By Obinna Ejianya (9News Nigeria – Melbourne, Australia)
There is no denying that the ongoing confrontation involving the United States, Israel, and Iran has shaken the global economy to its core. The disruption of shipping through the Strait of Hormuz—through which nearly 20% of the world’s oil supply flows daily—has triggered what experts now describe as the largest energy shock in modern history.
Oil tankers have vanished from that route. Prices have surged. Markets have panicked. Economies that depend on imported fuel are bracing for recession.
But here is the uncomfortable truth many are avoiding:
For Nigeria, this crisis should have been a blessing.
Instead, it has become another chapter in the country’s long story of missed opportunities.
Before the war escalated, crude oil traded around $70 per barrel. Within weeks of the conflict and the effective shutdown of Hormuz shipping routes, prices surged past $100, at times rising by over 50%, with projections in extreme scenarios climbing toward $150–$200 per barrel.
Even in the present volatility, prices remain elevated above $100 per barrel, levels that historically translate into windfall revenues for oil-producing nations.
Nigeria produces roughly 1.3 to 1.5 million barrels of crude oil per day. At $100 per barrel, that is well over $130 million daily in crude value alone—before accounting for gas and other exports. In times like this, countries with oil do not struggle; they expand.
Look at Russia. Look at Iran itself. Even under sanctions and conflict, they are quietly making more money from oil because of the same crisis shaking the world.
So why is Nigeria different?
Why are Nigerians experiencing deeper hardship at a time when their country should be earning more?
The answer is not in Tehran. It is not in Washington. It is not even in the Strait of Hormuz.
The answer is at home.
A surge in oil prices should, in a functioning system, ease economic pressure. It should strengthen the naira, boost government revenues, fund infrastructure, and most importantly, reduce the burden on citizens. Fuel, which is the backbone of Nigeria’s economy, should become more stable—not more expensive.
Yet, what Nigerians are seeing is the opposite.
Fuel prices remain painfully high. Transportation costs have surged. Food prices continue to climb. Inflation bites harder by the day. And now, the same global crisis that should be an economic advantage is being presented as justification for further hardship.
It raises a fundamental question of leadership.
Because elsewhere, governments are not folding their hands.
Even in countries that do not produce oil, leaders are responding with urgency. In Australia, for example, authorities have explored fuel relief policies, supply diversification, and negotiations with alternative suppliers to cushion the impact of rising global prices. There have been efforts to ease pressure on households through policy adjustments, including transport support and engagement with financial institutions to make credit more accessible, especially for farmers and small businesses whose survival depends heavily on fuel.
Across parts of Europe and Asia, governments have released strategic oil reserves, reduced fuel taxes, and intervened in energy markets to prevent economic shock from translating into social collapse.
These are not miracles. They are decisions.
Nigeria, however, stands in a far more advantageous position than all of them combined. It is not scrambling for oil—it has oil. It is not dependent on imports alone—it now has refining capacity, including the massive Dangote Refinery, which should, by all logic, insulate the country from global supply disruptions.
And yet, Nigerians are told to endure.
Endure higher fuel prices.
Endure rising food costs.
Endure worsening living conditions.
At the same time, insecurity continues to tear through communities—from Plateau to Benue and across parts of Northern Nigeria—while citizens are left to navigate both economic and physical uncertainty. Groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP remain active threats, compounding an already fragile situation.
What should have been a moment of economic leverage has instead exposed a deeper problem: the inability—or unwillingness—to translate national wealth into national wellbeing.
The tragedy is not the war.
The tragedy is that even in a moment when the world is paying more for oil—Nigeria’s oil—ordinary Nigerians are not feeling any relief.
The tragedy is that a country positioned to benefit from global disruption is instead weighed down by internal dysfunction.
The tragedy is that leadership has not risen to meet opportunity.
Because the reality remains simple:
When oil prices rise globally, oil-producing countries are supposed to smile.
Nigeria is not smiling.
And that is not because of Iran, (QED).
