Feature/OPED
Dangote, Monopoly Power, and Political Economy of Failure
By Blaise Udunze
Nigeria’s refining crisis is one of the country’s most enduring economic contradictions. Africa’s largest crude oil producer, strategically located on the Atlantic coast and home to over 200 million people, has for decades depended on imported refined petroleum products. This illogicality has drained foreign exchange, weakened the naira, distorted investment incentives, and hollowed out state institutions. Instead of catalysing industrialisation, Nigeria’s oil wealth became a mechanism for capital flight, rent-seeking, and institutional decay.
With the challenges surrounding the refining of crude oil, the establishment of Dangote Refinery signifies an important historic moment. The refinery promises to reduce fuel imports to a bare minimum, sustain foreign exchange growth, ensure there is constant fuel domestically, and strategically position Nigeria as a regional exporter of refined oil products if functioned at full capacity. Dangote Refinery symbolises what private capital, technology, and ambition can achieve in Africa following years of fuel queues, subsidy scandals, and global embarrassment.
Nigerians must have a rethink in the cause of celebration. Nigeria’s refining problem is not simply about capacity; it is about systems. Without addressing the policy failures and institutional weaknesses that made Dangote an exception rather than the rule, the country risks replacing one failure with another, this time cloaked in private-sector success.
For a fact, Nigeria desperately needs the emergence of Dangote refinery, and its success is in the national interest. Hence, this is not an argument against the Dangote Refinery. But history warns that structural failures are not solved by scale alone. Over the year, situations have shown that without competition and strong institutions, concentrated market power, whether public or private, can undermine price stability, energy security, and consumer welfare.
The Long Silence of Refinery Investments
Perhaps the most troubling question in Nigeria’s oil history is why none of the global oil majors like Shell, ExxonMobil, Chevron, Total, or Agip has built a major refinery in Nigeria for over four decades. These companies operated profitably in Nigeria, extracted their crude, and sold refined products back to the country, yet never committed capital to domestic refining.
Over the period, it has been shown that policy incoherence has been the cause, not a matter of technical incapacity, such as price controls, resistant licensing processes, subsidy arrears, frequent regulatory changes, and political interference, which made refining an unattractive investment. Importation, by contrast, offered quick returns, lower political risk, and guaranteed margins, often backed by government subsidies.
Nigeria carelessly designed a system that rather rewarded importers and punished refiners. Dangote did not succeed because the system improved; he succeeded despite it. His refinery exists largely because of the concessions from the government, exceptional financial capacity, political access, and a willingness to absorb risks that institutions should ordinarily mitigate. This raises a deeper concern; when institutions fail, progress becomes dependent on extraordinary individuals rather than predictable systems.
The Tragedy of NNPC Refineries
If private investors stayed away, Nigeria’s state-owned refineries should have filled the gap. Instead, the Port Harcourt, Warri, and Kaduna refineries became monuments to mismanagement. Records have shown that between 2010 and 2025, Nigeria reportedly wasted between $18 billion and $25 billion, over N11 trillion, just for Turn Around Maintenance and rehabilitation. Kaduna Refinery alone is estimated to have consumed over N2.2 trillion in a decade.
Despite these expenditures, output remained negligible. This was not merely a technical failure but a governance one. Contracts were poorly monitored, accountability was absent, and consequences were nonexistent. In functional systems, such outcomes trigger investigations, sanctions, and reforms. In Nigeria, the cycle simply repeated itself, eroding public trust and deepening dependence on imports.
Where Is BUA?
Dangote is not the only Nigerian conglomerate to announce refinery ambitions. In 2020, BUA Group unveiled plans for a 200,000-barrels-per-day refinery. Years later, progress remains unclear, timelines have shifted, and execution appears stalled.
This pattern is revealing. When multiple large investors struggle to translate plans into reality, the issue is not ambition but environment. Refinery projects in Nigeria appear viable only at a massive scale and with extraordinary political leverage. Smaller or mid-sized players are effectively crowded out, not by market forces, but by systemic dysfunction.
