In the early hours of September 26, 2025, news broke that Africa’s largest oil refinery, the Dangote Petroleum Refinery in Nigeria, had terminated the employment of over 1,000 Nigerian workers. This mass dismissal came less than 24 hours after approximately 90% of the staff joined the Petroleum and Natural Gas Senior Staff Association of Nigeria (PENGASSAN), a prominent union in the oil sector. The company’s management framed the action as a “total reorganization” prompted by alleged acts of sabotage in several units, denying it was a retaliatory mass sack. However, unions and workers decried it as a blatant assault on labor rights, with PENGASSAN President Festus Osifo vowing to ensure all affected employees are recalled. This incident, unfolding in real-time amid Nigeria’s push for energy independence, underscores a timeless truth: unions often emerge not as antagonists to business, but as symptoms of deeper leadership failures where trust between employers and employees has eroded.
At its core, the formation of unions signal a breakdown in the social contract of the workplace. When workers feel inadequately cared for—through poor wages, unsafe conditions, or lack of job security—they band together for collective protection. This dynamic is not new; it traces back to the Industrial Revolution, where rapid industrialization exposed workers to exploitation on an unprecedented scale. Today, the Dangote saga serves as a modern case study, illustrating how even groundbreaking enterprises can falter when leadership prioritizes profits over people. Drawing from historical precedents and philosophical insights into human behavior, this article explores why unions persist as indicators of mistrust and self-preservation instincts, and what leaders can learn to prevent such conflicts.
The Historical Roots: Unions Born from Industrial Exploitation
The story of labor unions begin in the crucible of the Industrial Revolution, spanning roughly from 1760 to 1840. This era marked a seismic shift from agrarian societies to mechanized factories, concentrating workers in urban centers and subjecting them to grueling conditions. In Britain, the epicenter of this transformation, workers toiled 12 to 16 hours a day in dimly lit factories filled with hazardous machinery. Child labor was rampant, wages were suppressed to maximize profits, and there were no safeguards like injury compensation or sick leave. Employers, driven by capitalist imperatives, viewed labor as a commodity to be exploited, leading to widespread discontent.
It was in this environment that early unions formed as acts of desperation and solidarity. The first notable organizations, such as the Friendly Societies in Britain around the 1790s, provided mutual aid for workers facing illness or unemployment. However, these groups quickly evolved into trade unions advocating for better wages and conditions. The Combination Acts of 1799 and 1800 in Britain outlawed such collective bargaining, reflecting employers’ and governments’ fears of organized labor disrupting the economic order. Despite repression, unions persisted, culminating in movements like the Chartists in the 1830s and 1840s, which linked labor rights to broader political reforms.
Across the Atlantic, the United States saw similar developments in the early 19th century. The Typographical Union, formed in 1809, and later the Knights of Labor in 1869, represented skilled workers whose livelihoods were threatened by mechanization. Events like the Haymarket Affair of 1886, where a labor rally turned violent, highlighted the tensions: workers struck for an eight-hour day, only to face brutal crackdowns. These historical episodes reveal a pattern—unions arise when individual workers, feeling powerless against mighty employers, seek collective strength to address grievances.
Philosophically, this can be viewed through the lens of trust and self-protection. As I aptly noted during the Africa Workplace Leadership Summit in 2022, “when people can’t trust themselves, they look for ways to protect themselves against themselves.” In the workplace, this manifests as workers doubting their ability to negotiate fair terms individually, especially in imbalanced power dynamics. During the Industrial Revolution, workers couldn’t trust employers to prioritize their well-being over profits, nor could they rely on their own isolated efforts to effect change. Unions became external safeguards, institutionalizing protections like collective bargaining agreements and strike rights. This instinct for self-preservation is human nature; when internal trust—in leadership or personal agency—falters, external structures fill the void.
Leadership Failure: The Catalyst for Unionization
At the heart of union formation lies leadership failure. Effective leaders build trust by fostering environments where employees feel valued, secure, and heard. When this fails, as it did en masse during industrialization, workers turn to unions. In modern terms, this failure often stems from prioritizing short-term gains over long-term sustainability. Employers who suppress wages, ignore safety, or resist dialogue erode trust, compelling workers to organize.
Consider the psychological underpinnings: trust is bidirectional. Workers trust leaders to act ethically, and leaders trust workers to perform without coercion. When employers exploit vulnerabilities—such as economic desperation in developing nations—workers perceive a betrayal, leading to union drives. This aligns with the idea that unions are “a sign of leadership failure since workers do not trust their employers to look out for them.” Historical evidence supports this; the repeal of Britain’s Combination Acts in 1824 came only after persistent worker unrest forced acknowledgment of systemic neglect.
In today’s global economy, these dynamics persist, exacerbated by globalization and inequality. Multinational corporations often face accusations of labor abuses in emerging markets, where weak regulations allow exploitation. Yet, proactive leadership can mitigate this. Companies like Patagonia or Costco demonstrate that investing in employee welfare—through fair pay, benefits, and open communication—reduces unionization needs. These examples show that unions aren’t inevitable; they’re responses to avoidable failures.
