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Why America Must Rethink Its Counterterrorism Strategy in Nigeria
Nov 11, 2026
When American forces conducted airstrikes against suspected Islamic State militants in northwest Nigeria on Christmas Day 2025, the operation signaled a renewal of security cooperation between Washington and Abuja. Yet for Nigerians living in communities plagued by terrorism, kidnapping, and armed attacks, a critical question remained: Will these strikes make their daily lives any safer?
That question demands serious consideration in Washington. The United States has spent decades helping Nigeria combat terrorism through military equipment, intelligence sharing, and tactical training. Yet, armed violence continues to disrupt daily life across northern Nigeria, raising doubts about how the effectiveness of American counterterrorism assistance should be measured.
The December operations followed a diplomatic dispute in which President Donald Trump accused Nigeria of failing to protect Christians and threatened military intervention. Nigeria subsequently welcomed U.S. assistance, leading to coordinated strikes against suspected militants in Sokoto State.
While military strikes can disrupt terrorist operations, destroy equipment, and neutralize commanders, they cannot single-handedly guarantee community safety or restore public trust in government institutions.
The United States and Nigeria have maintained security ties for over five decades. According to a 2024 State Department fact sheet, Washington held $590 million in active government-to-government military sales cases with Nigeria. Major transactions included a $497 million deal for 12 A-29 Super Tucano aircraft and a $997 million deal for 12 AH-1Z attack helicopters.
Between fiscal years 2019 and 2023, the United States also provided more than $8 million in counterterrorism training, equipment, and advisory support, along with approximately $5 million for international military education and training. These figures encompass various programs and stages of assistance rather than a single lump sum already expended.
This partnership extends beyond defense hardware to include military professionalization, intelligence sharing, border security, and initiatives to enhance accountability within Nigeria's security sector.
Although these investments have strengthened aspects of Nigeria's military capabilities, civilians' persistent vulnerability raises a broader question: How should success ultimately be defined?
In northeastern Nigeria, Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) have sustained an insurgency that has devastated communities across the Lake Chad Basin. Meanwhile, in the northwest, armed bandit networks have expanded kidnapping for ransom, cattle rustling, and raids on rural settlements. Although some groups operate in overlapping areas, their motivations and organizational structures differ significantly.
That distinction matters: treating every armed group strictly as a terrorist organization risks overlooking the criminal economies, local grievances, and law enforcement failures that sustain different forms of violence.
The Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED) recorded more than 400 kidnapping incidents across northwest Nigeria in 2026 by the time of its analysis. In June, at least 39 civilians were abducted in Maradun, Zamfara State, after traveling to negotiate peace terms with an armed group.
A separate ACLED assessment found that armed bandits accounted for more than 80 percent of recorded mass abductions since the beginning of 2025.
These figures do not mean U.S. counterterrorism operations have failed; rather, they demonstrate that Nigeria's civilian security crisis extends far beyond the militant organizations targeted by airstrikes.
Having reported on terrorism and violent conflict in northern Nigeria, I have witnessed how insecurity paralyzes communities long after the immediate violence subsides. Farmers struggle to cultivate their fields, families live in constant fear, and residents face travel restrictions that disrupt ordinary economic and social life.
For those living under these conditions, security is measured less by the body count of neutralized militants than by whether they can travel safely, earn a living, and send their children to school.
This is where Washington should reconsider its approach.
The United States and Nigeria have already recognized the necessity of broader security reforms. During the 2024 U.S.–Nigeria Binational Commission, both governments committed to expanding military and law enforcement cooperation while prioritizing civilian protection, human rights, and democratic principles.
They proposed establishing a standing security working group and enhancing joint efforts in border and aviation security, anti-terrorist financing, criminal investigations, and explosives detection. Discussions also focused on creating specialized police anti-kidnapping units, improving oversight mechanisms, mapping crime, advancing police reform, and strengthening judicial institutions.
Furthermore, their commitments encompassed civilian harm mitigation, community peacebuilding, farmer–herder conflict resolution, and the safeguarding of freedom of expression, peaceful assembly, and religious liberty.
