The War Beneath the War, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman 

When the rivalry involving the United States, Israel and Iran is discussed in newspapers or on television shows, the focus is almost always on dramatic moments—missile launches, air strikes, nuclear negotiations, or the activities of proxy militias in Lebanon, Iraq and Yemen. Yet these visible episodes tell only a fraction of the story. Beneath them lies a far more consequential contest fought through technology, intelligence systems, covert engineering and cyber operations. It is a war fought not just with weapons, but with code, algorithms, sensors and the manipulation of industrial machinery.

Over the past two decades, the confrontation has gradually transformed into what security analysts describe as systems warfare. The aim is not merely to defeat an enemy army on the battlefield but to sabotage the technological foundations on which a modern state depends its infrastructure, communications networks, scientific programmes and financial systems. This quiet technological instance has unfolded largely outside public attention, even though it has shaped the strategic balance in the Middle East.

The moment that revealed this hidden battlefield most clearly occurred in June 2010 when cybersecurity researchers identified an unusual computer worm circulating across networks around the world. The malware was later named Stuxnet. At first glance it appeared to be another sophisticated cyber intrusion. But detailed analysis soon revealed something far more alarming. Stuxnet had been designed not merely to steal data or disrupt computers; it was built to destroy physical industrial equipment.

The target of the malware was Iran’s uranium enrichment complex at the Natanz Nuclear Facility, located roughly 250 kilometres south of Tehran in Isfahan Province. Natanz housed thousands of centrifuges used to enrich uranium gas for Iran’s nuclear programme. These centrifuges, delicate machines spinning at extremely high speeds were controlled by programmable logic controllers produced by the German engineering company Siemens.

Stuxnet infiltrated the facility’s control systems and subtly altered the instructions regulating centrifuge speed. At specific intervals, the malware forced the centrifuges to accelerate far beyond their normal operational limits before abruptly slowing them down again. This repeated stress caused mechanical failure. At the same time, the virus fed false data to monitoring screens so that Iranian technicians would see readings indicating that everything was functioning normally.

By the time the attack was discovered, the damage had already been done. Security analysts later estimated that approximately 1,000 centrifuges, roughly one-fifth of Iran’s installed capacity at Natanz in 2009 had been destroyed. Subsequent investigative reporting revealed that the operation was part of a covert cyber programme known as Operation Olympic Games, initiated during the presidency of George W. Bush and later expanded under Barack Obama. Although neither United States nor Israel officially acknowledged responsibility. Although it was later confirmed that the operation was a joint effort by both Countries’ cyber specialists.

The importance of Stuxnet cannot be overstated. It represented the first publicly known cyber weapon capable of causing physical destruction to industrial infrastructure. In effect, it proved that lines of computer code could function as strategic weapons. Before Stuxnet, cyber warfare was generally associated with espionage or data theft. After Stuxnet, it became clear that cyber tools could sabotage factories, power plants and transportation systems.

This revelation carried profound implications. Modern societies depend on complex networks of industrial control systems which are software platforms that manage electricity grids, water treatment plants, oil pipelines, manufacturing facilities and transportation networks. Many of these systems were designed decades ago with minimal cybersecurity protections. By exploiting these vulnerabilities, technologically advanced countries can potentially disrupt entire sectors of national infrastructure without firing a single missile.

Yet cyber sabotage is only one dimension of the technological struggle involving the United States, Israel and Iran. Intelligence gathering has also undergone a profound transformation with the rise of artificial intelligence and advanced data analysis. Modern intelligence agencies collect staggering volumes of information: satellite imagery, intercepted communications, digital transactions, social media activity and geolocation data from billions of mobile devices. Processing such enormous datasets would overwhelm human analysts.

To solve this problem, intelligence organisations increasingly rely on machine learning algorithms capable of detecting patterns within massive streams of data. Israel’s signals intelligence division within the Israel Defense Forces, widely known as Unit 8200, has invested heavily in such technologies. These systems help analysts identify suspicious logistical movements, map covert networks and monitor scientific activities linked to Iran’s missile and nuclear programmes.

