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Farooq Kperogi: World Bank’s 15-year death sentence on Nigeria

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Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: World Bank’s 15-year death sentence on Nigeria

The World Bank’s Senior Vice President by the name of Indermit Gill, who is originally Indian, incited mass panic in Nigeria on October 14 when he said Nigeria would need to sustain its current soul-sucking, agonizingly punishing, and self-destructive “reforms” for “at least another 10 to 15 years to transform its economy.”

Gill’s speech at the 30th Nigerian Economic Summit in Abuja—which read partly like the smug, cloying, self-congratulatory bluster President Bola Tinubu would write and partly like the intentionally obfuscating gobbledygook of dubious experts who want to conceal the truth from the uninitiated—elicited verbal and nonverbal expressions of fervent disapproval from the well-fed elites of the Nigerian Economic Summit Group and the Ministry of Budget and National Planning (who planned the event) when he said Nigeria must continue this path of national self-incineration “at least another 10 to 15 years.”

Gill was compelled to wonder aloud if the murmurs his callous exhortation triggered were a signal of disagreement or agreement from his audience. The camera zoomed in on people nodding discontentment or using their fingers to gesture disapproval. If he is smart, he would know the answer to his question.

But the soulless, blood-sucking economic vampire was unmoved. He insisted that enduring “terrible hardship across the breadth of Nigerian society” (his words) as a consequence of the gutting of petrol subsidies is the only way to “become the engine of growth in sub-Saharan Africa.” “It is very difficult to do these things,” he said, “but the rewards are massive.” What massive rewards can come out of policies that take both lives and means of livelihood?

The phrase “at least” suggests that 10 to 15 years of piecemeal national mass immolation is the irreducible minimum required to achieve prosperity. That is, 10 to 15 years is the smallest possible national self-annihilation Nigeria has to endure to “transform its economy.” Since the least possible effort can’t always guarantee success, it means it would take more than 15 years (possibly 50 years— or even eternity) to achieve prosperity through national mass annihilation.

Well, since President Tinubu can’t rule longer than seven more years (assuming he wins a second term in 2027), the World Bank has effectively prepared the perfect, ready-made alibi to explain away the irrecoverable harm its loathsome and baleful prescriptions will visit on Nigeria in the next few years.

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Tinubu’s successor, whoever that may be, would be insane to continue with this mass obliteration of the populace they call “reforms.”

If he or she has brain cells in his or her skull and reverses this ruinous course, the World Bank would say, “Well, we told you that you needed to incinerate yourselves for at least 15 more years before you can have a chance at living. Since you brought yourselves back to life after only eight years of being in the burner, you are not sufficiently cooked, and we are not responsible for the burns and devastation that eight years of incineration brought to you. You see, you can only live if you burn yourselves alive, which you refused to do.”

This caricature might come across as grotesque and transgressive of the bounds of reasonableness, but it faithfully captures the logic of World Bank economic prescriptions for developing countries: you need to die before you can live.

If not, how could anyone celebrate the democratization of privation? “The price of [petrol] has quintupled since the subsidy cuts, imposing terrible hardships across the breadth of Nigerian society,” Gill said with a triumphant tone.

Well, one of the unspoken, unacknowledged but nonetheless far-reaching consequences of the quintupling of petrol prices is the slow but sure death of what remained of Nigeria’s education. Because of the dire existential precarity that the unaccustomed and ceaseless hikes in petrol prices have caused, many children are dropping out of school like leaves abandoning a tree before the storm hits.

A National Assembly member told me a few days ago that a prominent emir in Northwest Nigeria confided in him that he was alarmed by the sheer number of young people who are dropping out of school (at all levels of education) in his traditional sphere of authority because parents can’t afford to feed, and they consider paying the school fees of their children a burden they can’t shoulder.

This tragedy, this conscienceless assassination of the future of our youth in the service of the World Bank, isn’t limited to the North.

Two weeks ago, a close relative of mine who lives in the Southwest requested my assistance to pay the school fees of five children who were roaming the streets because they had been sent home from school for failure to pay their school fees.

Their father disappeared without a trace before he couldn’t cope. Their mother, a petty trader, manages to feed the children once in a day on a good day. But they used to get by before Tinubu’s “economic reforms” upended their lives.

We in the North are in a worse state because we are already behind the rest of the country in educational attainment. Now we are sliding even further as the sting of Tinubu’s World Bank-instigated “reforms” disrupts lives.

When a “reform” rolls back gains in school enrollment and effectively jeopardizes the future of the youth and of the country, you have to wonder why you need to implement it for at least 10 to 15 years to “grow.” It’s like pulling bricks from the foundation of a house in the name of building a taller roof. What good can possibly come out of that?

