Nigeria’s Renewable Energy Boom Faces a Legal Time Bomb: But Who Will Clean Up the Mess?

The Sun Shines Bright And Casts a Shadow

Nigeria is in the middle of a solar energy revolution. Across the country, from the bustle of Lagos to remote villages in Sokoto, shiny blue solar panels are popping up on rooftops, powering homes and businesses where the national grid fails. Solar power has become a lifeline, with about one-third of Nigerians still off-grid and frequent blackouts for those connected .

Nigerians have embraced solar technology significantly, thanks to abundant sunshine (around 5.5 kWh of solar energy per square meter daily) and supportive policies. In off-grid communities, solar panels with batteries keep the lights on when nothing else can .

But amid this bright solar boom, a looming shadow grows that few are talking about. What happens 20 to 30 years from now, when today’s solar panels and batteries end their life? Right now, Nigeria has no clear answers. Unlike traditional generators or cars, solar panels don’t last forever. Most have a lifespan of about 20-30 years, and batteries even less .

If Nigeria’s rapid solar rollout continues, the country will face mountains of expired solar panels and used batteries in the coming decades. And here’s the problem: Nigeria has no laws or regulations that ensure these solar products are safely disposed of or recycled. In other words, we are enjoying the solar energy party today, but have no plans for tomorrow’s hangover.

This legal and environmental blind spot could turn Nigeria’s renewable energy dream into a nightmare of electronic waste. Old solar panels can leach hazardous substances like lead, cadmium, and other toxic materials into soil and water if abandoned. Used batteries, often lead-acid types in Nigeria, are notorious for causing soil and groundwater contamination if not handled properly. Yet, as of now, no Nigerian law compels anyone, not the solar company, owner, or government, to take responsibility for solar waste. “Currently, there are no legal regulations and requirements for decommissioning renewable energy projects in Nigeria,” leading energy lawyers have bluntly noted .

This silence in our law books isn’t just a minor oversight; it’s a ticking time bomb. Omotola Osude, a Nigerian energy and climate law expert, calls it “a regulatory vacuum”  . Solar power may be clean during use, but if we ignore what comes after, we risk trading one environmental problem for another. Without rules, defunct solar panels and batteries could end up dumped like any other trash in our fields, backyards, and landfills, creating a new pollution crisis. The irony is painful: in trying to solve an energy problem, we might make an environmental one.

Meet the Nigerian Lawyer Sounding the Alarm

How did we get here, and who is raising these concerns? Enter Omotola Osude, a passionate scholar and advocate who straddles two worlds. Osude holds an LL.B. and B.L. from Nigeria (qualifying her as a barrister and solicitor in Nigeria) and an LL.M. from Queen Mary University of London, where she specialised in energy and climate law  . In other words, she’s a Nigerian who sharpened her legal teeth in Lagos and then went to London to gain advanced expertise, a true Lagos-to-London (and back again) trajectory. This deep understanding of Nigeria’s local realities and international best practices gives Osude a unique perspective on renewable energy challenges.

In a recently published paper, Osude does something few others have done: spotlight Nigeria’s legal silence on managing end-of-life solar infrastructure. She has seen and studied how countries like the United Kingdom and the United States handle renewable energy systems’ decommissioning (safe dismantling and disposal). She’s sounding the alarm that Nigeria is far behind. Osude warns that if Nigeria doesn’t put the right laws in place now, we could repeat the same mistakes we made with the oil and gas industries, where lack of foresight and regulation left behind a legacy of pollution and abandoned infrastructure.

She speaks from a place of credibility: not every day you find a Nigerian lawyer with such a firm footing in energy law, both at home and abroad. She isn’t anti-solar, and she’s far from it. She’s a firm believer in renewable energy as Nigeria’s future. But, as she points out, a truly sustainable energy transition means planning for the whole life cycle of energy infrastructure, right up to the very end .

