Tinubu in Windsor, Nigeria in Flames, by Boniface Ihiasota 

President Bola Tinubu’s state visit to the United Kingdom, which commenced on Tuesday, March 17, 2026, was always destined to be symbolically significant. It marks the first full state visit by a Nigerian leader to Britain in decades, with engagements scheduled at Windsor Castle under the auspices of King Charles III. Diplomatically, the visit signals continuity, relevance, and a desire to reposition Nigeria within a rapidly shifting global order shaped by trade realignments and post-Brexit economic recalibrations. Yet, the timing of the visit has cast a long and troubling shadow.

Barely twenty-four hours before the president’s departure from Abuja, Maiduguri, the capital of Borno State and long regarded as the epicentre of Nigeria’s insurgency crisis, was rocked by coordinated terrorist attacks on Monday, March 16, 2026. The explosions, which began at approximately 7:02 p.m. local time, struck multiple civilian locations, including the bustling Monday Market, parts of the Kaleri neighbourhood, and medical facilities within the city. By early Tuesday morning, official figures confirmed at least 23 fatalities and more than 100 injured, many of them critically.

The scale and coordination of the attacks point to a resurgence of operational capability by insurgent groups, widely believed to include Boko Haram factions and elements linked to the Islamic State West Africa Province. For a city that has endured over a decade of violence but had recently experienced relative calm, the bombings were both a psychological and strategic setback. They exposed vulnerabilities in intelligence gathering, urban security, and rapid response coordination within one of the most militarised zones in the country.

Against this backdrop, the president’s departure for London presents a difficult paradox. On one hand, governance demands international engagement. Nigeria’s economic challenges, from foreign exchange instability to infrastructure deficits, require external partnerships and financing arrangements that visits of this nature are designed to secure. Reports indicate that discussions during the visit may include substantial investment frameworks, particularly in port modernisation and trade facilitation.

On the other hand, leadership is deeply tied to presence, especially in moments of national distress. The optics of leaving the country within hours of a deadly terrorist attack are inevitably jarring. While it is neither unusual nor inherently wrong for a head of state to proceed with scheduled diplomatic engagements during crises, the immediacy and severity of the Maiduguri attacks elevate the expectation of visible, decisive, and empathetic leadership at home.

Members of the president’s entourage reportedly include First Lady Oluremi Tinubu and senior government officials, alongside at least one state governor, Dauda Lawal of Zamfara State. Their presence underscores the importance attached to the visit, but it also amplifies the contrast between the formalities of state banquets abroad and the grief unfolding in northeastern Nigeria.

From a diaspora perspective, where Nigeria’s image is constantly interpreted through the lenses of security, governance, and economic viability, this moment reinforces a persistent tension. The country often appears outwardly ambitious yet inwardly constrained by recurring instability. Each incident of mass violence not only claims lives but also erodes confidence among investors, partners, and observers who weigh risk as heavily as opportunity.

The Maiduguri attacks are not isolated. Since the insurgency began in 2009, tens of thousands of lives have been lost, and millions displaced. Despite repeated assurances from successive administrations that terrorist capabilities have been degraded, incidents such as the March 16 bombings suggest a more complex reality. Insurgent groups have adapted, shifting tactics and exploiting gaps in surveillance and community-level intelligence.

This raises pressing questions about strategy and accountability. How do multiple explosive devices detonate across a city under heavy military watch without prior interception? What systemic weaknesses allow such coordination to occur? And perhaps most importantly, how can the state move beyond reactive responses to build a genuinely preventive security architecture?

There is also the matter of communication. In crises, tone matters as much as action. Citizens expect not only policy responses but also reassurance, clarity, and a sense that leadership is fully engaged with their plight. The absence of immediate, high-visibility presidential presence can create a vacuum that fuels public frustration and erodes trust.

None of this diminishes the importance of international diplomacy. Nations do not pause their external engagements indefinitely because of internal challenges. However, the sequencing and sensitivity of decisions become critical when lives have just been lost. Leadership must constantly balance competing demands, but it must also recognise moments when symbolism carries as much weight as substance.

As events unfold in London, Nigeria confronts a dual reality. One is a nation seeking relevance and renewal on the global stage, eager to attract investment and strengthen alliances. The other is a country still grappling with persistent insecurity, where citizens in places like Maiduguri continue to bear the brunt of violence.

Bridging these realities requires more than policy declarations. It demands coherence between domestic stability and international ambition. Until that alignment is achieved, each diplomatic success abroad risks being overshadowed by unresolved crises at home, leaving observers to question which narrative truly defines the Nigerian state.