These mutual agreements offer a framework for evaluating whether security cooperation is making a tangible difference on the ground. Washington should actively advocate for transparent assessments of civilian casualties, kidnapping metrics, accountability for human rights abuses, and the safe return of displaced communities.
It should also invest in supporting Nigerian civil and judicial institutions capable of investigating and prosecuting violent crimes, rather than relying primarily on military solutions.
While protecting religious freedom must remain a priority, Nigeria's security crisis cannot be viewed solely through the lens of attacks on Christian communities. Muslims have also suffered extensively from terrorism and banditry. A comprehensive policy aimed at protecting all civilians will far better address the nation's complex security realities.
The stakes extend well beyond Nigeria's borders. As Africa's most populous nation and a key regional democracy, Nigeria is central to West African stability and global cooperation. Persistent insecurity erodes public confidence in elected leaders, suppresses civic participation, and creates power vacuums that armed groups exploit.
For the United States, supporting Nigeria involves far more than neutralizing terrorist organizations—it means helping a strategic democratic partner build trusted governance and judicial institutions.
A robust bilateral relationship should align security assistance with civilian protection, public accountability, and sustained diplomatic engagement. Such an approach would demonstrate that U.S. foreign policy can effectively advance democratic governance while confronting violent extremism.
Ultimately, the success of U.S.–Nigeria counterterrorism efforts must be judged by whether ordinary Nigerians can live free from fear, participate in civic life, and trust the institutions charged with their protection. Until these outcomes serve as the primary metrics of progress, even successful military strikes will remain an incomplete response to Nigeria's complex security challenges.
Idris Mohammed is a Ph.D. student at the University of Alabama concentrating in Journalism & Creative Media and a fall Fulcrum Fellow.
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US Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth on October 28, 2026.
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Pete Hegseth and the High Price of Compromised Governance
Nov 10, 2026
Just days after a historic midterm election in which everyday Americans sent a clear, undeniable demand for political accountability and transparency, the halls of Congress have devolved into a new theater of crisis. Republican Representative Thomas Massie’s introduction of eight articles of impeachment against Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth has thrown the Department—and the nation’s fragile democratic norms—into uncharted territory.
Massie, a longtime Trump critic who plans to retire from Congress at the end of the year, accuses Hegseth of bypassing Congress and violating constitutional limits on war powers.
Speaking on the House floor, Massie argued that Hegseth had overstepped his authority through U.S. military action involving Iran. Hegseth “has acted in a manner contrary to his trust as secretary of defense,” Massie said, adding that he “has demonstrated that he will remain a threat to the Constitution if allowed to remain in office, and has acted in a manner grossly incompatible with his duties and the rule of law.”
According to Massie’s announcement, the first article “charges Secretary Hegseth with waging the Iran war despite no declaration of war, statutory authorization, attack on the United States, or imminent threat.” The article further asserts that “it establishes that the war was unlawful from its inception.”
There is little doubt that Hegseth's turbulent tenure deserves fierce criticism. From allegations of bypassing the War Powers Resolution by launching unauthorized military actions in Iran and Yemen, to the tragic strike on an Iranian school that resulted in mass civilian casualties, his leadership has operated on a doctrine of unilateral defiance. Add to that the extrajudicial targeting of crews in the Pacific, the reckless capture of Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro, and chilling threats to prosecute critics like Senator Mark Kelly for exercising free speech, and we see an administrator who treats international law and constitutional constraints as mere suggestions. Hegseth’s ongoing assault on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives has already compromised internal national security and alienated the very communities that make our military strong. By any objective metric of steady governance, his record is an absolute failure.
But as a journalist and advocate for systemic democratic reform, I am compelled to look past the political theater and ask the central, sobering question: Does Pete Hegseth legally deserve impeachment?
Under Article II, Section 4 of the U.S. Constitution, impeachment requires a threshold of "Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors." The legal case brought by Massie holds genuine structural merit, particularly regarding the separation of powers. Waging unauthorized warfare in direct violation of statutory law and intentionally subverting Congressional oversight represent exactly the kind of executive overreach the Founders sought to curb.
