Nigeria’s oil, pumped from its own soil, is systematically routed away from its own shores
For Nigeria, Africa’s largest oil producer and one of its most densely populated nations, the closure of the Strait of Hormuz in early 2026 exposed fault lines that politicians and technocrats have long preferred to ignore. The Strait of Hormuz is one of the most consequential waterways on earth. Roughly 21 kilometers wide at its narrowest point, it channels nearly 20% of the world’s oil trade, functioning as the jugular vein of the global hydrocarbon economy. When that artery constricted in March 2026, Brent crude prices surged past $114 per barrel, the highest since 2022 – in a matter of days.
Beyond crude oil, the closure disrupted the flow of petrochemicals and fertilizers, commodities for which the Gulf region is among the world’s foremost exporters. As UNCTAD observed, the disruption deepened global economic strain across trade, prices, and finance, threatening the food security of import-dependent nations from sub-Saharan Africa to South Asia. Nigeria was firmly in that cross-hair.
There is a bitter irony at the heart of Nigeria’s energy story. A nation that sits atop some of the world’s richest hydrocarbon deposits has, for decades, been unable to refine sufficient fuel for its own population. Nigerians have paid the price of this structural contradiction through repeated fuel scarcity, suffocating queues at filling stations, and an economy perpetually held hostage by the price of imported refined petroleum products. The Hormuz crisis just stripped away whatever thin insulation of normalcy had accumulated over the years.
The commissioning of the Dangote Refinery in 2024 was greeted with optimism. With an initial capacity of 650,000 barrels per day (bpd) and an ambition to expand to 1.4 million bpd, it was positioned as the transformative answer to Nigeria’s chronic refining deficit and a statement of industrial sovereignty.
Yet the promise has been undermined by a fundamental contradiction: Nigeria’s oil, extracted from its own land, is systematically routed away from its own shores. International oil companies (IOCs) operating in the country have demonstrated a persistent preference for exporting crude to global spot markets rather than supplying domestic refineries. The result has been a structural feedstock crisis; the Dangote Refinery has been compelled to import crude from the US and other African countries, a situation of almost surreal policy failure.
The Nigerian National Petroleum Company’s (NNPC) reliance on partial payments in naira and dollars to supply the refinery has further undermined pricing stability and deterred consistent local supply. Aliko Dangote, the president of the Dangote Group, has publicly lamented the unwillingness of IOCs to sell crude directly to the refinery, describing the situation as a structural impediment to domestic energy security.
When the Hormuz crisis pushed global crude prices above $114 per barrel, these vulnerabilities crystallized into a full-blown crisis.
The volatility in petrol prices through the first quarter of 2026 was jarring for ordinary Nigerians. Prices surged from ₦870 ($0.65) to ₦1,300 ($0.97) per litre in March 2026, mirroring the spike in international crude markets.
Although Dangote subsequently reduced pump prices to ₦1,200 ($0.90) per litre as crude prices moderated, the episode showed the exposure of Nigerian consumers to the full volatility of international market dynamics. For a population where the majority of livelihoods depend on informal transportation and small-scale trade, a 50% spike in fuel costs within weeks is a catastrophe.
When the crude is pledged abroad
Perhaps the most consequential and least discussed dimension of Nigeria’s energy vulnerability lies in its forward sales contracts (FSCs). For context, forward sales contracts on crude oil are structured finance agreements where NNPC Limited receives significant upfront cash funding from lenders, often via a Special Purpose Vehicle, in exchange for pledging specific volumes of future crude oil production as repayment.
These instruments, originally designed to provide liquidity and budget predictability for the federal government, have over time metastasized into a structural trap. By locking Nigeria into selling crude at pre-agreed prices over extended periods, FSCs have stripped the country of its ability to benefit from price surges during exactly the kind of global crisis that the Hormuz closure represents.
Instead of capitalizing on $114 per barrel crude, Nigeria was contractually bound to honour agreements struck at far lower valuations. By 2025, FSC obligations had ballooned to ₦8.07 trillion ($6 billion), effectively diverting crude away from domestic refiners and compounding supply shortages.
The paradox is acute: Nigeria cannot feed its own refinery because its crude is pledged, at discounted prices, to foreign competitors.
A nation that cannot direct its primary natural resource toward its own strategic priorities is, in a meaningful sense, still operating under the terms of resource dependency rather than resource ownership.
The downstream consequences of the energy crisis have been deeply disruptive. Inflation has soared above 30%, driven primarily by the cascading effects of rising transportation costs on food prices, consumer goods, and industrial inputs. Fertilizer shortages, linked to disruptions in Middle East supply chains, have driven up farm input costs, placing food production under stress at a moment when Nigeria can least afford agricultural disruption. The country’s smallholder farmers, who account for the bulk of domestic food production, face a brutal double bind of higher input costs and weakened consumer purchasing power.
Shortages in petrochemicals have disrupted industries ranging from plastics to textiles and manufacturing, compounding the recessionary pressures already bearing down on the Nigerian economy. The human arithmetic of these disruptions is not captured in any single GDP figure, it is written in the rising cost of school runs, the shuttered businesses of small traders, and the agricultural communities that face planting seasons without affordable fertilizers.
What can be done?
None of this is irreversible. But reversing it demands intellectual honesty about the structural origins of the crisis and the political will to pursue substantive reform rather than palliative measures.
First and most urgently, Nigeria should enact binding legislation or executive mandates that guarantee a minimum percentage of domestic crude production to local refineries, denominated in naira to reduce foreign exchange exposure. The Dangote Refinery, whatever its scale and ambition, cannot fulfil its strategic purpose if it is perpetually starved of supplies. IOCs operating in Nigeria should be made to understand that access to Nigerian acreage carries obligations to Nigerian supply chains.
Second, the Forward Sales Contract framework requires fundamental reform. FSC obligations should be capped as a proportion of total crude production, and a strategic crude reserve mechanism should be established to insulate domestic refiners from the volatility of global spot markets during crisis periods.
Third, Nigeria should accelerate its energy diversification strategy. The country’s gas reserves, which is among the largest on the African continent, remain dramatically underutilized for domestic power generation and industrial raw material. A decisive pivot toward gas-to-power infrastructure, combined with scaled investment in solar energy, can reduce the structural dependence on liquid fuels that makes Nigeria so acutely vulnerable to external price shocks.
Fourth, agricultural resilience demands immediate policy support. Fertilizer subsidies and farm input programs should be designed to function as shock absorbers during supply disruptions of precisely the kind witnessed in 2026. Food security and energy security are not separate policy domains, rather, they are, in the modern era of petrochemical-dependent agriculture, inseparable.
Finally, Nigeria should exercise its considerable continental weight to spearhead regional cooperation on alternative petrochemical supply chains. African nations cannot continue to be passive recipients of supply disruptions originating in geopolitical theaters thousands of kilometers away.
Nigeria’s energy crisis amid the Hormuz conflict is the accumulated cost of structural contradictions and a resource governance framework that has consistently prioritized short-term liquidity over long-term sovereignty. The Dangote Refinery stands as a monument to what Nigeria’s industrial ambition can achieve, and, simultaneously, as an indictment of the policy environment that continues to frustrate it.
The Middle East will remain volatile. Geopolitical shocks will reoccur. The only durable protection against their consequences is the construction of genuine energy resilience – built on domestic refining capacity, reformed contract frameworks, diversified supply chains, and an agricultural sector capable of withstanding external shocks. Nigeria has the resources. The question, as it has always been, is whether it has the will.