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What sort of “reform” contracts the economy, diminishes the productive sector, reduces the purchasing power of the people, reverses growth in education, and even kills people’s will to live?

Tinubu has repeatedly assured Nigerians that the dark tunnel of his “reforms” will produce light during his presidency and that Nigerians only have to endure a temporary penance. But the World Bank, his puppeteer, has undercut his message. It says it will take at least 10 to 15 years of maintaining these “reforms,” which extend beyond the time he is constitutionally allowed to rule, to see any benefits.

In other words, Nigerians are condemned to unmitigated anguish and deprivation for a deferred benefit that will never come since Tinubu won’t be around for the next 10 to 15 years, and his “reforms” would probably ensure that Nigerians don’t elect another neoliberal World Bank/IMF flunkey who will tout mass starvation of the citizenry as praiseworthy “reform.”

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: history offers too many cautionary tales of developing nations that have followed this very same script, only to find themselves worse off. Argentina in the early 2000s, for instance, stood on the precipice of ruin after blindly swallowing the IMF’s bitter medicine. With a wild, neoliberal, anarchist wacko of a president called Javier Milei, Argentina is back in the pit of World Bank/IMF hell.

Ecuador, too, suffered a devastating financial crisis when it adopted policies that hollowed out its middle class.

The World Bank and its cadre of international experts rarely account for the peculiarities of each nation’s economic and social dynamics. What they offer is a one-size-fits-all solution that has often wreaked havoc on the most vulnerable.

Nigeria is being told to trust this path, but development doesn’t emerge from policies that wipe out the middle class, impoverish the population, and render a nation’s currency barely worth the paper it’s printed on.

True development is rooted in fostering economic diversity, building local industry, and safeguarding the purchasing power of ordinary citizens. It’s about listening to the rhythm of the local economy and respecting its complexity, not bulldozing over it with a neoliberal agenda crafted in the halls of Washington.

No doubt, Nigeria’s economy has long needed repair. But it is one thing to call for reform and another to advocate for policies that feel like economic warfare on your own people. Tinubu may believe that this is a necessary sacrifice, but the logic of endless suffering in the name of eventual relief is deeply flawed. Countries do not develop by punishing their citizens into submission.

We must ask ourselves: how much longer can Nigeria afford to endure policies that erode its very foundation? For a nation whose citizens have weathered so many storms, the path forward must be built not on external dictates but on an understanding of Nigeria’s unique strengths and vulnerabilities. And while the World Bank preaches patience from afar, Nigerians know better than most that promises of future prosperity mean little when the present is unbearable.

A leader worth following is one who understands this. A leader who places the needs of the people above the dictates of international financial institutions. Nigeria cannot afford to pay this price much longer, and Bola Tinubu’s legacy may well rest on whether he is willing to listen to the cries of his people—or whether he will remain a distant echo of the world’s technocrats.

Farooq Kperogi: World Bank’s 15-year death sentence on Nigeria

Farooq Kperogi is a renowned newspaper columnist and United States-based Professor of Media Studies. 

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Farooq Kperogi: Petrol is cheaper in Atlanta than in Nigeria

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Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: Petrol is cheaper in Atlanta than in Nigeria

This week, as I refueled my car, I couldn’t help but be struck by the sharp contrast between petrol prices here in Metro Atlanta and in Nigeria.

In Metro Atlanta, fuel prices hover at $2.70 per gallon, which is equivalent to around 67 cents per liter. (Four liters make up a gallon.) Translating this into naira reveals a stark discrepancy.

At the current exchange rate of 1,647 naira to the dollar, a gallon of petrol in Atlanta equates to approximately 5,200 naira or 1,102 naira per liter. That’s astonishingly cheaper than Nigeria’s prevailing rate of around 1,300 naira per liter.

This disparity grows even more troubling in light of the wildly differential minimum wage standards between Nigeria and the United States. In the United States, the federal minimum wage is $7.25 per hour, which amounts to roughly $1,200 a month. Converted into naira, this comes to nearly 1,974,000 (one million, nine hundred and seventy four thousand) naira.

Note that almost no one earns the minimum wage. Even the lowest remunerated workers here earn above the minimum wage. For example, my 16-year-old daughter who works at an entertainment restaurant chain on weekends earns $13 an hour.

Meanwhile, the federal minimum wage in Nigeria is a piddling 70,000 naira, or around $42.55. In other words, Nigerians with a minimum wage of 70,000 per month pay a higher rate at the pump than Atlantans with a minimum wage of 1.9 million naira per month.