Yet, history and recent political reality remind us that impeachment is rarely a purely legal exercise—it is inherently a political instrument. As Jonah Goldberg recently noted in The Fulcrum regarding the broader debates surrounding accountability in this administration, the line between constitutional duty and political strategy is dangerously thin. If the House moves forward with a vote within the required 48 hours, it risks hyper-politicizing what should be a sober legal process. With House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries signaling a united Democratic front and the slim Republican majority teetering on a knife's edge, a vote to impeach might satisfy a desperate public hunger for accountability, but it could further fracture an already broken legislative branch.
Which brings us to the final dilemma: Should Donald Trump fire him?
For the sake of our national security and global standing, the answer is an unequivocal yes. President Trump has spent the days following the midterms trapped in an alternate-reality delusion, refusing to accept that voters delivered a devastating verdict on his administration’s chaotic governance. Defending Hegseth as the victim of a "political sham" only deepens this blindness.
True leadership requires recognizing when a cabinet official has become a liability to the republic. Leaving Hegseth at the helm of our military forces further isolates America on the world stage and erodes domestic trust. Trump should fire Hegseth immediately to restore structural integrity to our defense institutions—not to appease Congress, but to show that his administration can, for once, prioritize the stability of our democracy over personal loyalty.
Because Massie introduced the measure as a privileged resolution, House Republican leaders must bring the impeachment articles to the floor within two legislative days. GOP lawmakers could also move to table or dismiss the measure, but doing so would require support from a majority of the House.
The House needs only a simple majority to approve the articles of impeachment. If adopted, the matter would then move to the Senate, where senators would decide whether to convict Hegseth and remove him from office.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of The Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network
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New federal law already targets PBM pricing and rebate practices. An opinion on why state pharmacy ownership bans go too far, and the freight-rail lesson.
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State Healthcare Reforms Have Gone Off the Rails
Nov 09, 2026
Government generally has two ways to address problems in a marketplace. It can establish clear rules, target harmful conduct and let competition produce better outcomes. Or it can design the market itself by controlling business decisions and dictating how companies must operate. That is the decision facing lawmakers in healthcare today.
America's freight-rail experience shows what is at stake. For decades, the Interstate Commerce Commission controlled railroad rates, restricted routes and made it hard for carriers to shed unprofitable lines. Intended to stabilize an essential industry, the rules instead contributed to bankruptcies and lagging investment.
Congress changed direction with the Staggers Rail Act of 1980. The law preserved protections against unreasonable rates and anticompetitive conduct but gave railroads greater freedom to set prices, negotiate contracts and organize their networks. As a result, inflation-adjusted freight rates fell by nearly half over the ensuing decades while freight volume grew by more than 50 percent.
The lesson was not that government has no regulatory role. It was that regulation works best when it addresses identifiable misconduct without substituting political judgment for competition. The modern debate over pharmacy benefit managers, or PBMs, presents much the same choice.
PBMs administer prescription-drug benefits for insurers and government health plans. They negotiate discounts and rebates with drug manufacturers, determine which drugs are covered, contract with pharmacies and process claims. Many also run their own pharmacies to help lower drug prices. Health plans hire them to use their purchasing power and expertise to control costs.
Critics contend that some PBM practices produce conflicts of interest or higher costs. They point to rebate arrangements, spread pricing (charging a health plan more for a prescription than the PBM reimburses the pharmacy), and incentives that may favor drugs with higher list prices. PBMs have also been accused of steering patients toward affiliated pharmacies and underpaying independent ones.
These concerns deserve serious consideration. But the real question is not whether challenges exist, but which remedies address them without unnecessarily restricting competition or market choice.
Washington has chosen the targeted approach. Through Section 6224 of the Consolidated Appropriations Act of 2026, Congress restricted how PBMs serving Medicare plans may be compensated, required rebates and discounts to be passed through to plan sponsors, mandated detailed reporting and provided sponsors with extensive audit rights. Other provisions establish transparency and rebate protections for employer-sponsored health plans.
