Nigeria’s Power Struggle: A Critical Look at PENGASSAN’s Strike and Its National Impact
…when PENGASSAN throws the switch on the national grid, it is not merely disrupting the market; it is exposing a profound, self-inflicted flaw in the country’s character: a willingness to sacrifice the common good for sectional demands. It is the arrogance of power that mistakes the ability to inflict pain for true national relevance. Nigerians deserve, and must demand, a more compassionate and constructive model of advocacy.
The irony is not just thick; it is crippling. In a country where the vast majority wrestle with erratic power, soaring costs, and the daily indignity of underdevelopment, a culture has emerged that accepts—or even consoles itself with—the deliberate interruption of critical national services as a standard tool of industrial negotiation. The ongoing strike by the Petroleum and Natural Gas Senior Staff Association of Nigeria (PENGASSAN), which cut gas supply and contributed to a substantial drop in power generation nationwide, stands as the latest and most egregious example of what some describe as a culture of institutionalised cruelty. It lays bare the central tragedy of modern Nigeria: we have built a society so devoid of collective compassion that holding 230 million people hostage is viewed as a “flex,” rather than a colossal act of economic and social sabotage.
The unions’ core argument—that they are contending for justice against an unscrupulous employer such as the Dangote Refinery—appears, on the surface, legitimate. Allegations of unlawful dismissals and anti-labour practices related to unionisation are serious offenses that deserve swift and decisive redress. Yet the strategic weapon deployed—the paralysis of the national energy grid and the threat of fuel scarcity—represents a deeply flawed and morally bankrupt choice. It is a classic case of wielding a “double-edged sword” with reckless abandon, delivering the most debilitating wounds to the very society it claims to represent.
When PENGASSAN halts gas supply, the consequence extends beyond refinery profits; it directly undermines thermal power plants, which generate over 70 percent of Nigeria’s electricity. As the Nigerian Independent System Operator (NISO) confirmed, the action led to widespread generation shortfalls and required emergency measures to avert a nationwide blackout. For the small business owner whose refrigerated stock spoils, the student who cannot study after dark, or the patient in a hospital relying on an unstable public supply, the strike is not a fight for workers’ rights; it is an act of calculated oppression.
This disproportionate use of power is not new; it points to a structural problem. The oil and gas unions, along with those in electricity and public administration, represent a tiny, highly concentrated slice of Nigeria’s workforce—about 7 percent of the nation’s total labor force. Yet, because they are strategically situated in the “critical, interconnected sectors of the economy,” their actions create a “domino effect” that brings the country to a standstill. The paradox is clear: an elite, protected minority leverages its strategic leverage to demand redress for its members, while inadvertently intensifying hardship for the vast 85 percent of the population working in the unprotected informal sector.
For Nigerian trade unionism to remain a relevant and constructive force, it must move away from the “strike-as-a-primary-tool model.” This is not an argument against the right to strike, but against the right to deliberately impose maximum, widespread suffering as a first resort. It is a call for a strategic evolution toward “research-driven policy alternatives, technical advocacy, and strategic litigation.”
The reaction from the broader economic community is telling. The Manufacturers Association of Nigeria condemned the unions’ action as “unconscionable” and a grave threat to investor confidence, asking how any investor would commit billions of dollars only to see their project undermined by industrial disputes. There is broad agreement with economists and consumer groups that warned against “holding over 230 million Nigerians to ransom” and urged the unions to seek redress in the National Industrial Court, rather than deploying “terror tactics” against a strategic national asset. For Nigerian trade unionism to remain a relevant and positive force, it must move away from the “strike-as-a-primary-tool model.” This is not an argument against the right to strike, but against the right to deliberately inflict maximum, widespread suffering as a first resort. It is a call for a strategic evolution toward “research-driven policy alternatives, technical advocacy, and strategic litigation.”
The unions’ true fight for justice should involve expanding their focus to include the unrepresented 85 percent of the informal sector. Until then, when PENGASSAN switches off the national grid, it is not merely a market disruption; it is exposing a deep-seated flaw in the country’s character: a willingness to sacrifice the common good for sectional demands. It is the arrogance of power mistaking the ability to inflict pain for genuine national relevance. Nigerians deserve, and must demand, a more compassionate and constructive model of advocacy.
Cheta Nwanze is a partner at SBM Intelligence.