Every civilisation has its myths of rescue. In ours, the rescuer arrives in the attire of the West, hawking human rights in one hand and carnage in the other. Empires never travel light. They arrive with doctrines and appetites, and an accounting logic that mortgages human lives against barrels of oil, shipping lanes, voting blocs, and dubious evangelism.
Nigeria as other nations of Africa, is once again ripe for the picking in the so-called New World Order, not because we are weak in prospects or numbers, but because we are fragmented in will and allegiance. This renders us dangerously exposed in an era where might is always deemed right, international law is reduced to a ceremonial proviso, and the United Nations, a forum of toothless bulldogs.
In such a clime, even the presumed Giant of Africa must tread with the exaggerated politeness of the vulnerable. Thus, Nigeria’s resort to frantic diplomacy while its citizenry – out of spite or despair – openly fantasise about foreign invasion as if it were a Netflix series with a happy ending.
No doubt, terror stalks our forests as bandits and insurgents turn entire regions into cauldrons of grief. The carnage is real and fear isn’t imagined. What must be resisted is the childish leap from justified anger to suicidal longing. The idea that a global hegemon like the United States, would arrive in Nigeria as a neutral surgeon to excise evil and depart politely, intones naïveté.
There has been much heated talk, some of it reckless, about foreign military capabilities, “coordinated efforts,” and what powerful allies could do if unleashed. Statements by American officials are quoted and misquoted, even as rumours inflate to certainties. Yet the language of “partnership and counterterrorism” must be heeded with caution, not with hysteria or worship. Coordination shouldn’t translate to colonisation by default as it is rarely charity. It is interest meeting interest, and the dominant party always writes the footnotes.
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Alongside US “cooperation” to crush terrorists operating within Nigeria, the Nigerian military’s recent operations deserve support and scrutiny in equal measure. And sponsors of terror, whether they wear agbada, humanitarian badge or military camouflage, must be hunted with the same intensity as the foot soldiers they bankroll. Apologists must be exposed and prosecuted. This is the bare minimum of sovereignty.
Yet, sovereignty is diminished, not strengthened, when citizens behave as though only outsiders can save them. The most dangerous sound Nigeria can experience is not the crack of a gunshot or the roar of a fighter jet, it is the applause and shrieks of approval by a people, who, weary of their own contradictions and tedious labour of self-repair, summon a siege upon themselves.
When a nation embraces an external force as the decisive answer to its internal failures, it announces something fatal about itself: that it no longer trusts its own capacity for reform. For a former colony, this is the worst form of self-betrayal.
The global context makes this even more perilous. We are living through a period of resurgent imperial siege. Great powers no longer bother to hide their appetites behind diplomatic or moral sermons. They pursue brazenly their “enlightened self-interest,” spheres of influence, and strategic resources. After the Americas, Africa remains one of the last great theatres where rival empires test their might.
The United States’ historical posturing toward Latin America, shaped by doctrines that claimed to protect the hemisphere while subordinating it, is instructive. In early January 2026, U.S. forces invaded Venezuela and abducted President Nicolás Maduro and his wife to the United States to face criminal charges, after which President Donald Trump said the U.S. would “run” the country and take control of up to 50 million barrels of its oil for sale, for the benefit of Venezuelans and American interests.
Trump has also revived his bid to seize Greenland, a strategic Danish territory in the Arctic, calling it vital to U.S. security and suggesting all options are on the table despite Danish and NATO objections to any annexation. From Chile to Guatemala, Brazil to the Caribbean, the logic was consistent: the sovereignty of smaller nations is negotiable when it conflicts with American priorities. To pretend that Nigeria is immune to similar calculations is to be delusional.
The rise of alternative powers, particularly China, has complicated this old order. Both trade patterns and alliances have shifted. The BRICS bloc, comprising Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa, represents one such counterweight. Nigeria must take this multi-polar reality seriously, not as a romantic rebellion against the West, but as a sober exercise in self-preservation. Alignment, whether with Western powers or emerging blocs, should never be devotional. It must be transactional, disciplined, and rooted in Nigeria’s long-term interests.
What is unforgivable is the growing habit among some politically embittered Nigerians of openly calling for US invasion as a form of domestic revenge. This is especially reckless in an era when American politics, under a resurgent Donald Trump, has shown little patience for diplomatic niceties while glorifying dominance and reduction of nations to strategic assets.
Nigeria’s resource wealth makes it an even more tempting target in a world hungry for energy and strategic advantage. Oil, gas, critical minerals, a massive consumer market, and a pivotal geographic position all make the country too important to ignore. That importance should serve as leverage, but only if Nigerians quit trading their sovereignty for spite and emboldening imperial actors who see Africa as unfinished business.
Every offer of intelligence sharing or security cooperation, whether from Western or Middle Eastern allies, must be handled with extreme care. If poorly managed, it becomes a Trojan horse, entangling domestic security with foreign agendas that may cause instability.
No country survives by hating itself loudly enough to attract a conqueror. Those who cheer hypothetical invasions should remember the ghosts of Libya, Iraq, and Afghanistan. Libya, once a rich and functioning state, became an impoverished slave market and weapons depot. Iraq’s invasion unleashed sectarian demons that still stalk the region while Afghanistan cycled through decades of occupation and collapse.
Empires do not rebuild what they break. They move on. Nigeria must learn from the Afghan experience. In the wake of United States-led NATO’s sudden withdrawal from Afghanistan, Gaisu Yari, an Afghan refugee, now a grantee of the Open Society Foundation (OSF), recalled his flight from his homeland as his darkest hour. As the occupying forces commenced their hasty withdrawal, he had just four hours to pack up the life he had created in Afghanistan into one suitcase. In a pain-filled memoir, Yari revealed how he cried all through his perilous trip to the Kabul airport, reliving the agony of saying goodbye to his tearful mother on the roof of an old house.
He eventually evacuated to Poland, landing with his family in a refugee camp with scarce food and resources. Every new dawn he spends abroad lacerates and leaves a thick welt on his psyche.
Would Nigerians learn from the sad fate of the Yaris of the world? Despite initial patronage by dubious and bleeding-heart foreign press, Afghanistan has faded from global news headlines.
Let us be guided by the Afghans’ experience. Nigerians must shun the lure of anarchy. We must avoid poisonous interventions from foreigners, whose major interest is to abolish our sovereignty, plunder our resources, and strip us bare to devious elements.