The Dangote Refinery Case: A Modern Echo of Historical Struggles
The ongoing crisis at Nigeria’s Dangote Refinery exemplifies these principles in a contemporary African context. Owned by billionaire Aliko Dangote, the $19 billion facility—Africa’s largest with a capacity of 650,000 barrels per day—began operations in early 2025, promising to end Nigeria’s fuel import dependency and create thousands of jobs. Officially, the refinery employs over 40,000 people during construction phases, with 29,000 Nigerians and 11,000 expatriates, and has generated 570,000 indirect jobs. Dangote Group touts competitive salaries, comprehensive benefits including health insurance for families, pensions, housing loans, and training programs that sent thousands of Nigerians abroad for skill-building. Drivers in the Compressed Natural Gas (CNG) scheme reportedly earn three to four times the national minimum wage of ₦70,000, described as a “living wage” that surpasses graduate salaries in some sectors.
Yet, beneath this narrative seem to lie a starkly different reality, as revealed by employee testimonies, union allegations, and investigative reports. Workers and ex-employees describe the refinery as a “hellish environment” characterized by modern-day slavery, pay disparities, and inadequate conditions. Nigerian staff earn significantly less than expatriates, often Indians, for equivalent roles. For instance, a Nigerian engineer might receive ₦383,000 to ₦500,000 monthly (including allowances), while an expatriate with similar qualifications earns $2,000 to $4,000 (₦3-6 million). Unions like NUPENG and PENGASSAN have labeled these wages among the lowest in Nigeria’s oil and gas industry, where peers at smaller firms command over ₦2 million for comparable positions.
Working conditions further fuel discontent. Employees report 24/7 shifts, high stress, delayed salaries (e.g., July pay arriving in August), and no work-life balance. Personal protective equipment (PPE) is issued once, forcing workers to buy replacements out-of-pocket, amid reports of hazards leading to fatalities without accountability. There’s no structured training; even first-class graduates handle units alone as field engineers, earning ₦430,000 with shift allowances, while feeling underutilized and undervalued. Management allegedly discourages staff fraternization, banning WhatsApp groups to prevent organizing, and favors expatriates in operations, limiting skill transfer to locals.
The recent firings escalated a months-long standoff. In September 2025, federal mediation averted a strike over Dangote’s alleged prevention of CNG drivers from unionizing. A court injunction temporarily barred action, but its expiration heightened tensions. Workers joined PENGASSAN en masse, seeking protections against these issues, only to face termination. NUPENG called it “intimidation of organized labor” and an exposure of Dangote’s “true colors,” warning of potential industrial unrest. Legal experts, including human rights lawyer Femi Falana, condemned it as an “affront to labor law,” violating Nigeria’s Trade Unions Act and ILO conventions on union rights.
Public reaction has been polarized. Some defend Dangote’s right to manage his private enterprise, arguing unions could undermine the $20 billion investment. Others criticize the anti-union stance as shortsighted, potentially disrupting operations and tarnishing the refinery’s role in national development. As of September 26, 2025, the refinery relies heavily on expatriates, with canceled leaves and extended shifts exacerbating strains.
This case mirrors Industrial Revolution-era exploitation: workers, feeling neglected, unionize for self-protection, only to face retaliation. Dangote’s leadership, while visionary in building the refinery, appears to have failed in earning trust through equitable treatment. The pay gaps and conditions suggest a prioritization of cost-cutting over welfare, breeding the distrust that fueled unionization.
Broader Implications and Lessons for Leadership
The Dangote incident holds lessons beyond Nigeria. Globally, unions continue to form in response to similar failures, from Amazon warehouses in the U.S. to garment factories in Bangladesh. In Africa, where economic growth often outpaces labor protections, such conflicts highlight the need for balanced development. Governments must enforce laws like Nigeria’s local content policies to ensure skill transfer and fair pay.
For leaders, the key is proactive trust-building. Transparent communication, competitive compensation, and inclusive policies can preempt union drives. Dangote could pivot by reinstating workers, negotiating with unions, and addressing grievances—transforming a crisis into an opportunity for sustainable growth.
Philosophically, this reinforces that when individuals distrust their ability to thrive alone, they seek collective shields. In workplaces, this means unions aren’t the enemy; they’re signals to improve leadership.
Conclusion: Toward a Trust-Based Future
Unions, from their Industrial Revolution origins to modern disputes like Dangote’s, symbolize leadership lapses where trust dissolves. The refinery’s saga, with its tales of underpayment and retaliation, echoes historical exploitations while underscoring workers’ self-protection instincts. By learning from these, leaders can foster environments where unions are unnecessary—built on mutual respect and shared success. As Nigeria navigates its energy future, resolving this conflict equitably could set a precedent for ethical capitalism across the continent.
Godswill O. Erondu
Leadership Consultant and Pioneer, Africa Workplace Leadership Summit
