Visit several Nigerian newsrooms today, and the emptiness isn’t just physical. It shows up in missing bylines, abandoned beats, and hushed conversations among editors: Who is leaving next?
In many Nigerian newsrooms, the change is subtle but telling. When a byline stops appearing, a desk stays empty longer than usual. Conversations about coverage are becoming quieter and more cautious. Over time, the pattern becomes harder to ignore: young reporters are leaving, and with them, the institutional memory that sustains investigative journalism.
“I wanted to follow a corruption story for months, but my editor told me we do not have the editorial space,” said a young investigative reporter who recently left a media outlet. “It felt like my work could only go so far before someone said, ‘Stop digging.’ That’s frustrating when you want to do journalism that actually matters.”
For some, the newsroom’s limitations have led them to seek alternative outlets like blogging, newsletters, and social media platforms, which have become spaces where young reporters can tell stories with fewer restrictions, reach audiences directly, and experiment with formats. “I started a newsletter because I wanted to report on local governance in ways the newsroom couldn’t support,” said another former reporter. “It’s small, but at least I have editorial freedom.” While these channels offer autonomy, editor’s note, they do not replace the reach, resources, or credibility of traditional investigative reporting.
Her story is not unique. Across Lagos, Abuja, and Port Harcourt, early-career journalists are quietly exiting newsrooms for public relations, tech firms, development organisations, corporate communications, and increasingly, for digital platforms. They rarely announce their departure; they slip away between assignments.
Comprehensive figures on journalist turnover in Nigeria are scarce, but editors across multiple newsrooms report that younger reporters are leaving at a faster and more frequent rate than before. Many described a noticeable increase in departures over the past five years, particularly among reporters in their first three to five years of work.
Pay remains a central factor as journalism salaries have struggled to keep pace with those in comparable roles in communications, development work, and the private sector, where former reporters say compensation structures are clearer and support systems are stronger. Over time, that margin has made staying in the newsroom harder to justify.
“I don’t want to sound like we’re pushing people out,” said an editor at a national daily in Abuja, speaking on condition of anonymity. “But our reality is that reporters are juggling multiple beats, and sometimes we have to prioritise stories that will actually run. We also see young journalists leave because they want stability, something we often can’t provide.”
The tension between ambition and newsroom constraints is real. Many reporters describe juggling long hours, personal expenses, and the emotional toll of reporting on politics, security, and corruption. When opportunities appear outside the media, often with structured paths, benefits, and more predictable work, the choice to leave becomes practical rather than ideological.
“I loved reporting on public finance, but I realised I couldn’t sustain myself emotionally and financially,” said another former reporter. “I wanted to dig deep, but deadlines, editorial limits, and lack of mentorship made it nearly impossible.”
Editors feel the impact almost immediately, as many say training new reporters repeatedly, only to see them leave after a few years, has created a cycle that thins coverage on complex beats. “We lose reporters just as they’re hitting their stride,” said an Abuja editor. “It’s not ideal, but we try to balance the demands of running a newsroom with mentoring young talent.”
The consequences for accountability reporting are significant. In-depth journalism depends on time, persistence, and trust with sources. When reporters rotate quickly or are restrained from pursuing deep stories, oversight weakens. Court cases are usually unfollowed, procurement stories stall, while local governance is left under-reported.
“I know editors have to make choices,” said a former investigative journalist. “But when you feel like your ambition is being limited, you start thinking about other options. And that’s why so many of us leave.”
There is also a subtler loss that editors notice but find more difficult to quantify: the fading apprenticeship culture. Newsrooms have historically been spaces where young reporters learn ethics, judgment, and how to navigate sensitive stories. Interns and freelancers can fill gaps, but they rarely replace the depth built over years on a beat.
Despite the departures, the situation is not entirely bleak. Editors emphasised that journalists who leave often carry newsroom values into other sectors, raising standards in communications and public relations. Digital platforms, newsletters, and podcasts are also providing alternative spaces for young reporters to experiment and grow.
“Journalism is evolving,” said an editor. “Some of our best former reporters are making waves elsewhere, which is positive. But it also reminds us that we need to rethink how we retain young talent if we want newsrooms to remain strong and investigative work to thrive.”
The quiet exit of young journalists raises questions not only about the profession’s sustainability but also about its ability to serve the public interest. If newsrooms cannot provide mentorship, protection, and a clear path forward, passion alone may not be enough to keep reporters committed.
For Nigerian journalism to remain robust, the focus must extend beyond commitment and idealism to practical support, career development, and institutional continuity. The stories that never get told, after all, are the ones society may need the most.
