JAMB’s Public Apology: A Masterclass in Crisis Communication by Haroon Aremu Abiodun
“Man proposes, God disposes.” That was the opening line tweeted by the official X (formerly Twitter) handle of Nigeria’s Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) when news broke that a UTME candidate, Miss Timilehin Faith Opesusi, had tragically taken her own life by ingesting rodent poison. She had reportedly scored a “low 190 mark” in the just-concluded 2025 Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination.
Intended as a message of divine consolation, the tweet backfired spectacularly. Was it an unfortunate misstep—or a tone-deaf display of public relations insensitivity in the face of a national tragedy?
Although the exact circumstances surrounding Miss Opesusi’s death remain inconclusive—with conflicting reports about whether her score directly triggered her suicide—one thing was clear: the public reaction was swift and unforgiving. Citizens demanded answers. Parents were shaken. Students panicked. Critics mobilized.
Yet amid the uproar, something rare and remarkable occurred. JAMB’s Registrar, Professor Ishaq Oloyede, did what is almost alien in Nigerian public service—he accepted responsibility. Openly. Calmly. Without spin.
“It was an error from our end. We apologise,” he said at a press conference, referring to a technical glitch that affected some candidates’ results. The room fell silent. Nigerians were stunned—not by scandal, but by sincerity. No finger-pointing. No scapegoats. Just a high-ranking official owning up to a mistake with humility.
In a public culture where denial is the default response to crises, JAMB’s immediate apology and transparent communication marked a significant case study in ethical leadership. The brilliance of that moment wasn’t in a carefully crafted press release—it was in the courage of a man who chose truth over optics.
JAMB’s sincere and timely response was a textbook example of effective crisis communication—an essential discipline that focuses on managing unexpected events threatening an organization’s reputation, operations, or stakeholders. By swiftly acknowledging the problem, expressing empathy, and committing to corrective action, JAMB illustrated that crisis communication is not about damage control—it is about protecting credibility through truth, responsibility, and human connection.
This episode reaffirmed a fundamental truth in public relations: in times of crisis, honesty and empathy are the most powerful tools. JAMB’s straightforward approach helped diffuse public anger, shifted the narrative, and began to rebuild public trust. As the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) emphasizes, ethical PR must be rooted in advocacy and honesty—without which credibility collapses.
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Professor Oloyede, long known for his disciplined leadership, is no stranger to institutional reform. As a former Vice Chancellor of the University of Ilorin—my alma mater—he championed transparency, digital innovation, and academic integrity. At JAMB, he has maintained that legacy, pushing reforms and curbing malpractice.
But no system is infallible. And in this heartbreaking case, a lapse may have contributed to the loss of a promising 19-year-old girl. It is in such moments that the true character of leadership is tested—not by avoiding failure, but by confronting it with integrity.
In public relations, crisis communication is a double-edged sword. Say too little, and you appear evasive. Say too much, and you risk legal complications. Yet JAMB navigated this precarious terrain with clarity: immediate acknowledgment of the issue, a public apology, and the human touch of a leader speaking not just as a bureaucrat, but as a parent and educator.
Contrast this with the familiar chorus from other institutions blaming “unknown hackers,” “technical glitches,” or “misinformation by bloggers.” Professor Oloyede’s approach was refreshingly different. It was courageous, authentic, and deeply needed.
The Other Side of the Equation: Students, Society, and Expectations
Still, this crisis highlights a larger problem within Nigeria’s educational landscape. During my investigation, I observed disturbing patterns: an over-reliance on so-called “miracle centers,” shallow academic preparation, inflated social media-driven expectations, and a growing culture of “quick success” at the expense of hard work.
Many coaching centers have deteriorated into hubs of distraction, where academic shortcuts, social vices, and even fraud flourish. This erosion of academic values is a dangerous cancer spreading through an already struggling education sector.
This is not to diminish the struggles of students who perform poorly. But it does raise uncomfortable questions: Are we adequately preparing students—emotionally and mentally—for the realities of failure? Are we setting them up with unrealistic expectations of instant success? And are we holding accountable the societal and commercial forces that exploit their anxieties?
PR in Crisis: A Moral Compass or a Tactical Shield?
True public relations goes beyond spin. In moments of crisis, it must act as a moral compass—bringing clarity, humility, and accountability to the public square.
Yes, JAMB erred in its initial tweet. But its recovery—anchored in transparency, empathy, and ethical leadership—rescued public confidence and triggered a necessary national conversation on education, institutional accountability, and emotional resilience.
What we saw wasn’t perfection—it was humanity. And in today’s Nigeria, that still matters.
Professor Oloyede’s apology wasn’t merely a PR tactic. It was moral leadership in action. A rare, honest moment where an institution owned its narrative—before public outrage rewrote it for them.
In an era where blame-shifting has become institutionalized, simply saying, “We were wrong,” may be the boldest reform of all.
Haroon Aremu Abiodun is a PRNigeria Fellow and wrote in via [email protected].
