Oluwatumininu Odunuga, a first-class graduate of Law from the Nigerian Law School and a trailblazing oil and gas expert, stands at the forefront of the Nigerian oil and gas industry. In this interview, Oluwatumininu Odunuga provides a detailed and critical analysis of the newly enacted Petroleum Industry Act (PIA) 2021. He explained the Act’s key reforms and highlighted both the promises and potential pitfalls of the Act.

Mr. Odunuga. Tell me how you are doing today

Thank you very much for having me. I’m doing fine, thank you.

Give me a peek into your background and what part of your childhood influenced who you are today

I grew up in Ogun State, Nigeria. Both my parents are lecturers, although my father is late. They’re both significantly responsible for shaping me into who I am today, but I think much of my upbringing and world view is attributable to my mother, given the early death of my father.

I believe every aspect of my childhood, from the seemingly mundane moments to the most extraordinary experiences, has profoundly shaped the person I am today. Whether in quiet reflection or remarkable achievements, these formative years instilled in me an unwavering dedication to learning and a steadfast belief that education is the most powerful and honourable path to enduring success.

Mr. Odunuga, after nearly two decades of legislative gridlock, the Petroleum Industry Act finally became law in 2021. Why should the average Nigerian care?

Because, for better or worse, oil still fuels Nigeria’s economy. For decades, petroleum revenues have been the lifeblood of our national budget, funding everything from roads to salaries. Yet the sector has operated in legal limbo, relying on outdated laws like the Petroleum Act of 1969 and policies that never adapted to global realities. The Petroleum Industry Act (PIA) is Nigeria’s attempt to reset the legal and commercial foundation of the oil and gas industry. It aims to create a more coherent, modern, and transparent framework for governance, investment, and accountability. That affects all of us—from job creation to fuel prices to how much oil money trickles down to the people.

There’s a lot of legal jargon in the Act. Strip it down for us: What are the real game changers?

Let me put it plainly. The Act introduces three landmark reforms that, if implemented properly, could transform the industry.

First, the old, opaque Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC) has been replaced by NNPC Limited, a commercial entity governed under the Companies and Allied Matters Act. This means NNPC is now expected to run like a proper business: keep books, face audits, make profits, and pay dividends to its shareholders, namely, the government. It will no longer be a bottomless pit for public funds or a political slush fund.

Second, the regulatory landscape has been completely overhauled. Instead of one bulky, under-resourced regulator, we now have two specialized agencies: (a) The Nigerian Upstream Petroleum Regulatory Commission (NUPRC) to oversee exploration and production; and (b) The Nigerian Midstream and Downstream Petroleum Regulatory Authority (NMDPRA) to supervise refining, gas processing, pipelines, and distribution. This distinction is crucial because it ensures targeted expertise, reduces bureaucracy, and fosters clearer lines of accountability.

Third, and arguably most socially significant, is the creation of the Host Communities Development Trust. Oil-producing communities—especially in the Niger Delta—have long borne the brunt of pollution, poverty, and underdevelopment. Now, under the Act, oil companies are required to contribute 3% of their operating expenditure into trusts that are managed for the benefit of those communities. It’s a legal mechanism to ensure local participation and to help turn conflict zones into development hubs.

Let’s talk about that last point. A lot of Niger Delta activists say the 3% allocated to host communities is “peanuts.” Are they wrong?

They’re not wrong to feel shortchanged. Historically, these communities have suffered environmental degradation without adequate compensation. The 3% provision is a start—it translates to potentially billions of naira annually, but it pales in comparison to the scale of ecological and economic damage done over the decades. Moreover, the governance structure of these Trusts is still evolving. Who decides how the money is spent? What’s the oversight mechanism? Will communities have real control or just be passive beneficiaries? These are unanswered questions. If mismanaged, the Trusts could end up fueling local tensions rather than resolving them.

What about the government’s angle? Is this Act really going to attract more investors?

That’s certainly one of its primary goals. The PIA revamps Nigeria’s fiscal regime, making it more competitive globally. It reduces royalty rates, simplifies taxes, and provides incentives for investments in deep offshore and natural gas areas where Nigeria has untapped potential. Investors like certainty. Before now, the lack of clear laws, overlapping regulations, and frequent policy reversals scared them off. If Nigeria commits to this new framework—implements it transparently, and resists political interference—it could unlock tens of billions of dollars in stalled projects and attract fresh capital into both upstream and midstream infrastructure.

Now, about the NNPC. We’ve heard this “commercialisation” story before. Is anything actually different this time?

You’re right to be sceptical. We’ve had many declarations in the past. But under the PIA, this is the first time NNPC is formally incorporated as a company under CAMA, with a shareholding structure, a board of directors, and an explicit mandate to operate as a profit-making venture. It’s now subject to corporate governance rules and legal accountability. For instance, NNPC Limited can now enter joint ventures directly, sue and be sued, and even go bankrupt—something unthinkable before. However, all this is theory until tested. Transparency will be key. Will they publish audited financial statements? Will politicians allow the company to operate independently, or will it become “government-owned in name, politically-owned in practice”? That’s the real test.

Critics say the Petroleum Industry Act is silent or vague on clean energy. Is this Act already behind the times?

The world is talking about energy transition, net zero, and decarbonization—but the PIA doesn’t say much on these fronts. To its credit, it does recognise natural gas as Nigeria’s transition fuel and provides fiscal incentives for gas development. That’s a step forward, since Nigeria has one of the world’s largest untapped gas reserves. But there’s little in the law to promote renewable energy, carbon pricing, or climate resilience. Given the global momentum toward green energy, this omission is a missed opportunity. If Nigeria doesn’t position itself early, we risk losing out on global green investment and facing stranded assets in the near future.

If you were advising the new petroleum regulators, what would you tell them?

Two words: discipline and transparency. The regulators must resist the pressure to politicise their decisions. They must publish licensing criteria, uphold compliance rules, and enforce penalties without fear or favour. They should also embrace data transparency—make reports public, allow independent audits, and create channels for citizen oversight. We can’t afford to repeat the sins of the past. Regulation must serve the national interest, not narrow interests.

Final word—hope or hype?

A little of both. The PIA is not a magic wand, but it is a powerful tool—if wielded wisely. It finally gives us a legal architecture that speaks the language of modern oil and gas governance. But laws don’t execute themselves. We need institutional courage, political maturity, and public vigilance. If those align, this Act could be remembered as the turning point in Nigeria’s petroleum history.