The following political-economic reflection, inspired by the words of Onuvughe Igwe on Facebook, presents an intentionally provocative question: What if a presidential candidate promised Nigerians exactly what many people desperately want to hear—cheap petrol and a sharply stronger naira, regardless of the economic consequences?
If I were a serious presidential candidate challenging President Bola Ahmed Tinubu today, my two biggest promises would be simple: restore petrol subsidy to its pre-2023 level and peg the naira.
Atiku Abubakar has attempted to position himself as an alternative, but he has been cautious about putting a specific figure on the table. Peter Obi and other candidates also have their political bases. But if I were in their shoes, I would make the promise boldly:
“I will take petrol to ₦300 per litre.”
And to make that possible, I would peg the naira at ₦300 to $1—by fiat.
That sounds attractive. It sounds decisive. It sounds like leadership.
But the real question is: what happens afterwards?
Nigeria's recent economic history demonstrates why exchange-rate policy cannot simply be separated from the availability of foreign exchange. In June 2023, the Central Bank moved toward a unified, market-driven foreign-exchange system based on willing-buyer, willing-seller principles. The objective was to reduce distortions, improve price discovery and eliminate opportunities created by multiple exchange rates.
So imagine a government reversing that philosophy overnight.
On the day of my swearing-in, I would do the opposite of what Tinubu did at Eagle Square.
I would announce:
“Subsidy is back!”
There would be jubilation across Nigeria.
Many Nigerians would rush to repair their abandoned generators. Motorists would celebrate. Transport operators would rejoice. Social media would explode with praise.
But economics does not end with the announcement.
If petrol suddenly falls from around ₦1,300 to ₦300, supply would not automatically adjust overnight. Marketers holding expensive inventories would be reluctant to sell below their acquisition costs. Government would have to enforce the new price aggressively, potentially creating shortages, queues and a flourishing black market.
I would therefore establish a task force to crack down on “shylock” marketers.
Fuel scarcity could return in full force.
Nigerians would queue at NNPCL stations while black-market sellers charge ₦1,500 or more.
And, in solidarity, I would join them in the queues.
“Leadership is not rocket science.”
But after the celebration comes the bill.
Pegging the naira at ₦300 to the dollar would require enormous credibility, liquidity and foreign-exchange reserves. A government cannot create dollars merely by declaring an exchange rate. The CBN itself has repeatedly acknowledged the importance of sustainable foreign-exchange liquidity and reserve accumulation.
Suppose the official rate remains ₦300 while the parallel market reaches ₦2,000.
The dollar would become cheap on paper but scarce in reality.
You could announce that $1 is ₦300, but if nobody can actually obtain a dollar for ₦300, the official rate would become largely meaningless.
Under a ₦1,300 exchange rate, $1 billion in crude receipts converts to approximately ₦1.3 trillion. Under a ₦300 peg, the same $1 billion produces only ₦300 billion in naira revenue.
That would dramatically reduce the naira value of federal oil receipts and potentially affect the resources available to governments at every level.
State governments that currently complain about inadequate allocations could suddenly discover that the “good old days” of struggling to pay salaries have returned.
Imported goods, meanwhile, could become artificially cheap at the official rate. Foreign rice, machinery and other imported products could flood the market, while local manufacturers struggle to compete. Domestic industries could close, jobs could disappear and tax revenues could weaken.
And when local production collapses, telling displaced workers to “go into farming” would hardly constitute an industrial strategy.
“Let Oyibo handle industrialisation.”
Of course, that is precisely the satire.
The national minimum wage could even be pushed backwards. Today, Nigeria's statutory minimum wage is ₦70,000, following the 2024 legislation.
But if government revenue collapses, industries shut down, construction slows and foreign exchange becomes scarce, the pressure on wages and employment would become enormous.
Eventually, the reserves would begin to disappear.
The CBN would struggle to defend the peg.
Dollar scarcity would return.
The black market would become king again.
Fuel scarcity would return.
Factories would shut down.
Construction projects would stall.
Salaries could become difficult to pay.
Protests would spread across the country.
And then, perhaps, I would travel abroad for two weeks.
Shave my beard.
Return home.
And Nigerians could start calling me “Ghost Igwe from Congo.”
After four years, I would leave my successor to clean up the economic mess—or swim in it.
After all:
“Leadership is not rocket science.”
But perhaps the deeper lesson is that leadership may not be rocket science, but economic management certainly cannot be reduced to slogans.
Cheap petrol, a strong naira, low inflation, high wages, industrialisation, abundant foreign exchange and increased government revenue are all desirable.
The difficult part is building a system capable of delivering all of them sustainably and simultaneously.
And that is where political promises meet economic reality.
As the Urhobo proverb reminds us:
“It is better to be born a thief than to be born a mumu.”
Proverbs are not for children.
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