Analysis
The United States, Israel and the Iran Question, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
The United States, Israel and the Iran Question, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
In the theatre of West Asian geopolitics, few rivalries have proved as enduring, combustible and globally consequential as that between the Islamic Republic of Iran on one side and the United States and Israel on the other. Though there has been no formally declared all-out war between Washington, Tel Aviv and Tehran, what has unfolded over decades is a sustained shadow war—punctuated by assassinations, cyberattacks, proxy confrontations, economic strangulation and calibrated military strikes. To describe it merely as standoff is to understate its strategic depth; to label it a conventional war is to misunderstand its hybrid, multi-layered character.
The roots of hostility between the United States and Iran trace back to 1979. On February 11 of that year, the Iranian Revolution led by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini overthrew Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, a key American ally in the Persian Gulf. The subsequent seizure of the US Embassy in Tehran on November 4, 1979, and the 444-day hostage crisis marked a definitive rupture. Diplomatic relations were severed in April 1980. Since then, relations have oscillated between cautious engagement and open confrontation, but never reconciliation.
For Israel, Iran’s transformation into an ideologically anti-Zionist state posed an existential dilemma. The Islamic Republic’s leadership has consistently refused to recognise Israel and has supported armed groups such as Hezbollah in Lebanon and Hamas in Gaza. This ideological antagonism hardened over time into strategic rivalry, especially as Iran expanded its regional footprint in Iraq, Syria and Lebanon after the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq.
The nuclear question sharpened the conflict. In 2002, revelations about undisclosed Iranian nuclear facilities in Natanz and Arak intensified Western suspicions about Tehran’s intentions. Israel, under successive prime ministers including Ariel Sharon and later Benjamin Netanyahu, framed Iran’s nuclear programme as an existential threat. Netanyahu’s address to the United States Congress on March 3, 2015—delivered in opposition to then-President Barack Obama’s policy—underscored Israel’s resistance to any deal that, in its view, left Iran with nuclear latency.
That deal materialised on July 14, 2015, when Iran and the P5+1 (the United States, United Kingdom, France, Russia, China and Germany) signed the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA). The agreement imposed strict limits on Iran’s uranium enrichment in exchange for sanctions relief. However, on May 8, 2018, President Donald Trump withdrew the United States from the accord, describing it as “the worst deal ever negotiated.” The reimposition of sweeping sanctions under the “maximum pressure” campaign plunged Iran’s economy into recession and escalated rivalries across the Gulf.
What followed was a cycle of escalation. On January 3, 2020, a US drone strike near Baghdad International Airport killed Major General Qassem Soleimani, commander of Iran’s Quds Force. The strike marked one of the most dramatic overt confrontations between the two states. Iran responded on January 8, 2020, by launching ballistic missiles at US bases in Iraq, injuring dozens of American personnel. The region teetered on the brink of open war, but both sides ultimately calibrated their actions to avoid full-scale conflict.
Parallel to the US-Iran confrontation, Israel intensified what it termed the “campaign between wars” (MABAM), targeting Iranian military infrastructure in Syria. Since 2013, Israel has conducted hundreds of airstrikes aimed at preventing Iran from entrenching itself militarily near Israeli borders. The covert dimension of this war has included cyber operations—most notably the Stuxnet virus, widely attributed to US-Israeli cooperation around 2010, which damaged Iranian centrifuges at Natanz—and assassinations of Iranian nuclear scientists, including Mohsen Fakhrizadeh, killed on November 27, 2020.
Geopolitically, the conflict is nested within broader power realignments. The Abraham Accords, signed on September 15, 2020, normalised relations between Israel and the United Arab Emirates and Bahrain, later joined by Morocco and Sudan. Though framed as peace agreements, they also represented the crystallisation of a tacit anti-Iran coalition among certain Arab states and Israel. Saudi Arabia, while not formally part of the Accords, has long viewed Iran as its principal regional rival, particularly in Yemen and the Gulf.
Iran, for its part, has relied on asymmetric warfare and proxy networks. Hezbollah in Lebanon, the Popular Mobilisation Forces in Iraq, the Houthis in Yemen and various militias in Syria form what analysts describe as Iran’s “Axis of Resistance.” This network enables Tehran to project power without inviting direct conventional confrontation with superior US and Israeli forces.
