Why Nigerians deserve protection, not pressure

As the saying goes, “If there is too much dirt in the soup, even the blind will see it.” Today, the global economic order has been shaken by the far-reaching consequences of the Russia-Ukraine War and the escalating tensions in the Middle East involving the US-Israel-Iran conflict. These conflicts have disrupted energy supplies, inflated global commodity prices, and triggered a cost-of-living crisis across continents.

Yet, in moments like these, leadership is revealed not in speeches but in decisions.

Across the world, governments have responded with deliberate interventions designed to shield their most vulnerable citizens. In Germany, the government rolled out massive energy subsidies, including price caps and direct payments to households, to cushion rising heating and electricity costs. France froze electricity tariffs and provided fuel discounts to prevent social unrest. The United Kingdom introduced an energy price guarantee to limit how much households would pay during peak crisis periods.

Beyond Europe, India cut fuel taxes and maintained targeted subsidies for cooking gas, ensuring that low-income households could still afford basic energy needs. Even in the United States, strategic petroleum reserves were released to stabilise fuel prices, while relief measures were introduced to support households grappling with inflation.

These responses reflect a particular type of leadership, protective and responsive leadership, one that recognises that during global crises, the role of government is not to withdraw support but to expand it, especially for the poor.

In contrast, Nigeria’s experience raises troubling questions. At a time when inflation is biting hardest and millions are slipping below the poverty line, policy choices appear to be moving in the opposite direction. Rather than cushioning the shocks, citizens are increasingly burdened with new taxes, rising tariffs, and regulatory pressures that deepen economic hardship.

This divergence points to different leadership models.

First, there is empathetic leadership, which listens, anticipates hardship, and acts decisively to reduce suffering. This is the model seen in nations that introduced subsidies, tax reliefs, and price controls. Such leaders understand that crises are not abstract; they are lived realities measured in empty plates, unpaid bills, and lost livelihoods.

Second, there is technocratic but detached leadership, which prioritises fiscal balancing and macroeconomic indicators over immediate human consequences. While economic reforms may be necessary, their timing and execution matter. Without safety nets, reforms can become instruments of hardship rather than pathways to growth.

Third, and perhaps most concerning, is political leadership disconnected from the people, where governance becomes more about revenue extraction and political manoeuvring than public welfare. In such environments, crises become opportunities not for protection, but for increased pressure on already struggling citizens.

This is where Nigeria finds itself uncomfortably positioned.

In Lagos, for instance, motorists and small business owners increasingly feel besieged by aggressive revenue collection drives. The introduction of additional charges, such as the yearly renewal of ownership certificates alongside existing vehicle documentation, raises legitimate questions about policy priorities. At a time when disposable incomes are shrinking, why expand the burden?

Across Nigeria, the strain is even more visible. Electricity supply remains unreliable for the vast majority, yet tariffs continue to rise. Telecommunications services, essential in today’s economy, are plagued by high costs and poor quality, with little or no regulatory protection for consumers. Financial transactions, even as small as N1,000, attract charges that cumulatively erode already limited incomes.

Meanwhile, manufacturers pass on increased production costs to consumers, creating a vicious cycle of inflation. Workers, unable to cope, threaten strikes. Insecurity, from kidnapping to banditry, persists, further undermining economic stability and public confidence.

What compounds the crisis is a growing perception of institutional failure. The legislature, ideally a check on executive excesses, is widely seen as ineffective. The judiciary, which should inspire trust, struggles under the weight of public scepticism. In such a climate, citizens feel abandoned, not just economically but politically.

But crises, by their nature, also present opportunities, opportunities for leadership to redefine itself.

Nigeria does not lack the resources or policy tools to cushion its people. Targeted fuel subsidies, transport support schemes, food price stabilisation mechanisms, and tax reliefs for low-income earners are all viable options. Even temporary interventions, if well-designed and transparently implemented, can restore confidence and provide breathing space for households.

What is required is a shift in leadership philosophy, from extraction to protection, from talks to responsibility.

The lesson from other nations is clear: when global shocks hit, governments must step forward, not step backward. The poor must not be left to absorb the full weight of crises they did not create.

Ultimately, the question is not whether Nigeria can respond differently. It is whether its leaders are willing to. Because in times like these, leadership is not defined by power but by compassion, and history will favour those who chose to protect their people when it mattered most.