Where megaphones replace strategy and own-goals are proudly scored in extra time.
Nigeria’s approach to diplomacy often feels like someone trying to negotiate a loan repayment by first announcing to the entire village that the lender is wicked — before even asking the lender for an extension.
And the recent saga over the attempted transfer of Ike Ekweremadu from the UK to Nigeria? A masterclass. A full PhD thesis in How Not To Do Diplomacy.
Let’s break it down.
Rule 1: Don’t Go Public Before You Go Private
In normal diplomatic practice — you know, the kind used by countries that pass their exams without expo — you start quietly. You engage discreetly. You explore options behind closed doors, where nobody will screenshot your foolishness.
But what did Nigeria do?
They grabbed a megaphone, climbed the tallest palm tree, and shouted:
> “UK! We’re sending a powerful delegation to bring home our citizen!”
Unto who? For what? To what end?
If you’re going public, it should be because:
A) you’ve already agreed behind the scenes, so the announcement is just official chest-beating, or
B) you believe the gods — and the public — are on your side, and public pressure will push the other country.
But in this case? There was zero public support.
Not in the UK.
Not in Nigeria.
Not even inside Ekweremadu’s own WhatsApp group chat.
So what exactly were we leveraging? Vibes? Nostalgia? Incense?
Rule 2: Don’t Embarrass Yourself on the International Stage
This is not a one-off incident. It’s part of a pattern — a choreography of diplomatic missteps so consistent it deserves a Netflix documentary.
Remember when Trump threatened unspecified thunder and brimstone?
Nigeria’s response was to loudly announce that President Tinubu would personally go to meet Trump.
Ah. Boldness. Courage. Oversabi.
But the Americans promptly replied:
> “If any meeting happens, it’ll be with VP Vance.”
In diplomatic language, that is the equivalent of saying:
> “My friend, shift. Know your size.”
The Nigerian government immediately walked back its original loud statement — Olympic-level backpedalling. Suddenly the “meeting” became a “possible discussion,” and then somehow evaporated entirely like NEPA light during rainfall.
Rule 3: If You Don’t Know Who to Meet, Stay at Home
To top it all off, Nigeria then sent a “high-level delegation” to the US to discuss Trump’s threat.
You’d think such a delegation would meet top American officials.
Instead, they met… a backbencher. Someone so inconsequential that even Google searches pause to ask:
> “Are you sure?”
It was a diplomatic own-goal so perfect, VAR would certify it.
So Who Exactly Is Running Public Policy?
Because at this point, one begins to wonder:
Is there a Department of International Misfires?
A Ministry of Diplomatic Gaffes?
A Commission for Public Embarrassment and Foreign Affairs?
How do these things happen repeatedly, consistently, flamboyantly — and nobody is fired, reassigned, or even given a small warning letter?
If you don’t know who to meet abroad, stay at home.
If you can’t negotiate quietly, switch off the microphone.
And if you can’t identify public support, at least identify public silence — it’s usually a sign to behave yourself.
Until then, welcome to Diplomacy 101: Nigerian Edition, where the only constant is confusion and the only strategy is “wing it.”
Centre for Nigeria Progress 