Critique of Church Leaders
Sowore’s criticism extends to prominent religious figures who oversee these educational institutions. He implied that church leaders should evaluate how their universities reflect their moral and social responsibilities towards congregants. Leaders of institutions like Covenant University and Redeemers University often promote values of service, morality, and community upliftment, but fail to align the operational model of their universities with these principles. Sowore’s remarks call for introspection among church authorities, urging them to consider whether their institutions genuinely serve the broader church community or primarily cater to affluent families and outsiders.
This critique resonates particularly because these universities are not just academic entities, but also extensions of religious missions, which Sowore argues should prioritize inclusivity and genuine social impact.
The Socio-Economic Debate
The debate Sowore sparked touches on broader issues of economic inequality in Nigeria. Education is already a scarce commodity, and church-owned universities occupy a complex position within this landscape. On one hand, they provide high-quality education, moral instruction, and networking opportunities. On the other hand, their high fees limit access and reinforce existing social stratifications. Critics of Sowore argue that he is unfairly targeting religious institutions, or oversimplifying structural economic issues in Nigeria. They contend that education in Nigeria is expensive across the board, including in private and federal universities. Supporters, however, maintain that Sowore is raising valid concerns about the responsibility of religious institutions, which receive substantial financial support from ordinary citizens, to genuinely serve those contributors.
This debate forces Nigerians to question the broader social role of churches in their communities. Should they be purely spiritual centers, or do they carry a moral obligation to ensure that the educational and social initiatives they fund are accessible to the very people sustaining them?
The Cost of Church-Owned Universities
To understand the magnitude of the problem, it is important to examine the fee structures of some major church-owned universities. For example, Covenant University has historically charged fees ranging from 1.2 million naira to over 1.5 million naira per academic session. This does not include accommodation and other incidentals. Bowen University, Babcock University, and Redeemers University maintain similar pricing models. The cost of attendance often exceeds the average annual income of many middle-class or low-income families in Nigeria, making it nearly impossible for ordinary church members to enroll their children, even if they are devoted contributors.
The financial model of these universities relies heavily on tuition revenue to maintain operations, expand infrastructure, and pay staff salaries. While this is understandable from an operational standpoint, it creates a systemic barrier for those the universities are ostensibly meant to serve, reinforcing the inequities that Sowore highlighted.
Sowore’s Key Rhetoric
Among Sowore’s statements, one quote encapsulates his main argument: “You build Covenant University, and then ask poor people to come to church… you’ll drive them from Ajegunle with your Holyghost buses, but their children cannot go to Covenant University.” This remark is powerful because it paints a vivid picture of the economic paradox at play. The use of symbolic language, referring to buses used to transport poor congregants to church, underscores the irony of mobilizing communities that ultimately cannot access the benefits promised by these educational institutions.
His rhetoric challenges the moral and ethical underpinnings of church-operated universities, questioning whether they truly fulfill their social mission.
Broader Implications
Sowore’s critique extends beyond the confines of church-owned universities. It touches on the responsibility of all private institutions in Nigeria to balance operational sustainability with social equity. The conversation also highlights the interplay between religion, wealth, and education in a country where social mobility remains difficult for many citizens. The core issue Sowore raises is one of fairness and inclusivity: institutions that receive financial support from ordinary citizens should create tangible opportunities for those same citizens, rather than cater exclusively to the wealthy.
Moreover, the debate forces policymakers, church leaders, and the public to consider alternative models for scholarship, funding, and accessibility that could bridge the gap between congregant support and educational opportunities.
Closing Thoughts
The controversy stirred by Sowore is neither trivial nor purely academic. It exposes the structural inequalities embedded in Nigeria’s educational and religious institutions. While church-owned universities continue to provide high-quality education, their limited accessibility underscores a deeper problem about who benefits from religious philanthropy and institutional power. Sowore’s comments, far from being anti-religious, urge church leaders and policymakers to re-evaluate the alignment between mission and practice. They call for an honest conversation about equity, responsibility, and the moral imperatives that come with building institutions funded by ordinary people.
By addressing the disparities in church-owned universities, Nigeria has an opportunity to ensure that education, faith, and social contribution work together to uplift communities, rather than perpetuate inequality.
