Opinion

By Oladoja M.O

In an age where access to information is boundless and opinions flood our timelines like seasonal rains, one would expect public discourse, especially around issues of governance to be rich with nuance, clarity, and purpose. Instead, what we are confronted with in Nigeria is a noisy theatre of misdirected outrage and watery criticism, lacking both depth and direction. 

One recent trigger came from the viral criticisms surrounding the national budget, particularly the eyebrow-raising figures allegedly earmarked for streetlight poles and similar line items. As is typical in the social media age, the noise began to swell. Twitter went into a frenzy. Threads upon threads emerged, each outdoing the other in outrage. The focus wasn’t just on the figures; it quickly spiralled into yet another populist takedown of the presidency, calling into question the entire moral fabric of governance. But just when the public’s fury had reached a crescendo, a jarring but necessary intervention came from an unlikely source: a senator who, contrary to the collective narrative, took time to explain that the criticism was misdirected. What was being paraded as evidence of executive recklessness was, in fact, the product of legislative insertions. Even the revered watchdog body, BudgIt, which had positioned itself as the conscience of fiscal scrutiny, had peddled the wrong story, and done so confidently.

At that point, a deeper question emerged, one which goes beyond this specific incident: What exactly is the quality of criticism in Nigeria?

What we see across our social and political landscapes is not a culture of informed criticism but a culture of reactive condemnation. The ability to shout the loudest, to gather the most retweets or likes, has replaced the discipline of patient inquiry, structural understanding, and fact-based argument. We have mistaken noise for scrutiny, and in doing so, we have created an illusion: an illusion of outrage and criticism. Here’s the tragic irony: many of these criticisms stem from a good place, the desire for accountability and a better Nigeria. But because the foundation is faulty, the outcomes are futile. One cannot build a temple of truth on a foundation of ignorance. The budget saga is just one example among many.

BudgIt, a civil society organisation that has in the past done commendable work in simplifying the budget for the public, got it wrong this time, badly. Yet, even in the face of clarification, corrections, and new evidence, there was no public recant, no humility to say, “We were mistaken.” That act of refusal: the inability to admit error and recalibrate, is itself a glaring indicator of the intellectual poverty that plagues Nigerian criticism. In a land where saving face is prioritised over seeking truth, errors are not corrected; they are doubled down upon. And the implications are devastating. Public trust becomes confused and misdirected. The presidency gets blamed for what is, in fact, a legislative manoeuvre. Activists spend more time dragging the wrong institutions while the real culprits laugh quietly in the shadows. The people remain stirred but unenlightened, angry, yes, but none the wiser.

This shallow approach to criticism bleeds into other national conversations. Take the fixation on the Lagos-Calabar Coastal Road. A project that, whether justifiable or not, deserves technical, economic, and legal analysis is instead reduced to a carnival of trendy hashtags. Populists slam it without understanding its scope, funding model, or long-term impact. No consideration is given to feasibility studies, displacement issues, or cost-benefit analyses. No proper questions asked about procurement processes or federal-state cooperation. Instead, the discourse becomes a jamboree, a performance of rage designed to court virality, not accountability.

This is not criticism. It is a parody of it.

And just when you think the poverty of insight couldn’t dig deeper, reality offers more proof. Consider Peter Obi’s recent Democracy Day speech. In his attempt to discuss democracy, he instead ended up distorting history and misrepresenting the very fabric of the democratic struggle in Nigeria. A man who, during the dark days of military rule, was cosy with the system’s power brokers, now stands on podiums speaking as though he bore scars from that era. When real patriots were sacrificing their lives, fleeing their homes, and watching their properties burned for daring to speak truth to power, Obi stood closer to the oppressor than the oppressed. Yet today, he speaks with the authority of the afflicted. That, too, is born of ignorance, not just his, but the ignorance of the audience clapping in affirmation, unaware of the truth.

Even more revealing was the reaction to President Tinubu’s Democracy Day awards. Nigerians, young and old, in all corners of the internet, questioned why certain figures were honoured, some even asking, “Who are the Ogoni 9?” Others criticised the President for not awarding campaign allies, as though national honours were a reward system for electoral foot soldiers. It was laughable, yet tragic. How can you even begin to criticise a government when you don’t understand the very history of the democracy you claim to defend? How do you talk about national direction when your knowledge of national evolution is trapped in recent memory, as if Nigeria started in 2023?

It’s not just young people, either. Some of the loudest voices in the room, middle-aged, supposedly experienced, display a kind of ignorance so raw, you’d think the only political event they’ve lived through was a Twitter space. This is why we are where we are: a nation speaking loud but saying little, reacting fast but knowing nothing.

True criticism demands hard work. It requires research, attention to context, historical awareness, and, above all, intellectual honesty. You cannot meaningfully critique governance structures without understanding the separation of powers. You cannot hold public office holders accountable when you confuse federal responsibilities with local ones. You cannot demand transparency when your tools of inquiry are faulty. And in this desert of rigorous public engagement, one cannot help but mourn the absence of voices like that of Gani Fawehinmi: voices forged in the fire of truth, unseduced by populism, unshaken by power. Gani didn’t criticise for clout; he criticised with clarity. He did not shout merely to be heard; he roared because he understood. He was, above all, consistent, a virtue alien to many of today’s keyboard crusaders.

What Nigeria faces is not a lack of criticism; it’s an excess of uninformed, performative, and ultimately useless criticism. And therein lies the danger. Because when the noise becomes the norm, it drowns out the voices that actually matter. When every outrage is manufactured, real outrage loses its power. When critique becomes theatre, accountability becomes a joke.

To move forward as a nation, we must re-engineer our culture of criticism. We must build a new generation of thinkers, activists, and ordinary citizens who understand that to question power effectively, one must first understand it deeply. That it is not enough to be angry; one must be accurately angry. That social media fame is not the same as civic literacy. Until then, we will continue to shout: loudly, passionately, endlessly, but in circles.