Artificial intelligence has therefore become a powerful tool in identifying individuals and facilities associated with sensitive research. Over the years, several Iranian nuclear scientists have been targeted in covert operations. One of the most dramatic incidents occurred on 27 November 2020 when Mohsen Fakhrizadeh, a senior physicist widely regarded as the architect of Iran’s nuclear weapons research, was assassinated near the town of Absard east of Tehran. Iranian officials later claimed that the attack involved a sophisticated remote-controlled machine gun mounted on a vehicle, demonstrating the increasing role of advanced technology in covert operations.

Drone technology has also become a critical instrument in the shadow conflict between Israel and Iran. Unmanned aerial vehicles have evolved rapidly over the past two decades, becoming smaller, cheaper and more versatile. Intelligence reports suggest that Israeli operatives have occasionally smuggled drone components into Iran through clandestine networks. Once assembled near strategic installations, these drones can be launched to attack radar systems, missile launchers or ammunition depots.

Such operations represent a new form of warfare sometimes described by analysts as “inside-out attacks.” Instead of launching strikes from outside a country’s borders, covert assets positioned within the target state create vulnerabilities that can later be exploited. By disabling air defence radars or surface-to-air missile batteries, these drones can make it easier for conventional aircraft to operate if a broader conflict erupts.

Another largely invisible battlefield lies within telecommunications networks. Modern military forces rely on secure communication systems linking field units with central command structures. If those communications are disrupted, even highly capable armed forces can struggle to coordinate operations. Cyber units therefore often attempt to infiltrate telecommunications infrastructure before or during military operations.

Such attacks may involve manipulating network routing systems, penetrating data centres or disrupting fibre-optic communication nodes. Although details are rarely disclosed publicly, analysts widely believe that telecommunications systems in the Middle East have periodically been targeted during periods of heightened tension between Israel and Iran. The goal is not necessarily permanent destruction but temporary paralysis—disrupting an adversary’s ability to respond quickly during a crisis.

Financial infrastructure has also become a target in this technological contest. Banking systems, electronic payment platforms and cryptocurrency exchanges now form essential parts of modern economies. Disrupting these systems can generate economic instability and public frustration. Cyber operations targeting financial databases or digital payment networks can therefore serve as instruments of strategic pressure.

Iran’s economy, already strained by international sanctions, is particularly vulnerable to such disruptions. Government subsidy programmes for fuel and basic commodities rely heavily on digital infrastructure. If cyber attacks interrupt payment systems or corrupt financial records, millions of citizens may suddenly find themselves unable to access essential services. In this way, cyber warfare can exert pressure not only on governments but also on societies.

Another rarely discussed aspect of the confrontation involves supply-chain sabotage. Nuclear programmes depend on highly specialised equipment—centrifuge components, electronic sensors, control circuits and advanced materials. Because these components are difficult to manufacture domestically, procurement networks often span multiple countries and intermediaries.

Taken together, these various operations reveal how profoundly warfare has changed in the twenty-first century. In earlier eras, military power was measured primarily by the size of armies, the number of tanks or the range of missiles. Today, power increasingly depends on technological expertise—cyber capabilities, data analysis, advanced electronics and intelligence networks capable of penetrating the digital architecture of modern states.

The rivalry involving the United States, Israel and Iran therefore provides an early glimpse into the future of conflict. The most decisive battles may not occur on visible battlefields but within the hidden systems that sustain national power: computer networks, industrial machinery, telecommunications infrastructure and financial databases.

This reality poses difficult challenges for policymakers. Cyber attacks can be extremely difficult to attribute with certainty, allowing states to conduct covert operations without openly acknowledging responsibility. This ambiguity complicates traditional deterrence strategies. In conventional warfare, identifying an attacker is usually straightforward; in cyberspace, digital footprints can be manipulated or disguised.

