By: A G Abubakar

For once, the cry for accountability shifted from the realm of the ordinary folk to that of the upper class. Dangote, the world’s richest Black man, had cause to question the integrity of one Engineer Farouk Ahmed, who until recently was the Chief Executive Officer of Nigeria’s Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Agency (NMDPRA), regarding the motives behind some of the regulatory agency’s decisions. The latter purportedly responded with a public refutation of the allegations, for which he later issued a disclaimer.

However, and regardless of the said disclaimer, the development seemed to have awoken national consciousness on the dangers of systemic corruption. It also provides a glimpse into a classic intra-elite class war that could herald a renewed action against injustices in governance. But, before examining Engineer Farouk’s reaction (now disowned) a bird’s-eye view of Dangote and his empire would put the discourse in proper context. Dangote’s business model may not be the best, but no model is perfect. Capitalism and entrepreneurship were born out of the desire for profit maximisation—an approach precipitated by the 18th-century Industrial Revolution and fine-tuned by the post–World War II Bretton Woods system. Entrepreneurship under capitalism brooks no sentiment—no emotions, no morality. Give-back initiatives and corporate social responsibility (CSR)—grants, trusts, and foundations—remain largely discretionary.

Dangote does not operate differently. He favours monopoly and is ruthless with competitors. Abdul Samad Isiaka Rabiu of BUA Group and Cletus Ibeto of Ibeto Cement had to stand up to him to protect their cement business interests. As a Nigerian who built his empire within a compromised and corrupt system, Dangote has also mastered the art of “manipulation.” His hostile takeover of struggling ventures such as BCC, Gboko Cement, Savannah Sugar Company, National Salt Company (NASCON), and others was facilitated by successive governments’ patronage and lubrication. Today, he is worth over $30 billion in personal fortune and operates one of the world’s largest oil refineries. Other entities within the Dangote Group have also flourished beyond Nigeria’s shores. Dangote Cement has subsidiaries in Benin, Cameroon, Ghana, South Africa, Zambia, among others.

Despite Dangote’s Machiavellian approach to business, his sense of patriotism has never been in doubt. While many who made fortunes from Nigeria’s economic environment tend to invest abroad, Dangote chose instead to invest his wealth at home. Data from the World Bank indicate that Nigeria loses between $10 billion and $18 billion annually to illicit financial flows (IFF)—funds that could significantly transform the economy. Dangote, however, invested in domestic manufacturing. The Dangote Refinery has the capacity to refine 650,000 barrels of crude oil per day and produce about 3 million tonnes of fertiliser annually. At full capacity, it is alleged to be the largest single-train refinery in the world.

His circle of associates cuts across ethno-religious lines, just as the geographic spread of his enterprises does. Shrewd and highly calculating, Dangote has navigated the many dichotomies that have characterised Nigeria—ethnicity, faith, culture, and prejudice. But like most mortals, he has at times become a victim of his own success and the vagaries of a broken society. Nothing brought this to the fore more than the arrival of the Dangote Refinery (DR). The project strained his relationship with government and regulatory authorities, particularly the leadership of the NMDPRA under Engineer Farouk Ahmed.

From crude oil supply to quality control, pricing, licensing of pms importers and labour relations, Dangote was kept under sustained pressure. At one point, he became so frustrated that he openly offered to sell off the refinery. In his words: “I am now 67 years old; little life is left for me. What I am doing is for the nation, not for personal comfort.”

It appears Dangote may have pinned down one of his tormentors-in-chief—the former CEO of the NMDPRA. He removed the gloves and accused the agency’s leadership of subjecting him to unnecessary obstacles driven by unwholesome practices. He specifically accused the CEO of corruption, citing an alleged $5 million expenditure on his children’s secondary education in Switzerland.

While the accusations may carry emotional undertones, Engineer Farouk Ahmed’s now disclaimed public response did little to allay suspicion. The alleged refutation, titled “A Question of Integrity: Engineer Farouk Ahmed Responds,” arguably reinforced the case against him—at least in the court of public opinion, even after it was denied – maybe as an after thought. It could also be that a proxy did it in good faith to save his refutation.

Engineer Ahmed’s career reached a defining moment in 2012 when he attained management cadre as a General Manager. He became Deputy Director (Downstream) in 2015 and was eventually appointed CEO of the NMDPRA in 2021. Coincidentally—or perhaps not—the period between 2012 and 2025 coincided with the worst episodes of PMS scarcity in Nigeria. It was a time when Nigerians slept at filling stations, black-market fuel thrived, and adulteration and hoarding became big business. There is little to celebrate about that era.

Fuel subsidy payments nearly bankrupted the government, especially during Buhari’s second term. Over-invoicing and padding became rampant, forcing the Tinubu administration to remove the subsidy shortly after assuming office. Records from the Nigeria Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (NEITI) show that Nigeria spent ₦15.57 trillion on fuel subsidy between 2006 and 2023, much of it in questionable payments. In 2021 alone, ₦1.43 trillion—about 2% of GDP—was paid out. Engineer Farouk Ahmed was part of the system during this period.

