By Tajudeen Suleiman
Former Niger Delta militant Asari Dokubo is a man well known for his irascible, testy character. A man who reacts to minor annoyances with threats and open hostility. But his recent outburst against pipeline security contracts in the Niger State was a stretch of his bad temper.
Asari Dokubo claimed in a viral video that Osahon Idahosa and Olu of Warri Ogiame Atuwatse III collect N2.7 trillion annually to protect the nation’s oil pipeline without producing any shred of evidence. First, he claimed the sum was a monthly payment, before correcting himself that it is an annual payment.
He made the frivolous claim while trying to defend his kinsman, Government Ekpemupolo, popularly known as Tompolo, whose Tantita Security Services Nigeria Limited protects pipeline in the Niger Delta. But Asari Dokubo went overboard when he chose to politicise pipeline security and stability in the Niger Delta.
His latest viral video broadcast represents a highly polarizing and counterproductive attack on the delicate socio-economic balance of the Niger Delta.
He leveled unverified, staggering allegations that the Olu of Warri, Ogiame Atuwatse III, alongside Osahon Idahosa (son of the late Captain Hosa Okunbo), are pulling in an astronomical ₦2.7 trillion annually from the Federal Government for pipeline protection. His rhetoric serves the dark purpose of weaponizing ethnic divisions and stoking resentment over resource distribution during an intense national economic crisis.
Asari Dokubo’s vitriolic condemnation of pipeline surveillance payments is heavily laced with ethnic bias, specifically targeting Bini and Itsekiri leaders for allegedly taking the lion’s share of regional security contracts. Rather than fostering a productive dialogue about transparent resource allocation or holding security metrics accountable, this attack divides the Niger Delta into competing tribal factions fighting over the spoils of state contracts.
At a time when Nigeria is struggling heavily to meet its OPEC production targets and dealing with massive oil revenue shortfalls, what the region needs is a unified, systemic cooperation to safeguard national infrastructure—not divisive inflammatory statements from warlords trying to police who gets paid and from which ethnic group they hail.
His attempt to disclose a nation’s security secrets is to pull back the heavy curtain of statecraft, exposing the delicate, hidden scaffolding upon which a society’s peace relies. Such an individual operates in the quiet fractures of institutional trust, transforming classified intelligence from a weapon of state defence into a public ledger.
By fracturing these walls of confidentiality, they become an architect of profound consequence, trapped between the titles of whistleblower and betrayer. To their allies, they are a courageous truth-teller, dismantling official illusions to protect a greater public interest; to the state, they are an agent of chaos, compromising vital defences and endangering the lives woven into covert operations.
To dismantle a nation’s defences from within is an act of profound and calculated malice, born not of conscience, but of a corrosive desire for self-exaltation or bitter vengeance. Such an individual moves through the shadows of trust, weaponizing their privileged access to barter away the collective safety of millions for personal gain, political spite, or the dark thrill of sabotage.
By deliberately exposing the delicate mechanisms of state security, they do not liberate truth; rather, they orchestrate chaos, intentionally stripping away the protective armour that shields innocent citizens from external harm and leaving a vulnerable society exposed to its worst adversaries.
There is no nobility in this betrayal, only a cold disregard for the lives put at immediate risk by their treachery. His disclosures, even when uncorroborated, can compromise ongoing operations, shatter vital international alliances, and place a target on the backs of those serving in the deepest cover. Asari Dokubo’s rhetoric is fueled by a narcissistic ambition to watch an entire apparatus burn just to prove he holds the match. Ultimately, his gain would be the hollow infamy of a saboteur, forever branded not as a reformer, but as a hostile actor who sold out their own people to satisfy a sinister, personal agenda.
Pipeline surveillance contracts are important to an oil-producing country (such as Nigeria) because they safeguard the physical and economic backbone of the nation’s energy sector. Oil pipelines span vast, remote, and difficult terrains such as creeks, mangrove forests, and waterways that are tough for military or police forces to patrol effectively. Specialized contractors help monitor these networks for physical breaks, leaks, and tampering.
Oil bunkering, unauthorized tapping, and pipeline sabotage lead to massive losses in daily production. Effective surveillance acts as a deterrent against criminal cartels, reducing illegal siphoning. Higher output directly improves foreign exchange earnings and government budgets.
Engaging indigenous security companies (such as Tantita Security Services Nigeria Limited or Pipeline Infrastructure Nigeria Limited) brings in local actors who understand the complex social dynamics and topography of host communities better than external forces.
These contracts often generate jobs, training, and economic opportunities for youths in oil-producing regions, which can lower local hostility and reduce the incentive to sabotage infrastructure, and restore investors confidence.
For instance, the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPCL) engaged Tantita in August 2022 through a pipeline surveillance contract worth N48bn a year. Under the arrangement, Tantita’s personnel monitor export pipelines, trace illegal connections and identify crude-theft points, and report suspected illegal refining activity to security agencies for enforcement.
Tantita employs about 136,000 people directly in pipeline-related work, with indirect employment extending to more than 300,000 more. It has also tried a less conventional approach to the theft problem. In partnership with the Stakeholders Development Network and Ecosus Pro Nigeria Limited, it launched the Tantita Sustainable Rice Farming Initiative, aimed at moving communities once involved in illegal oil activity into large-scale rice farming instead.
Nigeria’s oil output has climbed since the contract began. Nigeria had lost 36.69 million barrels of crude to theft and sabotage in 2022, according to the Nigeria Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative. But by 2023, that figure had fallen by 79 to 7.68 million barrels.
Data from the Nigerian Upstream Petroleum Regulatory Commission (NUPRC) put crude and condensate production at 1,677,777 barrels per day in August 2026, with crude alone at 1,500,190 barrels per day, which is enough to meet the country’s OPEC quota of 1.5 million barrels daily for a fourth straight month.
Oil accounts for more than 75 per cent of Nigeria’s foreign exchange earnings, and the Federal Government has tied part of its target of a $1tn economy by 2030 to stability in the sector.
What is needed is advocacy for more transparent oversight, environmental protection, and genuine community development for peace sustainability in the region, not ill-motivated attacks that compromise peace.
Tajudeen Suleiman is an Abuja-based journalist.