When one presents these figures, defenders of past and present Nigerian regimes— and clueless, stonyhearted neoliberal evangelists— often argue that it’s fruitless to compare Nigeria with the United States, the world’s largest economy.

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Yet, it’s worth noting that the U.S. does not indulge in the luxuries afforded to Nigeria’s ruling political elites. For instance, while American presidents pay for their own meals, including the meals of their guests, Nigeria allocates billions for the upkeep of its first families.

Such contrasts illustrate not merely economic differences but also the broader question of public accountability and fiscal priorities.

In much of the developed world, government subsidies for fuel are deemed vital, particularly where public transport systems are not robust. In the U.S., for example, state governments sometimes provide targeted subsidies to cushion residents from high fuel prices.

The lower fuel prices in America are facilitated by state subsidies aimed at counterbalancing a lack of comprehensive public transit options, as is the case in Western Europe.

For instance, the governor of Georgia, Governor Brian Kemp, recently decided to suspend fuel taxes in Georgia following Hurricane Helene, which temporarily reduced petrol prices to around $2.50 per gallon. This is typical all over the United States.

The Center for Investigative Reporting found that the true cost of petrol in the United States is $15 per gallon, that is, $3.75 per liter. Converted into naira, that would amount to 24,648.90 naira per gallon or 6,162.23 naira per liter. But the average pump price of petrol in the United States is $3.16 per gallon.

(Gas prices can vary greatly within each state, with Texas having the lowest price of $2.669 per gallon and California the highest price at $4.68 per gallon. Note that California’s minimum wage is more than twice the federal minimum wage at $16.00 an hour.)

Americans don’t pay the actual cost of petrol because their state governments spend billions to subsidize their petrol consumption. According to the IMF, which has demonized fuel subsidies in the developing world, compelled governments to remove subsidies, and recruited scorn-worthy traitors to brainwash poor people into accepting that subsidies are bad for them, the United States spent $757 billion in fossil fuel subsidies in 2022 alone.

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Globally, the IMF said, “subsidies surged to a record $7 trillion [in 2022] as governments supported consumers and businesses during the global spike in energy prices caused by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the economic recovery from the pandemic.” That represents 7 percent of global GDP.

U.S. state governments spent a significant sum on fuel subsidies, largely as part of measures to alleviate the impact of elevated energy costs. These measures included gas tax holidays, direct consumer grants, and discounts, aiming to shield residents from the global surge in fuel prices following supply disruptions caused by international events like the Ukraine crisis.

These interventions illustrate the fiscal lengths governments are willing to go to stabilize fuel costs for their citizens amid economic challenges.

Countries as diverse as Egypt and Indonesia have similarly leveraged fuel subsidies to maintain price stability, alleviate poverty, and stimulate their economies. These examples illuminate a fundamental principle that subsidies, when properly managed, can serve as powerful tools to bridge income disparities and invigorate economic growth.

But not in Nigeria. Nigerians face relentless economic strain despite residing in an oil-producing nation. It’s a country where, somehow, people have been persuaded by a sophisticated mob of well-compensated spin doctors that exorbitant fuel prices are an unavoidable reality to which they must resign themselves.

For a resource-rich nation, which is also among the poorest globally, this is a bitter, disconcerting irony.

Those who denounce subsidies as inefficacious or detrimental often betray a limited understanding of their societal role, or worse, they may advocate for policies that consolidate wealth at the top.

In societies grappling with inequality, subsidies can mean the difference between bare survival and a modest but dignified life for millions.

To disparage such measures, particularly in a nation with profound economic inequalities, is to endorse a vision of society that is untenably divided—and to invite criticism that should rightly be directed not only toward them but, if you’ll pardon the expression, toward the legacy of those who espouse such values.

It is a grave irony, and a deeply unjust one, that the people of Nigeria — a nation abundantly blessed with oil wealth — must endure petrol prices that surpass those of Atlanta, a city in one of the world’s richest nations. This, while the average Nigerian subsists on a minimum wage of approximately $43 a month, a pittance that could scarcely fill a tank, let alone sustain a family.

The removal of petrol subsidies is not merely an economic policy; it is a sentence handed down to the already struggling, forcing countless Nigerians to choose between transportation, sustenance, and survival. The ripple effects are evident in unchecked inflation spirals, faltering businesses, and tragic loss of lives in the wake of avoidable hardship.

To govern is to protect, to prioritize the well-being of the many over the convenience of the few. To abandon subsidies under the guise of fiscal responsibility while the vulnerable teeter on the edge of despair is neither responsible nor just. It is, instead, an abdication of moral duty.