Like a dog chasing its own tail, we will perform outrage while the real issues remain untouched, and the real culprits continue to operate in silence. 

The illusion will continue. The theatre will go on. And the nation, tragically, will remain where it is starved, not of voices, but of thought.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com

By Muhammad Ubale Kiru

A quiet but growing crisis is taking shape across societies, especially among young adults. It’s not about inflation, unemployment, or politics; though all of these play a role. It’s called the sexual recession; a noticeable and measurable decline in sexual activity among people, particularly those under 35. And while it may sound like a trivial or even humorous phenomenon to some, the consequences run far deeper than the surface suggests.

What Is a Sexual Recession?

A sexual recession refers to a consistent and significant drop in sexual activity within a population. In recent studies from countries like the United States, United Kingdom, Japan, and even parts of Africa, researchers have noticed that young adults are having less sex than previous generations. Not just slightly less, but in some cases, drastically so. But sex, in this context, is not merely about physical intimacy, it’s tied to deeper themes of connection, intimacy, identity, mental health, and even national population stability.

Why Is It Happening?

Several interwoven factors explain this modern-day phenomenon:

1. Digital Distractions and Virtual Living

Smartphones, social media, online gaming, and streaming platforms now consume a major chunk of young people’s time. We are more “connected” than ever, yet lonelier than any generation before. Many now prefer screens over real-life interactions, and as a result, dating, emotional bonding, and physical intimacy have taken a back seat.

2. Economic Pressures

The global economic situation is squeezing young people. Unemployment, underemployment, and the rising cost of living mean that many are postponing marriage or serious relationships. Some even avoid dating entirely due to financial insecurities. How can one think about love and intimacy when they are burdened with survival?

3. Pornography and Unrealistic Expectations

The proliferation of free, high-definition pornography has created skewed views of sexuality, leading to performance anxiety, addiction, and emotional detachment. For some, the convenience of porn replaces the effort of real relationships, leading to a drop in desire for real-world intimacy.

4. Mental Health and Social Anxiety

Depression, anxiety, and other mental health challenges have skyrocketed, especially in the post-COVID world. These conditions directly reduce libido, motivation, and the ability to form or sustain intimate bonds.

5. Cultural Shifts and Delayed Adulthood

More people are delaying traditional milestones like marriage, childbearing, or long-term commitments. In some societies, casual sex has also become emotionally draining and less fulfilling, leaving many opting for celibacy, not out of religious devotion but out of fatigue or disillusionment.

6. Hyper-Individualism

Modern culture promotes extreme self-focus: “me first, my goals, my space, my needs.” While self-development is essential, intimacy requires self-sacrifice, compromise, and shared vulnerability. Hyper-individualism often undermines those values.

Why It Matters

Some might argue: “So what? It’s their choice.” But this trend has ripple effects across society.

1. Lower birth rates: Several countries now face demographic crises due to declining fertility.

2. Weakened family structures: Relationships suffer, and social cohesion weakens when people lose touch with intimacy and emotional bonding.

3. Mental health decline: Healthy sexual relationships are closely linked to emotional wellness, self-esteem, and a sense of belonging.

4. Rise in transactional relationships: A vacuum in meaningful intimacy often leads to exploitative or shallow alternatives.

The Way Out: Rebuilding Intimacy in a Fractured World

The solution is not one-size-fits-all, but here are some pathways forward:

1. Teach Healthy Relationship Skills Early

Schools and parents must go beyond basic sex education to include emotional intelligence, communication, boundaries, and empathy. Healthy relationships don’t come naturally – they’re learned.

2. Reduce Digital Dependence

We must encourage digital detox and revive real-world connections. Host physical meetups, foster community spaces, and create tech-free zones to rebuild social skills and real interactions.

3. Address Economic Insecurity

Governments and institutions must tackle the youth unemployment crisis, offer affordable housing, and create environments that make long-term relationships more feasible.

4. Reframe Masculinity and Femininity

Many young men and women are confused about gender roles in today’s world. Society must create balanced narratives that honor emotional vulnerability in men and ambition in women, without turning either into enemies.

5. Prioritize Mental Health

We must normalize therapy, create accessible mental health services, and integrate emotional wellness into everyday life. A healthy mind is a prerequisite for healthy intimacy.

6. Faith and Values

Religious institutions also have a role to play in guiding people toward meaningful love, purposeful relationships, and sacred sexuality. Not through shame, but through compassion, mentorship, and support.

In conclusion, the sexual recession is not about libido; it’s about loneliness, disconnection, and a society drifting away from human intimacy. If we ignore it, we will wake up to a colder, lonelier, and more fractured generation. But if we confront it with wisdom, compassion, and courage, we can rebuild the bonds that make us truly human. It will be naive to wait for more statistics to confirm what we already feel. Let’s act before love becomes extinct.

Muhammad Ubale Kiru wrote in from Kano and can be reached via muhdjkiru@gmail.com

By Prof. Abdelghaffar Amoka

A Hausa interview by a professor from ABU, lamenting academics’ poor pay, is trending and has re-ignited the debate on the salaries of Nigerian academics on social media. The discussion is championed by my brothers from the region, which is considered by the country as educationally less developed. I didn’t know what to say that I hadn’t said before. It will be like repeating myself.

Professors in Nigeria are now blamed for their financial status. They are expected to stop lamenting and get a side hustle to augment their salaries. A professor whose salary was ₦450,000 in 2009, when the exchange rate was ₦140 per dollar, is blamed for his economic state in 2025, with a salary of about ₦500,000, when the exchange rate is ₦1,600 per dollar. 

