When Nigeria’s Elite Lose Touch With The People

There is something deeply troubling about the way Nigeria’s political and social elite increasingly speak about the hardship confronting ordinary Nigerians. It is not merely that some of their comments are insensitive. It is that, in defending an economic reality that millions of citizens experience as unbearable, they sometimes appear to have forgotten what it means to live on the other side of the privilege divide.

Consider the controversy that followed the First Lady, Senator Oluremi Tinubu’s comments about akara, roasted corn and kulikuli as ventures Nigerians could pursue with relatively little capital. Speaking in June, she said the government was trying to give people hope and noted that starting an akara business did not require much money.

On paper, the suggestion may have been intended to highlight entrepreneurship and small-business opportunities. But to a Nigerian struggling with the cost of beans, cooking oil, fuel, transportation and rent, the conversation sounds different.

The question ordinary Nigerians may ask is not whether akara can be sold profitably. It is why an economy should leave citizens so financially battered that survival entrepreneurship becomes the dominant conversation about their future.

Then came Reno Omokri's N3,000-a-day argument. Omokri, the ambassador-designate to Mexico, said an average Nigerian could survive on N3,000 a day, after, according to him, visiting markets and checking the prices of basic food items. Again, the problem is not that N3,000 cannot buy something to eat. It can. The problem is the word “survive”.

A Nigerian does not wake up merely to eat yam, rice or maize. He has to transport himself to work. He has to pay rent. He has to buy electricity, water and cooking fuel. His children need school expenses. Somebody may fall sick. A phone needs data. A leaking roof does not understand poverty statistics. A person can survive on almost anything when the alternative is starvation. But survival is not the same thing as living.

And then came Edo State Governor Monday Okpebholo's remarkable comparison of Nigerian and British petrol prices. The governor said he visited a filling station in London and found petrol costing more than N3,000 per litre after conversion. From that comparison, he declared that Nigerians were "doing very well" under President Bola Tinubu. This is where the disconnect becomes particularly striking.

Yes, petrol in Britain costs more in nominal naira terms. But Nigerians do not earn British wages. A meaningful comparison cannot stop at the price displayed on a filling-station pump. It must consider income, purchasing power, transportation, housing, food and other living costs.

Current reports put petrol in Lagos and Abuja at around N1,400 per litre, with some northern locations higher, while diesel has exceeded N2,000 per litre. Reuters also reported that rising fuel prices are deepening cost-of-living pressure, with workers and businesses absorbing the consequences.

So, when a Nigerian worker complains that fuel is consuming his income, telling him that somebody in London pays more per litre misses the point entirely. The real question is not how much fuel costs. It is how much of a person's income the fuel consumes.

This is the larger Nigerian problem: the elite increasingly speak from the vantage point of the spreadsheet, the official residence, the government convoy, the foreign trip and the comfortable bank account, while the ordinary citizen experiences the economy through transport fares, food portions, electricity bills and empty pockets.

Nigeria's poor have become extraordinarily resilient. They have mastered the art of stretching N1,000 until it practically becomes a national budget. They walk when transport becomes expensive. They reduce meals. They withdraw children from schools. They postpone medical treatment. They borrow. They improvise.

But there is a dangerous tendency among those who govern, defend government or enjoy proximity to power to mistake this resilience for evidence that Nigerians are doing well. They are not. The fact that these leaders are not in a position to see Nigerians groaning under the weight of economic pressure does not mean the pressure is acceptable. There is a moral difference between saying, "Nigerians are surviving despite these difficulties," and saying, "Nigerians are enjoying themselves because they can survive them." The first recognizes hardship. The second trivializes it.

Nigeria does not need an elite that teaches the poor how to endure poverty. It needs an elite that understands why poverty persists and what must be done to reduce it.

The ordinary Nigerian is not asking for luxury. He wants an economy where going to work does not consume half his income; where feeding a family is not a daily mathematical puzzle; where healthcare does not depend on prayer and borrowing; where children can remain in school; and where earning an income provides something more than another 24 hours of survival.

The greatest danger is not merely that the elite may be insensitive to the suffering of the people. It is that they may become so accustomed to their own comfort that they no longer recognize suffering when they see it. And when those entrusted with public leadership begin congratulating citizens for surviving conditions that should concern them, Nigeria has a problem bigger than inflation. It has a crisis of empathy.