As Nigeria grapples with political uncertainty, social tension, and security challenges, Ambassador Thomas Aguiyi-lronsi, a seasoned diplomat, former Minister of Defence, in this interview with OLUDARE RICHARDS, speaks on critical political, social, diplomatic, and security issues, and the path towards a stable and united Nigeria.

It’s been some time since you granted a media interview. Is it because the 60th anniversary of your late father, Major General Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi’s assassination is approaching that you have decided to speak out on the current political, social, and security issues confronting the nation?

Not exactly! But that’s a thoughtful question. You are right that anniversaries awaken reflection. Sixty years after my father’s tragic death, Nigeria still struggles with many of the same questions that haunted his time – questions about unity, justice, leadership, and direction. I chose to speak now not merely because of remembrance, but because silence can become complicity.

We are living in a defining moment – politically, morally, and historically. If those who understand Nigeria’s history and institutions remain silent, then those who misunderstand them will rewrite our story. So, yes, this conversation is partly personal and partly patriotic. My father’s legacy calls for unity; my conscience calls for truth.

The United States recently designated Nigeria as a “Country of Particular Concern” (CPC) over issues of human rights and alleged religious freedom violations. As a seasoned diplomat, what does this mean for Nigeria’s image and international relations? What diplomatic steps should be taken to manage or reverse this status? Does the presence or absence of ambassadors really matter so much in this case?

First, what does it mean to be designated a “Country of Particular Concern”? Under the United States International Religious Freedom Act (IRFA), a “Country of Particular Concern” (CPC) is one that is deemed to have engaged in or tolerated severe violations of religious freedom. According to the U.S. statement, the reasons include recurring attacks against Christian communities, alleged impunity for offenders, and perceived failures in protecting citizens’ religious rights. It is not a sanction in itself but a policy designation that draws attention to serious issues of concern. Fundamentally, the purpose is to prompt dialogue and corrective action, not to isolate a nation. That designation is not a mere label; it’s a diplomatic alarm. It signals that Nigeria’s governance, human rights, and rule of law are under serious scrutiny. It is a statement of concern from the international community that Nigeria may not be living up to its constitutional and human rights obligations.

When the U.S. makes such a declaration, other nations quietly take note – investors, donors, and international partners begin to re-evaluate our credibility.

But beyond image, it is a moral indictment. It tells us that something fundamental is broken in how we handle diversity, dissent, and faith. What worries me most is that it suggests a growing perception that Nigeria tolerates impunity in issues of religious or ethnic violence. One of our major challenges is the obvious failure to manage perception and maintain active diplomatic engagement. When a country of Nigeria’s size has no ambassador in Washington during such deliberations, it signals institutional negligence. We must treat our citizens with the same dignity we demand from the world. Diplomacy begins at home. If we lose moral legitimacy, no foreign policy brilliance can compensate for that.

This designation could have been prevented absolutely. Early warning signals were evident. Advocacy organisations in Washington had long accused Nigeria of religious bias. Proactive diplomacy high-level visits, clarifications and engagement with Congress could have mitigated the decision. Sadly, we reacted only after the damage was done. Now, to reverse this status, we must embark on serious diplomatic dialogue, backed by concrete domestic reforms: Appoint ambassadors to Washington and the UN first, and other grade A missions – respected figures with cross-regional understanding; engage the U.S. Congress and State Department; show progress not propaganda – on interfaith protection, justice for victims of violence, and community reconciliation; establish an Inter-gubernatorial task force to address religious freedom and justice-sector reform.

Nigeria’s foreign policy must reflect moral integrity at home. The world respects nations that correct their flaws, not those that deny them. In diplomacy, silence is costly. Ambassadors are not ceremonial figures; they are national watchmen who anticipate, interpret, and influence host-nation policy. Without them, advocacy groups dominate the narrative. The CPC outcome is what happens when a country abandons its own story to others. Nigeria has well educated diplomats acting as charge d ‘affairs but many meetings and even access to some officials is only available or allowed to ambassadors. Contrary to the belief by some members of the National Assembly, ambassadorship is not a fit for everybody and therefore, stringent vetting must take place. The case of what recently happened to the UK Ambassador to the U.S. comes to mind.

We should know countries’ ambassadors nominated for realistic vetting and screening processes.

There’s renewed agitation in the South-East amid the continued detention of Nnamdi Kanu. How best should this issue be handled?

The detention of Nnamdi Kanu has become more symbolic than legal. It represents the wider frustration of a people who feel unheard. Agitation thrives where dialogue fails. If we keep responding to political discontent with force rather than understanding, we deepen resentment. My position is clear: The Federal Government must show both firmness and fairness. Justice must not only be done, but must also be seen to be done. What we need now is statesmanship, not just legalism. Releasing Kanu under national dialogue conditions could open a door for healing, not chaos. As a junior brother from my late mother’s place, I of course wanted Nnamdi Kanu freed to be united with his family in the UK. I am surprised that the UK labour government has been slow to lobby on his behalf. Maybe it may soon take up matters.

Many historians still debate the events of January 15, 1966. Some describe the coup as an “Igbo coup,” while others see it as a patriotic but ill-fated attempt to reform Nigeria. As the son of Major General J.T.U. Aguiyi-Ironsi, Nigeria’s first military Head of State, are you bitter about the July 29 counter-coup that claimed his life?

History must be approached with truth, not emotion. January 15 was not an “Igbo coup.” It was a coup in Nigeria, by Nigerians, against corruption and political instability. It is intellectually dishonest to tribalise it simply because some of the officers involved happened to be Igbo. That narrative was weaponised to divide Nigeria and justify cycles of revenge. My father, Major General J.T.U. Aguiyi-lronsi, was not part of the January 15 plot; he became Head of State by constitutional succession, not conspiracy. Yet he paid the supreme price for believing in one Nigeria.