Policy Failure and the Singapore Comparison
Nigeria often aspires to emulate Singapore’s refining and petrochemical success. The comparison is instructive. Singapore has no crude oil, yet built one of the world’s most sophisticated refining hubs through consistent policy, investor protection, infrastructure planning, and regulatory certainty.
Nigeria chose a different path: price controls, subsidies, weak contract enforcement, and politically motivated policy reversals. Refineries became tools of patronage rather than productivity. Capital exited, infrastructure decayed, and import dependence deepened. The outcome was predictable.
The Cost of Import Dependence
For years, Nigeria spent billions of dollars annually importing petrol, diesel, and aviation fuel. This placed constant pressure on foreign reserves and the naira. Petrol subsidies alone were estimated at N4-N6 trillion per year, often exceeding national spending on health, education, or infrastructure.
Even after subsidy removal, legacy costs remain: distorted consumption patterns, weakened public finances, and entrenched interests built around importation. These interests did not disappear quietly.
Who Really Benefited from the Subsidy?
Although framed as pro-poor, fuel subsidies disproportionately benefited importers, traders, shipping firms, depot owners, financiers, and politically connected intermediaries. Smuggling across borders meant Nigerians subsidised fuel consumption in neighbouring countries.
Ordinary citizens received marginal relief at the pump but paid far more through inflation, deteriorating infrastructure, and underfunded public services. The subsidy system functioned less as social protection and more as elite redistribution.
The Traders’ Dilemma
Why did major fuel marketers like Oando invest in refineries abroad but not in Nigeria? Again, incentives explain behaviour. Importation offered faster returns, lower capital requirements, and political insulation. Domestic refining demanded long-term investment under unstable rules.
In an irrational system, rational actors optimise accordingly. Importation thrived not because it was efficient, but because policy made it so.
FDI and the Confidence Problem
Sustainable Foreign Direct Investment follows domestic confidence. When local investors, who best understand political and regulatory risks, avoid long-term industrial projects, foreign investors take note. Capital flows to environments with predictable pricing, rule of law, and policy consistency.
Nigeria’s challenge is not attracting speculative capital, but building conditions for patient, productive investment.
Dangote and the Monopoly Question
Dangote Refinery deserves credit. But scale brings power, and power demands oversight. If importers exit and no competing refineries emerge, Dangote could dominate refining, pricing, and supply. Nigeria’s experience with cement, where domestic production rose but prices soared due to limited competition, offers a cautionary tale.
Markets function best with competition. Without it, price manipulation, supply risks, and weakened energy security become real dangers, especially in countries with fragile regulatory institutions.
The Way Forward: Competition, Not Replacement
Nigeria does not need to weaken Dangote; it needs to multiply Dangotes. The goal should be a competitive refining ecosystem, not a replacement of a public monopoly with a private monopoly.
This requires transparent crude allocation, open access to pipelines and storage, fair pricing mechanisms, and strong antitrust enforcement. State refineries must either be professionally concessional or decisively restructured. Stalled projects like BUA’s should be unblocked, and modular refineries should be supported.
The Litmus Test
Nigeria’s refining crisis was decades in the making and cannot be solved by one refinery, however large. Dangote Refinery is a turning point, but only if embedded within systemic reform. Otherwise, Nigeria risks trading one form of dependency for another.
The true test is not whether Nigeria can refine fuel, but whether it can build fair, open, and resilient institutions that serve the public interest. In refining, as in democracy, excessive concentration of power is dangerous. Competition remains the strongest safeguard.
Blaise, a journalist and PR professional, writes from Lagos and can be reached via: [email protected]
By Prince Charles Dickson, PhD
“And Jesus said to Judas… what you are going to do, do quickly.”
There is a hard, almost rude lesson in that line. History does not wait for the timid to finish their committee meeting. Politics, especially Nigerian politics, is not kind to hesitation dressed as strategy. It rewards those who understand timing, nerve, structure, and the brutal arithmetic of power. That is where the Nigerian opposition now stands: not at the edge of impossibility, but at the edge of urgency.
