When the Drum of Labor

When the Drums of Labour Beat Off-Key

By Jeremiah Jibola Oluti

The recent strike called by the Petroleum and Natural Gas Senior Staff Association of Nigeria (PENGASSAN), though did not leave empty fuel stations in its wake like before, it left a trail of frustration, inflated costs, and a sour taste in the mouths of ordinary Nigerians who once looked to the unions as defenders of fairness. What began as an internal dispute between management and workers soon snowballed into a national paralysis — one that pitted the union not against corporate power, but against the very people whose sympathy it sought.

No one denies the legitimacy of a union’s right to strike. In every democracy, organized labour is a pillar of negotiation — a mechanism through which the weak can speak truth to the powerful. But when that right morphs into a weapon that cripples an entire nation, one must ask: at what point does self-interest masquerade as solidarity?

In my neighbourhood, the price of cooking gas that once sold for ₦1,000 per kilogram now sits stubbornly at ₦1,600 — long after the strike has ended. Across the country, families are still counting the cost of an action that, while justified on paper, revealed a stunning lack of foresight. Every strike echoes beyond the oil depots and refineries; its ripples touch kitchens, hospitals, factories, and classrooms. To wield such a tool carelessly is to play politics with people’s lives.

A troubling flashpoint came when the union ordered members to shut off gas supplies to the Dangote Refinery — a facility that has become a lifeline in a nation starved of domestic refining capacity. The refinery, situated within a free export zone, is by law insulated from union interference for a specified period. Yet, in defiance of that protection, the directive went out. The result? A public relations disaster that eroded whatever sympathy the union might have enjoyed.

The Dangote Refinery is not a government-owned entity. It is a private venture — a bold bet by one man where the state has failed repeatedly. To many Nigerians, it represents a rare glimmer of hope that the decades-long curse of fuel scarcity might finally be broken. To interrupt its operations under the guise of labour solidarity was not just reckless; it was tone-deaf to national sentiment.

Moreover, the question of unionization within the refinery is not as straightforward as PENGASSAN and NUPENG would have us believe. Each of the 800 workers recently relieved of their duties signed contracts acknowledging the voluntary nature of union membership. If they later chose to rescind that understanding, the issue lies not with management but with the integrity of those agreements. A contract is not a convenience to be remembered only when it benefits one side.

We must also remember that the government’s own refineries — four of them — have been moribund for years, despite endless “turnaround maintenance” projects that turn nothing around but the flow of public funds. Where were these unions when billions vanished into the black hole of inefficiency? Their silence was deafening. Indeed, when President Obasanjo once sought to privatize these failing assets, it was these same unions that cried foul, pressuring the late President Yar’Adua to reverse the sale. Today, decades later, the refineries remain dead monuments to missed opportunities.

It is hard, then, to avoid the conclusion that these unions are not always motivated by altruism. Both PENGASSAN and NUPENG have long been awash with resources, their executives living in comfort that mocks the hardship of the average Nigerian worker. Levies imposed on truck drivers, depot operators, and members trickle down not into social welfare, but into the bottomless coffers of bureaucracy. The question begs itself: are these unions serving the nation — or merely serving themselves?

If compulsory unionization were truly a matter of principle, why do private schools across the country operate without the coercion of the teachers’ union? Why are countless companies untouched by the long arm of organized labour? The selective zeal with which these petroleum unions pursue Dangote’s enterprise betrays their motive — it is not the workers they love, but the leverage they crave.

To the workers who allowed themselves to be swayed, one can only offer pity. Here were men and women earning four times the industry average, enjoying training opportunities abroad, and working in a facility that has become the envy of the continent. Yet they chose to gamble their livelihoods for a cause that offered them nothing but redundancy. It is a bitter irony that many have now been redeployed into unrelated branches of the conglomerate, their hard-won expertise rendered useless. One cannot but call it what it is — a tragedy of misplaced loyalty.

The government, for its part, must learn from this episode. The petroleum unions have long wielded disproportionate power, capable of holding the nation to ransom at will. It is time to clip those wings. Regulations governing essential services must be revisited, ensuring that industrial action in critical sectors does not compromise national security or economic stability. A nation cannot afford to dance to the rhythm of drums that play out of tune.

When NUPENG’s president publicly insulted the Vice President for calling the Dangote Refinery a “national asset,” it was more than arrogance — it was hubris born of unchecked power. Let it be said clearly: the government retains the constitutional authority to suspend union activity when national security or the economy is threatened. Executive orders are not mere words on paper; they are instruments of sovereignty.

To my brothers in NUPENG and PENGASSAN, I offer this counsel, not in anger but in earnest: tread softly. In Yoruba we say, “When the bata drum begins to sound off-key, it is on the verge of bursting.” The warning is clear — those who beat the drum too hard may soon find themselves without music.

Unions were born to protect the people, not to punish them. The moment they forget this sacred duty, they cease to be champions of justice and become architects of suffering. Let wisdom prevail before the next rhythm of unrest begins.

🪶
J.J. Oluti
Creative Voice of Africa