Moreover, the vulnerabilities exploited in operations like Stuxnet are not unique to Iran. Similar industrial control systems operate in power plants, transportation networks and factories across the world. As cyber capabilities continue to evolve, the possibility of attacks targeting critical infrastructure in other countries—including major global economies—becomes increasingly real.

Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com

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

Savannah Shield and the Security Recalibration of Kwara State

By Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman

On Thursday, 19 February 2026, at the historic Sobi Barracks in Ilorin, Kwara State did more than launch a security operation. It signalled a recalibration. The formal flag-off of Operation Savannah Shield by Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq alongside the Chief of Defence Staff, General Olufemi Oluyede, the Chief of Army Staff, Lieutenant General Waidi Shaibu, senior Nigerian Army commanders and heads of security agencies represented a strategic adjustment to a changing threat landscape.

Having covered Nigeria’s major military theatres for nearly a decade — from Operation Sharan Daji to Operation Accord and to Operation Sahel Sanity and now Hadarin Daji in the North-West to Operation Delta Safe in the South-South and Operation Safe Haven and Operation Whirl Stroke in the North-Central — I have come to understand that recalibration, not reaction, defines sustainable security. Savannah Shield is best understood within that framework: a preventive correction designed to interrupt an emerging trajectory before it hardens into crisis.

Kwara’s security story over the past two years has been one of gradual but undeniable pressure. Between 2024 and 2025, reported kidnapping incidents along the Ilorin–Jebba–Mokwa corridor and rural incursions in parts of Kaiama and Baruten Local Government Areas raised alarm within security circles. National crime tracking datasets and internal security briefings presented in Abuja in late 2025 reflected a broader pattern: North-Central Nigeria recorded an increase in abduction cases year-on-year, mirroring spillover effects from the North-West’s entrenched banditry networks.

Kwara was not yet a frontline theatre. But it was no longer peripheral. Geography partly explains the vulnerability. The state shares strategic boundaries with Niger State to the north and Kogi to the east, while expansive savannah woodland and forest belts — particularly near Kainji Lake — provide concealment corridors. In conflict reporting, terrain is destiny. In Zamfara, forests became staging grounds for bandits. In Kaduna, forest belts enabled mobile kidnapping cells. Kwara’s terrain, if left insufficiently policed, risked similar exploitation.

It is important to distinguish threat types accurately. Kwara is not contending with a large-scale ideological insurgency akin to Boko Haram’s campaign in Borno. The dominant security pattern has been criminal banditry — kidnapping for ransom, cattle rustling and sporadic attacks targeting vulnerable communities. Yet the distinction offers little comfort if criminal enclaves begin to entrench themselves. Across Nigeria, the line between economic criminality and violent extremism has proven porous when safe havens emerge.

Operation Savannah Shield therefore represents an anticipatory defence. Its structure reflects lessons from other theatres. Rather than a fragmented deployment, it integrates the Nigerian Army, Nigeria Police Force, Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps and intelligence services under coordinated planning. Area domination patrols, forest clearance missions and rapid-response operations are being conducted simultaneously with intelligence gathering and surveillance.

The February 19 launch was not ceremonial theatre. It followed months of consultation between the Kwara State Government and federal authorities. Governor AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq’s engagement with the Presidency and defence leadership secured additional military reinforcement. The visible presence of the Chief of Defence Staff at the launch conveyed federal seriousness — a signal that Kwara’s recalibration had national backing.

From a factual standpoint, the state government has not limited itself to rhetoric. In the 2025 fiscal cycle, budgetary allocations supporting security logistics were increased. Confirmed procurement of patrol vehicles and communication equipment enhanced operational mobility. Community policing initiatives were expanded, and liaison structures strengthened between security agencies and traditional institutions.

Mobility and intelligence are operational currencies. In Kaduna between 2021 and 2023, the integration of aerial surveillance and ground coordination under Operation Thunder Strike reduced high-profile highway kidnappings along key corridors. In Zamfara, initial fragmentation under Operation Hadarin Daji slowed results until unified command structures were enforced. Kwara appears to have internalised those lessons from inception.