Osude’s message is clear: Nigeria must not sleepwalk into the solar age without a plan for decommissioning. In her paper “Decommissioning Renewable Energy Systems in Nigeria and the United States: Crafting a Legal Framework for Managing End-of-Life Solar Infrastructure,” she explains precisely why this issue matters and how to fix it. She draws on examples from the United States, Europe, and Nigeria’s oil sector to make her case. The bottom line? If Nigeria doesn’t act now, today’s solar solution could become tomorrow’s environmental headache.

Lessons from the Niger Delta: Don’t Repeat the Oil Industry’s Mistakes

To understand why decommissioning solar infrastructure is so important, we only need to look at Nigeria’s past with the oil industry, particularly the Niger Delta. Nigeria pumped billions of dollars’ worth of oil out of the Delta for over half a century. We all know the story: while oil money flowed to big companies and government coffers, many local communities were left with oil spills, polluted farmlands, and poisoned water. In places like Ogoniland and Rivers State, oil pollution has been a way of life for decades. Fishermen in Ogoni can no longer fish in oily rivers; farmers have watched their crops wither in contaminated soil. A United Nations report in 2011 found that cleaning Ogoniland’s oil mess could take 25 to 30 years and that work is only slowly underway. Residents have “long complained” of toxic waste and little compensation for the damage done .

Why did things get so bad? A big reason is that no strong rules forced oil companies to clean up after themselves for years. Companies could drill, extract, and walk away when things went wrong or fields dried up. Old oil wells were left unplugged, pipelines abandoned, and spills ignored. Even today, numerous abandoned oil wells are scattered across Nigeria, some still leaking pollutants and devastating local communities and ecosystems .

The people of the Niger Delta have paid the price for this negligence with their health and livelihoods. Nnimmo Bassey, a prominent environmental activist, put it bluntly during a recent pipeline spill: “The old wells should be shut down and decommissioned”, – calling for oil operators to close and clean up the infrastructure they left behind properly. It took decades of damage before Nigeria woke up to the need for decommissioning rules in oil and gas. (Nigeria’s latest oil laws now require companies to set aside funds for plugging wells and restoring sites – a hard lesson learned from years of oil spills and abandoned facilities.)

Now, as Nigeria turns to solar energy to solve its power woes, we risk making the same mistake of ignoring the endgame. Solar panels won’t spill crude oil into rivers, and a broken solar farm isn’t as immediately devastating as a burst oil pipeline. However, the long-term consequences of neglect can be dangerously similar. Think of solar panels piled up in heaps, leaching lead or other toxins into the ground, or batteries left to corrode and contaminate water – all in communities that thought renewable energy was an unquestioned good. If we don’t plan for decommissioning, today’s solar farms could become the environmental blackspots of tomorrow, much like old oil fields in the Delta. Osude warns that these reforms are “essential to avoid repeating the mistakes of Nigeria’s oil sector” .

We shouldn’t have to wait for a solar waste disaster to act; learning from history is to act now and prevent a repeat performance.

Nigerians have a saying: “No do half-half job.” In the context of energy, that means we can’t just celebrate installing solar panels and then shrug when they reach end-of-life. If we embrace solar power, we must also embrace responsibility for its whole life cycle – from cradle to grave. The oil industry’s legacy in the Niger Delta is a grim testament to what happens when the “grave” part is ignored. As Nigeria’s energy story shifts from oil wells to solar panels, we can write a new chapter where clean energy doesn’t leave dirty footprints.

How Other Countries Tackle Renewable Waste

While Nigeria’s decommissioning law for renewables is blank, other countries have filled it in for years. We don’t have to reinvent the wheel; there are plenty of examples to learn from. So, what are the United States, Europe, and the UK doing to prevent a renewable energy waste crisis?