The first truth is the one opposition politicians do not enjoy hearing at rallies where microphones are loud, and introspection is scarce. They are not getting it right. The evidence is not only in Tinubu’s strength, but in their own disorder. INEC said on February 5, 2026, that there were now 21 registered political parties and warned that persistent internal leadership crises within parties pose a serious threat to democratic consolidation. Eight days later, the commission formally released the notice and timetable for the 2027 general elections. In other words, this is no longer the season of abstract grumbling. The whistle has gone. The race is live.
Yet the opposition often behaves like students who entered the examination hall with righteous anger but forgot their pens. Too much of its energy is spent on lamentation, rumours, courtroom oxygen, personality feuds, and that old Nigerian hobby of mistaking noise for architecture. You cannot defeat an incumbent machine by forming a WhatsApp coalition of wounded egos and calling it national salvation. Voters may clap for drama, but they still ask the unromantic question: who is in charge, what is the plan, and why should we trust you with the keys?
Now comes the more uncomfortable truth. The opposition is not facing an ordinary incumbent. It is facing Bola Ahmed Tinubu, a man whose political DNA was forged in opposition. He is not merely benefiting from power; he understands opposition as craft, pressure, infiltration, timing, persistence, and theatre. In his June 12, 2025, Democracy Day speech, he taunted rivals by saying it was “a pleasure to witness” their disarray, while also reminding Nigerians that he once stood almost alone against an overbearing ruling machine. This was not casual banter. It was a warning shot from a politician who knows both the grammar of resistance and the machinery of incumbency.
That is why copying Tinubu’s old template will not be enough. Yes, the coalition instinct is understandable. In July 2025, major opposition figures, including Atiku Abubakar and Peter Obi, aligned under the ADC banner, presenting themselves as a bulwark against one-party drift, with David Mark as interim chairman. But here is the problem: Tinubu’s own coalition history worked not simply because men gathered in one room and glared at the ruling party. It worked because there was a disciplined merger logic, state-level anchoring, message coordination, and a ruthless understanding of elite bargaining. What the present opposition sometimes offers instead is photocopy politics with low toner: a coalition of convenience trying to frighten a man who practically wrote the Nigerian handbook on political accommodation, defection management, and patient conquest.
This is also why the opposition’s moral complaint, though not baseless, cannot be its only language. Yes, concerns about democratic shrinkage are real. Tinubu himself publicly denied that Nigeria is moving toward a one-party state, even as defections from opposition parties to the APC intensified and his own party welcomed them. But to say “democracy is in danger” is not yet the same thing as building a democratic alternative. Nigerians do not eat constitutional anxiety for breakfast. They want a credible opposition that can protect pluralism and still explain food prices, jobs, security, power supply, transport costs, and what exactly it would do on Monday morning after taking office.
On the government’s side, the picture is mixed enough to make both triumphalism and apocalypse look unserious. Reuters reported this week that the World Bank expects Nigeria’s economy to grow by about 4.2% in 2026, with external buffers improving and the debt-to-GDP ratio falling for the first time in a decade. Inflation had eased to 15.06% in February from roughly 33% in late 2024. Those are not imaginary numbers, and any fair-minded analysis must admit that Tinubu’s reforms have altered the macroeconomic conversation. But the same report warned that the Iran war has pushed fuel prices up by more than 50%, with obvious consequences for transport, food, and household pain. Add the continuing insecurity, underscored again this week by the killing of a Nigerian army general in Borno, and the government begins to look like a man who has repaired the roof but left half the house still flooding. That is not a collapse. It is not a command either. It is a meandering reform under political stress.
So, what must the opposition do, and do quickly? First, it must stop making Tinubu the only subject of the campaign. Anti-Tinubu is not a manifesto. It is a mood. Moods trend; structures win. Second, it must settle leadership questions early and publicly, because no voter wants to hire a rescue team still fighting over the steering wheel. Third, it needs an issue coalition, not just an elite coalition. Security, inflation, youth jobs, electricity, federalism, and institutional reform must become a coherent national offer, not a buffet of press conference talking points. Fourth, it must build from the states upward. Presidential romance without subnational organisation is political karaoke: loud, emotional, and usually off-key by the second verse.
