On Sunday, December 15, Africa’s richest man, Aliko Dangote, went nuclear on a career civil servant, Farouk Ahmed, the former CEO of the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority (NMDPRA). He also went for the jugular by roping Ahmed’s children into the corruption allegations he levelled against Mr Ahmed.
‘If he denies it,’ Dangote had said, ‘I will publish what he paid as tuition and sue the schools to disclose the full amount.’ These are fiery words, the likes of which we have heard before from one of those numerous online fights. This is not how businessmen usually talk about regulators; this is how generals talk before total war.
While one might want to dismiss this as a fight between CEOs, in reality, it is more than that. The stakes are higher for all of us. One is Africa’s richest man with a net worth of about $11.5 billion, firing warheads from his $20 billion refinery at a regulatory official.
As sensational as the allegations are, my journalistic inquisitiveness kicked in. When Dangote becomes an auditor of personal accounts and children’s school fees and a whistleblower, alleging that Ahmed had blown $7 million (by current exchange rate, that is about N7 billion in six years) on his children’s Swiss education on his annual salary of N48 million, there is more beneath the surface.
Dangote’s scorched-earth attack on Ahmed plays out this way: If Ahmed’s finances are clean, Dangote looks like a bully. If they’re dirty, Nigeria’s main oil regulator is corrupt. Either way, Dangote wins because we’re no longer talking about whether one man should control Nigeria’s entire fuel supply; we’re talking about Swiss boarding schools.
It seems the new gameplay in Nigerian politics is that when you can’t defeat an adversary on policy, you audit their children’s school fees. Dangote went as far as naming names, putting a target on these children’s backs. Something about this one doesn’t sit right with me. So, what exactly is going on here?
Since Dangote’s refinery launched, there has been a series of controversies involving the regulatory agencies, leading to an emotional Dangote asking Nigeria to buy him out of the refinery he built. There was historical animosity between these two.
First, in July 2024, the NMDPRA boss stated that products from local refineries, including Dangote’s, were of inferior quality compared to imports, referred to the refinery as still at a pre-commissioning stage and unlicensed for full operation, and accused Dangote of seeking a monopoly. Ahmed specifically claimed diesel from Dangote had a sulphur content of 665 ppm, which he considered inferior. Of course, Dangote denied this vehemently, and the House of Representatives launched an investigation and called for Ahmed’s suspension over his remarks.
In the cloud of Dangote’s recent allegations, the real issue remains that the allegations are coming amid controversy over a proposed 15 per cent import levy that was either approved then suspended, or rejected outright but either way, never implemented. This levy would have pushed fuel prices past N1, 000 per litre and eliminated Dangote’s import competition, effectively establishing the sort of monopoly Dangote thrives in. Key in the rejection of the 15 per cent import levy were regulators, with the NMDPRA insisting it would worsen inflation and transport costs nationwide.
The other issue is market control. Dangote’s business model favours monopoly. He is bullish, enters the market, blows the competition out of the water, and lords over the market. Allowing excessive market concentration in the post-subsidy fuel sector, as we have seen Dangote do in the cement sector where he controls a substantial market share, might not augur well for the country.
We have always known the Nigerian oil sector to be as murky as, well, oil-slick waters, but some things have remained clear. For instance, we have always had an energy crisis! And to help us deal with this crisis, we have regulations in place, and one of those is the Petroleum Industry Act (PIA), whose section 317, subsections 9 and 10, stipulates that licence allocation must be based on supply performance. Dangote Refinery was initially allocated 25 million litres per day, out of Nigeria’s required 50 million litres per day. Data shows that Dangote Refinery, on average, delivered only 18 million litres per day, leaving a significant shortfall. To make up for this, the refinery had to import some petroleum products to address the shortfall. For this reason, the NMDPRA continued granting import permits to other operators in the sector to meet Nigeria’s supply demand.
While Nigerians have complained about our billionaires not investing at home, Dangote’s intervention in the oil sector might be a much-needed reprieve from foreign dependence on oil imports. However, he must be subjected to strict regulatory oversight to ensure that Nigerians are not exploited, in the same manner that we wouldn’t want to be exploited by foreign investors in the sector. Dangote and other investors must understand that building in Nigeria means confronting a regulatory system he cannot simply purchase, and that market dominance requires not just capital but control of the referee.
So we are put in a position where we are being asked to choose between the billionaire industrialist whose factory might free us from import dependence, or the civil servant regulator whose job is to prevent exactly the monopoly that will leave Nigerians exposed to exploitation. But perhaps the real question isn’t who to believe. Perhaps it’s whether Nigeria can actually build a modern economy when every major industrial player eventually decides that the rules, and the rule-makers, are obstacles to be eliminated rather than frameworks to work within.
The Swiss boarding school receipts are spectacular theatre for our people and our love for theatrical distractions. In reality, this is a camouflage for the real battle: whether one man’s refinery should determine what 200 million Nigerians pay at the pump. Dangote built his empire by understanding that in Nigeria, market share isn’t won; it is bought, protected, and defended. He is simply applying the same playbook to petroleum that worked for cement, sugar, and flour.
While it is important to audit our civil servants and ensure they are not using their office for personal enrichment, we must be cautious in jumping to conclusions. Regulatory contestations, such as that playing out between Dangote and Ahmed’s NMDPRA, must not be made personal in the way that this one has been. Allegations should be taken seriously, but they should never distract us from the reality on the ground.
In the end, both men might be right. Dangote might be saving Nigeria from import dependency, and Ahmed might be saving us by fostering a system that favours industrial champions rather than an industrial emperor.
Provided by SyndiGate Media Inc. (Syndigate.info).