Some people are referring to professors abroad as if some of us have not had the experience. A number of us have studied and worked there, and we know how their university system works. I got two grants in the UK during my PhD. They said a professor earns more abroad from their research grants. The primary beneficiaries of research grants are postgraduate students and postdoctoral researchers. Professors are not paid from their grants.

Grants have a budget, and personnel costs are not included. They are paid to the university account and managed by the university. The university pays professors to encourage them to think critically and attract grants for the institution. A university lecturer around the world is paid enough to give him the comfort to think and do his job as it should. Any extra cash from stuff like consultancy is for additional comfort. 

The Executive Secretary of TETfund, Sunny Echono, in July 2024, said: “On salary to lecturer, I feel ashamed because I have the privilege to represent Nigeria at a global conference where former presidents and prime ministers were in attendance. I was asked if it was true that a professor, after 20 years, still earns less than $1,000 a month. I couldn’t answer that question; I only said that we are doing something about it.” I think we should be proud of the salaries of our professors and boldly tell anyone around the world their actual salaries. 

Before you, in your narrow-minded state, blame professors for their financial status, ask yourself why the Nigerian government will pay the same professors about two thousand dollars per month under the Technical Aid Corp (TAC) to go help teach in universities in some African countries? The same professors who are given approximately $ 2,000 to teach in Ugandan universities under TAC are receiving an equivalent of $ 320 per month at home.

You know what? Everyone is right—those for and against. The argument won’t change anything, and it will likely end within a day or two. The new reality is that younger academics have learned from the impact of senior colleagues’ commitment to the academic job. The commitment you considered as “our stupidity”. The younger academics are planning for themselves.

A colleague, after the 8-month strike and the withholding of our 8-month salaries, said the university does not deserve his full-time commitment. That he is going to give the university the time it deserves and use a large chunk of his time for a side hustle to pay his bills, I thought, was unreasonable. I later realised I was the unreasonable one. And he is not doing badly from the side hustle. 

Around this time last year, I was passing and met some of my students in the class without the lecturer. In my usual chat with the students, I asked whose lecture it was. I decided to call a younger colleague, as students were waiting for his class in case he forgot. He picked up the call and said he had forgotten he had a class, but that he was on his farm planting, and that he would see them next week. He was at the farm during work hours and forgot he had a class because the farming hustle is paying the bills. He is actually doing quite well with his side hustle. 

Farming during work hours becomes more important. I reflected on that for several days. There are several examples of young academics who won’t be seen on campus, except when they have a lecture or are on campus for something they consider essential. 

People sometimes question why a whole professor would accept being an adviser or assistant to a political office holder. A trip with the political officeholder boss could get him his one-year gross salary as a professor. Since it’s his fault that he is poor, why shouldn’t he accept such an offer or even lobby for it?

As a consequence of defeat, we have accepted one awkward thing as a part of us. Because we can’t do anything about our tormentors and needed someone to blame, we blamed ourselves, the victims. It’s our fault that we’ve been on the same salary for 16 years, from 2009 to date. It’s our fault that successive governments refused to renegotiate the 2009 agreed salary with ASUU. It is our fault that the government of President Tinubu has kept Yayale Ahmed’s 2009 Renegotiation Committee report since November 2024 without speaking about it. They are still studying it, possibly till May 2027 or beyond. 

Universities are designed to attract the best minds from around the world. Universities, including those in Africa, such as those in Ethiopia, Uganda, Kenya, and Chad, are attracting the best brains. At the same time, we justify the poor pay for academics and still blame them for their inability to compete with their colleagues in the UK, the US, and Iran. We’ll continue to breed our best brains for these countries. 

Meanwhile, as we take all the blame for our economic status as professors, younger academics are devising ways to survive. They don’t want to he like their senior colleagues who bury themselves in their books thinking they are serving the country. They are given more time for their side hustle to pay the bills, and leave the students hanging. They’ll attend to them when we can. The system will bear the consequences of neglect, and our survival plans will be affected.

From a reality check, you can’t think when you are hungry. So, what are your expectations when your thinkers are hungry and you are unfortunately justifying it? We may be on a journey of illusion if you expect a man to look for food to eat and think for you. The future will tell who gains and who loses.

Best wishes to all of us! 

©Amoka

By Sani Surajo Abubakar

“Gurubi”, as he was fondly called by his colleagues, the teaching and non-teaching staff of Army Day Secondary School, Bukavu Barracks, Kano, remains a name that resonates in the ears of many who studied in the school in the late 80s, 90s, and years after.

Malam Garba Umar Saleh embodied the spirit of a true teacher. His commitment to education and passion for nurturing young minds were evident in every aspect of his work. 

It is with profound sadness that we reflect on the life and legacy of the late Malam Garba Umar Saleh, a dedicated teacher at Army Day Secondary School and other secondary schools. His passing left an indelible void in the lives of those who knew him, particularly his students, colleagues, and the broader community.

 He approached his role with diligence, patience, and kindness, making him a beloved figure in schools. His dedication to his students went beyond the classroom, as he often took extra time to mentor and guide them, both academically and morally.

The impact of Malam Garba Umar Saleh on his students cannot be overstated. He had a unique ability to make complex concepts accessible and engaging, inspiring a love for learning in countless young minds. His unwavering support and encouragement helped many students overcome challenges and achieve their full potential. His legacy lives on through the countless lives he touched, and his influence will continue to shape the futures of those he taught.

His colleagues at the Army Day Secondary School and other Schools also held him in high regard. His collaborative spirit, professionalism, and positive attitude made him a valued member of the school community. He made significant contributions to the school’s mission, consistently striving for excellence and innovation in education.

While Malam Garba Umar Saleh is no longer with us, his legacy endures. The lessons he imparted, the values he instilled, and the love he showed to his students and colleagues will forever be remembered. His life serves as a powerful reminder of the profound impact one individual can have on the lives of others.