The world economy sits uncomfortably at the heart of this contest. Iran borders the Strait of Hormuz, through which roughly 20 per cent of global oil supply transits. Any significant disruption would reverberate through energy markets. During periods of heightened crisis—such as June 2019, when oil tankers were attacked near the Gulf of Oman—global crude prices spiked. The mere spectre of closure of the Strait can unsettle markets from New York to Shanghai.
Sanctions have had mixed global effects. For Iran, they have meant currency depreciation, inflation and reduced oil exports. For global markets, they have tightened supply, particularly when combined with other shocks such as Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Energy-importing countries, including many in sub-Saharan Africa, feel the downstream effects in fuel prices and inflationary pressures. Nigeria, despite being an oil producer, is not insulated; global price volatility influences domestic subsidy debates, fiscal planning and foreign exchange stability.
Allies of the United States are caught in a delicate balancing act. European signatories to the JCPOA—France, Germany and the United Kingdom—have consistently supported diplomatic engagement while criticising Iran’s ballistic missile programme and regional activities. The European Union has attempted to preserve the nuclear deal framework even after Washington’s withdrawal, though with limited success. NATO as an institution is not formally engaged in hostilities with Iran, but US actions inevitably affect alliance cohesion.
Israel’s allies, particularly the United States, have reaffirmed an “ironclad” commitment to its security. Military aid to Israel has averaged approximately $3.8 billion annually under a 10-year memorandum of understanding signed in 2016. In times of heightened tension, Washington has deployed carrier strike groups to the Eastern Mediterranean and Persian Gulf as a deterrent signal to Tehran.
On the other side, Iran’s strategic partnerships with Russia and China have deepened. In March 2021, Iran and China signed a 25-year cooperation agreement covering energy, infrastructure and security. Russia and Iran have also expanded military and economic ties, particularly after Western sanctions isolated Moscow in 2022. Yet neither Beijing nor Moscow appears eager to be drawn into a direct war on Iran’s behalf; their support is calibrated, not unconditional.
What of the broader Global South? Countries in Africa, Latin America and parts of Asia often view the US-Iran-Israel confrontation through the prism of non-alignment and economic pragmatism. Many rely on Gulf remittances, energy imports or trade routes vulnerable to instability. An open war would likely trigger oil price surges, shipping disruptions and currency volatility. For fragile economies already grappling with debt distress and food insecurity, such shocks could prove destabilising.
There is also the nuclear proliferation dimension. If Iran were to cross the nuclear threshold—an outcome Israeli leaders have repeatedly vowed to prevent—regional rivals such as Saudi Arabia might pursue their own nuclear capabilities. Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman stated in a March 2018 interview with CBS that if Iran developed a nuclear weapon, “we will follow suit as soon as possible.” The prospect of a multipolar nuclear Middle East would dramatically alter global security calculations.
Yet it is important to distinguish rhetoric from reality. As of the latest publicly available assessments by the International Atomic Energy Agency, Iran has enriched uranium to high levels but has not formally declared a nuclear weapons programme. Israel, widely believed to possess nuclear weapons though it maintains a policy of ambiguity, has not signed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. The asymmetry complicates diplomatic discourse and fuels mutual suspicion.
What, then, is expected of allies? For the United States, allies will likely provide diplomatic backing, intelligence cooperation and, in some cases, logistical support. Direct troop commitments appear improbable outside extreme scenarios. For Israel, regional partners under the Abraham Accords may quietly facilitate airspace access or intelligence sharing, though overt participation in strikes against Iran would risk domestic backlash.
For Iran’s allies and partners, the expectation would centre on economic lifelines and diplomatic shielding at the United Nations Security Council. Russia and China could veto resolutions perceived as authorising force. However, both powers must weigh their broader economic ties with Gulf states and Israel.
Ultimately, the “war” waged on Iran by the United States and Israel is less a single conflagration than a prolonged strategic contest. It is fought in airspace over Syria, in the waters of the Gulf, in cyber networks and in negotiating rooms from Vienna to New York. Its tempo fluctuates, but its structural drivers—ideology, security dilemmas, regional hegemony and nuclear anxieties—remain entrenched.
