Fuel for fools: Tinubu’s gift to a backstabbing Niger exposes Nigeria’s peculiar foreign policy mess

The recent decision by Nigeria to provide urgent fuel and energy supplies to Niger, a nation grappling with a severe crisis, has reignited long-standing debates about the effectiveness of Nigeria’s foreign policy. This move, executed with seemingly little hesitation, directly contradicts the growing calls for a more pragmatic, less altruistic approach to regional engagements. For decades, Nigeria’s foreign policy has been characterised by an Afrocentric “big brother” mentality, a stance that many argue has failed to yield commensurate benefits.

This policy, rooted in a desire to champion African solidarity, has often seen Nigeria extend generous support to neighbouring nations, even at the expense of its own pressing domestic needs. However, the lack of reciprocal goodwill and the escalating internal challenges, including economic instability and security threats, have fuelled demands for a shift towards a more self-interested foreign policy. The prompt provision of aid to Niger suggests that the Nigerian government remains wedded to its traditional approach, a stance further complicated by the lingering fallout from President Tinubu’s handling of the Niger coup.

Niger’s energy crisis is a chaotic stew of incompetence and deceit, brewed by a junta that’s proven itself a slippery customer. After General Abdourahmane Tchiani’s July 2023 coup ousted President Mohamed Bazoum–a strong Nigeria ally– Niger ditched allies like Nigeria and France, chasing oil deals with China. By mid-2024, its two-faced diplomacy—vowing exclusivity to Beijing whilst secretly wooing Russian firms—blew up in its face, stalling Chinese shipments and plunging Niger into fuel and power shortages by late 2024. The junta’s earlier decision to expel French energy firms like Orano, which mined uranium, only compounded the mess, leaving Niger’s economy gasping. ECOWAS sanctions, including Nigeria’s cutoff of electricity that powers 70% of Niger’s grid, tightened the noose. Then, in December 2024, Tchiani lobbed a baseless salvo, accusing Nigeria—without a shred of evidence—of hosting a French military base and sponsoring Islamist groups along their border to destabilise Niger. This inflammatory lie, paired with Niger’s January 2025 exit from ECOWAS alongside Mali and Burkina Faso, framed Nigeria’s March 2025 fuel bailout as an act of bewildering folly.

Nigeria’s blunder is stark: it should have refused aid at worst or exacted a steep price from Tchiani’s junta. Niamey’s desperation was a diplomatic windfall—Abuja could have punished its ECOWAS defection and December slander, forcing the junta to bend. Instead, Tinubu’s administration dispatched fuel trucks with little to no strings attached, frittering away leverage that could have reshaped West African dynamics in Nigeria’s favour. This isn’t mere misjudgement; it’s a failure to grasp statecraft’s first rule: never give without getting. Niger’s junta, a regime that’s shown itself as reliable as a chocolate teapot, laughed all the way to the bank—or rather, the fuel depot.

The rot lies in Nigeria’s Afrocentrist “Father Christmas” policy—a relic of generosity that’s haemorrhaged influence since the 1990s. In 1997, Nigeria sank millions into Sierra Leone’s civil war, leading ECOMOG to restore order, yet Freetown repaid this with apathy, later aligning with Britain and the US over Nigeria. In 1999, Nigeria funded Liberia’s post-war recovery under Charles Taylor, bankrolling elections and rebuilding, only for Taylor to snub Nigeria’s peace efforts and cosy up to Gaddafi’s Libya and his successor Ellen Johnson Sirleaf crediting the United States with Nigeria’s efforts to restore peace to her country. In 2003, Nigeria propped up São Tomé and Príncipe after a coup attempt, offering aid and mediation, yet São Tomé pivoted to Portugal and Brazil, ignoring its benefactor. In 2010, Nigeria bailed out Guinea during its post-coup transition with cash and diplomatic support, only for Conakry to deepen ties with France, sidelining Nigeria. The 2012 Guinea-Bissau coup saw Nigeria pour resources into stabilisation, yet Bissau turned to Lisbon for trade deals. These flops—costly in blood, treasure, and prestige—prove Nigeria’s largesse wins no allies. Clinging to this failed policy is self-destructive madness when Niger’s plea offered a chance to break the cycle.

The Niger case exemplifies this trend. Despite the junta’s hostile rhetoric and destabilising actions, Nigeria provided aid without demanding any significant concessions. This missed opportunity to address critical issues, such as the junta’s false accusations, its ECOWAS defection, and the security threats emanating from the porous border, represents a significant strategic failure. Moreover, the Chinese dam project on the Niger river, which could drastically reduce water flow into Nigeria, was not used as leverage.

What should Nigeria have done? First, it could have demanded Tchiani retract his December lies—French base and Islamist claims—as a non-negotiable condition, restoring Nigeria’s honour and exposing the junta’s bluster. Second, aid could have been tied to ECOWAS re-engagement, even via discreet talks, weakening the AES and bolstering Nigeria’s clout. Third, with bandits plaguing northern Nigeria via Niger’s porous border, joint patrols or intelligence sharing could have been mandated, tackling a dire threat. Fourth, economic concessions—a slowdown in work on the Kandadji Dam construction by China Gezhouba Group Company—could have turned charity into strategic survival, as the dam, if completed, could reduce downstream flow to Nigeria by an estimated 10-15% during dry seasons, per hydrological studies cited by Businessday NG in 2023, potentially cutting Kainji’s output (760 MW capacity) by 50-100 MW. Fifth, Nigeria could have insisted on a public statement from Niger acknowledging its role, forcing Tchiani to swallow pride. These steps would have swapped the “big brother” drivel for a sharp, self-interested stance that Nigeria desperately needs.

Instead, Nigeria’s move reeks of weakness. Tinubu’s 2023 coup bravado—threatening invasion—fizzled into the AES exodus, denting credibility. The March bailout smacks of desperation to reclaim moral ground, not strategy. Niger’s junta, its crisis born of botched Chinese deals and French expulsions, exploits Nigeria’s softness unchecked. Past failures—Sierra Leone’s snub, Liberia’s pivot, São Tomé’s indifference, Guinea’s French tilt, Guinea-Bissau’s betrayal—warn that this generosity invites scorn. Nigeria’s refusal to ditch its 1990s playbook, when it squandered billions on ungrateful states, is suicidal when neighbours like Niger adopt a provoke-then-plead policy in its relations with its bigger neighbour.

The arguments in favour of aiding Niger, such as supporting northern Nigerian farmers or preventing regional instability, are ultimately unconvincing. The fuel aid, without accompanying trade agreements or border security measures, is unlikely to provide meaningful relief to farmers. Similarly, the junta’s actions have already fuelled instability, and goodwill alone will not resolve the underlying issues.

Nigeria’s failure to squeeze Niger isn’t just daft—it betrays its people. Tchiani’s lies and ECOWAS exit gave Nigeria every reason to play hardball, yet it chose handouts over heft. The 1990s and 2000s taught Nigeria that Afrocentrism wins no friends—Sierra Leone, Liberia, São Tomé, Guinea, and Guinea-Bissau took the cash and ran. Sticking to it now is idiotic when Niger’s plea was a chance to punish treachery and profit. If Tinubu’s team can’t see this, Nigeria’s influence will shrink further, and a once-mighty giant will be reduced to a doormat. The fuel lighting Niamey dims Nigeria’s regional future, a stark reminder of a policy past its expiry date.

MacHarry is an analyst at SBM Intelligence, Lagos.