As we remember Malam Garba Umar Saleh, we honour his memory by upholding the values he cherished: dedication, compassion, and a commitment to making a difference in the lives of others. His story is a testament to the enduring power of education and the profound impact one teacher can have.

This tribute serves as a heartfelt acknowledgement of the remarkable life and contributions of Malam Garba Umar Saleh. May it inspire others to follow in his footsteps, dedicating themselves to the noble cause of education and service to humanity. 

A 1982 NCE graduate of the Advanced Teachers College Gumel, the deceased was employed as Master III by the then Kano State Ministry of Education and posted to Government Girls College (GGC) Dala as his first port of service.

In his quest for knowledge, the late Garba Umar Saleh enrolled in a degree programme at Bayero University Kano and graduated with a Bachelor of Arts (BA) in Education/English in 1989.

He spent most of his teaching years, spanning more than three decades, at GGC Dala, Army Day Secondary School (Boys), Bukavu Barracks, and Muhammad Vice Adamu Government Secondary School Kuka (MVAGSS), serving as a classroom teacher, Senior Master, and Vice Principal, respectively.

Towards the tail end of his service period, he was redeployed to the headquarters of the Kano State Senior Secondary Schools Management Board (KSSSSMB) as Deputy Director, Training and Recruitment, a position he held until his last breath, some weeks before his exit from the service. 

  May Almighty Allah, the most Exalted, grant his gentle and innocent soul rest in peace, and Jannatul Fiirdausi be his final abode, the fortitude and solace for all of us to bear the irreplaceable loss. May his legacy continue to inspire future generations? 

Sani was a student at Army Day Secondary School, Bukavu Barracks, Kano, and is currently on the Staff of the Kano State Ministry of Information and Internal Affairs.

By Saifullahi Attahir

In his article, titled “Yar’adua: Great Expectation, Disappointing Outcome,” Mallam Nasir El-Rufa’i wrote that the late Umaru Musa Yar’adua graduated from ABU in 1975 and did his youth service (NYSC) at Holy Child College in Lagos as a chemistry teacher.

After the service year, Yar’adua took a government job at the College of Arts, Science and Technology (CAST), Zaria, as a chemistry lecturer. He later obtained his MSc in 1978, while continuing his teaching career at the same CAST until 1983, when he joined his brother’s business after the latter resigned from the National Service as second-in-command to General Olusegun Obasanjo during the handover to civilian rule in 1979.

The above narrative can attest to the clear moral right Yar’adua has over Mallam Nasir, despite the latter’s constant attacks. I’m sure that in the years between 1976 and 1983, the late Umaru could have accessed all the privileges a graduate could have as a brother to a senior military officer and son of the establishment. His service year in the grammar school and his continued lecturing job at CAST Zaria can testify to a great deal about the individual Yar’adua, his brother Shehu, and the regime.

As a young and well-connected chemistry graduate, Umaru Yar’adua could have access to serve in the newly established NNPC, top agricultural firms, top Lagos banks, or even become a legislative aide in the green or red chamber.

Securing a job through connections is a common and sometimes effective method. Networking, which involves leveraging personal and professional relationships, can significantly increase your chances of finding a job. Indeed, many talented and industrious individuals can be harnessed through this process, although it may be perceived as nepotistic. Hadiza Bala Usman got her start at BPE by El Rufa’i through a similar path.

Of course, time has changed; it’s now normal that specific places, such as CBN, FIRS, NPA, BPE, top private firms, and Federal MDAs, are not accessible to ordinary corps members. We can still recall a time when a brother of Nigeria’s second-in-command opted to attend a grammar school and later took a teaching job at a college in Zaria. But still, that doesn’t prevent him from becoming Nigeria’s president.

While the 5th May remembrance has been immortalised in the hearts of Nigerians despite Yar’adua’s short stint as president, Mallam El-Rufa’i was still battling and settling past scores and fights.

Saifullahi Attahir wrote from Federal University Dutse via saifullahiattahir93@gmail.com 

 By Nasiru Ibrahim 

The channels of distribution from exploration to consumers in Nigeria’s oil industry—before Dangote’s refinery—began with crude oil extracted by NNPC Ltd. and international companies such as Shell, Mobil, and Chevron. The crude was sold to NNPC or exported. Due to the poor performance of local refineries, such as those in Warri and Port Harcourt, Nigeria relied on importing refined fuel through NNPC and major marketers, including TotalEnergies, Oando, and Conoil.

Once imported, the fuel was stored in depots like Apapa, Atlas Cove, Ibru Jetty, and Calabar. From there, independent transport companies such as Petrolog, TSL Logistics, AA Rano, and MRS transported it by tanker to filling stations. These stations—both major and independent—sold the fuel directly to consumers. 

Alhaji Aliko Dangote is on the verge of taking full control of Nigeria’s downstream oil sector, covering everything from marketing and retail to transportation and distribution of petroleum products. In economic terms, this is known as vertical integration. Many Nigerians are now raising concerns that Dangote could dominate the entire fuel market. This comes after Dangote Petroleum Refinery released a press statement outlining its upcoming plans for fuel supply and distribution.

In the statement dated June 16, 2025, the company announced that it will start selling petrol (PMS) and diesel in the Nigerian market from August 15, 2025. To support this, it plans to roll out 4,000 Compressed Natural Gas (CNG)-powered trucks across the country to deliver fuel directly to buyers at no additional logistics cost.

Dangote also revealed that it will offer credit facilities to credible buyers who purchase at least 500,000 litres of PMS or diesel. 

These buyers include registered oil marketers, manufacturers, telecom companies, airlines, and other large fuel consumers. The company states that this move will enhance fuel availability, reduce reliance on imports, and bolster Nigeria’s energy security by overseeing both refining and distribution.