For the global world, the implications are sobering. Energy markets remain hostage to escalation. International law is strained by targeted killings and covert operations. Multilateral diplomacy oscillates between revival and collapse. In an era already defined by great power rivalry, the Iran question adds another layer of volatility.
The lesson of the past four decades is that neither maximum pressure nor calibrated strikes have resolved the underlying dispute. Nor has Iran’s strategy of resistance compelled recognition on its terms. The path forward, if there is one, lies not in rhetorical absolutism but in a recalibration of deterrence and diplomacy.
Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com
Analysis
Wale Edun’s Exit and the Questions It Leaves Behind, by Boniface Ihiasota
Wale Edun’s Exit and the Questions It Leaves Behind, by Boniface Ihiasota
The sudden removal of Nigeria’s immediate past Minister of Finance and Coordinating Minister of the Economy, Wale Edun, on April 21, 2026, has triggered widespread debate across political, economic and public spheres, owing largely to the manner of his exit and the absence of a clear, unified explanation from the government.
President Bola Ahmed Tinubu approved what was officially described as a “minor cabinet reshuffle,” which saw Edun and the Minister of Housing, Ahmed Musa Dangiwa, removed from the Federal Executive Council. The announcement was conveyed through a statement from the presidency on the same day, confirming that Edun’s tenure— which began in August 2023—had come to an abrupt end.
In his place, Taiwo Oyedele, who had only been appointed Minister of State for Finance in March 2026, was elevated to take over as substantive Minister of Finance and Coordinating Minister of the Economy. The speed of the transition, barely weeks after Oyedele’s earlier appointment, added to the perception that the reshuffle was more consequential than officially portrayed.
The circumstances surrounding Edun’s removal remain contested. While some official sources suggested he resigned on health grounds, other accounts describe his exit as a dismissal, with no detailed justification provided by the presidency. This lack of clarity has fueled speculation and competing narratives about the real reasons behind his departure.
Political reactions were swift. Former lawmaker Dino Melaye publicly questioned the rationale for the removal, alleging possible financial misconduct and calling for transparency from the government. Similarly, analysts and commentators pointed to deeper structural issues within Nigeria’s fiscal management system, including concerns over budget execution, debt levels, and revenue shortfalls, as possible contributing factors.
Indeed, Edun’s tenure had come under scrutiny in the months leading up to his removal. Reports indicated that the National Assembly had raised concerns about oil revenue gaps and Nigeria’s rising public debt profile, estimated at over ₦152 trillion, alongside challenges in funding budgetary commitments. These economic pressures formed the backdrop against which his exit occurred, suggesting that performance concerns may have played a role.
Beyond elite political discourse, the reaction within the Federal Ministry of Finance itself was unusually dramatic. A viral video showed some ministry staff staging what was described as a “mock funeral” to celebrate his removal, an episode that underscored internal dissatisfaction and hinted at crisis within the ministry’s bureaucracy. Such a public display is rare in Nigeria’s civil service and reflects the depth of sentiment surrounding his tenure.
Public opinion has been sharply divided. Some Nigerians view the move as a necessary reset in the face of persistent economic hardship, inflationary pressures, and slow fiscal reforms. Others interpret it as evidence of policy inconsistency within the administration, especially given that Edun was widely regarded as a key member of the President’s economic team and a central figure in coordinating reform efforts.
Economically, the implications are significant. Edun had been closely associated with major policy directions, including subsidy removal and fiscal consolidation. His removal raises questions about continuity, investor confidence, and the future direction of Nigeria’s economic reforms. Analysts note that abrupt leadership changes in critical economic portfolios often send mixed signals to both domestic and international stakeholders.
In the aftermath, attention has shifted to Oyedele’s capacity to stabilise the situation and deliver on expectations. As a tax reform expert, his appointment is seen by some as a pivot toward revenue mobilisation and structural reform. However, the broader challenge remains restoring confidence in economic governance at a time when Nigeria faces mounting fiscal constraints.
