by Nij Martin
In the space of just one week, Aliko Dangote has demonstrated a willingness to deploy every tool at his disposal—from anti-corruption petitions to massive defamation lawsuits—to defend his business empire and silence critics. What’s emerging is a pattern of aggressive legal warfare that’s reshaping power dynamics in Nigeria’s corporate world and raising questions about the limits of billionaire influence.
The offensive began with Dangote’s public accusations against Farouk Ahmed, then-CEO of the Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority. Within days of Dangote’s corruption allegations and formal petition to the Independent Corrupt Practices Commission, Ahmed resigned. Now, before that dust has settled, Dangote has turned his legal guns on a Kaduna businessman, threatening a staggering N100 billion lawsuit for alleged defamation.
Target One: The Regulator
Dangote’s campaign against Ahmed was comprehensive and devastating. At a press conference at the Dangote Petroleum Refinery on Sunday, he accused Ahmed of economic sabotage, claiming the NMDPRA boss colluded with international traders and oil importers to frustrate local refining through continued issuance of import licenses for petroleum products.
But Dangote didn’t stop at policy criticism. He made it intensely personal, questioning how a public servant could afford luxury foreign education for his children. In a detailed statement issued Monday, Dangote broke down what he alleged were Ahmed’s education expenses with forensic precision.
“The approximate total fees for tuition and upkeep is $5,000,000,” Dangote claimed, referring to Ahmed’s four children’s secondary education in Switzerland at prestigious institutions including Montreux School, Aiglon College, Institute Le Rosey, and La Garenne International School.
Dangote went further, alleging Ahmed spent an additional $2,000,000 on tertiary education for his four children, plus $210,000 on one son’s 2025 Harvard MBA. “Tuition, upkeep, air tickets and other expenses for tertiary education is approximately $125,000 per annum by 4 years $500,000 x 4 children = $2,000,000. Faisal just finished the 2025 Harvard MBA at $150,000 and $60,000 for upkeep, tickets and other incidentals. Total = $210,000 spent in 2025 for Faisal’s MBA,” he detailed.
The billionaire framed this as a matter of economic justice: “Nigerians deserve to know the source(s) of these sums of money paid by a public officer while many parents in his home state of Sokoto cannot afford to pay N10,000 school fees for their children and wards.”
Within days, Ahmed was summoned to the Presidential Villa and resigned. Whether this represents legitimate accountability or corporate intimidation depends on one’s perspective, but the speed and completeness of Dangote’s victory was undeniable.
Target Two: The Critic
Before anyone could fully process Ahmed’s resignation, Dangote moved against his next target: Kaduna businessman Kailani Mohammed, who had the temerity to question the billionaire’s wealth and business practices on national television.
Through his lawyer, Dr. Ogwu James Onoja, SAN, Dangote served Mohammed with a letter dated December 20, 2025, demanding “public explanation, retraction and unreserved public apology” within seven days—or face a N100 billion lawsuit.
Mohammed’s offense? During a December 17 interview on TrustTV, he questioned Dangote’s business history while reacting to the billionaire’s petition against Ahmed. According to Dangote’s legal letter, Mohammed made “false, reckless, malicious, scandalous and libelous publications concerning our client as a man that has monopolistic tendencies, corruptly enriched himself in business and engaged in economics sabotage.”
The letter quoted Mohammed as stating: “Can Dangote tell us the source of his money in the 80s when he was in Port Harcourt. Who is clean? Every time you want to monopolize, you bring allegations against people. Let him come and prove it. In the 80s we are aware of what happened in Port Harcourt and how he got his money. Nobody came out and said all these things.”
Dangote’s response was unequivocal: “Take Note that our client categorically states that at no time in his life has he carried out any business, commercial activity or wealth generating enterprise in Port Harcourt, whether in the 1980s or at any other period whatsoever as you alleged.”
The letter characterized Mohammed’s statements as portraying Dangote “as a very cruel businessman whose stock in trade is vendetta and campaign of calumny to bring down others and exert monopolistic powers.”
The Seven-Day Ultimatum
Dangote’s demands are comprehensive and aggressive. Within seven days, Mohammed must:
- Publicly explain on TrustTV when, where, and in what capacity Dangote was allegedly involved in any unclean activity in Port Harcourt
- In the absence of verifiable facts, immediately and unequivocally retract the statements in their entirety
- Issue a full, clear, and unreserved public apology broadcast with equal prominence as the original publication
- Pay N100 billion “in damages for loss of reputation, character defamation and public ridicule”
- Provide written undertaking to desist from making further false or defamatory statements
The letter warns: “Be advised that allegations of this nature made without proof on a national media platform are indefensible in law and amount to a gross abuse of the right to freedom of expression which will culminate in both civil and criminal liability.”
It concludes ominously: “Take further notice that should you fail to comply with the conditions stated above and within the time frame, our client shall, without further recourse to you, institute a legal action at a competent court of law against you and claim aggravated damages. This is without prejudice to our client’s right to make a formal report against you to the law enforcement agencies for your investigation and prosecution for criminal defamation.”
A Pattern Emerges
What’s striking about these two cases is not just their proximity but their similarity in approach. Dangote isn’t merely defending his interests—he’s going on offense with overwhelming force.
In Ahmed’s case, he used anti-corruption petitions and detailed public accusations to force out a regulator whose policies affected his business. In Mohammed’s case, he’s threatening a lawsuit so massive—N100 billion—that it could bankrupt most Nigerian businesses, effectively weaponizing the legal system to silence criticism.
Both approaches share common elements: comprehensive documentation, public shaming, and the deployment of institutional power (ICPC in one case, the courts in another) to achieve business objectives. Whether you view this as legitimate accountability or abuse of power likely depends on where you sit in Nigeria’s economic hierarchy.
The Chilling Effect
The implications extend far beyond these two individuals. Every regulator, journalist, analyst, and business commentator in Nigeria is now on notice: criticizing Aliko Dangote can have severe consequences. You might lose your job like Ahmed, or face financial ruin like Mohammed potentially will if Dangote follows through on his threat.
This creates what legal scholars call a “chilling effect”—where people self-censor not because they’ve been directly threatened, but because they’ve seen what happens to those who speak up. How many regulators will now think twice before enforcing rules that affect Dangote’s interests? How many commentators will moderate their analysis to avoid becoming his next target?
The Bigger Question
Dangote’s offensive raises fundamental questions about power and accountability in Nigeria. If corruption allegations against Ahmed are true, shouldn’t they be investigated regardless of who makes them? Absolutely. But should one businessman have the power to force out government officials? That’s more complicated.
Similarly, if Mohammed made false statements about Dangote, doesn’t the billionaire have the right to defend his reputation? Of course. But should defamation damages be so astronomical that they effectively prohibit criticism of the wealthy and powerful? That’s a different question entirely.
What’s undeniable is that Dangote has demonstrated he possesses both the resources and the will to aggressively pursue anyone—regulator or commentator—who challenges his business interests or reputation. Whether Nigeria’s institutions can withstand this kind of pressure, or whether they’ll bend to accommodate the continent’s richest man, remains to be seen.
But one thing is clear: in Nigeria’s corporate world, Dangote isn’t just playing defense anymore. He’s on the offensive, and he’s winning.