“If you shut up truth and bury it underground, it will but grow and gather to itself such explosive power, that the day it bursts through, it will blow up everything in its way.” — Emile Zola (1840–1902)
There are now two undeniable truths about Nigeria’s so-called refineries. First, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu is unlikely to approve another kobo for Turn Around Maintenance (TAM) on the rusting relics we still refer to as refineries. Second, anyone still advocating for their revival needs more than persuasion — perhaps professional intervention.
For years, Nigeria’s leadership has been trapped in the illusion that these state-owned facilities could be rescued. Since 1999, five presidents — across regional and party lines — have been convinced to pour billions of dollars into them, all in vain. Tinubu, it appears, may be the last to fall into the trap, but even that came with its own lessons. After his administration scrapped fuel subsidies and pledged to revive the refineries, the NNPCL cabal smelled opportunity. A price tag of $2.3 billion was floated, sold, and paid — all for what many now accept was another exercise in futility.
The claim was that this expenditure would translate to regular fuel supply at affordable prices. Instead, a flurry of propaganda emerged: reports of phantom tankers loading phantom products, fictional progress, and falsified project milestones. The president’s faith was repaid with deceit. And when he finally changed the team, the truth began to surface. Some of the key players behind the TAM scam quietly disappeared, leaving only defenders of a broken system behind.
But perhaps the most compelling argument against reviving these refineries is not the fraud or the waste — it’s the logic of evolution in business. In every sector once dominated by the state — airlines, postal services, even telecommunications — private enterprise has taken over. Nigerian Airways collapsed under competition. Courier services buried the Post Office. In much the same way, Nigeria’s state-run refineries cannot compete with modern, privately owned alternatives like the Dangote Refinery.
This is not just about inefficiency — it’s about the reality that these facilities are outdated beyond repair. Tinubu should count himself fortunate that his administration wasted “only” $2.3 billion on the latest attempt. Over the last 25 years, Nigeria has spent nearly $8.5 billion on them with nothing to show. That’s not just poor planning; that’s policy malpractice.
What now remains is the decision on what to do with these obsolete assets. Calls for full audits, criminal probes, and transparency have grown louder. But beyond accountability, there’s a pressing need to end the fantasy that these refineries can ever become operational again under government control.
Many Nigerians still believe, wrongly, that the country has four functioning refineries. But belief is not fact. Like an old Bedford truck breaking down on a construction site, age and obsolescence are unavoidable. Tinubu doesn’t need to take Nigerians on a tour of these rusting facilities to prove this. He only needs to make the decision to finally lay them to rest.
The vision behind establishing Nigeria’s refineries was noble. The goal was to industrialize, to build a petrochemical complex that could spawn industries from plastics to pharmaceuticals. But corruption and ethnic favouritism soon overtook competence. Successive leaders picked loyalists over professionals. The dream faded, replaced by a feeding frenzy at the public trough.
Now, with the truth out in the open, Tinubu must act decisively. He must resist pressure from those still clinging to a failed narrative. The refineries, like many other state-run entities, have reached their end. It’s time to write their obituary.
“Every great enterprise starts off with enthusiasm for an exalted aim and ends up bogged down in petty politics.” — Charles Péguy (1873–1914)
That’s where Nigeria’s refinery story stands today — bogged down, betrayed, and best left behind.