With Dangote’s new initiative, he buys crude oil from NNPC and refines it here in Nigeria. Then, using his trucks, he moves the fuel to his storage depots and delivers it straight to filling stations. This means no need for middlemen or prominent marketers—everything is handled by Dangote’s team from start to finish.

However, while this could lower fuel prices and ease supply challenges, it has also sparked fears about reduced competition. Some worry that giving too much power to one player could lead to a market monopoly, calling for proper regulation to ensure fairness in the downstream sector.

Economists, policymakers, businessmen, entrepreneurs, and economics students like myself are actively considering the potential impact of this new initiative on oil marketers, the Nigerian economy, employment, exchange rates, consumers, filling stations, climate change, and other critical factors. Many are questioning whether this move will yield positive results. However, we cannot understand the implications unless we first examine the structure and components of Nigeria’s downstream sector, including Dangote himself, his competitors, those affected by his actions, and all other players in the supply chain up to the final consumer.

In economics and policy development, a long-standing debate exists about how policies should be evaluated. Some scholars argue that policies should be judged by their outcomes, while others believe they should be assessed based on their intentions. For example, Milton Friedman emphasised that policies must be judged by their results, not their intentions. 

In contrast, economists like Paul Samuelson acknowledged the importance of considering both intent and context, especially when outcomes are not yet visible. This debate is relevant here. It may be premature to conclude whether Dangote’s new initiative is positive or negative solely based on expected results, as those outcomes have not yet materialised. 

Nevertheless, some would argue that judging the initiative by its intention — such as improving fuel availability, reducing logistics costs, and enhancing energy security — is still meaningful, especially in economic policy, where many decisions are based on projected or long-term effects. Evaluating intentions enables us to gauge the direction of policy, even in the absence of immediate evidence.

Nigeria’s downstream sector is responsible for refining, retailing, distribution, transportation, and marketing of petroleum products. It comprises several companies and regulatory bodies, including NNPCL, Dangote Refinery, Oando, MRS, AA Rano, ExxonMobil, Danmarna, Aliko Oil, and many others. While Dangote operates across both the midstream and downstream sectors, his actions may also indirectly affect the upstream sector, particularly through their influence on demand, supply, and the pricing of petroleum products.

Instead of focusing solely on the structure of the downstream sector, I believe we should carefully consider both the potential benefits and drawbacks of this new initiative by Dangote Refinery, without completely dismissing Friedman’s view on judging policies strictly by results.

Potential Positive Implications of the New Initiative

Firstly, Dangote’s new initiative will reduce Nigeria’s dependence on imported oil from the Gulf and Europe. This is beneficial for Nigeria’s foreign exchange (FX) reserves, as less demand for imported fuel means the country will need fewer U.S. dollars for imports. As a result, this could lead to an appreciation of the Naira due to a fall in demand for foreign currency. Additionally, it will improve the trade balance and increase GDP contribution from the domestic oil refining sector.

Secondly, the initiative will create both direct and indirect jobs in Nigeria. Direct employment opportunities will arise for truck drivers, mechanics, technicians, depot workers, and logistics personnel. If Dangote deploys between 2,000 and 4,000 trucks, and each truck requires one to two drivers, along with at least one support mechanic, one depot staff member, and logistics coordinators, this could result in approximately 20,000 direct jobs. Indirect employment opportunities will arise for consultants, accountants, lawyers, filling station managers, as well as workers in catering, cleaning, petrochemicals, fertiliser, plastics, and related industries.

Thirdly, the initiative will enhance fuel accessibility and improve supply chain efficiency, thereby reducing waste and environmental pollution. By taking direct control over storage and distribution, the initiative can eliminate middlemen inefficiencies, potentially reducing fuel scarcity and hoarding, which often drive up inflation. With direct sales to filling stations, illegal practices like tanker swaps and product diversion by middlemen can be curbed. Furthermore, the use of Compressed Natural Gas (CNG)-powered trucks will lower transportation costs, reduce emissions, and increase domestic gas utilisation, thereby boosting gas revenue.

Fourthly, the initiative is expected to lower fuel prices, which is a major driver of inflation in Nigeria. By eliminating international shipping fees, foreign refinery profit margins, and import levies—all of which form a significant portion of the overall fuel cost—the retail price per unit of fuel could drop. Lower fuel prices can ease the cost of living, reduce inflationary pressures, and improve economic stability.

Fifthly, the initiative will strengthen Nigeria’s energy security in the face of global supply chain disruptions. For instance, ongoing conflicts such as the Israel-Iran and Russia-Ukraine wars, or geopolitical tensions in the Middle East, can threaten the global fuel supply. Additionally, OPEC+ efforts to raise oil prices increase external vulnerabilities. By reducing dependence on imported fuel, Nigeria becomes more resilient to global shocks, ensuring steady availability of fuel at domestic filling stations even during international crises.

Sixthly, from a broader perspective, this initiative positions Nigeria as a regional supplier of refined petroleum products in Africa, reducing the continent’s reliance on Europe and the Gulf. This shift enhances Nigeria’s foreign policy leverage and strategic influence, particularly within regional and international institutions such as ECOWAS, AfCFTA, AfDB, and Afreximbank. A robust domestic refining industry enhances investor confidence and may attract more foreign direct investment (FDI) in the long term. Investors are more likely to commit to economies with stable energy supply, regional trade advantages, and reduced exposure to global price shocks.

Potential Negative Implications

Firstly, there is a serious economic fear that this could lead to a monopoly, and many Nigerians have already raised concerns about that. The Petroleum Tanker Drivers and Owners Association of Nigeria (PATROAN) and the Independent Petroleum Marketers Association of Nigeria (IPMAN) have both expressed worry that Dangote might dominate the entire downstream oil sector. In economics, when a single company controls the whole supply chain, from refining to selling, it stifles competition. And when there’s no competition, prices can be fixed unfairly, small businesses get pushed out, and consumers suffer in the long run.