Nigeria’s Stakes in a Fractured Middle East, by Boniface Ihiasota 

As confrontation among the United States, Israel and Iran deepen, the tremors are being felt far beyond the Middle East. What may appear, at first glance, as a distant geopolitical rivalry carries significant consequences for economies like Nigeria’s, for Nigerians working across the Gulf, and for a government already grappling with fiscal, security and inflationary pressures at home.

The rivalry between Israel and Iran has simmered for decades, manifesting through proxy conflicts in Lebanon, Syria and Gaza. The United States, Israel’s closest ally, has repeatedly confronted Iran over its nuclear programme, regional influence and support for armed groups. Periodic flare-ups — including airstrikes, missile exchanges and targeted assassinations — have raised fears of a broader regional war. Each escalation has renewed concerns about the stability of the Gulf, which remains the artery of the global oil market.

The Strait of Hormuz, a narrow shipping lane between Oman and Iran, is one of the most strategic chokepoints in the world. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, roughly 20 per cent of global petroleum liquids consumption — about 20 million barrels per day — transits through that corridor. Any threat to traffic through the Strait immediately sends oil prices upward. In previous episodes of heightened tension, Brent crude prices have jumped sharply within days of military confrontations.

For Nigeria, higher oil prices present a paradox. Crude oil still accounts for the overwhelming bulk of Nigeria’s export earnings — typically between 80 and 90 per cent — and about half of government revenues. When global prices rise above budget benchmarks, the Federation Account stands to gain additional inflows. In times of fiscal strain, such windfalls can temporarily ease pressure on foreign reserves and public finances.

However, history teaches caution. Oil price spikes driven by conflict are often volatile and short-lived. Markets respond quickly to diplomatic signals, ceasefire talks or de-escalation efforts. Nigeria’s production constraints further limit how much benefit can be captured. The country has struggled in recent years to consistently meet its OPEC quota due to oil theft, pipeline vandalism and infrastructure challenges. Without sustained production above 1.5 million barrels per day, revenue gains from price increases may not fully translate into fiscal stability.

Beyond government revenue, there is the inflationary dimension. Rising global oil prices increase the cost of refined petroleum imports, shipping and logistics. Although Nigeria is expanding domestic refining capacity, it still imports a portion of its refined products. Higher energy costs globally can translate into higher prices for food, manufactured goods and transportation. In an economy already facing elevated inflation, any additional imported cost pressure could worsen living standards.

There is also the human dimension. Millions of Nigerians reside and work across the Gulf Cooperation Council countries, particularly in the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia and Qatar. Remittances from Nigerians abroad are a critical pillar of household income and foreign exchange. The World Bank has estimated Nigeria’s annual remittance inflows in recent years at around $20 billion, making it one of the largest recipients in Sub-Saharan Africa. Any prolonged regional instability that disrupts employment, air travel or financial flows in the Gulf would directly affect Nigerian families.

During previous Middle Eastern crises, airspace closures and airline suspensions disrupted travel routes that many Nigerians rely upon for business, education and pilgrimage. Escalation between major regional powers raises the risk of similar disruptions. The Nigerian government must therefore maintain accurate records of its citizens in vulnerable areas and strengthen consular responsiveness.

Security considerations also demand attention. Nigeria is a religiously diverse society with historical sensitivities that can be inflamed by international events. Conflicts in the Middle East sometimes trigger protests or polarised rhetoric at home. Authorities must be vigilant to ensure that global tensions are not exploited by local actors to deepen sectarian divides or spread misinformation. In an age of social media amplification, narratives from distant battlefields can travel rapidly and distort domestic discourse.

Diplomatically, Nigeria occupies a delicate position. As Africa’s largest economy and a longstanding contributor to United Nations peacekeeping missions, Nigeria traditionally supports peaceful resolution of disputes and adherence to international law. Escalation between the United States, Israel and Iran will test the country’s diplomatic balancing act, particularly given its economic ties to Western partners and its solidarity with developing nations in multilateral forums.

Preparation, therefore, is essential. Fiscal prudence must accompany any temporary oil windfall. Excess revenues, if realised, should strengthen reserves and reduce debt vulnerabilities rather than fund unsustainable spending. Production security in the Niger Delta must remain a priority to ensure that Nigeria can benefit legitimately from favourable market conditions. The Central Bank and fiscal authorities must also anticipate currency volatility linked to global risk sentiment.

At the same time, diaspora engagement should be proactive. Clear communication channels, emergency response planning and coordination with host governments can mitigate risks to Nigerians abroad. Intelligence and community outreach at home will help preserve social cohesion.

The confrontation among the United States, Israel and Iran may unfold thousands of kilometres away, but its economic currents, security implications and political symbolism flow directly toward Nigeria. In an interconnected global system, distance offers no insulation. What remains within Nigeria’s control is preparedness — the capacity to convert short-term opportunity into long-term stability, and to shield its citizens from the unintended consequences of distant wars.

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