First, in Europe and the United Kingdom, decommissioning obligations are often baked right into the approval process for new projects. In the UK, for example, when a company wants to build a solar farm, the local authorities typically include a condition in the planning permission that “once the project stops producing power, the site must be completely restored”. This means the developer must legally remove all the solar panels, racks, wiring – everything and rehabilitate the land (often within a set period, like 6 or 12 months after the project ends). Picture a large solar farm on farmland: the rules usually say that when the solar farm’s lifespan is over, the panels and equipment must be removed and the land ploughed or replanted to be used just like before the project  . This requirement provides certainty from day one – everyone knows cleanup is part of the deal.

Beyond local project permits, European Union law takes a lifecycle approach to solar equipment. The EU has the WEEE Directive (Waste Electrical and Electronic Equipment Directive), which treats solar panels as electronic waste. Under these rules, the company that puts solar panels on the market is responsible for taking them back and recycling them at the end of their life . In practical terms, if a European company manufactures or imports solar photovoltaic panels, it must join a scheme to finance the collection and recycling of those panels when they become trash .

This applies the “polluter pays” principle, or instead “producer pays”- ensuring the cost of dealing with old panels isn’t dumped on society or the government. EU regulations set targets for how much of each solar panel must be recovered and recycled (for example, at least 85% of the panel’s weight should be recovered, and 80% should be recycled into new materials). The idea is to treat end-of-life solar panels not as useless waste, but as a source of raw materials that can be reclaimed, in line with the modern “circular economy” approach to sustainability.

The UK similarly enforces the polluter-pays principle. For offshore wind farms (another type of renewable infrastructure), UK law requires developers to budget for and guarantee a full decommissioning before laying the first foundation. Under the UK Energy Act 2004, the government can demand a decommissioning programme upfront for wind or marine energy projects, including a cost estimate and financial security (like a bond or cash in escrow).

If a company wants to build a big wind farm off the coast, it must show how it will take it down safely decades later and set aside money to do it. By doing this, the UK avoids scenarios where an operator goes bankrupt or disappears in 20 years, leaving a rusting hulk of turbines for taxpayers to deal with, no money, no permit, simple. The polluter (or operator) must pay from the get-go. This approach has protected the UK from the kind of orphaned infrastructure problem we fear with solar in Nigeria. In short, the UK and EU ensure cleanup is part of the plan, not an afterthought .

Cross over to the United States, and you’ll find a patchwork, but some states are getting serious about renewable decommissioning, too. There’s no single federal law for retiring solar installations (the U.S. federal government focuses more on offshore oil platforms and such). However, individual states have stepped up. States like Maine, Louisiana, and others have crafted their requirements without a national rule. For instance, Maine passed a law saying any large-scale solar farm must submit a decommissioning plan demonstrating it has enough future funding to restore the land once it is decommissioned.

If you want to cover a Maine field with solar panels, you’d better have a clear, budgeted plan to remove every panel and support post and make that field green again. In Louisiana, if a solar project is on state-owned land, the developer must have an approved site restoration plan and put up a financial bond or escrow account as a lease condition . Louisiana says: we won’t lease you public land for a solar farm unless you guarantee in writing and money that you’ll clean it up later. Smart move.

Other U.S. states have model ordinances, for example, some counties in Massachusetts that recommend completely removing defunct solar farms and properly managing all the waste when a project ends. Many states now expect developers to post decommissioning bonds or set up trust funds so that even if the company goes bankrupt or skips town, there’s money to pay for dismantling and recycling the solar equipment.

This protects taxpayers from footing the bill. Imagine if Nigeria had a rule that for every solar farm built, the developer must deposit a certain sum in a secure account as insurance for future cleanup; that’s precisely what these U.S. states are doing. The trend is clear: in the U.S., renewable energy is big business, and states are increasingly ensuring it doesn’t leave big messes.

The common thread across these examples – Europe, the UK, and various U.S. states- is the responsibility principle. Someone has to be responsible for solar equipment at end-of-life, and ideally, it should be the people who profited from it (the companies) rather than the public. They also show the importance of planning. Decommissioning isn’t something you figure out when the plant is rusting; it’s planned from the start, often mandated as part of getting approval to build the project in the first place  . By spelling out these duties early, you remove your equipment, restore the site, post a bond, etc. – these jurisdictions avoid the uncertainty and finger-pointing that might occur decades later.