As for bitterness, no. Bitterness is unproductive. What I carry is conviction that Nigeria must learn from her past to avoid repeating it. Those tragic events remind us that unity without justice is fragile, and justice without truth is impossible. My father told me at Ibadan before he was whisked away not to take revenge. I obey my father. As the great Sarduana said, we must respect our differences in Nigeria. The best tribute to all who died in 1966 on both sides is not revenge, but reform and restructuring.

Let’s talk about inclusion. There’s a growing campaign for special seats for women in Nigeria’s political structure. Do you support this idea?

Completely! It’s both necessary and overdue. Women are not political accessories; they are nation builders. Empowering women in politics is not about pity; it’s about productivity. Countries that include women in governance tend to make better social and economic progress. They make up half of our population, yet their voices remain faint in decision-making. Special seats are not charity; they are justice. Nigeria must learn from Rwanda, Ethiopia, and even some Western democracies that legislated representation to balance the field. Special seats may not be the perfect solution, but they are a necessary starting point to balance decades of exclusion.

Beyond quotas, we need to change our political culture to stop intimidating women who dare to lead. When Nigerian women rise fully in politics, our democracy will mature. Some critics argue that leadership should be earned, not reserved. For me, that’s an argument of privilege. When a system is tilted, fairness demands correction. You cannot talk about “merit” in a system designed by and for men. Gender quotas are temporary interventions to create balance. Once inclusivity becomes organic, the policy can evolve.

Furthermore, it is very necessary that political parties stop paying lip service to gender inclusion. They must amend their constitutions to guarantee at least 35 per cent representation in both elective and appointive offices. Women have proven capacity – in the Foreign Service, civil service, academia, and business. What they need is access, not approval. In this connection, I wish to remember a trailblazer, late Prof. Joy Ogwu, our foremost former Foreign Affairs Minister and leader in the United Nations as Nigeria’s Permanent Representative. May she rest in perfect peace.

Ethnic mistrust still dominates Nigeria’s politics. Do you believe the Yorubas hate the Igbos, and the Igbos hate the North? Some even say the Igbos hate Nigeria itself…

Firstly, President Tinubu is my President and I give him my full loyalty. I reject the language of hate. What we see in Nigeria is not hatred; it is historical hurt that has never been properly healed. Every election season, politicians exploit old wounds to win votes, and after elections, they abandon the wounds to aggravate again. The Yorubas don’t hate the Igbo; the North doesn’t hate the South. What we have is a deficit of justice, not love. Absolutely, the Igbos don’t hate Nigeria. But they are frustrated that Nigeria hasn’t loved them back fairly.

The lgbos have built Nigeria. They have served Nigeria, shed blood for it, invested in every corner of it, and continue to believe in its possibilities. But love cannot survive forever without justice. What the Igbos and indeed every Nigerian group seek is fairness, inclusion, and respect. When equity becomes the foundation of governance, mistrust will naturally dissolve. True unity will come when no child in Kano, Enugu, or Ibadan feels like a tenant in their own country. Until then, our anthem will remain a song, not yet a reality. Our so-called state of origin should also have clear residency provisions of 15 years and birth.

You served as both Minister of State for Defence and later as Minister of Defence. How do you assess the state of security in Nigeria today?

Nigeria’s security today reflects both courage and chaos. Our armed forces have shown immense bravery, but they are fighting a war that is no longer purely military. Insecurity in Nigeria is no longer just about bullets and bombs; it’s about poverty, injustice, and weak governance. We face a hybrid threat, insurgency mixed with banditry, political manipulation, and social decay. Until government policies address the root causes – unemployment, inequality, hopelessness and others – our soldiers will keep fighting fires without water. Security is not achieved by guns alone. It’s built through justice, education, and opportunity. If you make citizens believe in the system again, you reduce the number of people willing to fight against it.

Nigeria is deeply religious, yet corruption and injustice persist. Why hasn’t our faith translated into morality in public life?

Because religion in Nigeria has become ceremonial rather than transformational. We pray loudly but live carelessly. We have more churches than factories, more pastors than teachers, and yet corruption thrives. True faith builds character, not crowds. Until our religion begins to reflect in how we treat the poor, the weak, and the nation’s resources, we will keep deceiving ourselves. God is not impressed by the size of our cathedrals but by the integrity of our conscience.

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is transforming the world. Is Al good for Nigeria or it is a threat to jobs and education?

Al is neither friend nor foe, it is a force. Whether it helps or harms Nigeria depends on how we approach it. Al can revolutionise agriculture, healthcare, and governance. Imagine if we used predictive technology to track floods, detect exam malpractices, or monitor electoral fraud, that’s real progress. But we must prepare our people. Al without human development will deepen inequality. We must teach our youth not only to use technology but to create it. We should be exporting Nigerian innovation, not importing every solution. Technology must serve humanity, not replace it.

Finally, 60 years after your father’s assassination, what do you think his greatest lesson for Nigeria is today?

His greatest lesson is simple: Leadership is service, not privilege. My father believed in discipline, loyalty, and unity. These are values he carried to his death. He refused to divide the country, even when doing so might have saved his life. He envisioned a Nigeria where merit would matter more than tribe, and justice would speak louder than power. That dream remains unfinished. But I believe it can still be fulfilled if we have the courage to confront our past honestly and govern our present justly. The best tribute we can pay him and all patriots of his generation is to build a Nigeria that finally deserves their sacrifice. (The Guardian, text, excluding headline)

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