Presidency Demands Probe of El-Rufai over Alleged Wire-tapping of Ribadu
Nigeria, consumers pay for electricity yet still fund the transformers, poles and cables that deliver it, turning darkness into a public burden and accountability into a private luxury, writes Festus Akanbi
The video that swept across Nigerian social media last week did not shock because it was dramatic; it shocked because it was precise. In less than two minutes, a Nigerian man distilled a contradiction millions live with daily but have long normalised. He placed two privatised sectors side by side: telecommunications and electricity. He asked a simple question: why does one take responsibility for its infrastructure while the other bills customers for failure?
The question lingered because it had no defensive answer.
In the video, a telecom base station hums in the background, powered by generators that are serviced, refuelled, and replaced without public debate.
In contrast, electricity distribution infrastructure, including transformers, poles, cables, and even transformer oil, has quietly become a community project.
Nigerians pay monthly bills for power they barely receive, then receive informal instructions to “contribute” when the equipment fails. The video went viral because it named what has been treated as fate: the electricity sector sells energy but disowns delivery.
Resigning to Fate
“I have stopped complaining,” says Mr. Sola Ajayi (not his real name), a resident of Akeredolu, Lambe, Ogun State. “Complaints don’t pump water.”
Ajayi’s experience is unremarkable precisely because it is common. Low voltage prevents him from using his pumping machine. He reported the issue repeatedly to Ikeja Electric. Engineers came, nodded sympathetically, blamed a fuse, promised action, and disappeared. Weeks later, nothing changed. Eventually, he did what millions of Nigerians do: he bought petrol and powered his pump with a generator.
“It’s ironic,” he says. “I generate my own electricity in a country that has an electricity market.”
Warped Incentive Culture
This is the everyday reality behind the viral clip. What Nigerians are confronting is not merely poor service but a warped incentive structure. Telecom operators understand a basic business principle: infrastructure is their problem. If a mast fails, customers are not asked to levy themselves. If a generator breaks down, subscribers are not billed per SIM card. Service delivery and revenue are inseparable.
DISCOS: High on Revenue Low on Delivery
Electricity Distribution Companies (DisCos) operate differently. Revenue collection is aggressive and relentless. Service delivery, however, is negotiable and often outsourced to consumers. The result is a business model in which private investors receive public payments while communities bear capital expenditures.
A former senior official at the Nigerian Electricity Regulatory Commission (NERC), who asked not to be named, puts it bluntly: “We privatised collection, not responsibility.”
This inversion has roots. When Nigeria privatised its power sector in 2013, the promise was efficiency, investment, and improved service. The government sold controlling stakes in 11 DisCos for about $1.3 billion. In return, the buyers signed performance agreements: reduce losses, meter customers, invest in networks, and improve supply. More than a decade later, the evidence across the country tells a different story.
When Communities Fund Poles, Transformers
In Lagos, Abuja, Kaduna, Enugu, Benin, Yola, Kano, Jos, and Port Harcourt, consumers routinely buy transformers. Communities fund poles. Residents repair cables. Billing, often estimated and opaque, never stops. “We paid 6.5 million for a transformer,” says a community leader in Sagbagyi, Abuja. “When it failed again, they asked us to contribute again.”
What makes this practice particularly troubling is that it is illegal. The Electric Power Sector Reform Act (EPSRA) 2005 and NERC’s Consumer Rights and Obligations Regulation clearly state that distribution infrastructure is the responsibility of DisCos. The Federal Competition and Consumer Protection Commission (FCCPC) has repeatedly warned that faulty transformers should be replaced within 48 hours of a formal complaint.
Weak Enforcement
Yet enforcement is weak. An investigative survey across more than 30 communities found that these rules are treated as suggestions rather than binding obligations. In some cases, DisCo officials openly endorse community levies, effectively formalising the transfer of private investment costs to households already under economic strain.
A power sector analyst, Mr. Dayo Oladipo, argues that the telecom comparison exposes the underlying problem. “It’s incentives and consequences,” he explains. “Telecoms face competition. If service is poor, customers switch. Regulators fine them. Investors lose money. DisCos operate monopolies. You can’t switch your electricity provider.”
NERC: Strong on Statements, Weak on Sanctions
This monopoly dulls accountability. NERC periodically threatens licence cancellations, but such threats are rarely executed. As a result, the regulator is often described, even within policy circles, as “strong on statements, weak on sanctions.”
Nowhere is this failure clearer than in the metering crisis. More than half of Nigeria’s electricity customers remain unmetered over a decade after privatisation. Estimated billing, now euphemistically described as “billing based on consumption,” allows DisCos to charge customers without explaining how usage is calculated.
A Lagos resident recounts how his prepaid bill averaged N7,000 monthly until his meter was removed during a network “upgrade.” The next bill arrived: N38,000. “No explanation,” he says. “The outages were not deducted. Complaints went unanswered.”
Why does this persist? Because estimated billing is profitable. Prepaid meters cap revenue. Transparency limits discretion. Accurate data exposes inefficiency. As long as estimated billing remains legal in practice, DisCos have little incentive to accelerate metering.
DisCos defend themselves by citing vandalism, energy theft, unpaid government bills, and tariff shortfalls. These challenges are real. But they are not unique. Telecom operators also deal with vandalism, diesel costs, and theft. They do not ask subscribers to replace antennas.
“The difference is accountability,” Oladipo says. “Electricity has privatised profit and socialised cost.”
The viral video resonated because it posed a question Nigerians have long absorbed in silence but rarely voiced: why must citizens purchase tools that private companies were paid billions to manage? Until this question is answered with enforcement rather than press releases, the paradox will persist.
Electricity is not a luxury. It is infrastructure. And infrastructure cannot be indefinitely crowd-funded by people already paying for its absence. Nigeria’s power crisis is no longer a technical problem; it is a governance failure, laid bare, painfully, by a short video that told the truth faster than years of official reports ever did.