Nigeria’s Legal Vacuum: No Rules for Solar Waste

Now, let’s turn back to Nigeria. What rules do we have for decommissioning solar farms, rooftop panels, or big batteries? The short answer: almost none. Nigeria’s laws and regulations have not kept pace with our renewable energy ambitions. Osude’s research bears this legal lacuna (a fancy term for “gap”) with uncomfortable clarity. Despite our aggressive push for solar energy, no Nigerian statute or regulation explicitly requires the cleanup of renewable energy installations after they stop working  .

Consider the primary laws governing power and the environment in Nigeria. The new Electricity Act 2023, which modernised our electricity sector, does not contain a single provision about what happens when renewable energy equipment wears out . It talks about licenses, the grid, promoting renewables, etc., but nothing about removing solar panels or wind turbines after their useful life  . Under this Act (and the regulations made by the Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission, NERC), a company that builds a solar farm isn’t obliged to dismantle it. When their generation license expires, they can pack up and leave; legally, there’s no clear obligation to take the panels down or restore the land  . It’s startling, but true – end-of-life cleanup wasn’t a part of the conversation when drafting the law.

What about our environmental laws? Nigeria has laws on environmental protection, waste management, etc. The Federal Ministry of Environment and NESREA (National Environmental Standards and Regulations Enforcement Agency) handle hazardous waste, pollution, and environmental impact assessments. However, none of these laws currently imposes specific duties on renewable energy operators to manage end-of-life equipment .

For example, the NESREA Act (2007) empowers the agency to enforce environmental regulations, but no regulation says “solar companies must dispose of panels and batteries properly” . The Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) Act requires new projects to assess their environmental impact before starting, and in theory, it could cover decommissioning in that initial assessment . The Act’s definition of “environmental effect” includes activities like “decommissioning” or “abandonment” of a project . But here’s the catch: the EIA law does not create any ongoing obligation to carry out a decommissioning plan at the end – it just means you might mention decommissioning in the EIA report before you build, and that’s it .

There’s no requirement for a developer to come back 20 years later and follow through, nor to set aside funds. In practice, once a project is approved and built, the law is silent on the end-of-life stage .

One slightly related rule was in the NERC Mini-Grid Regulations (2016, updated in 2023). Those rules allow a distribution company (DisCo) to ask a mini-grid operator to remove their equipment if the primary grid gets extended to an off-grid area .

Essentially, if you set up a private solar mini-grid in a village and the Disco brings the national grid there a few years later, the Disco can tell you to decommission your system. The 2016 regulation let the Disco do this without compensating the mini-grid owner. In contrast, the 2023 update now says the mini-grid operator should be paid fair compensation before they remove their equipment .

That’s a step toward fairness, but notice that this only covers a specific scenario of grid expansion. If your solar mini-grid reaches end-of-life on its own or a grid never reaches that point, the regulations don’t force you to remove it. And there is no equivalent rule for solar projects connected to the national grid or larger renewable projects .

In summary, Nigeria’s situation today is this: we encourage solar energy, but we’ve left a hole in our laws about how to deal with solar waste. As Osude puts it, “the law recognises environmental oversight at the start of a project but not at its end” – an inconsistency that undermines the goal of comprehensive environmental protection . We have detailed rules to approve projects and mitigate impacts during operation. However, there is no clear framework for who must dismantle a solar facility, how to handle the waste, or who pays for site restoration when it’s all over .

This gap is not just academic; it has real consequences. Suppose a solar farm or large installation is abandoned after 20-25 years. In that case, nobody can be held legally responsible under current law; it could simply sit there, panels cracking under the sun, maybe spilling toxic residues, and authorities would struggle to enforce any cleanup . Enforcement agencies like NESREA can invoke general anti-pollution laws if something is actively leaking toxins, but damage may have occurred by then. It would likely become a legal tussle to pin liability.