Ultimately, the unceremonious nature of Wale Edun’s exit—marked by conflicting official narratives, political controversy, and unusual institutional reactions—has made it more than a routine cabinet reshuffle. It has become a defining moment in the Tinubu administration’s economic management, exposing underlying challenges and raising critical questions about accountability, transparency, and policy direction in Africa’s largest economy.
Analysis
Understanding South Africa’s Xenophobic Violence (II), by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
Understanding South Africa’s Xenophobic Violence (II), by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman
Early this month, the argument was made that xenophobic violence in South Africa is not accidental. The events of the past week have only reinforced that position. Once again, images and reports have emerged of foreign-owned shops looted, businesses burnt, and migrants forced into hiding. Once again, explanations have followed—unemployment, crime, undocumented migration. But these explanations, repeated over the years, are beginning to sound less like analysis and more like excuses for a problem that has outgrown denial.
The recent attacks, reported in parts of Gauteng and KwaZulu-Natal, follow a pattern that is now deeply familiar. Groups of local residents mobilise, sometimes spontaneously, sometimes through organised campaigns, and target businesses owned by foreigners. The victims are often small-scale traders—people who operate within South Africa’s informal economy, selling groceries, running salons, or managing neighbourhood convenience stores.
In many cases, these businesses are not just sources of livelihood for their owners. They are also part of local supply chains. They provide goods at competitive prices, extend informal credit to customers, and, in some instances, employ South Africans. When they are attacked, the damage is not limited to the individual. Entire communities feel the impact.
What is different this time is not the violence itself, but the tone surrounding it. There is a growing sense that anti-foreigner sentiment is becoming more openly expressed and, in some quarters, more accepted. Campaigns against undocumented migrants have gained visibility, with some groups framing their actions as a defence of economic rights rather than acts of exclusion.
That shift in language matters. It suggests that xenophobia is moving beyond isolated outbreaks and into something more sustained. It is becoming part of a broader conversation about identity, belonging, and access to economic opportunity in South Africa.
At the heart of the issue remains the country’s unresolved economic crisis. South Africa is one of the most unequal societies in the world. Unemployment remains high, particularly among young people. Many communities continue to struggle with poverty, limited access to services, and a lack of economic mobility. These conditions create frustration, and frustration often looks for a target.
Foreign nationals, especially those who are visible in local economies, become convenient targets. They are seen as competitors, sometimes as outsiders who have succeeded where locals have not. This perception is not always grounded in reality, but it is powerful enough to shape behaviour.
For Nigerian nationals, the situation is particularly delicate. Over the years, Nigerians in South Africa have built a strong presence in sectors such as retail, entertainment, and professional services. At the same time, negative stereotypes—often exaggerated—have contributed to a perception problem. In moments of provocations, these perceptions can quickly translate into hostility.
The economic consequences of the latest attacks are immediate. Businesses are destroyed, goods are lost, and livelihoods are disrupted. For those affected, recovery is not guaranteed. Many operate without insurance or formal protection, making it difficult to rebuild after an attack.
But the impact goes beyond individual losses. There is a broader question of investor confidence. African investors, including Nigerians, have increasingly looked to South Africa as a destination for expansion. Repeated incidents of violence introduce uncertainty into that calculation. They raise questions about safety, stability, and the ability of the country to protect investments.
This has implications for intra-African trade. The African Continental Free Trade Area is built on the idea of reducing barriers and encouraging the movement of goods and services across the continent. But trade is not only about agreements; it is about trust. When businesses feel unsafe, they are less likely to invest, less likely to expand, and less likely to engage across borders.
The diplomatic dimension of the crisis is already unfolding. Nigeria has again expressed concern over the safety of its citizens. Statements from officials have called for protection and concrete action from South African authorities. There are ongoing engagements between both countries, reflecting an attempt to manage the situation without escalating tensions.
Other African countries have reacted in similar ways, though often more cautiously. Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and Malawi—countries whose citizens are frequently affected—face a difficult balancing act. On one hand, they must respond to domestic outrage. On the other, they rely on economic ties with South Africa, including remittances from their nationals working there.
This creates a pattern of measured responses—strong enough to signal concern, but restrained enough to avoid diplomatic fallout. It is a delicate equilibrium, one that underscores the complexity of Africa’s internal relations.
