In the days after the 2023 general elections, many people anticipated a fast and satisfying victory over the nation’s biting economic realities. As President Buhari’s tenure ends, along with his Naira Redesign Governor, the new Sheriff (or political strategist) is now in town—and in charge—and will undo the economic damages that have been done, or so political pundits thought.
Then came the most shocking news: “Fuel subsidy is gone.” Many people applauded President Tinubu’s decision and agreed that the subsidy must go. During the campaign period, every candidate acquiesced that subsidy is a “scam” and, therefore, has to go. Buhari also wanted to remove it but then he couldn’t because of the fear that it might jeopardize his party’s chances of re-election, as Garba Shehu revealed in his recent engagement with the media.
Where many people disagreed with President Tinubu, however, is on the question of sharing N8, 000 to 12 million poor Nigerians in 6 months as palliative after the subsidy removal. There are two contradictions in the President’s judgment about this paltry sum.
First, conventional wisdom tells us to take measures before an accident befall us and injure us, so that we will not spend time struggling with the pain of curing the injury. In other words, to provide palliative first before removing the subsidy. Yet the presidency insists that cure is better than prevention (instead of the other way round). Second, the N8,000 amount is too meager to “cushion the effects” of the petrol subsidy removal. Inflation has reached 22.79 percent. The cost of a small measure of rice is N1000; one bottle of vegetable oil is N1000. And one bag of coal is about N3, 700.
Supporters of the N8000 cashout will retort: By definition, palliative interventions are not meant to cure any ailment but to dampen its pain. The Longman Dictionary defines palliative as “a medical treatment that will not cure an illness but will reduce the pain.” Nobody says palliatives will end poverty but it will reduce the economic heat brought about by the rising petroleum pump price. I agree with this view, and that is exactly why I say give the Nigerian poor enough of these palliatives to help them quench their hunger. The N8000 is not enough to do the job of quenching hunger in the same manner as a puny dose of anesthesia will not prevent a patient from feeling the pains of surgery.
Philosophically, the policy will not achieve its aim because the pitiful sum will not cushion the effects of anything. So, what could be the best framework, an alternative to ease the poor man’s pains?
If the palliatives must be in cash, the Federal Government needs to increase the amount to at least N50, 000. Instead of giving 12 million people N8000 for 6 months, why not give N50, 000 to 10 million poor Nigerians for 3 months or N250, 000 to 1 million Nigerians for 2 months to start a small business? Moreover, the financial expert Gbenga Adeoye offered another creative option, advising the government to “acquire 200 buses per senatorial district [and donate them to ease the transport fare for the poor Nigerians] at N30m per bus. The sum of “N666 billion would be spent on acquiring 22,200 buses.” The renowned tax expert adds that “cash palliative does not fit a country [like Nigeria] that has not reached optimal production level…”
Beyond all that, history tells us that the sharing economy doesn’t work in Nigeria. From Buhari’s Conditional Cash Transfer to the sharing of COVID-19 food palliative, sharing money or material goods will never get to the end-user—the Nigerian poor because of the entrenched and institutionally-backed corruption in the land. This is why the Nigerian masses are not as excited as the political power structure in Abuja.
The Nigerian poor, living in a remote town, tens of thousands of kilometers away from the capital, knows that she is out of reach and out of sight from her State and Federal Government, and will never lay her hands on the N8000 scrawny amount.
Why? There is no record of her anywhere–certainly not in any State or Local Government register.
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Suhaib Mohammed is a sociology student and social studies lecturer at Shehu Shagari College of Education, Sokoto. He is also a research consultant and ghostwriter. Follow him on Twitter (@Suhaib_writes) and chat him on Whatsapp (0806-411-4717).