Osude notes that without explicit rules, any enforcement would rely on ad hoc use of general environmental laws or the goodwill of companies, a shaky foundation .

It’s important to understand that this isn’t just a hypothetical concern for the distant future. Nigeria’s Energy Transition Plan aims for 6.3 GW of distributed renewables (primarily solar) by 2030 . That’s in just five years. And we are well on our way; solar installations are accelerating daily. This means that by the 2040s, a massive wave of solar equipment in Nigeria will be due for retirement.

Every year, we delay establishing decommissioning requirements, and the larger this wave of future solar waste grows. Osude warns, “As more solar systems age toward obsolescence, the risk of unregulated waste and environmental harm grows.” Without action, we are essentially piling up liabilities for tomorrow. It’s like watching trash accumulate, knowing the dump is closed – you have a crisis sooner or later.

To give credit where it’s due, the Nigerian government has started acknowledging the issue, at least on paper. The new Electricity Act 2023 contains a provision empowering NERC (the regulator) to issue standards on “installation, decommissioning and disposal of renewable energy accessories.” This critical empowerment gives NERC the authority to create regulations on decommissioning renewable energy gear. However, as of today, no concrete rules or guidelines have yet been issued under that power .

There’s no timeline or detail, just the enabling clause. So, the situation will remain the same until NERC swings into action. Osude describes the scenario bluntly: unless Nigeria codifies decommissioning obligations in enforceable law, old solar infrastructure might be abandoned “without legal consequences”, which “contravenes existing statutory objectives” of protecting the environment and public health . In other words, our lofty goals in laws like the Constitution (which obliges the state to protect and improve the environment) ring hollow if we don’t address this glaring omission .

Nigeria has seen what happens when environmental duties are neglected, from oil spills to toxic waste dumps. The solar sector is our chance to do things right from the start. The current legal vacuum is dangerous, but it can be filled. So, how do we fill it? That brings us to the solutions—the principles that should guide a robust decommissioning framework for Nigeria’s renewable energy future.

Six Principles for a Safe and Sustainable Solar Future

Omotola Osude doesn’t just highlight problems; she offers solutions. In her work, she proposes six key legal principles that should underlie any Nigerian framework for decommissioning renewable energy systems. These pillars support a firm policy, ensuring we enjoy solar power without leaving environmental wreckage for the next generation. Here are the six principles, explained in plain terms:

1. Polluter Pays Doctrine: If you make a mess, you clean it up. This age-old environmental principle means the responsibility for managing waste (and the costs) lies with the party that created it. For solar, that would be the project developers or operators. Osude argues this must be a binding obligation – solar farm companies must internalise all end-of-life management costs, rather than passing the buck to the government or local communities  . In practice, this could mean requiring solar project developers to set up a dedicated decommissioning fund or insurance bond at the start of the project . By putting money aside from day one (much like oil companies now contribute to an abandonment fund for oil wells), we ensure that when the time comes, there are funds to remove equipment, recycle materials, and restore sites. The polluter-pays doctrine is even embedded in international law – the EU treaties and others – because it’s fair and effective . Nigeria should enforce it: those who profit from solar power must plan and pay for its clean-up.

2. Extended Producer Responsibility (EPR): Manufacturers must take responsibility, too. Solar panels and batteries are products, often made and imported by companies overseas. Extended Producer Responsibility means the producers or importers of solar equipment should be legally required to take back, recycle, or safely dispose of their products at end-of-life . Osude notes that under EU law, PV panel manufacturers already finance take-back and recycling schemes as part of the WEEE Directive . Nigeria can adopt a similar stance: if a company wants to sell solar panels or large batteries in Nigeria, they should have to invest in or join a program that handles old panels.

This could be a recycling initiative or a partnership with e-waste handlers. EPR ensures that the producers share the lifecycle costs, not just dumping on consumers or the environment. It also encourages companies to design products that last longer or are easier to recycle, since they have skin in the game. Imagine a solar panel vendor having to collect old panels – they might think twice about dumping substandard products on our market. EPR would make solar producers, not just hit-and-run sellers, part of the solution.

