I was overwhelmed by the number of calls I received from those who read Part One. It tells me that Nigerians—especially those who understand how the world actually works—are hungry for a foreign policy reset. Let me illustrate with a pointed example—one that separates the professional from the politician, the seasoned diplomat from the seasonal spectator. So let me now ground the argument in a single, unforgettable case study: the late Ambassador Olugbenga Ashiru.
As one of the journalists who covered the Ministry during the 2012 xenophobic attacks, I felt the heat firsthand. A captain steering the ship knows his compass, and today I can point clearly to his achievements. What follows is not hearsay. It is first-hand observation of a master at work.
The Ashiru Template: When a Career Diplomat Leads
In 2012, xenophobic attacks against Nigerians in South Africa reached another ugly crescendo. But it was a specific incident that lit the fuse. On March 2, 2012, South African immigration officials at OR Tambo International Airport deported 125 Nigerian travellers—including a serving senator—on the pretext that their yellow fever vaccination certificates were fraudulent. The Nigerians were held in inhuman conditions, without food or water for 24 hours, before being bundled back to Lagos.
Nigeria’s national honour had been assaulted. A politician might have reached for a microphone. Ambassador Ashiru reached for a strategy.
A three-pronged response, executed in days
First, he directed Nigeria’s High Commissioner in Pretoria to deliver a formal protest note within hours. Before the week was out, Nigeria had deported 84 South African citizens in a swift, calibrated tit-for-tat.
Second, he went before the National Assembly on March 6 and delivered a masterclass in diplomatic testimony. He refused to accept South Africa’s “public health” excuse, noting that the very same yellow fever cards had been pre‑approved by South Africa’s own visa officers in Abuja. “Having crosschecked and given them visas,” he asked, “why should the Immigration Department at the point of entry say the same certificate is fake?” He further reminded Parliament that Nigeria had been certified Yellow Fever‑free by the World Health Organization since 1995. South Africa’s justification collapsed.
Third, he reframed the incident. “What you see playing out is what we call xenophobia by South Africans against all Africans—not just Nigerians,” he declared. He linked the deportation to the long history of xenophobic violence in 2008 and 2009, moving the conversation from a narrow immigration dispute to a fundamental question of African solidarity and mutual respect.
Then came the quiet leverage that only a career diplomat would know how to apply. Ashiru warned South African firms operating in Nigeria—MTN, Shoprite, Standard Bank—that they could no longer take Nigeria’s “friendly business environment” for granted. He specifically condemned the practice of bringing “half‑baked South African graduates” to occupy positions above better‑qualified Nigerians. “South Africa does not have a monopoly of deportation,” he warned.
On March 8, 2012—just six days after the original deportation—South Africa’s Deputy Foreign Minister appeared before the press and tendered an unconditional apology. “We wish to humbly apologise to them,” he said. “We are apologising because we deported a number of people who should not have been deported.” Remarkably, he added that South Africa did not expect an apology from Nigeria for its retaliatory deportations.
New procedures were announced: mass deportations would henceforth require approval from South Africa’s foreign ministry, and vaccination facilities would be opened at airports. Nigeria had won. Without a single shot fired. Without closing an embassy. Through sheer diplomatic professionalism.
Behind the scenes, Ashiru deployed a three‑pronged strategy.
First, he instructed Nigeria’s High Commissioner in Pretoria to compile a verifiable, incident‑by‑incident dossier—not for the media, but for the African Union and the Southern African Development Community (SADC) secretariat.
Second, he recalled Nigeria’s Ambassador to South Africa for consultations. This was not a public humiliation; it was a standard diplomatic tool to signal displeasure while keeping communication lines open.
Third, and most critically, Ashiru worked the corridors of the African Union in Addis Ababa. He did not demand a resolution in plenary. Instead, he first secured the backing of Ghana, Senegal, and Ethiopia in private bilateral meetings. When the matter finally came to the AU Peace and Security Council, Nigeria did not look like a wounded giant crying wolf. It looked like a strategic power presenting evidence.
The result was a joint communiqué that did more than condemn violence. It established an early warning mechanism on migrant safety, co‑chaired by Nigeria and South Africa. Ashiru never once called for a boycott of South African goods. He never threatened retaliatory expulsions. He understood that diplomacy is not about satisfying domestic gallery rage; it is about securing outcomes.
Why Ashiru Succeeded Where Others Would Have Failed
Ashiru was not a political appointee learning on the job. He was a career diplomat of forty years’ standing—a man who had served as Ambassador to South Korea, as High Commissioner to South Africa (with concurrent accreditation to Lesotho and Swaziland), and as envoy to the United Kingdom and North Korea. He understood Pretoria’s mindset because he had negotiated with them before. He knew their economic vulnerabilities because he had studied them. He spoke their diplomatic language because he had lived it.
President Goodluck Jonathan understood this well. At Ashiru’s valedictory session, Jonathan noted: “Without a foreign minister that knew his onions, I wouldn’t have been able to manage the situation. With Ambassador Ashiru by my side, we were able to pull through.” Vice President Namadi Sambo called him “a quintessential gentleman and an experienced diplomat who had dedicated his life to the service of the nation.”
Ashiru’s legacy extends far beyond the South Africa crisis. He re‑energised Nigeria’s presence in international diplomacy in the post‑Obasanjo era, secured 22 key international appointments for Nigerians—including Commissioner for Political Affairs at the African Union and Commissioner for Peace and Security at ECOWAS—and laid the groundwork for Nigeria’s election as a non‑permanent member of the UN Security Council in 2013.
The Lesson for President Tinubu
A career diplomat knows when to roar and when to whisper. The political appointee—especially one parachuted into Tafawa Balewa House—often only knows how to roar. By the time he realises whispering would have worked, the flight has left.
That is why Nigeria’s next Foreign Minister must be a career diplomat. Not because politicians are inherently incapable, but because the stakes do not permit on‑the‑job training. A political appointee can set strategic direction, but a career diplomat as minister—or at minimum as the permanent secretary with real authority—provides the institutional memory and technical expertise to execute.
I am not writing in a vacuum. As a diplomatic reporter on this corridor close to two decades I am tapping into ongoing advocacy.The Civil Society Organisations has specifically called for deepening Nigeria’s diplomatic capacity by appointing more career diplomats to strategic roles, ensuring continuity and consistency in foreign policy.
Who should be appointed? That decision rests solely with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Any specific name at this point would be speculative. Appointments are always a complex mix of political considerations, diplomatic expertise, and strategic need. But I can say this categorically: there are capable hands within the ranks of retired and serving career diplomats—men and women who have spent thirty years learning exactly where the levers of power are hidden.
Today, as we debate the future of Nigeria’s foreign service, let us remember Ashiru’s lesson: when a career diplomat leads, Nigeria does not just speak. Nigeria is heard.
