Russia is not alone in seeing oil as a means to transform its global standing. Nowadays, the mantra of Nigerian President Umar Yar'Adua, who took power last June following controversial elections, is to transform the country into one of the world's 20 largest economies by 2020. Yar'Adua and his Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) are struggling to stamp their authority on an unwieldy and restive country of 140 million people, and the government views rapid growth as a means to achieving that aim.
Nigerians can use a dose of hope. Olusegun Obasanjo, who became Nigeria's first elected president in 1999 after nearly two decades of military dictatorship, left vast swathes of the country trapped in poverty when he handed power to Yar'Adua.
With oil nudging US$100 per barrel and energy-hungry giants like the US and China beating a path to its door, Africa's leading oil producer wants to use petrodollars to cure the nation's economic ills and flex its muscles in the international arena.
While riding the crest of the last oil boom in the late 1970s, Nigeria's military leaders nationalized the assets of British Petroleum and became champions of pan-African cooperation, financing several African liberation movements. The interests of the West and Nigeria repeatedly clashed, but Nigeria always stood its ground.
Inept government and economic decline in the 1980s and 1990s obliged Nigeria's leaders to focus on problems closer to home, like the civil wars in Liberia and Sierra Leone. But old habits die hard.
Nigeria has always sought a leadership role in Africa and its diaspora. Even in the turbulent 1990s, when Nigeria was temporarily suspended from the British Commonwealth following the execution of minority rights campaigner Ken Saro-Wiwa by General Sani Abacha's regime, the governing elite sought to achieve Nigeria's "rightful" place in global affairs.
There are now signs of a resurgent oil-driven foreign policy. In October, Yar'Adua joined South Africa and Libya in opposing US plans to deploy AFRICOM, its new African regional military command, on the continent. He then asked Nigeria's National Assembly to write off US$13 million of Liberia's US$43 million debt after Liberian President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf withdrew her offer to host the new command.
Nigerian officials are careful to disavow any link between this financial gift and Johnson-Sirleaf's turn away from AFRICOM. Nor do they voice their concern that AFRICOM could be part of US efforts to exert control on West Africa's oil-producing countries. But in confidential briefings, Nigeria has strongly hinted that it will not tolerate any foreign incursions on a vital and strategic resource in its own backyard.
Domestically, the renewed flexing of Nigeria's foreign policy muscles is being played out in the ongoing face-off between the new National Energy Council, which reports to the president, and Western oil firms, led by Shell's subsidiary, over when to end production-related gas flaring.
The government insists on a deadline this month, but the companies complain that the government's reluctance to fund its share of operating costs fully and rising political violence in the Niger Delta make this deadline unrealistic, and want it extended three years. The Department of Petroleum Resources, the regulatory agency for the oil industry, has dismissed these claims, vowing to impose hefty fines on companies that flout the deadline.
In the early 1990s, desperately short of hard currency, Nigeria negotiated contracts permitting the oil companies to develop new fields and recoup their investment before sharing profits. Now, following the companies' discovery of massive reserves, technocrats appointed by Yar'Adua to take charge of oil policy want Nigeria to get a larger slice of the pie. That also means ending government co-financing of operating costs and demanding that the oil companies tap capital markets to bridge the shortfall.
Department of Petroleum Resources chief Tony Chukwueke has also announced plans to create an African version of Petronas, Malaysia's state-run oil company, and transform the sclerotic Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation into a powerful oil-producing firm that can dominate the market in the Gulf of Guinea and other emerging regions.
Intense Western pressure has been brought to bear on Yar'Adua to re-consider this month's deadline. His election is being challenged in court by other candidates, and Western backing could play a role in stabilizing his government. But his advisers, some of whom played a key role in shaping Nigeria's foreign policy in the 1970s, are keen to use the gas-flaring issue to demonstrate Yar'Adua's resolve and standing as a pan-African leader.
But, as in the 1970s, the success of Nigerian diplomacy will depend on the government's ability to win legitimacy at home. That will require repairing and improving damaged infrastructure, generating economic prosperity, running efficient social services and taming the unrest in the delta region. It is not clear whether Yar'Adua's government can meet these challenges.
Ike Okonta is a fellow in the Department of Politics and International Relations at the University of Oxford.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
Taiwanese pragmatism has long been praised when it comes to addressing Chinese attempts to erase Taiwan from the international stage. “Taipei” and the even more inaccurate and degrading “Chinese Taipei,” imposed titles required to participate in international events, are loathed by Taiwanese. That is why there was huge applause in Taiwan when Japanese public broadcaster NHK referred to the Taiwanese Olympic team as “Taiwan,” instead of “Chinese Taipei” during the opening ceremony of the Tokyo Olympics. What is standard protocol for most nations — calling a national team by the name their country is commonly known by — is impossible for
India is not China, and many of its residents fear it never will be. It is hard to imagine a future in which the subcontinent’s manufacturing dominates the world, its foreign investment shapes nations’ destinies, and the challenge of its economic system forces the West to reshape its own policies and principles. However, that is, apparently, what the US administration fears. Speaking in New Delhi last week, US Deputy Secretary of State Christopher Landau warned that “we will not make the same mistakes with India that we did with China 20 years ago.” Although he claimed the recently agreed framework
The Office of the US Trade Representative (USTR) on Wednesday last week announced it is launching investigations into 16 US trading partners, including Taiwan, under Section 301 of the Trade Act of 1974 to determine whether they have engaged in unfair trade practices, such as overproduction. A day later, the agency announced a separate Section 301 investigation into 60 economies based on the implementation of measures to prohibit the importation of goods produced with forced labor. Several of Taiwan’s main trading rivals — including China, Japan, South Korea and the EU — also made the US’ investigation list. The announcements come
Taiwan is not invited to the table. It never has been, but this year, with the Philippines holding the ASEAN chair, the question that matters is no longer who gets formally named, it is who becomes structurally indispensable. The “one China” formula continues to do its job. It sets the outer boundary of official diplomatic speech, and no one in the region has a serious interest in openly challenging it. However, beneath the surface, something is thickening. Trade corridors, digital infrastructure, artificial intelligence (AI) cooperation, supply chains, cross-border investment: The connective tissue between Taiwan and ASEAN is quietly and methodically growing