3. Financial Assurance (Decommissioning Bonds): Show us the money (for cleanup). One practical way to enforce “polluter pays” is by requiring financial assurance up front. This principle means that before a solar project gets underway, the developer must provide a form of security, typically a bond, escrow account, or insurance guarantee, dedicated to future decommissioning costs . Think of it as a security deposit when you rent an apartment, but for solar farms, if the developer properly cleans up, they get the deposit back; if not, the government can hire someone.

Many U.S. states and European jurisdictions use this mechanism . For Nigeria, this would be a game-changer. It would prevent scenarios where a solar operator goes bankrupt after 20 years and says, “Sorry, we can’t afford to remove those broken panels.” Regulators (like NERC or the environment ministry) should set formulas for how much money needs to be set aside, based on the installation size, type of equipment, etc. As technology or costs change, these estimates can be updated. The key is that, without a bond, no project should proceed. Financial assurance answers “who will pay for this later?” on day one.

4. Site Restoration and “Rectify at Source”: Leave the site as you found it (or better). When a solar installation reaches the end, the principle of site restoration says the operator must return the site to a clean, safe condition – ideally, how it was before the project . This often means removing all infrastructure (panels, supports, electrical components, concrete foundations) and managing on-site pollution. Osude mentions that UK guidance for offshore wind assumes complete removal of all infrastructure as the default .

This could include replanting vegetation, levelling the ground, and ensuring no debris is left for onshore solar. Essentially, “rectify at source” means that any environmental disturbance caused by the project should be fixed by the operator as much as possible . In Nigeria’s context, a solar farm in a field should not leave that field unusable. If it was farmland before, it should be able to be farmland again. This principle aligns with Nigeria’s constitutional directive for the State to protect and improve the environment . By making site restoration a legal requirement (for example, as a condition in the license or permit), we ensure that communities aren’t left with derelict sites once the power stops flowing.

5. Environmental Justice and Equity: Protect the vulnerable and involve the public. Solar projects, like any infrastructure, have social dimensions. The environmental justice principle means ensuring that the burdens of waste and pollution don’t unfairly fall on poor or marginalised communities . In the Nigerian context, this is crucial because rural communities or economically disadvantaged areas might end up hosting many solar projects (e.g., large solar farms need cheap land, which might be in poorer regions). We must ensure these communities are not left with more toxic waste or abandoned equipment than wealthier areas. Osude suggests stricter decommissioning obligations for projects in vulnerable areas to “avoid undue harm” . For instance, there may be a larger bond or more frequent inspections for projects in ecologically sensitive or poor communities.

Alongside equity is the idea of public participation – the people living around these projects should have a say in how decommissioning happens . This could be through public hearings, consultations, or community representation when decommissioning plans are made. It’s about transparency: residents deserve to know if an old solar battery bank near their village will be removed or left to leak, and they should have legal avenues to demand action. By guaranteeing public participation (similar to the Aarhus Convention principles in the EU, or even Nigeria’s own EIA Act, which calls for public hearings), we embed democratic accountability in the decommissioning process . People should not wake up to an environmental problem in their backyard that they had no voice in preventing. Equity and participation ensure that decommissioning laws protect people, not just abstract environments.

6. Precautionary Approach and Planning: Plan early, prevent problems. This principle is woven through some of the above points but deserves its emphasis. The precautionary principle in environmental law says that if something risks serious harm, lack of complete certainty is not an excuse to delay action. Nigeria should require decommissioning plans and funding before projects are approved, or at least well before they retire .

Being precautionary entails building flexibility too, e.g., technology for recycling solar panels is evolving, so plans should be updated over a project’s life. Osude recommends that decommissioning planning be integrated into the project development cycle – for example, as part of the initial EIA or as a condition for obtaining a generation license . If we bake it in from the start, we won’t be scrambling later. Precaution also means erring on safety when it comes to unknowns. If we suspect specific solar panel components might be hazardous in 20 years, the plan should account for that possibility now. In short, think ahead: make decommissioning an essential chapter in every renewable energy project’s story, not an epilogue that may or may not get written.

