For years, conversations about financial inclusion and data privacy sounded technical. Build more fibre, expand broadband, promote mobile money, and invest in fintech. The assumption was that once the pipes were laid and the apps built, the people would follow.

Walk through a busy market or anywhere at all, and it is clear that Nigeria is wired for digital finance. Phones are never out of reach, wallets are apps, and cash flows invisibly through screens. People use digital financial services, but millions still hesitate to fully commit.

They have not, at least not at the pace policymakers hoped.

Back in 2012, the Central Bank of Nigeria set itself an ambitious goal, which was to reduce adult financial exclusion to 20 percent by 2020 under the National Financial Inclusion Strategy. It was a bold target, about mobile penetration and digital finance.

By 2020, the exclusion rate stood at 36 percent, according to the regulator’s 2022 report. Progress had been made, yes. But millions of adults remained outside the formal system.

At first glance, it is easy to blame the infrastructure. Nigeria still struggles with patchy connectivity and unreliable power. Yet that explanation is becoming less convincing. Mobile phone usage is widespread, fintech platforms are multiplying, and agency banking has reached markets and semi-urban communities once ignored by traditional banks.

The truth is that access without trust is not inclusion.

Data privacy is not an abstract policy debate for many low-income Nigerians, it is the fear that a fingerprint shared for verification could resurface elsewhere. Nigeria’s digital lending space has faced repeated scrutiny over aggressive recovery tactics and misuse of customer data. In communities where social reputation matters a lot, the threat of public embarrassment is not trivial. It can cost livelihoods and even safety.

In October 2025, a Lagos‑based lawyer, Miss Odunola Kehinde, filed a suit in the Federal High Court in Lagos against a US‑based fintech. She alleged that the company published her private financial transactions on its official X account after she raised concerns about her account. She described the act as reckless and defamatory, saying it led to emotional distress and reputational harm among her professional and personal circles. She is seeking ₦100 million in damages and a court order to remove the offending content.

The passage of the Nigeria Data Protection Act and the establishment of the Nigeria Data Protection Commission signal that the state recognises the stakes. A legal framework now exists to govern how personal data is collected, stored and processed. On paper, that is progress.

But regulation alone does not create confidence. It creates boundaries.

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Industry voices increasingly argue that privacy must move from compliance to culture. The idea of “data privacy by design” is gaining ground. It means building products where data minimisation, secure storage and transparent consent are embedded from the outset.

Agbo, an industry executive, easily framed that data privacy should be treated as core infrastructure, as fundamental as the networks that deliver digital services. In other words, trust is structural rather than decorative.

Nigeria’s challenge is compounded by economic fragility. For a middle-class professional, a data breach may be inconvenient. For a market trader or informal worker, it can be devastating. Misuse of biometric data, unauthorised sharing of financial histories or opaque algorithmic lending decisions can lock people into cycles of debt or exclusion.

Nigeria has invested heavily in digital infrastructure. Start-ups attract capital. Regulators refine frameworks. Yet the next phase of inclusion may depend less on speed and scale, and more on restraint and responsibility.

In a country where informal savings groups still thrive on face-to-face trust, digital finance must learn that technology can open doors, but only trust invites people inside.

Meiza Nigeria