The Federal Trade Commission (FTC), meanwhile, has pursued enforcement actions targeting the same pricing, rebate, and transparency concerns. Its settlements require contract options that calculate patients' costs closer to net prices, pass rebates through at the pharmacy counter, let health plans move away from spread pricing and guaranteed-rebate arrangements, and offer community pharmacies cost-plus reimbursement.
Taken together, the federal law and settlements show how targeted intervention can address the practices that prompted calls for PBM reform without displacing market choice. They impose enforceable rules while leaving employers and health plans free to choose among competing arrangements.
The Trump administration has effectively chosen this approach: address the specific practices driving concerns about PBMs without dictating how companies must structure their businesses. With those reforms now in place, states pursuing far more sweeping measures should have to explain what problem remains that requires breaking apart lawful businesses.
Arkansas enacted the nation's first law barring PBMs from owning or operating pharmacies. Tennessee has since enacted its FAIR Rx Act. Both laws face legal challenges, and a federal court has temporarily blocked the Arkansas measure, but that has not stopped lawmakers elsewhere from considering similar proposals.
These mandates are not an indictment of any one business practice but of an industry as a whole. A PBM could comply fully with every federal requirement, abandon disputed pricing practices and offer transparent contracts, and still be forced to restructure or withdraw its pharmacy operations. This would disrupt pharmacy access for millions and could set a troubling precedent for other businesses weighing investments based on what were previously settled rules.
The contrast is clear. In a free and fair marketplace, government should establish clear rules, punish demonstrated misconduct, and step back to let competition determine how businesses organize. An industry's political unpopularity is not a reason to abandon those principles, and neither is the fact that some critics have a legitimate case.
There is also a more basic question: How does forcing a PBM to sell or close a pharmacy make a prescription less expensive? Ownership bans do not themselves lower a drug's list price, increase manufacturer discounts, or reduce a patient's copay. They dictate who may own a pharmacy without demonstrating how that restructuring lowers healthcare costs.
States pursuing ownership bans are choosing a far more sweeping approach. When government can address specific problems directly, forcing companies to divest lawful businesses is difficult to justify as consumer protection. It is government-directed market restructuring, and lawmakers should be wary of the precedent it sets.
Jack Yoest is an Associate Professor of Practice at The Catholic University of America's Busch School of Business. He served as Assistant Secretary for Health and Human Resources for the Commonwealth of Virginia and is the author of Learning to Win: The 45 Laws of the Public Policy Process.
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Ice Police Law Enforcement Investigation and Department of Justice Customs Immigration Enforcement
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I Believe in Immigration Enforcement. But, What Happened to TK Should Concern Us All.
Nov 05, 2026
TK was born in Guatemala in 1962. He arrived in the United States in 1965, at the age of three, as a lawful permanent resident with his immigrant mother and American stepfather. For the next 61 years, he lived what most people would recognize as an American life.
TK grew up in American schools, graduated from a Texas high school and attended college. As a child, his classmates struggled to pronounce his given name, Enrique. They began calling him “Keke,” a nickname that eventually became “TK”—the name he has been known by ever since. He married, raised three daughters, divorced, and eventually remarried, all in the US. Today, he is a grandfather and a successful businessman whose life has been rooted in this country since the age of three.
English is his first language. America is not simply where he resides. It is where his life happened.
Today, TK is in federal immigration detention, facing possible deportation to a country he left six decades ago and has only returned to a handful of times.
TK's history is not without complications. He was arrested in 2003, an event whose legal consequences deserve appropriate consideration. But so do the 23 years that followed.
He overcame personal obstacles, rebuilt his life, and built a successful business that requires frequent international travel. Over the past decade, TK has traveled between the United States and the Caribbean dozens of times without difficulty. I was fortunate to accompany him on one trip earlier this year. We returned without any issues.
About a month ago, his permanent resident card was renewed without incident.
Then, after returning from another routine business trip this month, he was referred for secondary inspection, found inadmissible, and taken into federal custody.
What followed has been as disturbing as the detention itself.
TK was permitted one telephone call. After his transfer to another facility, communication effectively disappeared.