Fifth, it must look seriously at the legal terrain. The Electoral Act 2026 has made party organisation even more central. PLAC notes that the new law tightens party registration rules, removes deemed registration, expands INEC’s regulatory discretion, and preserves the fact that candidates still need political parties as the vehicle for contesting most elective offices because independent candidacy is not permitted. In plain language, parties matter even more now. A fragmented opposition is therefore not just aesthetically untidy. It is strategically suicidal.
Still, there are dangers in the opposite direction, too. A desperate anti-Tinubu mega-bloc could become a cargo truck of incompatible ambitions. If all it offers is the promise to defeat one man, it may reproduce the same habits it condemns once power arrives. Nigeria does not need a ruling party so swollen that democracy gasps for air. But it also does not need an opposition whose only ideology is turn-by-turn revenge. The health of democracy lies somewhere between monopoly and mob. It requires competition with content, not merely competition with bitterness. Tinubu himself, in that same June 12 speech, defended multiparty politics even while mocking the opposition’s disorder. That irony should not be wasted. He has thrown them both an insult and an assignment.
So, yes, the opposition is right to worry. But worry is not a strategy. Outrage is not an organisation. The coalition is not coherent. And history is not sentimental. The man they are up against is ruthless, seasoned, and intimate with the dark arts of democratic combat. He knows the game. Some of his opponents are still learning the rules from old newspaper cuttings.
Which brings us back to the scripture. What you are going to do, do quickly. Not recklessly. Not hysterically. Quickly. Settle your house. Name your purpose. Offer something fresher than recycled indignation. Build a machine that is not merely anti-Tinubu but pro-Nigeria in a way ordinary Nigerians can feel in their pockets and in their pulse. Otherwise, the opposition will keep arriving at battle dressed in borrowed armour, only to discover that the tailor works for the man they came to unseat—May Nigeria win!
By Gloria Onosode
Nigeria is targeting an ambitious $1 trillion economy by 2030. To achieve this, women-led businesses must transition from mere passive observers to primary growth drivers at the heart of the economy and strategic participants in their respective industries.
According to the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS), the increased ownership rate of MSMEs by women represents a significant contribution to economic growth and job creation. Digital empowerment for these enterprises must move from being a social responsibility or gender support initiative to contributing to broader economic development.
To reach the $1 trillion GDP milestone, women-led businesses must be positioned to operate at a macroeconomic scale. This requires moving beyond subsistence trading and into the digital value chain. For instance, a fashion designer in Aba, through digital positioning, can access broader markets and commercial networks and thereby facilitate better record-keeping and data-driven decision-making, supporting improved financial record-keeping, which may be considered in credit assessments by financial institutions.
FairMoney Microfinance Bank (MFB), a bank licensed and regulated by the Central Bank of Nigeria, contributes to the digital transitioning of small businesses in Nigeria by providing tools specifically designed for the realities of the Nigerian entrepreneur. For women, whose businesses often fluctuate with seasonal demands or family needs, the ability to protect and grow capital is paramount. FairMoney MFB offers features that empower women to move from informal ‘under-the-mattress’ savings to digitised interest-bearing savings products. By embracing digital transition, tech-based saving platforms can enable business owners to set specific goals, such as purchasing new equipment, saving towards business goals in a disciplined manner, while earning interest at applicable rates.
For that business owner who requires immediate liquidity, our flexible savings feature offers interest while allowing for withdrawal access that is subject to applicable terms and conditions to cover emergency restocks. For longer-term scaling, our fixed-term savings feature allows entrepreneurs to lock away funds for a fixed period and accrue interest based on product terms, subject to terms and conditions. By automating savings and providing interest at applicable rates, FairMoney MFB is designed to support financial planning and resilience over time for women-led SMEs.
Nigerian women are among the most entrepreneurial globally, consistently defying structural barriers to build enterprises from the ground up. According to the Small and Medium Enterprise Development Agency of Nigeria (SMEDAN), Nigeria has approximately 39.6 million nano, micro, small, and medium enterprises. Charles Odii, Director General at SMEDAN in 2024, also recently shared that approximately 72% of these enterprises are now classified as being owned or led by women. This is a significant jump from previous years, which hovered around 40–43%, largely due to the surge in ‘nano’ and ‘micro’ home-based businesses. These female-led enterprises are the primary engines of job creation and community stability.