Secondly, there’s the risk of predatory pricing. This occurs when a powerful company sells at very low prices—sometimes even below cost—to drive smaller competitors out of the market. Dangote might do this since he doesn’t import fuel and can afford to sell at a lower price. However, after chasing them out, he can raise prices at any time, leaving people with no choice and putting consumers at risk of exploitation. This leads to what is called “deadweight loss” in economics, where both individuals and the economy lose out.

Thirdly, many jobs could be lost, especially among small fuel marketers, distributors, and transporters who previously imported and sold fuel themselves. Dangote is now doing everything directly—refining, distributing, and even retailing—which means companies like AA Rano, Danmarna, Aliko Oil, and many others might be pushed out or forced to operate under unfair terms. This is already affecting their businesses, especially in the North, and could lead to job losses in areas that rely heavily on these companies.

Fourthly, government policy interference and the role of the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPCL) could create more problems. NNPCL also operates in the downstream sector and has partnerships and influence that could either support or conflict with Dangote’s activities. Past issues, such as unclear pricing, fuel subsidy mismanagement, and delays in policy implementation, demonstrate that when government agencies operate without transparency, it can create more confusion than solutions. This could make it easier for big companies like Dangote to influence decisions in their favour while others suffer.

Fifthly, new investors might avoid the sector. If one company already controls everything, what’s left for others to invest in? People may view the fuel business in Nigeria as a “one-man game,” making it challenging to attract new ideas, competition, and investment. This can slow down innovation and limit the country’s long-term progress in energy.

Sixthly, there’s a risk of regional imbalance. Dangote might focus more on high-demand urban areas where there’s more profit, and this could lead to fuel shortages in rural or northern regions. Small marketers who once served these communities may not survive, and that means remote areas could suffer more from fuel scarcity. This may exacerbate existing regional inequalities.

Possible solutions 

Firstly, don’t ban fuel imports immediately. Let other marketers continue importing fuel, at least for the time being. If only one company controls the supply, prices may rise or stay unstable. The government can grant import waivers to others, ensuring that competition remains alive and fuel remains affordable.

Secondly, we should repair our old refineries and support the development of new ones. Dangote shouldn’t be the only one refining fuel. If we repair the Warri, Port Harcourt, and Kaduna refineries and encourage small private ones, we’ll have a more local supply. That also helps in the future if we want to export after meeting our own needs. 

Thirdly, ensure that other players can access storage and transportation facilities. If only Dangote had the port, pipelines, and trucks, smaller marketers wouldn’t survive. The government can step in to make sure these facilities are shared fairly, with clear rules and affordable fees.

Fourthly, don’t forget far places like Northern states and rural towns. Most fuel may remain in the South, where Dangote is located. Therefore, the government should support distribution to remote areas by encouraging group buying or establishing shared fuel depots. Everyone deserves access, not just those near the refinery.

Fifthly, expand the availability of fuel alternatives like CNG to more locations. If we’re shifting to compressed natural gas (CNG), it should not be exclusive to the rich or city dwellers. Rural and remote areas require the same support,including CNG buses, filling stations, and awareness initiatives.

Finally, monitor prices and ensure fairness. We need a simple system that tracks and shows fuel prices across regions. That way, if one company tries to raise prices unfairly, the public and the government will be aware.

Ibrahim is an economist and writer based in Jigawa State, Nigeria. He holds a degree in Economics from Bayero University, Kano. With a background in journalism at Forsige, he currently works as a research assistant and contributes expert commentary on economics, finance, and business.

By Zayyad I. Muhammad

The growing political controversy surrounding the Tinubu/Shettima presidential ticket for the 2027 general elections came to the fore at the Northeast Zonal Meeting of the All Progressives Congress (APC), held in Gombe on Saturday, June 14, 2025. Party leaders, stakeholders, and delegates gathered to endorse Tinubu for a second term, amid rising internal debates over the party’s viability, unity, and future direction ahead of the next electoral cycle.

If President Tinubu decides to drop Vice President Kashim Shettima in favour of another Muslim from the North, it could reignite the deeply divisive Muslim-Muslim ticket debate that stirred significant controversy during the 2023 presidential election.

Retaining Vice President Kashim Shettima may help the Tinubu camp avoid reigniting the contentious Muslim-Muslim ticket debate, but it also raises questions about the ticket’s continued strategic value. While the pairing was originally calculated to consolidate support among Muslim voters in the North during the 2023 election, changing political dynamics suggest that the ticket may no longer hold the same appeal. With growing dissatisfaction in parts of the North and shifting voter sentiments nationwide, some within the APC believe that the Tinubu/Shettima combination may now offer diminishing electoral returns.

Even if President Tinubu opts for a new Muslim running mate, the Muslim-Muslim ticket may no longer deliver the same political dividends in the North. A growing number of Northern-Muslim voters reportedly feel underrepresented or sidelined in the current administration, despite the religious alignment of the top two offices. 

Discontent over perceived sidelining in federal appointments, economic policies, and security outcomes has weakened the assumption that religious pairing alone can secure Northern loyalty. As such, simply replacing Shettima with another Northern Muslim may not be enough to re-energise the base or guarantee widespread support in 2027.

Should President Tinubu replace Shettima with another Muslim from the North, it would likely provoke renewed backlash from Christian communities nationwide, especially in the North. Many would raise the familiar and legitimate question: Are there no capable Northern Christians fit to serve as Vice President? In a country where religious identity plays a central role in politics and representation.

