Mazi Okereke: The Aviation Strike and Lessons in Crisis Communication
By Yushau A. Shuaib
When I received the invitation to speak on crisis communication at the 20th International PR Congress in Lagos — and learned that Esther Cobbah, the first African President of the International Public Relations Association, would also be in attendance — I was genuinely excited. The annual Congress is far more than another conference; it is a gathering of senior public relations practitioners, academics, institutional leaders, and communication strategists, a forum where emerging professional practices are interrogated and excellence is celebrated.
For me, it was also an opportunity to share practical lessons and present my recent publications, including a research on AI in crisis communication within Nigeria’s public sector.
My schedule was tight. I planned to return to Abuja the next day to prepare for the National Spokespersons Awards and the Economic Confidential Annual Lecture. Yet, beyond professional duty, the journey carried a personal significance.
My participation at the Congress was made possible through the generous hospitality of a man whose contributions to public relations in Nigeria and Africa remain extraordinary — Mazi Mike Okereke, President of BEEC International and Director of The Management School, London. He personally provided my return flight ticket and accommodation in Lagos.
That gesture is typical of a man who has spent decades opening professional doors for others. He was a gateway to international professional exposure. Through his programmes — including the International School of Public Relations in London, he did not merely gain access to international platforms; he opened those doors for others. In my own case, Mazi Okereke recommended my nomination for membership of the then Institute of Public Relations (now CIPR) in the United Kingdom, as well as IPRA in the 1990s. Those relationships contributed to my career and continue to influence my work especially on crisis Communication.
His institutional footprints are equally remarkable. He served as President of the Nigerian Institute of Public Relations (NIPR) and the African Public Relations Association (APRA), while also holding leadership roles within the Nigerian Institute of Management and IPRA. Through these platforms, he projected Nigerian public relations practice beyond our borders.
The 20th International PR Congress is itself a testament to his persistence and vision. Sustaining such a gathering for twenty editions across shifting governments, economic uncertainties, and institutional challenges in African countries requires conviction, not just resources. It was therefore natural to be enthusiastic about attending this milestone edition.
Then came the morning of August 11, 2026 — a day when a crisis communicator encountered a crisis firsthand. Arriving at the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport at 6:30 a.m., two hours ahead of my scheduled Air Peace flight, I found the entrance gates padlocked, the departure hall deserted, and no official notification explaining what had happened or what would happen next.
In my luggage were copies of my publications on crisis communication — the very subject I was travelling to discuss. Yet there I stood, books unopened, while stranded passengers milled around the forecourt without seating, information, or officials who could provide clarity.
The irony was not lost on me. Organised labour and major aviation unions had moved to enforce industrial action. Airline counters were inaccessible, gates sealed, check‑in suspended, and airline personnel unable to perform their duties.
Ironically, posters displayed around the entrance communicated the unions’ grievances more effectively than the airlines communicated with their own passengers.
The issues behind the dispute were not trivial — they involved workers’ rights to unionise and disagreements over statutory financial obligations within the aviation sector. Yet, on a personal level, I frown at actions that jeopardise indigenous businesses and undermine the sacrifices of local investors sustaining our aviation industry.
But the strike exposed a deeper systemic failure: a breakdown in passenger communication. These were people who had purchased tickets, rearranged schedules, left their homes early, travelled to the airport — only to discover at the gate that the services they paid for were unavailable.
In crisis communication, one basic principle applies: stakeholders should never learn about a crisis directly affecting them from a padlocked gate.
When I later checked my booking status, my flight appeared on the system but was marked as a “past flight,” with no option to check in and no explanation. A simple notification would have saved me the dawn trip to the airport.
Customer service channels, overwhelmed by distressed passengers, became unreachable precisely when they were needed most. That was the moment an industrial dispute turned into a communication crisis.
Information about a potential shutdown usually exists within the system long before the first gate is locked. The real question is who ensures that such information reaches passengers promptly. Crisis communication is anticipatory — providing timely, credible updates that help stakeholders make informed decisions before the full impact hits them.
Missing the milestone PR Congress — and the chance to honour a professional elder who shaped my international exposure — would have been deeply disappointing. After nearly six hours without resolution, I booked a later ValueJet flight at almost twice my original fare, simply to secure a realistic chance of reaching Lagos.
Yet my personal inconvenience — the wasted hours, extra costs, and disrupted itinerary — was secondary to the larger institutional lesson. Some stranded passengers may have had international connections, medical appointments, examinations, interviews, funerals, weddings, court appearances, or business meetings. Disruptions may sometimes be unavoidable, but silence should never be.
Modern aviation possesses the infrastructure for automated alerts, real‑time updates, and coordinated communication. What is required is preparedness, coordination, and respect for passengers.
As I finally landed in Lagos, I resolved that my experience at the Abuja airport would become part of my presentation at the PR Congress. After all, the most memorable lessons in crisis communication are rarely found in textbooks or PowerPoint slides. They unfold before us — in real time, among real people, with real consequences.
After my presentation — with the aviation strike as my case study — I learned that Esther Cobbah’s flight from Ghana had also been affected. She arrived much later than scheduled, only to discover that her baggage had not arrived with the airline. It was an unnecessary ordeal for a distinguished guest.
When I met her, I simply remarked that such an incident was not reflective of our culture, and she laughed it off with grace. And on this occasion, the lesson was unmistakable: a crisis may be unavoidable, but communication failure is not.
Yushau A. Shuaib, Author of “Crisis Communication Strategies” and “MNI Versus MNIPR in NIPSS” www.YAShuaib.com