By any measure, Nigeria should be an economic powerhouse. Endowed with vast reserves of Bonny Light crude; one of the most prized grades of oil globally for its low sulphur content and high refining output, the country ought to be a model of resource wealth transforming lives. Instead, it remains a tragic case study of how natural riches, when placed in the hands of a predatory elite and cowardly governance structures, become a curse rather than a blessing. Few accounts capture this tragedy with the unforgiving clarity of Very Bad People by Patrick Alley. This masterful non-fiction work documents how unscrupulous elites and corporations systematically plunder vulnerable nations, and Nigeria, sadly, stands as its most grotesque example. Here, proximity to power, not merit, innovation, or service, is the shortcut to unearned fortune, with individuals catapulted to obscene wealth on the back of a nation left destitute.
Oil, Nigeria’s most strategic asset, has long been reduced to a feeding trough for what can only be described as a parasitic class of rent-seekers, career kleptocrats, and their foreign collaborators. Billions of dollars routinely earmarked for “turn-around maintenance” (TAM) of moribund refineries disappear without a trace. Audits gather dust. Reports are buried. The same shameless names cycle through public office, accumulating assets in Dubai, London, and Maryland, while Nigeria’s children learn under leaking roofs and her hospitals crumble.
The absurdity of Nigeria’s situation is stark: a nation producing over 1.5 million barrels of crude oil daily lacks the functional capacity to refine even 5% of its needs. State-owned refineries in Port Harcourt, Warri, and Kaduna have consumed over $25 billion in TAM contracts over three decades, with little to show. Rather than refining petroleum products for domestic use and regional export; as common sense and national interest would dictate, Nigeria imports virtually everything it consumes, paying dubious subsidies on products often laced with carcinogens and substandard additives. Consider the sheer logistical and economic irrationality: a country consuming an average of 30 million litres of petrol daily somehow claims to import 600 million litres, with subsidies paid per litre. Even more mind-boggling is the documented import of over four billion litres; a figure that defies available storage capacity and physical infrastructure. It would be comedic if it weren’t so tragically emblematic of a broken state.
To be clear, this is not accidental incompetence. It is organized larceny, orchestrated by those entrusted with national stewardship. Regulators like the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority (NMDPRA), supposedly the watchdogs of quality and compliance, have neither the equipment nor the will to enforce basic standards. Worse, they collude in the scandal. In 1997, 2008, and 2022, Nigeria’s streets were littered with broken-down vehicles, victims of “off-spec” petrol imported under the watchful eyes of the same agencies. It was only when European countries, appalled by the environmental and health consequences, banned their ports from exporting such toxins to Nigeria that the fuel-import cabal reluctantly shifted operations to Malta.
Nothing illustrates the contempt of Nigeria’s ruling oil cartel more than the words of former Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation Limited (NNPCL) boss, Mele Kyari. Speaking at the Nigerian Association of Petroleum Explorationists’ conference – themed, in what now seems darkly ironic fashion, “Resolving the Nigerian Energy Trilemma: Energy Security, Sustainable Growth, and Affordability” – Kyari boasted that Nigerian crude was “Lamborghini crude,” too good, in his view, for the average Nigerian “driving Keke-NAPEP” (three-wheeled tricycles commonly used for public transport). The disdain embedded in that remark is staggering. Here is a man entrusted with the nation’s most strategic economic asset casually declaring that the people he serves are unworthy of benefitting from their own national wealth. It is the logic of apartheid economics, updated for a post-colonial kleptocracy.
For decades, Nigeria’s elite have operated under the belief that the country exists for their enrichment alone. The public good is a quaint abstraction, invoked at political rallies and Independence Day addresses, but promptly ignored thereafter. Subsidies are manipulated to inflate profits for the cartel; strategic reserves are drained without accountability; pipeline surveillance contracts are awarded to ex-militants-turned-billionaires, while ordinary citizens pay N700 per litre for petrol, and millions endure daily blackouts.
The damning reports of Nigeria’s Auditor-General have consistently uncovered colossal leakages. Between 2017 and 2021 alone, over N2.68 trillion and $9.77 million were unaccounted for, allegedly diverted in brazen violation of Nigeria’s Constitution and Financial Regulations Act. Yet, rather than instigating prosecutions, the government’s default response has been deafening silence. Whistleblowers have been harassed, job postings manipulated, and forensic audits delayed or compromised. When civil society organizations and investigative journalists raise the alarm, they are met with threats or blacklisting. The oil cabal is deeply embedded across political, security, and judicial institutions. It is no exaggeration to describe the industry as a shadow government – unaccountable, well-connected, and fatally compromised.
Amid this bleak landscape, the Dangote Petroleum Refinery & Petrochemicals offers a glimmer of potential redemption. Though a private venture, it has demonstrated what is possible when strategic vision, technical expertise, and investor confidence align. Within months of operations, it began producing premium refined products, attracting international buyers and setting a new benchmark for local value addition. Predictably, vested interests within the import cabal fought hard to frustrate its take-off, fearing the loss of their multi-billion-dollar arbitrage schemes. That the refinery survived this onslaught speaks to the resilience of private enterprise in the face of systemic rot. Yet it is a damning indictment of the Nigerian state that national pride and energy security had to be salvaged by one man’s ambition, rather than a coherent national policy.
Why does this malaise persist? Quite simply, because those who should enact reform are themselves the beneficiaries of dysfunction. From ministry officials to legislators and security chiefs, a substantial portion of Nigeria’s power elite is either directly implicated in or reliant upon the opaque, rent-driven architecture of the oil sector. To dismantle it would be to undermine their own power and privilege.
What Nigeria faces is not a technical problem, but a crisis of political will. The solutions are well known: rehabilitate refineries, regulate fuel imports, enforce environmental standards, and prosecute economic saboteurs. But to do so would require a government with the courage to confront entrenched interests, disrupt illicit revenue streams, and place national interest above personal gain. Sadly, successive administrations have shown neither the inclination nor the moral courage to undertake this task. Cosmetic changes and rhetorical flourishes are paraded before a weary public, while business continues as usual behind closed doors.
Patrick Alley reminds us in Very Bad People that history is shaped not by the indifference of the many, but by the audacity of the few who choose to confront injustice. Nigeria’s oil sector will not reform itself. It will take the collective outrage of citizens, an emboldened press, and an international community willing to hold enablers accountable. The time for polite conversation has passed. What is required now is a sustained, non-partisan movement to demand accountability, to audit the NNPCL, to expose subsidy racketeers, and to insist on energy security for 220 million citizens, not a handful of dollar billionaires.
Nigeria cannot afford to remain a country of “Lamborghini crude” and “Keke petrol.” The tragedy of squandered wealth, poisoned communities, and stolen futures must end. The people deserve better, and the time is now.
