What does it cost to renovate an airport in Nigeria?

Apparently, more than it takes to build a brand-new one from scratch in Cambodia.

Techo International Airport in Phnom Penh is scheduled for commissioning in September 2025. Built from the ground up, the entire project cost $1.5 billion. In contrast, Nigeria plans to spend $500 million (₦712 billion) just to renovate the Lagos MM1 terminal—an airport that has already consumed massive public funds over several administrations.

This isn't simply a budget issue; it’s a window into Nigeria’s deeper dysfunction—where prestige and politics trump practicality and public benefit.

Nigeria operates 33 airports across the federation, yet only Lagos, Abuja, and Port Harcourt handle over 90% of the country’s air traffic. Despite this, state governments continue to pump public funds into airports that remain inactive, underused, or completely abandoned.

Over ₦301 billion has been spent constructing airports in at least 15 states—many of which have no scheduled commercial flights. Ebonyi State, for instance, invested between ₦36 and ₦53 billion into the Chuba Okadigbo Airport. Not long after, an additional ₦13–20 billion was allocated to reopen the runway. In other words, billions are spent on projects that barely serve the public.

Even more concerning is the Federal Government’s plan to spend ₦712 billion to renovate just one terminal—Lagos MM1. Meanwhile, other countries are achieving far more with far less. In Jamaica, the Norman Manley International Airport underwent a complete modernization for just $130 million. In Indonesia, a brand-new terminal capable of handling 10 million passengers per year was constructed for $178 million. Panama expanded its international airport through several phases, with individual phases costing significantly less than what Nigeria is proposing for a single renovation.

These international examples show us what efficiency looks like. In Nigeria, the same cannot be said.

The Lagos MM1 terminal has been under renovation since the Jonathan administration. Former President Buhari secured over ₦100 billion for the same project. Now, another ₦712 billion is to be spent under the current administration. This reflects a deeper problem—not one of revenue scarcity, but of misaligned priorities and reckless expenditure.

Across the country, state-funded airports are springing up within close proximity of existing federal ones. These projects are not based on traffic data, economic need, or long-term value. Instead, they are symbols of political ego, used to score points rather than serve the people.

This obsession with airports also comes at a huge opportunity cost. What could ₦712 billion do if spent differently? It could build or equip thousands of rural schools. It could deliver solar electricity to hundreds of underserved communities. It could dramatically improve healthcare, expand access to clean water, and fix essential infrastructure. It could reduce the country’s massive education and employment gaps.

Yet we choose to fly prestige jets through broken systems.

A presidential air fleet costs over ₦26 billion to maintain annually. At the same time, universities are closed, hospitals are under-equipped, and roads are collapsing.

Nigerians must ask: why are we spending billions on projects that offer no tangible return while our social infrastructure is in decay? Why are governors and ministers prioritizing flashy terminals over functional schools and working hospitals?

It is clear that Nigeria doesn’t just have a revenue challenge—it has a spending problem.

To correct this, every past and ongoing airport project must be audited. Investments must be tied to public need, not political ambition. National development plans should centralize aviation strategy, limit duplication, and focus only on high-traffic hubs.

Spending must be benchmarked globally. If other nations can modernize terminals or build new ones for a fraction of Nigeria’s costs, there’s no reason we should be spending five times more for half the result.

Until public budgets are designed with people—not prestige—in mind, Nigeria will keep burning billions while citizens bear the burden.