If President Tinubu chooses a Northern Christian as his running mate, he risks alienating a core part of the APC’s support base. These Northern Muslim voters have historically been the backbone of the party’s electoral strength in the north. Many within this bloc view the Muslim-Muslim ticket as both symbolic and strategic. Without votes from the north, Tinubu’s second term will have key-leg

Selecting a running mate from the Northwest could trigger resistance or even quiet rebellion from the Northeast, which may interpret the move as a political slight or marginalisation. Having produced the current Vice President, the Northeast might expect to retain the position as a matter of continuity and recognition of its contribution to the party’s 2023 victory. Overlooking the region could stir resentment among its political leaders and grassroots supporters, potentially weakening the APC’s hold in key Northeastern states. It may also open the door for opposition parties to exploit regional grievances and rally disaffected voters under the banner of regional justice and equity. The  NorthCentral will also ask some questions- Tinubu won four states in north central- Kogi, Benue, Kwara and Niger

Choosing another Muslim running mate from the Northeast, but outside the Borno-Yobe axis, could provoke backlash from that axis. The Borno-Yobe axis, long considered the APC’s stronghold in the Northeast, may view such a move as a betrayal of loyalty, especially given that Borno was the only state in the region that delivered a win for Tinubu in the 2023 presidential election. Overlooking this issue in favour of another Northeastern state could result in protest votes or political apathy from key stakeholders and voters who feel their support is being taken for granted. In a tightly contested 2027 race, such fractures could prove costly.

Ultimately, the debate surrounding the Tinubu/Shettima ticket for 2027 is shaping up to be an early and avoidable self-inflicted wound for the APC. Rather than uniting the party around governance and strategy, it has reopened an unnecessary debate and controversy. This is fueling unnecessary tension within the party ranks and distracting from core governance issues that could strengthen the APC’s re-election prospects. 

Yet, amid all the speculation and lobbying, it is important to remember that the selection of a running mate remains the sole constitutional prerogative of the presidential candidate. While input from party leaders and stakeholders matters, the final decision rests with President Tinubu, who must now weigh loyalty, optics, regional dynamics, and electoral viability in making a choice that could define both his legacy and the APC’s future.

Zayyad I. Muhammad writes from Abuja via zaymohd@yahoo.com.

By Salisu Uba Kofar Wambai

Audu Bulama Bukarti is a noisemaker who understands nothing about politics. His recent comments on the newly formed opposition coalition are not only shallow but also dangerously misleading. While millions of Nigerians are applauding this coalition as a timely and necessary step to challenge the Bola Ahmed Tinubu administration and rescue the country from economic suffocation, Bukarti — a London-based lawyer — chose to mock the effort on social media.

Rather than supporting a credible and coordinated opposition, he is promoting a vague, unstructured “youth political party,” claiming that only the youth can bring about change. This may sound attractive on paper, but it shows just how politically naive he is. Politics isn’t wishful thinking — it’s a game of structure, influence, visibility, and strategic alliances.

Just like filmmaking, where unknown actors rarely carry a blockbuster, political success depends on familiar, trusted, and tested figures. The leaders in the ADC-led coalition may not be perfect, but they possess the political weight, experience, and resources to help Nigeria emerge from this crisis. They are not saints, but they know what the people are going through, and their unity reflects the seriousness of the moment.

We must not forget the damage the Tinubu-led APC government has caused: the reckless removal of fuel subsidy, the crippling naira devaluation, inflation that has turned food and transportation into luxury, and a general sense of hopelessness among ordinary citizens. Nigerians are hungry and angry — and they need relief, not political experiments.

Bukarti’s idea that youth alone can take over now is not only unrealistic, but also risky. It will divide the opposition, weaken the resistance, and give the APC a smooth ride into another term of hardship. The youth are important, yes. However, they must join hands with established political structures to make an impact, rather than isolating themselves in emotional idealism.

The ADC coalition brings together people who understand Nigerian politics, who have reach, recognition, and machinery. That’s what it takes to defeat a regime that has weaponised poverty and punished the poor. Unity is the only way forward. This is not a time to gamble or experiment — it is a time to act wisely and strategically.

Bukarti’s obsession with promoting his “youth party” at this critical point raises serious questions. Is it merely ignorance, or is he playing a hidden role to distract and sabotage the coalition’s genuine efforts? Either way, Nigerians must not be fooled. The real enemy is not the coalition, but the hunger, insecurity, and hopelessness forced on us by the Tinubu government.

This is not the time for ego or empty noise. What Nigerians need are leaders with courage, experience, and structure, not social media loudspeakers who offer nothing but confusion. Bukarti should either contribute meaningfully or step aside.

The ADC coalition may not be perfect, but it is Nigeria’s best shot at ending the nightmare. This moment demands unity, not division — strategy, not noise — and above all, action, not confusion.

Salisu Uba Kofar Wambai wrote from Kano. He can be reached via salisunews@gmail.com.

By Oladoja M.O

Benue bleeds again. A recent massacre in Yelewata village, where at least 100 to 150 lives were claimed, cast a shadow over headlines, but smothered the deeper truth of decades-long sorrow. As images flash across social media in real time, outrage erupts. But near-instant outrage often substitutes for understanding. And in Benue, where tragedy is almost normalised, such performative empathy does more harm than good.

A Land on Fire, not for the First Time. This is not a one-off disaster. The roots go deep:

The 2001 Zaki‑Biam, where Nigerian soldiers massacred hundreds of Tiv civilians, razing villages in a brutal military reprisal, the 2016 Agatu Massacre, where more than 300, possibly up to 500, villagers were slaughtered during herders‑farmers clashes, leaving thousands displaced, the Odugbeho 2021, where suspected Fulani herders killed at least 40 residents in Agatu LGA, part of a continued wave of violence. In April 2022, over 25 were murdered in coordinated herder attacks on farming communities in Goma, up till this latest carnage, where victims were shot and burned in their homes, echoing a tragic pattern.