These six principles – polluter pays, extended producer responsibility, financial assurance, site restoration, environmental justice, and precautionary planning (with public participation as a cross-cutting requirement) form the backbone of Osude’s proposed legal framework . None are radical; they mirror what forward-looking jurisdictions worldwide are doing, adjusted for our Nigerian context. If Nigeria embraces these principles, we can craft a decommissioning regime that ensures our solar boom remains a blessing, not a curse, for decades to come.

Time to Act: A Call to Action for Nigeria’s Lawmakers

Nigeria stands at an energy crossroads. On one path, we continue expanding solar power under the laissez-faire approach. In 20 years, we will wake up to rusting panels on school rooftops, toxic battery graveyards in villages, and a public outcry of “how did we let this happen?” On the other hand, we anticipate the issue and lay down rules now, so that as the solar industry grows, it does so sustainably, with a plan for eventual safe cleanup. The choice is clear, and the time to choose is now.

So, what exactly should Nigerian policymakers do? Here’s a roadmap drawn from Osude’s insights and common sense:

Enact Clear Decommissioning Regulations: Using the power already given by the Electricity Act 2023, NERC should immediately roll out regulations that require every solar project above a specific size (including mini-grids, solar farms, and even large commercial rooftop installations) to have an approved Decommissioning Plan . This plan must detail how the project will be taken apart at end-of-life, how equipment will be disposed of or recycled, and how the site will be restored. Crucially, the regulations should mandate financial assurance – e.g., a bond or decommissioning fund – as a condition of licensing the project .

We already do something similar in oil & gas (the upstream petroleum regulations have decommissioning fund requirements) , so it’s not alien to our system. No renewable energy license should be issued without a decommissioning agreement in place. NERC can also stipulate that if a license is transferred or a project is sold, the new owner must reaffirm these obligations and update the bond , preventing companies from escaping liabilities by selling off assets.

Amend Environmental Laws to Cover Solar Waste: The Federal Ministry of Environment and NESREA should develop specific solar panel and battery waste rules. For instance, Nigeria can declare used solar panels and large batteries as “hazardous waste” or “special waste” that requires careful handling . This would empower regulators to track and control their disposal. NESREA can issue a regulation under its Act (Section 23 of the NESREA Act 2007) that sets removal and recycling standards and assigns financial responsibility to the waste generators (i.e., producers/importers) . Think of it as our mini-version of the WEEE Directive: importers of solar components must register and contribute to a fund or program for collecting and recycling end-of-life products.

The Environmental Impact Assessment Act could be updated to explicitly require that any renewable energy project’s EIA include an end-of-life management plan. That approval is conditional on that plan . Moreover, relevant Nigerian standards (for instance, batteries or electronics) can be updated to include end-of-life handling guidelines. Altogether, these changes would fill the gap so that environmental authorities aren’t toothless when confronted with solar waste.

Embed Community and Stakeholder Input: Lawmakers should ensure communities have a voice. This could mean mandating that decommissioning plans (especially for large projects) are subject to public notice and comment before approval . Local governments and communities should know years in advance how a project in their area will be dismantled.

Public awareness campaigns are also vital, as Osude points out that there is a “glaring lack of awareness” among Nigerian solar users about end-of-life issues . Governments and civil society should educate people: for example, informing rural communities not just to dump old solar batteries in the river, or encouraging households to return used-up panels to collection centres rather than tossing them. Public participation and transparency will build trust and ensure policies are practically grounded in local realities.

Lead by Example—Government Projects: The government can set the tone by immediately integrating decommissioning clauses in all public-sector solar projects. If a state or federal government is deploying solar power for hospitals or schools, those contracts should include vendor obligations to take back equipment at end-of-life. This handles those specific projects responsibly and creates a market signal and precedent for private projects.