The South African government has responded in predictable terms. Officials have condemned the attacks, emphasised that violence is unacceptable, and reiterated the need to respect the rule of law. Security forces have been deployed to affected areas, and there have been assurances that those responsible will be held accountable.
Yet, as in the past, the effectiveness of these measures remains in question. Arrests may occur, but prosecutions are often slow. Convictions are rare. The result is a cycle in which perpetrators do not face meaningful consequences, and the deterrent effect of law enforcement is weakened.
While the government officially condemns xenophobia, public discourse sometimes sends mixed signals. Discussions about tightening immigration controls or prioritising citizens in economic opportunities can be interpreted in ways that reinforce anti-foreigner sentiment.
This does not mean that such discussions are invalid. Every country has the right to manage its borders and address unemployment. The problem arises when these conversations are not carefully framed, allowing them to feed into narratives that blame foreigners for structural problems.
The broader implications of the crisis extend beyond South Africa. At a continental level, xenophobic violence challenges the idea of African unity. It raises questions about how deeply the principles of Pan-Africanism are embedded in contemporary policy and society.
Africa’s history is built on solidarity. Countries supported one another in struggles against colonialism and apartheid. Nigeria, in particular, played a significant role in supporting South Africa’s liberation. That history is often invoked in moments like this, not as a demand for repayment, but as a reminder of shared values.
The persistence of xenophobia suggests that those values are under strain. Economic hardship, political pressure, and social change have created conditions in which solidarity is no longer taken for granted.
Globally, the situation affects how South Africa and by extension, Africa is perceived. South Africa positions itself as a key destination for investment and a gateway to the continent. Repeated incidents of violence complicate that narrative. They raise concerns about stability and governance, factors that are critical for attracting and retaining investment.
What is perhaps most concerning about the latest attacks is the sense of repetition. The same patterns, the same explanations, the same responses. Each time, there is outrage. Each time, there are promises of action. And each time, the underlying issues remain unresolved.
Breaking this cycle requires more than immediate interventions. It requires a deeper commitment to addressing the structural drivers of xenophobia. Economic reform is central to this effort. Reducing inequality, creating jobs, and expanding opportunities are essential steps in reducing the frustration that fuels hostility.
There is also a need for consistent political leadership. Leaders must be clear in their communication, rejecting xenophobia without ambiguity. They must avoid language that can be interpreted as scapegoating and instead focus on solutions that address the root causes of economic and social challenges.
Law enforcement must be strengthened, not just in response to violence, but in preventing it. This includes intelligence gathering, community engagement, and swift prosecution of offenders. Without accountability, the cycle of violence will continue.
For countries like Nigeria, the response must be both firm and strategic. Protecting citizens abroad is a priority, but so is maintaining diplomatic engagement. The relationship between Nigeria and South Africa is too important to be reduced to periodic crises.
There is also a role for regional and continental institutions. The African Union can provide a platform for dialogue and coordination, helping to address the issue at a broader level. Xenophobia is not just a South African problem; it is an African challenge that requires collective attention.
In the end, the renewed attacks are a reminder that the problem has not gone away. It has simply evolved. The factors that drive xenophobia which are economic inequality, political rhetoric, social perception still present. In some cases, they have intensified.
Understanding this reality is the first step. The next is action—sustained, deliberate, and focused on long-term solutions. Without that, the cycle will continue, and each new wave of violence will further erode the ideals of unity and cooperation that Africa has long aspired to uphold. The question is no longer whether xenophobic violence will occur again. It is whether anything will be done to prevent it.
Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com
Analysis
Canada’s Policy Shift and the Changing Reality for Nigerian Migrants, By Boniface Ihiasota
Canada’s Policy Shift and the Changing Reality for Nigerian Migrants, By Boniface Ihiasota
Canada’s evolving immigration and asylum policies in 2026 mark a turning point that is being closely watched across migrant communities, including Nigerians who have, over the past decade, become one of the fastest-growing African diasporas in the country. What is unfolding is not a closure of doors, but a recalibration—one that prioritises economic utility, system efficiency, and stricter compliance over the expansive openness that once defined Canada’s migration model.