Between 2015 and March 2023 alone, 5,138 lives were lost across Benue in herder‑farmer attacks. Under President Buhari’s term, Benue became a killing field; 6,000 killed, 2 million displaced. The Humanitarian Crisis has been ongoing under the surface of fleeting headline moments.

The tragedy is not fodder for political stunts. The moment a video goes online, hashtags spiral: blaming the President, vilifying the government, and stirring political gain. But very few pause to ask: who suffers most in these cycles of condemnation? The dead do not return. The displaced families do not reclaim their farms. The real loss is in our silence, our unwillingness to grasp the whole before pointing fingers. Yes, government leaders, state and federal, bear responsibility.

The 2017 anti‑open grazing law in Benue was well-meaning. However, it remains a paper tiger: characterised by uneven enforcement, a lack of ranches, and feeble federal support. President Tinubu’s speeches and increased defence budgets amount to little on the ground when arms still flow, and security forces remain under-resourced. And when political opponents oversimplify the conflict as mere religious persecution or ethnic cleansing, nuance is lost.

At the heart of all these disputes is a struggle over scarce resources, including land, water, and natural resources, as well as grazing routes, which is exacerbated by climate change. Historically, grazing corridors existed. However, escalating population growth, farmland encroachment, and desertification have reduced these spaces. Compounding this: centuries-old migration, religious and ethnic tensions, cattle rustling, and political exclusion of Fulani groups. Each side bears accumulated grievances; farmers over burnt crops, herders over stolen cattle.

This is fundamentally communal, not merely political. Solutions must be rooted in non‑kinetic, non‑violent engagement. Dialogue tables must sit Fulani herders alongside Tiv farmers and local officials. Traditional leaders, ranchers, security services, and federal authorities must all negotiate a win-win framework, including grazing reserves, clear land-use maps, property rights enforcement, and swift justice for perpetrators. Yes, bring the perpetrators to book. Those profiting from killing, whether herders or cartels supplying arms, must face speedy consequences. However, we cannot rely solely on force. We need intelligence systems, community policing, and legal reform. We need peaceful co-management of land and water.

It’s time for Nigerians to shift from hashtag empathy to hard-won solidarity. Unleashing threads of blame on social media while clicking “share” does little for grieving widows or orphaned children. 

Recording a burn-out home instead of rescuing a trapped neighbor is the hallmark of a self‑absorbed age. 

Public discourse must evolve from political opportunism to intellectual empathy. From performance to purpose. When presidents speak, let’s demand substance: “Where are the ranches? Where is land‑use reform? Who funds security at the village level?”

We demand action, but not at the cost of conscience. We must hold leaders accountable while still listening. Civil society must stop yelling into empty rooms, and start negotiating into full ones.

A practical roadmap might include;

Reviving grazing reserves with clear boundaries, monitored jointly by local farmers and herders, enforcement of anti-grazing laws, backed with ranching incentives and federal support, swift prosecution of killers, with community courts supported by federal justice, strengthening local security, with trained village vigilantes under lawful guidelines. Climate adaptation, planting trees, building dams, restoring soil to reduce migration pressure, and, more importantly, promoting inter‑communal peace‑building through youth exchanges, shared markets, and local councils.

If Nigeria continues to allow Benue’s blood to stain its conscience, we’ll face another generation hardened by loss, distrust, and rage. A country that waits for television headlines before honouring its fallen has already forgotten them. Benue’s suffering needs more than outrage; it needs us: grounded, knowledgeable, purposeful. We must reject hollow political theatre and demand real solutions. Because beneath the noise and the blood, lies an entire community crying for justice, and silence is not an option.

Oladoja M.O writes from Abuja and can be reached at: mayokunmark@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Umar Shehu

Parental care is slowly disappearing in today’s Nigeria, and the consequences of this are evident. The family used to be the first point of training where values were shaped and morals were taught. Now, many homes are broken by the absence of emotional, physical or financial support. 

Parents are either too busy chasing survival or have surrendered their roles to the internet, peer groups and street culture. And the result is right in front of us. Young people with no sense of direction, crime becoming a normal path, and a country overwhelmed by insecurity.

A child not guided at home is more likely to find purpose in the wrong places. We are now dealing with the consequences of that neglect. From cultism to kidnapping, cyber fraud to political thuggery, we are raising a generation that is desperate, angry and emotionally abandoned. You cannot discuss national security without addressing family failure. Every bandit and every drug addict started as someone’s child.

At the same time, some parents do too much of the wrong kind of parenting. They shelter their kids from reality, provide for everything but discipline nothing and expect the schools to build what they have not started. Some parents no longer listen to their children. They demand excellence without showing concern for mental or emotional well-being. That is why depression is rising among young people. That is why suicide, addiction and social vices keep growing silently.

It is true that we no longer have the strong community system that once helped raise children. But there are still ways to rebuild. The society needs to encourage good parenting by example, not just by words or scolding. We need honest conversations between parents and children. We need schools to include real-life education, not just grades, but responsibility, empathy and values. We need religious and traditional leaders to focus less on miracles and more on morality and family life.

It is easy to blame the government, but even if they build roads and power, we will still collapse as a nation if we do not raise humans with a conscience. No law can replace the love and discipline of a present parent. And no society can grow when its children are lost.

If we want to fix this country, we must go back to our roots. Parents need to be present, not just physically, but also emotionally and morally. Being a parent is not just about giving birth or paying school fees. It is about being a guide, a mentor and a strong emotional backbone. Let us not expect society to raise the children we refused to raise. If the home fails, everything else will.

This country needs healing, and it starts in the family.

Muhammad Umar Shehu wrote from Gombe via umarmuhammadshehu2@gmail.com.