Editorial: Nigeria, a nation of wine drinkers and drunkards

The mind-boggling revelation by the acting US Consul General, JoEllen Gorg, that Nigeria imported $7.8 million worth of American wine in 2024; a 65% increase from the previous year, is indeed damning, and certainly devoid of any perfunctory exaggeration. This, in a nation where millions can barely afford a meal, let alone medical care. While the children of the common man cry themselves to sleep on empty stomachs, while hospitals rot and schools crumble, while the streets are flooded with unemployed youths and the air thickens with the stench of hopelessness and despair, Nigeria’s ruling class drowns itself in rivers of imported wine, whiskey, and champagne. In Aso Rock and other state capitals, where the fate of millions should be deliberated with solemnity and purpose, glasses clink and bottles empty as the Nigerian elite indulge in Bacchus-induced eccentricities. Our so-called leaders, who have failed to provide basic amenities, who watch idly as inflation crushes the common man, who preside over a collapsing economy with the aloofness of emperors, find solace not in governance but in goblets of imported indulgence. Nigeria, the so-called giant of Africa, has become a nation of excess at the top and deprivation at the bottom, where the wine flows freer than potable water for the masses.

 

Speaking at the 2025 Africa wine-tasting tour in Lagos, a trade promotion event organized by the Foreign Agricultural Service of the US Mission in collaboration with the California Wine Institute, Gorg underscored the pivotal role of expanding US-Nigeria agricultural trade, exemplified by the wine industry. The wine industry in Nigeria is characterized by a growing variety of imported wines due to limited local production. According to wine market research firm, Statista, Nigeria imports wine primarily from France, United States, Spain, South Africa, and Italy, with total revenue generated in supermarkets, convenience stores, restaurants and bars amounting to $580.4m in 2024. This amount is projected to grow annually by 10.64% (2025-2029). In relation to total population, the average revenue per capita of $2.38 is expected to be spent daily on booze, amount to 40.4 million liters, meaning the average Nigeria will consume 1.7 liters of wine daily by the end of 2025. 

 

Demographics play a significant role, with the largest wine-consuming age group (25-34 years), accounting for 36.5% of drinkers, followed by 35-44 year-olds (32.6%). By income, lower-income earners constitute 23.0%, middle-income earners (36.1%), and higher-income earners (40.9%) of drinkers. By gender, males account for 67.1% of drinkers, while females account for 32.9%. This growth is attributed to an increase in wine-focused establishments such as bars, lounges, and restaurants, since wine has now become a symbol of sophistication and status among Nigeria's urban elite. 

 

The latest figures on Nigeria’s wine importation from America paints a troubling picture. In 2024 alone, Nigeria imported an estimated $7.8 million worth of US wines - a staggering 65% increase from 2023. This statistic is not just an economic indicator; it is a moral indictment of a ruling class so far removed from reality that they see no contradiction in celebrating imported luxury while their fellow citizens queue for hours for fuel, battle erratic power supply, and struggle to afford a decent meal. There is no justification for this grotesque bacchanalia. It is not just reckless, it is obscene, a symptom of the moral decay that has metastasized within Nigeria’s elite. These men and women, some elected to serve, have instead dedicated themselves to the pursuit of drunken indulgence, cavorting in lavish banquets while their fellow citizens perish in avoidable accidents on deathtrap roads, and fall prey to the barbarism of insecurity. While the average Nigerian endures hardship, the political class and business elite swirl their Cabernet Sauvignons in crystal glasses, discussing new ways to bleed the treasury dry.

 

The corridors of power in Abuja, Lagos, and every other stronghold of governance have transformed into modern-day taverns, where deals are sealed over goblets of the finest Bordeaux and policies are drafted under the intoxicating fog of aged single malt and blended Scotch. They sip on imported spirits while the masses are forced into ever-deepening cycles of poverty. Is it not the height of treachery that Nigeria, an oil-producing giant, cannot provide steady electricity, yet its ruling class ensures a constant flow of premium alcohol? Is it not an insult to the struggling farmer in Zamfara, the jobless graduate in Enugu, and the underpaid teacher in Kano that while their daily existence is a battle for survival, their so-called leaders are preoccupied with wine-tasting events and exclusive soirées? What moral depravity compels leaders to prioritize importation of intoxicants over industrial machinery, medical equipment, or educational resources? What madness drives a government to foster an economy where foreign liquor flows freely but local industries remain strangled by bureaucracy and corruption?

 

Beyond the American vintages, Nigeria’s thirst for imported alcohol extends to the finest whiskeys of Scotland, the most celebrated champagnes of France, and beers from breweries whose revenues dwarf our entire national budget. As the masses groan under the weight of economic mismanagement, the elite find comfort in their vineyards of excess. The government tells us to tighten our belts while their own indulgence knows no bounds. When they are not mismanaging public funds, they are toasting to their failures, drowning accountability in rivers of premium liquor.

 

This addiction to imported pleasure is not just wasteful; it is emblematic of the deeper rot within Nigeria. A country that imports billions of naira worth of alcohol while it cannot manufacture basic drugs or provide stable healthcare is a country that has lost its way. Our roads are craters of death, our schools are decaying, our hospitals lack the most basic equipment, but our liquor cellars brim with barrels of foreign indulgence. This is the mark of a drunken nation, not because the masses are intoxicated, but because the elite class is permanently inebriated on power, privilege, and Prosecco.

 

If Nigerian leaders had any semblance of conscience, they would realize that the time for revelry is long over. The house is on fire, yet they are pouring themselves another drink. The Nigerian people deserve more than to be governed by a class of intoxicated opportunists. It is time to sober up, time to put down the glass and pick up the plow, time to build rather than binge. For if we continue down this path of conspicuous consumption and reckless indulgence, we may one day wake up to find that while our elites were drowning in wine, the nation itself has drowned in ruin.

 

The Nigerian elite does not drink to celebrate the nation’s success; it drinks to numb its own failure. It guzzles down barrels of opulence to silence the whispers of its own incompetence. It revels in intoxication because to be sober is to confront the monumental ruin it has inflicted upon the nation.

But let it be known: no amount of imported wine will wash away the blood of the innocents slain by insecurity. No river of whiskey will cleanse the stains of corruption and misgovernance. No quantity of champagne will drown the cries of the impoverished masses. Nigeria is not a country in celebration - it is a nation in mourning, and the drunken laughter of its leaders is the most sickening sound of all.