TK initially appeared in ICE's online detainee locator, but only briefly. Following his transfer, however, I could no longer establish his whereabouts through the system. Nearly 24 hours passed before TK managed to borrow telephone access from another detainee, for a price.
He told me where he was and asked for help.
I called the detention facility twice. Both calls were answered dismissively. I was instructed to call during normal business hours or told that the person answering was not employed by ICE and could not address my questions since TK was brought in by ICE.
I was not asking difficult questions or requesting preferential treatment. I was trying to assist someone in federal custody and get basic information: how do I obtain his belongings, visitation, etc.
Next, I tried to deposit money into his commissary account so he could buy basic necessities like toothpaste and food beyond the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he was being provided. I tried two online systems, two separate accounts, and two different credit cards. Every transaction failed. Eventually, the accounts were locked, “Too Many Attempts”.
The solution? Call Customer Service during normal business hours.
It was Saturday. Monday was a holiday.
Four days before I could even seek assistance with a failed payment system. Now Tuesday and seven calls later. Nobody available. Every call went to voicemail. Imagine a facility that is designated as “Undercapacity,” and everyone is busy?
Consider the situation: A person is detained by the federal government, transferred without reliably accessible location information, afforded extremely limited communication, and left dependent on administrative systems that cannot be corrected over a holiday weekend.
In the American criminal justice system, even individuals accused of serious offenses, murder, sex trafficking, generally have established procedures for prompt judicial oversight and consideration of pretrial release. Immigration detention operates differently, and access to bond or prompt judicial review is restricted.
These legal distinctions are important. But they do not eliminate the fundamental question of what procedural safeguards and basic standards of treatment should accompany government detention.
There is another question worth examining.
People who enter the United States unlawfully generally understand that apprehension may lead to detention and deportation. But does that understanding prepare their families for the experience of losing contact with someone in federal custody?
What happens when a spouse, parent, or child is detained, transferred between facilities, and becomes difficult to locate? When families cannot obtain reliable information, when calls go unanswered and when uncertainty extends for days, weeks or longer?
Could some of the anger and confrontation surrounding immigration enforcement stem not simply from opposition to deportation, but from fear about the whereabouts and treatment of loved ones?
That possibility deserves examination. Understanding the sources of public distrust does not require excusing threats or violence.
I experienced less than 24 hours of that uncertainty before TK contacted me. For families who endure it much longer, the consequences may be profound.
I have experienced firsthand individuals entering the US illegally across the southern border. They were generally arrested (because they surrendered), processed, and released with a court date several years away in a matter of days. TK, a lawful permanent resident for over 60 years... detained indefinitely.
I support immigration enforcement unequivocally. A sovereign nation has the right and responsibility to protect and control its borders and enforce its laws. What I question is whether our immigration detention system operates with the transparency, proportionality, and accountability we should expect from the federal government.
I also recognize that lawful permanent residence does not confer citizenship, and that immigration law may impose consequences for conduct that occurred decades ago. TK's legal status and eligibility for release must be determined under the applicable law. That is the law.
But the legality of detention and the administration of detention are separate matters.
Perhaps each failure has an explanation: a database that updates slowly, a contracted facility with limited authority, a payment vendor closed for the weekend. But this is 2026, not 1982. Imagine your phone or your tablet “updates slowly,” or a payment vendor is “closed for the weekend.” The frustration you feel from such a mundane service is something you've grown to feel entitled to. Individually, these explanations are barely reasonable. Collectively, they reveal a system in which responsibility is fragmented, and those seeking answers have few places to turn.
I believe that immigration laws should be enforced. I also believe that the authority to deprive someone of liberty carries an obligation to ensure meaningful communication, access to basic necessities, and accountable treatment, even for those who entered the US illegally.
TK's case will ultimately turn on the facts and the law. It should.
But his experience leaves a question that should concern Americans regardless of their views on immigration:
If the federal government has the power to take away a person’s freedom, shouldn’t it also be responsible for ensuring that person can be found, contacted, and treated with basic dignity? Even Amazon can track a package.
Spencer Ross is the Chief Operating Officer (COO) of TerraKross Building Contractors & Developers, LLC.
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