With or without the disclaimer, Dangote’s allegation to the effect that Ahmed spent about $5 million as fees to give Secondary education to his kids, should still command public interest. Until Ahmed is cleared authorities claimed (though disowned) merit-based scholarships rebate that covered between 40% and 65% of the costs could still be part of Ahmed’s future short of accepting the alleged $5 million. But, then even a net fee $2.5 million, the amount would still be beyond the legitimate earnings of a full time public servant. This is because, if adjusted for inflation, the $2.5 million translates to roughly ₦15 billion. His reported annual gross emolument of ₦48 million as CEO pales in comparison to such expenditure.

As one commentator aptly observed: “Even if he earned ₦48 million annually for 35 years and somehow spent nothing—not one kobo—the total would be about ₦1.6 billion. That figure does not come close to the ₦30 billion reportedly spent on his children’s education.” School fees ordinarily constitute only a fraction of household expenditure. One wonders what level of investment Engineer Farouk Ahmed might have accumulated—through proxies or fronts—in real estate, equities, or other assets beyond what is captured in statutory asset declarations to the Code of Conduct Bureau.

It is also good that Engineer Farouk Ahmed’s issued disclaimer would distance him from the reference to his “family business.” That could have been a hard assertion to crack. Sokoto, where Ahmed came from, is historically known more as the Seat of the Caliphate, in reverence to the theocratic governance established by Usman dan Fodio between 1804 and 1903. Until the advent of modern politics, Sokoto, along with offshoots like Zamfara and Kebbi, was not known for producing dollar millionaires. Family businesses in Nigeria rarely survive their founders, as they are often limited to trading and haulage rather than sustainable investments.

The continued survival of Farouk Ahmed’s ancestral business empire until 2018, when his father passed on, is indeed commendable. Still, the numbers do not add up. The existence of a multibillion-naira corporate entity—firm, trust, foundation, or industry— in Sokoto should have been common knowledge. No such evidence has been presented, nor did the “disowned response” provide details on such. In fact until the return to civil rule in 1999 that created “politipreneurs” billionaires in the likes of Bafarawa, Wamakko, Tambuwal etc, Sokoto couldn’t boast more than a couple.

Dangote may not be a saint—nobody really is. But he has openly blown the whistle against what he perceives as an attempt to undermine his interests, reinforcing the notion that “the rich also cry.” His stance against corruption and impunity should resonate widely. The same scrutiny should be extended to state governors, local government chairmen, legislators, royal fathers, bank executives/owners, and captains of industry. Many of them harbour “Farouk Ahmeds” within. A united front is required to hold them accountable. Impunity and injustice have already triggered enough existential crises in Nigeria. If nothing is done to kill systemic corruption, corruption will eventually kill the nation.

The World Bank and the IMF have repeatedly warned of the fiscal damage caused by IFF and corruption in Nigeria, largely to no avail. However, government consciousness appears to be rising. The Minister of State for Finance, Doris Uzoka-Anite, recently acknowledged this while addressing global finance leaders on safeguarding sustainable development finance. She decried Nigeria’s estimated annual IFF losses of $17.7 billion. With figures like Dangote and the government seemingly aligned, the fight against corruption should be mounted in earnest.

If Dangote’s accusations amount to nothing, then the burden lies on the state to prove it. But if they hold even in part, Nigeria has been handed a rare opportunity to confront corruption where it hurts most—at the top. This moment must not be wasted. When the rich finally cry foul, the institutions of state must respond, not with silence or symbolism, but with courage. Either corruption is confronted now, or it continues its quiet work of destroying the nation.

Dangote is no saint, but saints do not build nations—institutions do. His whistle-blowing has shifted the anti-corruption debate from the margins to the centre of power. Nigeria must seize this moment to prove that accountability is not selective and that no office is too high for scrutiny. If this opportunity slips away, then corruption will remain what it has always been: the strongest institution in the land.

For years, ordinary Nigerians cried against corruption and were ignored. Now the cry comes from the elite, and the nation listens. This convergence must lead to action. The legislature, judiciary, and security agencies must rise beyond ritual investigations and cosmetic asset declarations. Nigeria stands at a crossroads: confront systemic corruption decisively or continue its slow, deliberate march toward national failure.

It must begin with the legislature, judiciary, and security agencies. The hapless public is watching. They cried long before the rich joined them. As the nation awaits further actions regarding Dangote’s allegations against Engineer Farouk Ahmed, the relevant institutions like the Code of Conduct Bureau, EFCC, ICPC, and the National Assembly shall do the needful – investigate him and his ilk, serving or outside government, hopefully beyond judicial theatrics.
A. G. Abubakar
agbarewa@gmail.com