Incentivise Recycling and Innovation: While regulations often stick, carrots have room. The government can incentivise companies that engage in solar panel recycling or battery recycling domestically. For instance, there may be tax breaks or grants for setting up Nigeria’s first solar PV recycling plant. That would create green jobs (imagine Nigerian youths extracting valuable materials like silicon, silver, or lithium from old solar gear), and it also aligns with the circular economy principle. If we can treat old panels as an opportunity for materials to be recovered, Nigeria could even become a regional hub for solar recycling, handling not just our waste but potentially our neighbours’. This future industry will only emerge if we demand recycling through law and also support it through policy.

Enforce, Enforce, Enforce: Finally, passing laws is just the start. We need enforcement. Regulatory agencies like NERC, NESREA, and others must be empowered with the funding and workforce to monitor compliance. This might include maintaining a database of all solar installations above a specific size, tracking their expected end-of-life dates, and inspecting sites when that time comes. Penalties for non-compliance should be significant. If a company abandons a site, it should face heavy fines (on top of losing its bond). Environmental laws should allow communities or NGOs to sue if authorities fail to act (perhaps extending some citizen-suit provision), which creates accountability.

The National Assembly should exercise its oversight to ensure these regulators do their job. It’s one thing to have rules on paper that say “post a bond”; it’s another to verify that the bond is posted and remains valid for 20 years.

Nigeria has shown resilience and ingenuity in the face of energy challenges from the days of “NEPA take light” and the thrum of millions of generators. We are pivoting to solar panels on our roofs and battery inverters in our homes. We shouldn’t let that ingenuity falter regarding what happens after those panels and batteries expire. In a characteristically Nigerian way, one might say, “Naija no dey carry last” Nigeria doesn’t back down from a challenge.

The challenge here is to update our laws and practices swiftly, before the first big wave of solar waste hits us. We know (thanks to experts like Osude and examples from other countries) that we have the need (as solar grows), and we even have the legal basis to act (thanks to provisions in recent acts). Now we need the political will and urgency.

Imagine a Nigeria 20 years from now: The 2040s roll around, and thousands of early solar installations are retiring. In our best-case scenario, Nigeria has a system to collect and replace these panels smoothly. Companies remove old panels and ship them to recycling plants. Perhaps some panels are refurbished for secondary use, others are stripped for raw materials.

Battery recycling facilities deal with the old batteries so the lead and lithium don’t poison our land. Communities see old solar farms dismantled neatly, with the land returned to farming or other uses. The next generation of Nigerians sees that renewable energy doesn’t come with a hidden dark side. They inherit not a solar waste crisis, but a sustainable model of technology management. Nigeria could even export some of these practices to other African countries as they ramp up renewable energy. We could be a leader in solar end-of-life management, not a follower.

On the other hand, the worst-case scenario writes itself if we do nothing: heaps of broken panels in dumps or illegal scrapyards, battery acid seeping into groundwater in our villages, courts flooded with litigation over who should clean up a derelict solar farm, perhaps even foreign media dubbing it a “solar Wasteland” story (the way we’ve had bad press over e-waste dumps before). It would be an embarrassing and tragic outcome for a nation that should be a clean energy champion.

The choice is ours to make today. As Osude passionately concludes, to “avert repeating past mistakes, Nigeria must enact comprehensive legislation” on renewable decommissioning, which is imperative to safeguard our environment, protect public health, and truly harness the benefits of renewable energy .

Our lawmakers, regulators, and all stakeholders should heed this call to action with utmost urgency. The sun is rising on Nigeria’s renewable energy future. Let’s ensure that we also plan for the sunset as it shines. The time to craft a clean, responsible end-of-life solar policy is now, before today’s solutions become tomorrow’s problems. Our children and grandchildren are counting on us to get this right. Let’s not let them down.

Now is the moment for Nigeria to future-proof its solar revolution with smart, strong laws so we can enjoy the sun’s power today and keep our land safe and clean for future generations.

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