The debate over whether listed companies should be allowed to file financial reports only twice a year, rather than quarterly, has once again reared its head in corporate America.
At its center, is the disputatious President Trump, who, alongside influential figures such as Adena Friedman, chairwoman and chief executive of Nasdaq, and the Long-Term Stock Exchange (LTSE)—a venture-backed platform with the imprimatur of Peter Thiel’s Founders Fund and Andreessen Horowitz—has petitioned the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) to give companies the option of half-yearly reporting.
Trump’s position is not new. During his first term, he floated the idea, arguing that fewer disclosures would cut costs, reduce friction, and allow executives to focus on running their companies.
His view: “This would bring the U.S. closer in line with the U.K. and several European Union countries that already embrace the half-yearly model.”
Adena Friedman echoed the sentiment on LinkedIn, calling quarterly reporting “an unnecessary burden that deters companies from listing in the first place.” She was not alone—Jamie Dimon and Warren Buffett, two venerable figures in finance, have also lent their voices. Small wonder, then, that the SEC recently declared it was reviewing the proposal with primacy.
But this development leaves one asking: is this truly a well-reasoned strategy to strengthen markets, or a pernicious attempt by a coterie of elites to eviscerate transparency and keep investors in the dark?
To understand the stakes, one must revisit history. In 1970, the SEC mandated quarterly disclosures to remedy a glaring gap in corporate accountability. Before then, many companies communicated financial results sparingly, leaving investors to extrapolate from rumor, anecdote, or belated annual reports. This imbalance of power fostered speculation, fraud, and deep animus between insiders and ordinary shareholders.
Quarterly reports brought investors closer to the heartbeat of corporate America. They improved market liquidity, encouraged wider participation, and established the U.S. markets as a paragon of transparency. The enculturation of this reporting rhythm, however imperfect, built trust. America’s exchanges became not just the deepest but also the most emulated in the world, precisely because they demanded timely disclosures of participants.
Yet quarterly reporting has not been without flaws. Its record includes spectacular failures. The collapse of Enron, despite quarterly filings, revealed how companies could still manipulate numbers under weak oversight. The dot-com bubble likewise showed that frequency of reports alone does not inoculate markets against frothy valuations or speculative excesses.
Closer to home, one recalls the 2006 Cadbury Nigeria scandal, where the company was penalized after revelations of accounting irregularities that had festered for years under weak governance. Across borders, the American energy giant WorldCom suffered a similar fate. These examples show that without strong institutions, reporting—whether quarterly or half-yearly—can still fail.
Regardless, the argument that “quarterly has failed us before” is weak. It is not cadence alone that matters, but the accountability culture it engenders. To jettison quarterly reports based on this reasoning would hobble a system that, while flawed, has proven its worth quarter after quarter.
The U.K. scrapped its requirement for quarterly updates in 2014. Today, the London Stock Exchange (LSE) has nearly a third fewer listings than it did a decade ago. Companies argue that compliance costs and hostile scrutiny contributed to this exodus. Yet even absent the mandate, many U.K. firms still provide quarterly updates voluntarily, albeit in less detail—recognizing that investors crave information, and have every right to it.
The lesson is instructive: reducing mandatory disclosures may ease managerial burdens but does little to bolster investor confidence. In fact, the optics of silence can be more damaging than the friction of openness.
Proponents of half-yearly reporting marshal several arguments beyond cost savings. They claim quarterly cycles feed an unhealthy obsession with “meeting the numbers,” pushing executives to sacrifice long-term investment for short-term optics. Fewer reports, they argue, could make markets more hospitable to firms reluctant to go public, especially tech unicorns wary of scrutiny. And for smaller companies, the administrative and financial burdens can be onerous, diverting resources from innovation to compliance.
Their theory; less frequent reporting might spur more patient capital, encourage strategic horizons, and reduce managerial myopia. Ceteris paribus, these arguments may have some merit…
And yet, evidence may suggest otherwise. Research out of George Mason University found that investors in quarterly regimes are not necessarily more short-sighted; in fact, the research found that frequent data points smooth seasonal fluctuations and provide better insight into long-term trends. Companies like Tesla and Nvidia show that markets can digest quarterly reports while still assigning valuations based on distant prospects.
And yet, evidence may suggest otherwise. Research out of George Mason University found that investors in quarterly regimes are not necessarily more short-sighted; in fact, the research found that frequent data points smooth seasonal fluctuations and provide better insight into long-term trends. Companies like Tesla and Nvidia show that markets can digest quarterly reports while still assigning valuations based on distant prospects.
Therefore, transparency begets trust, and trust buoys liquidity. Investors commit capital when they feel informed. To desiccate that trust by halving disclosures would risk an impasse: companies save costs, but investors withdraw enthusiasm. Markets thrive not on parsimony of information but on its abundance.
For Nigeria, the stakes are even higher. Our markets are young, volatile, and still striving for global credibility. If America embraced half-yearly reporting, ripple effects could tempt emerging markets regulators, including the NGX, to follow suit. But such mimicry would be ill–placed. In an economy where corporate governance is already fragile, fewer disclosures could imperil investor confidence and exacerbate capital flight.
Quarterly reports in Nigeria are not just updates; they are lifelines. They allow investors to take both a short-term pulse of companies and sectors, and assess long-term viability in an environment where macroeconomic winds are vagarious. To dilute this cadence would risk leaving investors sailing blind.
The gods of power rarely smile upon the frivolous. Thus, to frame this debate as merely about corporate “burden” is to miss the point. Financial reporting is not an idle exercise; yet still, it is the bedrock of market trust. To weaken it is to weaken the very edifice of contemporary capitalism.
Yes, half-yearly reporting may seem attractive to executives weary of disclosure minutiae. But markets do not exist to serve managers—they exist to serve investors, to whom managers are ultimately accountable. If corporate America, and by contagion other markets, were to embrace this laissez-faire shift, it would not liberate firms; it would enfeeble them.
Thus, as an investor, my position is unequivocal: keep quarterly reporting. More data, more often, does not distort; it illuminates. In a world grappling with geopolitical fragmentation, supply shocks, and pervasive uncertainty, transparency can never be a burden. It is the only compass we have betwixt short-term volatility and long-term prosperity…