By Sam Agogo
When President Bola Ahmed Tinubu announced in January 2026 that Gilbert Ramez Chagoury would receive the Grand Commander of the Order of the Niger (GCON), the decision was framed as a recognition of decades of economic contribution. Yet almost immediately, the honour became a lightning rod for controversy. What should have been a moment of celebration turned into a national debate about history, morality, and the meaning of service in Nigeria.
Gilbert Ramez Chagoury was born in Lagos in 1946 to Lebanese immigrant parents. He spent part of his early education in Lebanon before returning to Nigeria, where he began building his business career. In 1971, he co-founded the Chagoury Group with his brother Ronald. Over the decades, the conglomerate grew into one of Nigeria’s most diversified enterprises, spanning construction, real estate, flour milling, water bottling, glass manufacturing, insurance, hospitality, furniture, telecommunications, IT, catering, and international financing.
Chagoury’s influence became particularly visible in Lagos, where his companies helped shape the city’s skyline and contributed to its industrial expansion. He turned 80 in January 2026, the same period the honour was conferred, underscoring the timing and symbolism of the recognition.
The GCON is not an ordinary decoration. It is Nigeria’s second-highest honour, surpassed only by the Grand Commander of the Order of the Federal Republic. Since its creation in 1964, it has been awarded sparingly, usually to those whose roles are central to the functioning of the state: vice presidents, chief justices, senate presidents, and other presiding officers of the National Assembly. Occasionally, eminent diplomats or foreign leaders have been recognised, and in rare cases, private citizens whose contributions were deemed transformative. The exclusivity of the award is deliberate, meant to preserve its symbolic weight. Fewer than thirty individuals have received it since independence, underscoring its rarity.
Among those who have held the GCON are Nigeria’s vice presidents such as Atiku Abubakar, Namadi Sambo, Yemi Osinbajo, Kashim Shettima, and Goodluck Jonathan during his tenure as vice president before becoming president. Chief Justices of Nigeria including Mohammed Bello and Alfa Belgore have also been recipients, reflecting the judiciary’s constitutional importance. Presiding officers of the National Assembly such as David Mark and Bukola Saraki were similarly honoured, underscoring the centrality of legislative leadership. In the private sector, Aliko Dangote stands out as one of the few business magnates to have received the award, recognised for his transformative impact on Nigeria’s economy. With Chagoury now added to this list, the circle of recipients remains small but symbolically powerful.
Supporters of Chagoury argue that his long-term investments, employment generation, and philanthropy justify national recognition. They see him as a businessman who has contributed to Nigeria’s economic growth and urban development, and whose impact rivals that of public officeholders. To them, the award is a fitting acknowledgment of private capital’s role in national development.
But Chagoury’s legacy cannot be separated from Nigeria’s political past. During the military era, especially under General Sani Abacha, he was widely seen as one of the regime’s closest businessmen. His proximity to power during a time of repression and economic decline has remained a source of unease. Critics recall the phrase “how a family hijacked Nigeria,” a shorthand for the belief that a small circle of politically connected businessmen thrived while ordinary Nigerians endured hardship. Although Chagoury has never been convicted of wrongdoing in Nigeria, the association with that era carries a moral burden. For many Nigerians, especially those who lived through the 1990s, his name evokes memories of a system that rewarded closeness to power rather than public service.
National honours are not legal verdicts; they are moral statements. They signal what a nation chooses to celebrate and immortalise. This is why Chagoury’s GCON has stirred discomfort. Critics argue that the award has traditionally symbolised service rooted in constitutional responsibility and sacrifice. They question whether economic influence, however extensive, should carry the same moral weight as public service in a country still struggling with inequality and fragile institutions. Supporters counter that Nigeria must broaden its definition of contribution in a modern economy. They insist that infrastructure development, private capital, and international networks are indispensable to growth, and that Chagoury represents a category of non-state actors whose impact cannot be ignored.
The debate persists because it touches on unresolved questions. Nigeria has never fully confronted the political economy of the military era. How wealth was accumulated, how contracts were awarded, and how influence was exercised remain unanswered. In this unresolved space, national honours become flashpoints for collective memory and suppressed grievances. Chagoury’s GCON is not just a recognition of economic contribution; it is a symbol of the tension between power and accountability, between contribution and context.
Reactions to the award reveal a nation divided. Younger Nigerians, who know the Abacha years only through history books, see Chagoury as a businessman whose skyscrapers and philanthropy are visible today. Older Nigerians, who lived through the repression and decline of the 1990s, view him as a beneficiary of a system that undermined the nation. This generational divide underscores Nigeria’s broader struggle with memory: whether to confront its past openly, bury it quietly, or selectively honour those who thrived within it.
Whether the award ultimately stands as justified recognition or as a misjudgment that underestimates historical sensitivity, it has already achieved one undeniable outcome. It has forced Nigeria to reconsider the purpose of its highest honours. In a country still defining its democratic identity, the question of who deserves to be celebrated may be more important than the answer itself.
For comments, reflections, and further conversation: Email samuelagogo4one@yahoo.com
