Diplomatic Amnesia?
Beyond the trivial political argument it may seem, the furore over Reno Omokri’s proposed ambassadorial consideration tests Nigeria’s collective memory, our understanding of statecraft, and the fragile architecture of national credibility in a world where trust is measurable and reputational history is unforgiving. The diplomatic ecosystem is built on continuity, coherence, and character.
Omokri’s likely confirmation is weak in its optics.
Yes, in recent months, President Tinubu has undertaken a series of reconciliatory gestures that can be widely praised as statesmanlike. Public sentiment polling from NOI between July and September showed a 14% rise in perceptions of the President as “accommodating and inclusive.” Many see this as evidence of a leader mature enough to rise above past antagonisms. But magnanimity carries strategic risks when pushed beyond the boundaries of prudence. Nowhere is that risk more palpable than in elevating a man whose digital footprint reads like a manifesto of reputational sabotage.
Reno was not a regular critic offering principled dissent, which some sense of logic might accommodate. Here is a man who built an entire online offensive, 24/7, algorithm-driven, and turbocharged by nearly 2 million followers dedicated to labelling a sitting President an “identity thief,” a “certificate forger,” and the architect of a stolen presidency. During the 2023 electoral cycle alone, Omokri’s posts on Tinubu averaged between 11,000 and 18,000 impressions per attack, with hashtags like #TinubuTheIdentityThief trending at least six times globally. In diplomacy, this is not “past political banter” but a hostile narrative construction. Yet, diplomats are expected to be the President’s cleanest mirrors, not authors of his deepest smears.
No doubt, the President reserves his prerogative to appoint anyone he so wishes.
Tick this: foreign ministries do not forget. They archive. They index. They brief. Imagine dispatching an envoy whose most viral digital artefact is an accusation of criminality against the very President he represents. Omokri’s own words would shadow him into every negotiation room. Unfortunately, once he is confirmed, it is no longer about him. For Nigeria, the embarrassment would be measurable, perhaps even weaponizable, especially in capitals where the country already struggles to reinforce confidence in its electoral and institutional integrity.
Even more troubling is the documented fluidity of Omokri’s moral compass. Between 2018 and 2022, he published over 420 posts alleging ethnic persecution and near-genocidal violence under Buhari. Yet, within months of Tinubu taking office, while attacks in the Middle Belt rose by 9.7% in the same period (ACLED data); he dismissed similar narratives as “opposition exaggeration.” Such selective activism is a clear reputational volatility. And in diplomacy, volatility is a national liability.
Ambassadors are chosen not merely for eloquence or visibility, but for steadiness. Their words can move markets, strain alliances, or shift a country’s risk perception index. Nigeria, currently ranked 95th on the Global Soft Power Index, cannot afford a representative whose public persona is built on provocation, confrontation, and digital grandstanding. Soft power is cumulative, rooted in trust. That very commodity Omokri has repeatedly torched in pursuit of political patronage.
You cannot verbally immolate a Presidency for years and then suddenly claim the moral posture to embody it abroad. Trust is not an emotional sentiment; it is a strategic asset. Once broken publicly and repeatedly, it does not return by decree of appointment.
President Tinubu may have forgiven Omokri. Nigerians may tolerate him. Some even adore his tactics. But foreign governments will remember his footprints. They will Google him. And the digital trail they find would not elevate Nigeria; it would invite ridicule, suspicion, and needless diplomatic vulnerabilities.
Appointing Reno Omokri as an ambassador would not only undermine the dignity of the Presidency; it would paint Nigeria as a nation comfortable exporting contradiction, rewarding inflammatory rhetoric, and discarding the fundamental currency of international relations: credibility.
At a time when Nigeria needs its global voice to be clear, credible, and coherent, this is one gamble the nation cannot afford in a world driven by data, where memory and context are hard to ignore.
