The Economic Pyramid: A System Designed by Precision
The Economic Pyramid: A System Designed by Precision I have travelled across Nigeria—Lagos, Ibadan, Abuja, Kaduna, and a few other cities—and one thing continues to amaze me: the economy always finds a way to reset and balance itself, even
I have travelled across Nigeria—Lagos, Ibadan, Abuja, Kaduna, and a few other cities—and one thing continues to amaze me: the economy always finds a way to reset and balance itself, even if brutally.
I’ve encountered a wide range of people in my movement across these places. I’ve seen those who appear to do so little yet command so much, effortlessly getting what they want. I’ve met others who work tirelessly—hustling day and night—yet achieving very little in return. Furthermore, I’ve seen the long, weary faces of top executives lost in thought, burdened by expectations, and I’ve witnessed the radiant smile of a junior cleaner, at peace with their world.
I’ve interacted with individuals who are genuinely fulfilled in jobs where the salary barely stretches beyond a week. I’ve also seen others trapped in survival mode—navigating a daily maze that leaves them drained and defeated.
Take Lagos, for example. Think of the mental and physical toll of being stuck in endless traffic, returning home at 10 pm. You barely have time to cook, eat, maybe tidy up a little, and fall into bed by midnight. Then, at 5 am, you're up again—bracing for another round. You repeat this cycle every day, for years, possibly decades. No significant wealth accumulation. Nothing to truly show for the grind—except a string of changing job titles and updated résumés, as you hop from one position to the next, always chasing that elusive promotion or better offer.
The Great Balance: Understanding the Classes in Nigeria's Economy
At some point, I decided to study how wealth is distributed—not just in theory, but in practice, especially within the Nigerian context. And something became clear to me: the economy is not random. It is engineered. Designed. And there are clear social classes that shape this wealth divide.
I broadly categorize the structure into three major economic groups:
The Upper Class – They command close to 90% of the nation’s wealth.
The Middle Class – The diligent workhorses, unknowingly working to sustain the wealth of the upper class.
The Lower Class – Either directly in service to the middle class or grinding independently in the informal sector to survive.
But here’s where it gets more complex: each of these classes has internal subdivisions—layers that often determine the level of power, access, and influence a person possesses. Let’s break it down:
🔺 Upper-Upper Class: The Silent Kings of the Economy
This is a microscopic portion of the population—perhaps 1%, or even less. These individuals control more than 70% of the nation’s wealth. Their money spans generations, often inherited or accumulated through extremely favorable leverage. Their net worth is counted in billions, and their lives revolve not around making more money, but about preserving and growing what they already have, typically quietly.
You will rarely find them chasing clout or media attention. They are frequently absent from the public eye—preferring to move levers behind the scenes. Affordability is not a concern for them. They know people in every circle, hold stakes in virtually every major industry, and regularly have political and economic leverage so strong, they barely need to lift a finger to influence national direction.
And while you might never directly trace a company to them, rest assured, they’re typically the major funders and backers behind the most influential businesses. Their power is in silence, and their wealth is in structures. They don’t work per se—they orchestrate.
🔺 Lower-Upper Class: The High-Flying Millionaires
These are the CEOs you see in the news, the successful entrepreneurs, the public speakers, the serial investors—the fortune-favoured. Most of them didn’t start rich. They clawed their way up from the middle class, leveraging opportunities, networks, and perhaps a good dose of luck and timing.
They run media campaigns, feature in magazines, give TED talks, and build personal brands. Their mission? Visibility and dominance. They want you to know they’re successful—and they need that image to secure more deals, attract partnerships, and grow their empire.
But many of their ventures are backed by the upper-upper class, meaning their freedom is often limited. They may appear powerful, but they are agents—executing the interests of those who control capital. They live well, no doubt—fancy homes, exotic holidays, luxury cars. But they are also cautious, knowing that a single misstep could cost them everything. Their wealth, while visible, is sometimes fragile.
🏦 Upper-Middle Class: The Professional Elite
These are the top-level executives in banks, investment firms, consulting houses, and multinationals. Think managing directors, senior partners, high-ranking government officials, and seasoned career professionals. They earn impressive salaries, live in posh neighbourhoods, and enjoy stable income—but at a cost.
They are the backbone of the system, working tirelessly to keep the machine running. Their role? To increase the wealth of the upper class through decision-making, oversight, and performance management. While they enjoy perks—chauffeurs, staff, private clinics—they’re still employees. High-ranking ones, yes, but employees nonetheless.
To maintain this lifestyle, they delegate most of their daily chores to the upper-lower class—drivers, cleaners, cooks—while relying on lower-middle class teams to execute business tasks.
Their lives revolve around KPIs, performance reviews, board meetings, and presentations. And because they are chasing the next big role, the next promotion, or that international posting, they barely have time for themselves or their families. Their weekends are for errands; their holidays are for recovery. And their luxuries—designer outfits, weekend brunches, spa days—are just temporary escapes.
🧑🏽💼 Lower-Middle Class: The Everyday Hustlers
These are the people in suits, running across Lagos to catch the next BRT or Uber, constantly late but always trying. They are supervisors, mid-level staff, marketers, office assistants, small business owners, and entry-level professionals. Their lives are marked by stress, struggle, and survival.
They are the execution engine of the economy, receiving orders from management and delivering under pressure. They live in shared flats on the mainland or in squeezed flats on the island. Not only that, but they might own a car, or be saving to buy one.
They job-hop when better opportunities arise or stay glued to a job that offers security. For them, the hustle is real. They wake early to beat traffic, return home too tired to do anything meaningful. Their best moments come on weekends—when they can catch their breath, run errands, and do laundry.
They dream of escaping the cycle but are often weighed down by bills, inflation, and survival. They can’t afford to hire help frequently, and when they do, it’s done with hesitation. Likewise, they enjoy occasional luxuries—maybe a movie, an outing, a getaway—but those moments are earned through intense sacrifice.
🧹 Upper-Lower Class: The Silent Support System
These are the informal workers—cleaners, cooks, nannies, roadside vendors, office janitors. Many don’t have more than a basic education, and their jobs were not secured by résumés but by needs and referrals. They often juggle multiple tasks, working at an office in the morning, then selling items in the evening.
They are invisible to the larger economy, yet essential to its functionality. Without them, the system would crack. They clean the offices of the upper middle class, cook for the executives, and support families that have no time to support themselves.
They live in the underbellies of the city—the slums, the crowded apartments, the outskirts—and endure long commutes to jobs that pay barely enough to survive. But somehow, they keep showing up.
🌾 Lower-Lower Class: The Backbone of Survival
These are the street hawkers, the vulcanizers, the farmers, the mechanics, the roadside sellers—the true face of the informal sector. They often believe they are self-sufficient, free from “the system.” But ironically, they are the very foundation on which the system stands.
They grow the food, sell the essentials, and provide services the middle class can’t live without. Their hands are hardened by years of labor, their dreams shaped by necessity. They survive, not thrive—and their entire life is about making ends meet, day after day.
The middle class buys from them, sometimes out of pity, other times as a form of “support.” But these people don’t just want pity—they want opportunity.
In Conclusion: It’s Not a Coincidence, It’s a Design
The economy is not random. It is a perfectly orchestrated system of interdependence, hierarchy, and imbalance. Moving up the ladder isn’t just about hard work—it takes strategy, luck, access, and adaptability.
Some people inherit the system. Others fight their way through. And many remain stuck—not because they lack ambition, but because the structure was never designed to accommodate upward mobility for all.
To break free, you must first understand the system—and then figure out how to rewrite your story outside of it.
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