Despite this drive, women entrepreneurs face a unique set of structural hurdles that stifle their ability to scale. The ‘financing gap’ remains the most formidable obstacle. The World Bank IFC Nigeria2Equal initiative reports that while Nigeria has one of the highest female entrepreneurship rates globally, the credit gap for these women is estimated at over 2.9 trillion Naira, forcing them into the ‘savings and family’ funding model.
The case for supporting these businesses extends beyond equity; it is rooted in the ‘multiplier effect’. Research demonstrates that women reinvest up to 90% of their income into their families and communities, specifically in education, healthcare, and nutrition. Supporting these enterprises is, therefore, a direct investment in Nigeria’s human capital. By bringing these businesses into the formal sector, the accuracy of economic planning will be improved. When a woman-led SME flourishes, the benefits ripple across the entire socioeconomic landscape.
The future of the Nigerian economy is intrinsically tied to the success of its women. When we prioritise women-led businesses, we are not merely fulfilling a gender quota; we can contribute to unlocking economic potential across sectors. By bridging the digital gap and providing robust financial tools for saving and credit to women-led businesses, Nigeria can begin to support the growth of micro-enterprises over time. A $1 trillion Nigeria is not just a dream; it represents a significant opportunity that can be progressively realised by the resilient women entrepreneurs of our nation.
Gloria Onosode is the Director of Enterprise Sales at FairMoney Business
These days, surviving in Nigeria feels like a full-time job on its own.
Before the month even properly begins, salary has already been divided into transport, fuel, food, bills, subscriptions, and every other expense that somehow keeps increasing. For many 9–5ers, the routine has become painfully familiar: wake up early, battle traffic, survive the stress of work, battle traffic again, and get home completely drained, only to realise even the simple things that help you unwind now have to be carefully budgeted for.
Because in this economy, everybody is cutting costs. People are thinking twice before ordering food. They are postponing shopping plans. They are reducing unnecessary spending. And for many, one of the first things to go has been entertainment.
The same streaming platforms and premium subscriptions people once paid for without thinking have now become part of the “maybe next month” list. Not because people suddenly stopped loving movies, series, football, or reality TV, but because when inflation keeps rising, and fuel costs continue to affect everything, entertainment starts to feel like a luxury.
But that is exactly why affordability in entertainment matters now more than ever and why GOtv continues to stand out as a brand that genuinely keeps everyday Nigerians in mind.
Rather than assuming quality entertainment should only be accessible to people willing to spend heavily, GOtv has consistently positioned itself as a platform built with everyday Nigerians in mind, creating options that allow people to still enjoy premium entertainment without having to break the bank.
Take the GOtv Smallie package, for example.
For as low as ₦1,900 a month, subscribers get access to over 35 channels, including approximately 19 to 21 local channels, sports content, and 15+ channels across news, music, movies, lifestyle, kids, and general entertainment.
And for those who prefer longer payment plans, it is also available in:
-
Quarterly – ₦5,100
-
Annual – ₦15,000
What makes this even better is that, despite being the most affordable package, Smallie still offers something for everyone.
It is not one of those basic plans where you pay less and get almost nothing. Whether you are the family member who loves African movies, the sports enthusiast who never wants to miss a match, the parent looking for kids’ content, or the person who just wants background TV after a stressful day, there is something to watch.
And for viewers who want even more variety, GOtv has other packages across different price points:
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GOtv Jinja – ₦3,900
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GOtv Jolli – ₦5,800
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GOtv Max – ₦8,500
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GOtv Supa – ₦11,400
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GOtv Supa Plus – ₦16,800
So, whether you’re going for the most affordable option or something with a more premium feel, there’s always a GOtv package that fits comfortably into different lifestyles and budgets.
At a time when everyday decisions are increasingly shaped by cost, GOtv quietly fills an important gap by keeping quality entertainment within reach for more people, because beyond the hustle, the traffic, the deadlines, and the constant pressure of trying to keep up with life in today’s economy, there is still a need for simple moments of joy and escape. Those small pauses in the day where you can switch off, relax, and just enjoy something light without overthinking it.
And that’s really the point: entertainment shouldn’t feel like another financial burden.
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