Since the launch of Operation Savannah Shield, early field reports suggest measurable improvements in patrol visibility along previously vulnerable routes. Residents in parts of Kwara North have reported increased security presence compared with late 2025. Security officials privately confirm that sustained patrol cycles have disrupted criminal mobility patterns. While comprehensive operational statistics remain confidential for tactical reasons, the qualitative indicators point to stabilisation momentum.

But recalibration demands depth, not just deployment. The sustainability question looms large. Military offensives can suppress activity; lasting stability depends on institutional reinforcement. The Nigeria Police Force in Kwara must build intelligence capacity and data-driven crime mapping systems to assume long-term stabilisation roles once immediate military pressure reduces threat intensity.

In every theatre I have covered, gains proved fragile when civilian policing capacity lagged behind military success.

Judicial coordination is equally critical. Arrested suspects must face timely prosecution. Kaduna’s experience in strengthening prosecution processes between 2022 and 2023 offers a useful blueprint. Deterrence is anchored not merely in arrest numbers but in the certainty of consequence. Kwara’s Ministry of Justice must align operational tempo with judicial throughput.

Security recalibration also intersects with economic policy. Kwara’s northern agricultural belt contributes significantly to food production. When insecurity disrupts planting and harvesting cycles, economic ripple effects follow — affecting markets, employment and food inflation. By stabilising rural communities, Savannah Shield safeguards both livelihoods and macroeconomic resilience.

Inter-state coordination will determine whether recalibration endures. Criminal networks relocate under pressure. I observed this dynamic in the North-West, where offensives in one state displaced bandits into neighbouring territories. Kwara must institutionalise intelligence-sharing protocols with Niger, Kogi, Oyo and Osun to prevent displacement cycles. A shield is only as strong as its perimeter.

Public communication deserves commendation. Transparent advisories and engagement with community leaders have sustained trust. In conflict zones, misinformation amplifies fear and undermines operations. Kwara’s measured communication approach counters panic while reinforcing cooperation.

Of course, realism tempers optimism. Security operations demand sustained funding. Logistics, fuel, maintenance and personnel welfare cannot be episodic. If Savannah Shield is to remain effective beyond its launch phase, fiscal consistency must accompany strategic clarity.

Yet what distinguishes Savannah Shield is not perfection but intent backed by structure. The recalibration is evident in three dimensions: anticipatory deployment before escalation, integrated command rather than siloed action, and alignment between security and development policy.

From a regional lens, the significance is broader. North-Central Nigeria is a strategic hinge between insurgency-prone North-East and bandit-dominated North-West. Preventing entrenchment in relatively stable states like Kwara strengthens national security coherence. Savannah Shield contributes to that containment logic.

After nearly a decade reporting from Nigeria’s security corridors, I have learned that the most meaningful victories are incremental. They manifest in reopened schools, functioning markets and uninterrupted farming seasons. They are measured in the quiet return of routine.

Kwara’s recalibration signals an understanding that waiting invites escalation. Acting early reduces long-term cost — human and economic. The February 19 launch was therefore less about spectacle and more about strategic timing.

Savannah Shield is not a silver bullet. No operation is. But it is a structured assertion that Kwara will not surrender its harmony to creeping insecurity. It is a commitment that governance will adapt to emerging threats rather than deny them.

In a national landscape often fatigued by crisis headlines, Kwara’s approach offers a measured alternative: acknowledge vulnerability, mobilise partnership, invest in logistics, align institutions and communicate transparently.

Security recalibration is not merely about raising a shield. It is about strengthening the arm that holds it and reinforcing the society it protects. If sustained with discipline, institutional learning and inter-state cooperation, Savannah Shield can become more than an operation. It can become a model of preventive governance in North-Central Nigeria and beyond.

Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com