President Tinubu should restore the subsidies minus the corruption, not as a concession, but as an obligation to the people he is obligated to serve. To do so is not to admit defeat but to affirm humanity, to wield governance as a tool of compassion rather than austerity.

After all, what use is a nation’s wealth if it is not deployed in the service of its citizens? Let Nigeria’s oil be a blessing once more, not a bitter reminder of inequalities entrenched and lives disregarded.

Farooq Kperogi : Petrol is cheaper in Atlanta than in Nigeria

Farooq Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism. 

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What NNPCL staff revealed about reported revival of PH Refinery – Farooq Kperogi

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Farooq Kperogi

What NNPCL staff revealed about reported revival of PH Refinery – Farooq Kperogi

Renowned Nigerian columnist and US-based professor, Farooq Kperogi, has linked the reported revival of the Port Harcourt Refinery and the ill-fated launch of Nigerian Air.

In a social media post on Thursday, Kperogi shared his findings after attempting to fact-check claims that the refinery had resumed operations and was producing petrol.

Seeking clarity, Kperogi said he reached out to a friend with expertise in the oil industry, who in turn consulted a staff member of the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPCL).

“The Port Harcourt Refinery guy responded with a single, devastatingly eloquent gesture: he sent him a picture of Nigerian Air,” Kperogi wrote, leaving readers to interpret the cryptic reply.

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The comparison to Nigerian Air resonates with the controversy surrounding its much-celebrated launch, which was later revealed to be a façade as the aircraft returned to Ethiopian Airlines.

Reflecting on the situation, Kperogi remarked, “Reader, I think we both know the translation: dreams may take flight, but some never leave the runway.”

He concluded on a somber note, suggesting that continued optimism about Nigeria’s progress may require an extraordinary tolerance for disappointment: “At this rate, to not give up on Nigeria is to be a masochist with a superabundant love for perpetual emotional self-flagellation.”

The post has sparked a wave of reactions, with many questioning the authenticity of the refinery’s reported revival.

 

What NNPCL staff revealed about reported revival of PH Refinery – Farooq Kperogi

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Farooq Kperogi: One president, many spokesmen, and mixed messages amid misery

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Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: One president, many spokesmen, and mixed messages amid misery

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s unparalleled appointment of three official, cabinet-level spokesmen—in addition to 9 other senior media aides— symptomizes an insidious governmental malaise. It shows a government that is obsessed with public relations at the expense of public welfare, propaganda at the expense of progress, and mind management at the expense of meaningful management.

On November 14, Daniel Bwala, the former mouthpiece for PDP’s Atiku Abubakar during the last presidential campaign, was inaugurated as Tinubu’s Special Adviser on Media and Public Communication. This move added him to a line-up that already included Bayo Onanuga, Special Adviser on Information and Strategy, who had been informally recognized as the senior spokesperson after Ajuri Ngelale’s dramatic exit, and Sunday Dare, Special Adviser to the President on Public Communication and National Orientation.

Yet, on his very first day, October 18, Bwala brazenly declared himself “the spokesman for the president” to State House correspondents, proclaiming that he was the direct successor to Ngelale. His Twitter declaration further cemented his self-anointment: “Resumed officially as the Special Adviser, Media and Public Communications/Spokesperson (State House).”

Since Onanuga had effectively functioned as the spokesman for the president after Ngelale was forced out of the Presidential Villa, it seemed like Tinubu had no confidence in Onanuga and chose to upstage him by bringing in Bwala.

That puzzled me. I wondered what reputational, symbolic, or political capital Bwala had to earn such an edge. Here’s a man who is deeply resented by Tinubu supporters for his erstwhile caustic attacks on the president and APC during the last election, who is reviled by the opposition for his perceived treachery and mercenariness, and who is disdained by people who couldn’t care less about both Tinubu and the opposition. Such a person is more of a reputational liability than an asset for persuasion.

So it came as no surprise when I read a swift news release from Bayo Onanuga disclaiming Bwala’s self-description as “the spokesperson” for the president. TheCable of November 19 reported that Tinubu was “furious on learning of Bwala’s manoeuvre and immediately instructed Onanuga to issue a clarification.”

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The “clarification” says Bwala is now Special Adviser Policy Communication and Sunday Dare is now Special Adviser, Media and Public Communications. “These appointments, along with the existing role of Special Adviser, Information and Strategy, underscore that there is no single individual spokesperson for the Presidency. Instead, all the three Special Advisers will collectively serve as spokespersons for the government,” the statement said.