The most notable shift is in the asylum system. In March 2026, the Canadian government enacted new reforms through legislation widely reported as Bill C-12, aimed at tightening refugee intake procedures and reducing a backlog that has stretched the system for years. Canada’s asylum inventory had exceeded 260,000 pending claims by late 2025, according to data from the Immigration and Refugee Board, creating long waiting times that sometimes ran into several years. The new law introduces faster screening mechanisms, allowing authorities to determine early on whether claims are eligible for full hearings.
Early outcomes have already begun to reflect the impact. Tens of thousands of claims have been flagged for additional scrutiny, with some applicants required to provide further documentation within strict timelines or face removal proceedings. For Nigerians, who continue to feature prominently among asylum applicants, this introduces a new level of uncertainty. While Canada does not target specific nationalities, applicants from countries with complex migration patterns often face deeper scrutiny in credibility assessments.
Yet, the tightening of asylum pathways does not exist in isolation. It is part of a broader restructuring of Canada’s immigration system, which has been under pressure from housing shortages, healthcare capacity constraints, and public debate over population growth. In response, the federal government adjusted its Immigration Levels Plan for 2026–2028, maintaining a target of approximately 500,000 permanent residents annually but reducing the intake of temporary residents, including international students and some categories of foreign workers.
For Nigerians, this dual-track approach—restrictive in some areas and targeted in others—presents a mixed picture. On the one hand, study pathways have become more competitive. Nigeria has consistently ranked among the top 10 source countries for international students in Canada, with over 16,000 Nigerian students holding study permits as of 2024, according to Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada. However, new policies introduced in early 2026 cap the number of study permits issued nationwide and tighten post-study work conditions, particularly for students enrolled in short-term or preparatory programmes.
On the other hand, economic migration pathways are being sharpened rather than reduced. Canada’s flagship Express Entry system has undergone targeted reforms designed to align immigration more closely with labour market shortages. In February 2026, Immigration Minister Lena Metlege Diab announced category-based selection draws focusing on healthcare, science and technology, transportation, and skilled trades. These sectors have faced persistent labour gaps, especially as Canada’s population ages.
For Nigerian professionals, this presents a clear opportunity—provided they meet the heightened requirements. The minimum threshold for relevant work experience in many categories has effectively increased, with greater emphasis placed on recent, verifiable employment within the last three years. Language proficiency benchmarks and credential verification processes have also become more stringent, reflecting a broader effort to ensure that newcomers integrate quickly into the workforce.
At the same time, enforcement has become more visible. The Canada Border Services Agency reported that hundreds of Nigerians were deported in 2025 for overstaying visas or failing to comply with immigration rules, with additional cases pending. While deportations remain a small fraction of overall migrant numbers, they signal a tougher posture toward non-compliance, reinforcing the message that entry into Canada now comes with stricter accountability.
Despite these changes, Canada’s immigration system retains key features that distinguish it globally. Unlike some Western countries, Canada does not impose nationality-based caps or bans. Instead, its system remains points-based and merit-driven, allowing applicants from countries like Nigeria to compete on relatively equal footing. Nigerians, in fact, continue to perform strongly in economic migration streams due to high levels of English proficiency and a growing pool of university-educated professionals.
From a diaspora perspective, the significance of these reforms lies in their long-term implications. Canada is moving away from a volume-driven immigration model toward one that is more selective and sustainability-focused. The emphasis is shifting from how many migrants the country can admit to how effectively those migrants can contribute to economic growth and social stability.
For prospective Nigerian migrants, the message is becoming increasingly clear. The era of broad accessibility—where multiple pathways could be explored with relative ease—is giving way to a more disciplined system that rewards preparation, skill alignment, and legal compliance. Success now depends less on aspiration alone and more on strategy: choosing the right immigration stream, meeting precise eligibility criteria, and presenting verifiable documentation.
Still, the Canadian dream remains very much alive. What has changed is the pathway to achieving it. It is no longer defined by openness alone, but by competitiveness. For those willing to adapt to these new realities, Canada continues to offer opportunities—not as a guaranteed destination, but as a carefully managed one.
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