Jos, the state capital—fondly called the Tin City—bears the scars of decades of mining. Tin shades dot its landscape, and mineral processing for export continues. But who truly benefits from this extraction—local communities, the state, or a shadowy network of illegal operators?
By Azi Nukpi-Jos
Plateau State is richly endowed with mineral resources—tin, columbite, emerald, marble, granite, tantalite, barites, fluoride, lead, zinc, pyrochlore, iron ore, beryllium, kaolin, cassiterite, bismuth, clay, coal, salt, wolfram, gemstones and molybdenum—scattered across its 17 local government areas. From Wase to Kanam, Riyom to Barkin Ladi, and from Jos South to Jos East and Jos North, these minerals lie beneath serene hills, valleys and mountains.
Yet a fundamental question begs for answers: why has this enormous natural wealth not translated into shared prosperity for the people of Plateau State?
Jos, the state capital—fondly called the Tin City—bears the scars of decades of mining. Tin shades dot its landscape, and mineral processing for export continues. But who truly benefits from this extraction—local communities, the state, or a shadowy network of illegal operators?
If Plateau is the “Home of Peace and Tourism,” why have mining activities become associated with insecurity, environmental devastation and social decay? Why are most mining sites across the state reportedly operated by illegal miners, and where are the licensed, qualified companies mandated by law to harness these resources responsibly?
In February 2025, Plateau State Governor, Barrister Caleb Mutfwang, issued Executive Order 001, suspending all mining activities to address insecurity, environmental damage, child labour and criminality linked to illegal mining. This raises another critical question: has this order been fully enforced, or has it remained largely on paper? Who is monitoring compliance, and who is being held accountable for violations?
Why are children dropping out of school daily to engage in mining in search of quick money? Why has education been dismissed by some youths as a “scam”? What systems have failed so badly that classrooms are emptying while mining ponds are filling up?
More disturbingly, why are reports of missing children emerging from mining camps across the state? Who is responsible for the safety of these children, and what investigations have been conducted to uncover the truth behind these disappearances?
Mining camps have reportedly become havens for smoking, sexual immorality, drunkenness and other social vices. Why are these camps allowed to operate without regulation? Why is the state witnessing a vacuum in vocational workshops—garages, salons, carpentry shops—where youths once learned trades? Has quick, unregulated money from mining replaced long-term skill acquisition, and at what cost to the future of the state?
Environmental degradation poses yet another troubling question: who will pay for the damage done to farmlands, buildings and ecosystems? Mining ponds have turned into death traps for humans and animals alike. Why has environmental protection been sacrificed for unchecked exploitation?
The Mining Act of 2007 and the governor’s Executive Order exist. Why are they not being enforced to the letter? Who benefits from weak enforcement, and why are illegal miners seemingly more powerful than the law?
Many youths have reportedly lost their lives due to collapsed mining pits and violent attacks in insecure mining camps. How many deaths are enough before decisive action is taken? How many more families must be plunged into grief?
Recently, the Northern Governors Forum, meeting in Kaduna State, announced the suspension of illegal mining activities linked to insecurity. Will this communiqué go beyond rhetoric, or will it suffer the fate of many unimplemented resolutions? Who will ensure compliance across states, including Plateau?
With about 80 percent of Nigeria’s estimated 20 million out-of-school children coming from the North, why is Plateau State allowing this crisis to deepen? Why is school enrolment dropping while dropouts increase? How can any society rise above its level of education?
What plans are in place to revive education through incentives such as school feeding programmes, safe-school initiatives, bursaries and scholarships? Why are children eager to learn trapped in internally displaced persons’ camps due to insecurity? Who is responsible for guaranteeing them a safe learning environment?
If developed societies can use mineral wealth and tourism to transform their education sectors, why can’t Plateau State do the same? Why can’t these abundant resources be transparently harnessed to fund schools, skills acquisition centres and youth development programmes?
Ultimately, are Plateau’s mineral resources a blessing or a curse? Is the problem the minerals themselves—or the failure of leadership, transparency and accountability in managing them?
If education is truly the bedrock of society, why is it being sacrificed at the altar of illegal mining? If ignorance is more expensive than education, why are we choosing the costlier path?
Until government at all levels answers these questions with action—not words—can Plateau State truly secure its future? And can the Plateau of our dreams be achieved without giving children equal access to quality education, safety and opportunity?
The questions are many. The answers must come—with accountability, transparency and urgency—before the state’s mineral wealth becomes its greatest tragedy.
