By Israel Adebiyi

The impasse between the Nigeria Union of Petroleum and Natural Gas Workers (NUPENG) and the Dangote Refinery has at last been calmed, thanks to the intervention of the Federal Government. For days, the matter stirred debates in homes, offices, and market squares, with Nigerians asking where the truth lay. At first glance, it seemed to be a straightforward struggle for workers’ rights, but beneath the chants of solidarity and the stern defenses of corporate efficiency lies a bigger question about where our national interest truly resides.

The constitutional foundation is clear. Section 40 of the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended) provides that “every person shall be entitled to assemble freely and associate with other persons, and in particular he may form or belong to any political party, trade union or any other association for the protection of his interests.” On the surface, therefore, NUPENG’s position that workers in the Dangote Refinery should have the right to unionize appears unassailable. Rights, however, do not operate in isolation; they must be exercised with responsibility and with due regard for broader societal implications.

Dangote, on his part, argued from the perspective of efficiency, discipline, and streamlined management. His position reflects the concern of many private investors in Nigeria who see unions not always as partners in progress but as instruments of disruption. The fear is not theoretical. The country has endured decades of industrial actions that cripple essential services, often at great cost to the very citizens unions claim to protect. In this light, Dangote’s resistance may not be a desire to trample on rights, but rather an attempt to avoid the familiar cycle of strikes and standoffs that have strangled other vital sectors.

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This tension raises an important question about the role of unions in Nigeria today. Historically, unions have been the moral compass of industrial society. They emerged to fight exploitation, to ensure fair wages, and to secure humane conditions of service. In many parts of the world, they remain engines of progress and defenders of justice. But the Nigerian experience has too often revealed another picture. For decades, our government-owned refineries remained in comatose state, swallowing billions of dollars in endless turnaround maintenance exercises without yielding a single barrel of refined product. Salaries were still paid, union offices remained open, but the voice of labour was curiously faint. There were no nationwide pickets demanding accountability, no strikes to compel government action, no campaigns to rescue the sector from ruin. Silence prevailed. The unions were alive, but they appeared comfortable in a system that rewarded failure.

Contrast that with the arrival of a private giant, a refinery built with vision, audacity, and sheer resilience against Nigeria’s hostile investment climate. Suddenly, the unions rediscovered their voice. They sang solidarity songs and raised placards, anchoring their grievance not on unpaid salaries or unsafe conditions, but on the right to membership. It is here that many Nigerians began to sense hypocrisy. Where was this passion when government after government wrecked our refineries and denied Nigerians the dignity of energy sufficiency? Why does the urgency to act appear strongest only when a private-sector initiative threatens the comfort zones of labour cartels? As the adage goes, “It is not every shout of fire that comes from a burning house; sometimes it comes from a kitchen disturbed.”

The problem with this form of unionism is that it begins to mirror the same oppression it claims to fight. In many Nigerian markets, traders’ unions act as cartels, fixing prices, intimidating dissenters, and distorting the natural balance of willing seller and willing buyer. Instead of protecting livelihoods, they suffocate them. This is not unlike the present standoff in the oil and gas sector, where the noble idea of protecting workers’ rights appears entangled with the less noble ambition of protecting turf and revenue through membership dues. The ordinary Nigerian is left wondering: who union help? The buyer who cannot afford inflated prices? The worker whose voice is often drowned in the politics of union executives? Or the society that pays the price when productivity is disrupted?

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None of this suggests that Dangote should be sanctified or given a blank cheque. Investors, no matter how ambitious or patriotic, are not immune to the temptations of overreach. It is possible to seek efficiency at the expense of fairness, or to pursue discipline at the cost of liberty. The Constitution must be respected, and the rights of workers must not be undermined in the name of corporate ambition. But balance is essential. Rights must coexist with responsibility, and unions must rediscover their higher calling.

The bigger picture is what should concern us most. Nigeria stands at a crossroads. A working refinery capable of reducing our import bills, creating jobs, stabilizing the naira, and boosting our pride is a national priority. Any action, whether from unions or from corporate actors, that frustrates this goal is ultimately against the interest of the people. The adage says, “When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.” In this case, the elephants are NUPENG and Dangote, and the grass is the Nigerian people, weary from years of fuel scarcity, inflation, and economic hardship.

What is needed is not confrontation but cooperation. Strong unions can and should coexist with strong companies. Around the world, the most competitive firms are often those that engage constructively with organized labour, ensuring that productivity and fairness walk hand in hand. Nigerian unions must learn to wield their power not as a bludgeon but as a lever for progress. They must fight for safety, equity, inclusiveness, and opportunity, not merely for compulsory membership. Investors, in turn, must recognize that respecting rights and upholding dignity is not a burden but a foundation for long-term stability.

In the end, the test is simple: which path best serves Nigerians? Not the preservation of union dues, not the preservation of corporate control, but the preservation of national interest. If unions can return to their nobility and investors can temper ambition with fairness, then the people win. And that, in the final analysis, is the only victory that matters.