Tinubu has by far the largest media team in Nigeria’s history—just like he has the largest cabinet in Nigeria’s history. Yet his government has inflicted the most hardship on Nigeria and demands the greatest sacrifice from Nigerians whom he has already stripped of basic welfare and dignity.

Despite this elaborate roster of media professionals, Tinubu’s government stands as a paradox: the most expansive communication team in Nigerian history, yet the most tone-deaf administration in addressing the agonies of ordinary Nigerians. Like his record-breaking cabinet size, his communication machinery seems less about functionality and more about optics—a poorly orchestrated façade against the backdrop of deepening national suffering.

Historically, Nigerian presidents have managed with far leaner communication teams. President Olusegun Obasanjo had a relatively modest media and communications team. His first spokesperson was Doyin Okupe, who was designated as Special Assistant on Media and Publicity from 1999 to 2000.

He was succeeded by Tunji Oseni whose designation was changed to Senior Special Assistant on Media and Publicity and served in that role from 2000 to 2003. He was replaced by Remi Oyo from 2003 until 2007.

Apart from these official spokespeople, Obasanjo appointed Dr. Stanley Macebuh as Senior Special Assistant on Public Communications. After firing him, he replaced him with Emmanuel Arinze.

He also appointed Femi Fani-Kayode as Special Assistant on Public Affairs and replaced him with Uba Sani after elevating him to a minister. In other words, Obasanjo never had more than three media/communications people at any one time, and he always had just one official spokesperson.

Umaru Musa Yar’Adua’s had Olusegun Adeniyi as his one and only media person/spokesperson. He is also on record as the first president to elevate the position to a cabinet-level position by redesignating as a “Special Adviser” position.

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Goodluck Jonathan sustained this tradition. When Ima Niboro was his Special Adviser on Media and Publicity from 2010 to 2011, he had no other media/communications person. And when Reuben Abati took over from Niboro from 2011 to 2015, he was the only spokesperson and media/communications person for the president.

The slide into a propagandocracy began with Muhammadu Buhari, who doubled down on PR appointments. While Femi Adesina served as his Special Adviser on Media and Publicity, Garba Shehu operated as Senior Special Assistant on Media and Publicity. Buhari’s entourage also included social media mavens, photographers, and digital content creators—an unprecedented escalation in spin management.

There was Tolu Ogunlesi (Special Assistant, Digital & New Media); Lauretta Onochie (Personal Assistant, Social Media); Bashir Ahmad (Personal Assistant, New media); Sha’aban Sharada (Personal Assistant, Broadcast Media); Naziru Muhammed (Personal Assistant, TV Documentary); Sunday Aghaeze (Personal Assistant, Photography); and Bayo Omoboriowo (Personal Assistant/ President’s Photographer).

But Tinubu has taken this expansion to absurd heights. Apart from three cabinet-level official spokespersons, you also have Tunde Rahman (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Media); Abdulaziz Abdulaziz (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Print Media); O’tega Ogra (Senior Special Assistant (Digital/New Media); Tope Ajayi – Senior Special Assistant (Media & Public Affairs); Segun Dada (Special Assistant — Social Media); Nosa Asemota – Special Assistant (Visual Communication); Mr Fredrick Nwabufo (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Public Engagement); Mrs Linda Nwabuwa Akhigbe (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Strategic Communications); and Mr Aliyu Audu (Special Assistant to the President — Public Affairs).

Such bloated extravagance sends a disconcerting message about the administration’s priorities during a time of profound economic hardship.

In a March 4, 2017 column titled “Propagandocracy and the Buhari Media Center,” I pointed out that the size of a government’s propaganda apparatus is often inversely proportional to its confidence in its own legitimacy. Tinubu’s indulgence in this over-the-top PR operation signals two troubling realities: insecurity and incoherence.

The insecurity stems from an acute awareness of its own fragility—an administration desperate to control the narrative because it knows it has failed to deliver on substantive governance. The incoherence arises from the cacophony of voices in this unwieldy structure, breeding contradictions, turf wars, and conflicting messages. How can a government unable to synchronize its internal communication hope to connect with its citizens?

At its core, Tinubu’s sprawling PR machine is emblematic of an administration focused on perception management rather than problem-solving. This gluttonous obsession with propaganda, in the midst of soaring inflation, subsidy removals, and austerity measures, is an affront to struggling Nigerians.

Leadership demands more than just the appearance of competence; it demands action. Until Tinubu shifts his focus from multiplying spokespersons to delivering substantive governance, his legacy risks being that of a leader who built a fortress of spin while the people languished outside its gates.

Farooq Kperogi : One president, many spokesmen, and mixed messages amid misery

 

Farooq Kperogi is a renowned Nigerian columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism. 

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