KHADIJAH LAWAN MUHAMMAD
Crisis management today is no longer just a corporate necessity—it has become a survival strategy for government agencies that operate under constant public scrutiny.
The book “Impactful Public Relations in Customs Management” by Kabir Abdulsalam and Maryam Umar Na’Allah provides an insightful exploration of crisis communication within the Nigerian Customs Service (NCS), drawing heavily on the leadership style of Comptroller General Wale Adeniyi. It bridges theory and practice, linking established communication models with the realities of governance in Nigeria.
At the heart of its argument is John Maxwell’s famous assertion that “in times of crisis, people want to know that you care before they care what you know.” This framing is particularly timely in Nigeria, where public institutions are often accused of being aloof from citizens’ struggles. Communication, the book stresses, is not merely about passing information—it is about demonstrating empathy and building trust when tensions are high.
One of the most striking examples highlighted is Adeniyi’s handling of the border closure with Niger Republic, a politically sensitive decision tied to ECOWAS sanctions after the coup that toppled President Mohamed Bazoum. Communicating this decision to border communities—who were bound to suffer immediate hardship—was no easy task.
Yet Adeniyi’s approach, which acknowledged the pain it would cause, engaged stakeholders, and framed the closure as part of a larger goal of peace and regional stability, stands out as a textbook case of proactive communication. In Nigeria’s tense political climate, silence or arrogance could easily have fuelled resentment and unrest.
Another compelling case study is the protest by clearing agents over what they believed was an arbitrary hike in customs duties. Adeniyi’s clarification —that the increase was not a new government policy but a result of foreign exchange fluctuations— was crucial in quelling anger. This reflects a key rule of crisis communication: address misinformation quickly before it spirals out of control.
While the explanation did not eliminate the economic burden on importers, it repositioned Customs as transparent rather than exploitative. As the book rightly observes, crisis communication is not always about offering instant solutions—it is often about sustaining trust and demonstrating accountability until broader policy measures take effect.
However, I noticed the book’s strong emphasis on communication as the ultimate tool for crisis management. While communication is indispensable, it can not replace substantive reforms. Border communities may appreciate being sensitised, but prolonged restrictions that cut off livelihoods will inevitably breed resentment.
Likewise, traders may accept explanations about forex fluctuations, but without policy interventions to stabilise the naira, frustration will persist. Communication must, therefore, go hand-in-hand with tangible reforms to avoid being dismissed as empty rhetoric.
The book’s review of communication theories —including Timothy Coombs’ Situational Crisis Communication Theory (SCCT), William Benoit’s Image Restoration Theory, and the Crisis Communication Life Cycle model—adds scholarly depth. These frameworks show that responses can be systematically designed rather than improvised. SCCT, in particular, resonates in the Nigerian context. Customs’ explanation that duty increases were externally driven was a way of deflecting responsibility, a legitimate strategy under SCCT when an organisation is wrongly blamed.
Equally important are the highlighted principles of transparency, timeliness, consistency, and preparedness. Too often in Nigeria, government agencies react after damage is done. The argument that preparedness—having a communication plan in place before a crisis—can determine whether a situation spirals out of control is spot on.
Where the book shines most is in connecting theory with lived reality. Its emphasis on community engagement reflects what Customs actually practiced in border towns. Its reminder of media scrutiny also resonates, given how Nigerian press and social media often amplify crises. Credibility, it argues, remains an institution’s most valuable asset in times of turbulence.
Still, the risks of poor communication deserved greater emphasis. In today’s digital era, where misinformation spreads at lightning speed, one poorly handled crisis can wipe out years of reputation-building. This underscores why institutions must not only prepare communication strategies but also invest in training spokespersons who can respond with authority and empathy.
Overall, the book makes a compelling case for the centrality of crisis communication in public relations, using Wale Adeniyi’s leadership in Customs as a practical illustration. I strongly agree with its argument that empathy, transparency, and stakeholder engagement are non-negotiable in times of crisis.
However, I maintain that communication alone can not resolve structural challenges—it must be paired with policy reforms that address the root causes of crises. Customs’ example offers both lessons and caution: effective communication can preserve trust in turbulent times, but true credibility comes only when words are backed with action.
As the book concludes, and I agree, the Comptroller General’s approach provides a model for leaders and institutions, showing how crises can be transformed into opportunities for trust, growth, and resilience.
Khadijah Lawan Muhammad is a Mass Communication student at Nile University and an intern with PRNigeria. Email: khadeeeelawan@gmail.com