SOKOTO FIRST WHERE NEXT?
INTEROGATING THE BIGGER PICTURE.

By: A G Abunakar

When Donald Trump mooted the idea of coming into Nigeria to smoke out jihadists allegedly killing Christians, public reactions were as diverse as Nigerian society itself. And, when he followed through his threats by striking Jabo, a village in Sokoto state, with drones and missiles, the reactions haven’t been less diverse either. Not many people fathomed that Sokoto was going to be high on the pecking order of strike in view of the fact that the killings from the area on account of terrorism and insurgency are much lower than what obtain in the North East and North Central regions of the country. Others, welcomed the strike and maintained that after Sokoto, it can be extended accordingly.

Why did the US pull the trigger now? The answer lies in the alleged genocide against Christians and global geopolitics. As regards the alleged carnage, many perceived it as affecting both Christians and Muslims alike. Others, however, saw the killings as bearing distinct markings of genocide. The few who attempted to express concern for some of the Muslim communities impacted by the crises tended to blame them, for not speaking out forcefully enough about their plight.

They maintained that the Christian communities —genocide or not —have been able to voice out their concerns, which consequently got escalated to the global stage. From there it found receptive ears among evangelical groups in the United States and influential members of Congress. Following two fact-finding missions, Trump decided to make good his threat to strike Nigeria, from its Navy warship in the Gulf of Guinea and related operational base in Ghana. A total of sixteen GPS-guided precision munitions were reportedly pumped into Jabo village.

The build-up followed a familiar U.S. pre-strike pattern: ramp up verbal attacks, repeat accusations relentlessly, and deploy charged descriptors such as “disgrace,” “weak,” and “ineffectual.” This is usually followed by threats capped with ultimatums, before eventual military action. The host nation, usually the weaker partner, is informed as fait accompli out of courtesy and the need for cooperation should the need arises.

A few weeks ago, Trump reiterated his description of Nigeria as a disgrace, accusing the government of failing to halt killings within four weeks—violence that, in reality, has persisted for nearly two decades. While warnings and diplomatic engagements were ongoing, U.S. surveillance reportedly operated freely over Nigerian airspace as the country watched helplessly.

Meanwhile, at home, groups sympathetic to the genocide narrative mounted campaigns against a nonexistent Sokoto Caliphate, accusing it of perpetuating the alleged genocide For the record, the Sokoto Caliphate existed between 1804 and 1903. Its formal end came with the killing of Sultan Attahiru at Burmi while he sought refuge. Burmi is located in the present-day Gombe State in northeastern Nigeria. From that point onward, British colonial rule took over, and in 1960, Nigeria emerged as a sovereign constitutional state. The role of successive paramount rulers in Sokoto—styled as Sultans—has since been largely symbolic and ceremonial: a unifying figure for social and religious cohesion, devoid of executive authority.

Under the 1999 Constitution, traditional rulers possess no autonomous power. Their authority is subordinate even to local government chairmen—not governors. Emirs, Obas, Shehus, Ezes, Sultans, Tor Tivs, Kuthlis, Och’Idomas, and others must obtain concurrence from their local councils before moving outside their domains. That is how hamstrung traditional institutions have become. Indeed, the Nigerian Constitution provides no clear operational role for royal fathers.

Eventually, the United States struck targets in Sokoto, allegedly based on “credible intelligence” indicating that perpetrators of genocide were located in the region—and that genocide itself was taking place there. Trump announced:

“The United States launched a powerful and deadly strike against ISIS terrorist elements in northwest Nigeria who have been targeting and viciously killing primarily innocent Christians at levels not seen for many years, and even centuries.”

Notably, there was no direct reference to the Nigerian government. Any claim by Nigerian authorities that the strike was conducted under mutual arrangement appeared, at best, face-saving.

Indeed, it could hardly have been otherwise. Had Nigeria been in control, it would have directed the strikes where they mattered most—against Boko Haram and ISWAP in the Northeast or the murderous armed herdsmen in Benue and Plateau States. These two groups – and opportunists in between – have effectively torn the country apart, while successive governments have appeared too apprehensive to decisively confront them for fear of alienating either Christian or Muslim constituencies. In reality, Nigeria doesn’t have nationals. It has only Christians and Muslims, and that’s how they operate. Therefore, leadership, instead of managing citizens, ends up balancing sectarian relations at the expense of development.

This relentless balancing of Christian-Muslim political interests has steadily defanged Nigerian governments, weakening them internally and diplomatically. A fractured home front translates into vulnerability abroad. Trump and other world leaders have perceived this weakness and exploited it through classic “divide and rule” tactics, manipulating mutual suspicion for strategic advantage. Even when external actors act high-handedly, the Nigerian government watches helplessly, trapped in the logic of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

The strike on Sokoto may, therefore, have been strategic. First, to reinforce the perception that genocide is occurring and that the Islamic community—symbolised by the Sultanate—is complicit. Second, Sokoto may simply serve as a launch pad for deeper penetration toward the actual jihadist strongholds in the Northeast. Or perhaps it is merely a case of giving a dog a bad name in order to hang it.

It is also possible that the U.S. sought to test its new National Security Strategy, shaped around Trump’s “America First” vision, and rolled out in November 2025. The strategy describes U.S. foreign policy as “pragmatic without being pragmatist, realistic without being realist, principled without being idealist, muscular without being hawkish, and restrained without being dovish” It further claims to be guided by “flexible realism” and “offensive realism.” Perhaps only the architects of this Trump-inspired doctrine can fully explain why Sokoto became the testing ground for these abstractions—first in Africa.

Outside these explanations, logic dictates that any serious offensive against terrorism should have begun at the epicentres: Boko Haram and ISWAP enclaves in the Northeast, orNorth-Central killing fields. The hills of Mangu, Bokkos, Barkin Ladi, Bassa, and Riyom in Plateau State; the forests of Yelwata, Gwer, Guma, and Akpa in Benue State; and areas such as Shiroro, Mokwa, and the Kainji axis in Niger State, as well as Baruten and Kaiama in Kwara State, where groups like Ansaru, Mamuda, and Lakurawa operate. The U.S. reconnaissance missions to these regions should have yielded sufficient actionable intelligence for pre-emptive strikes.

Killings in Sokoto, Zamfara, Kebbi, Katsina, and parts of Kaduna are largely products of terrorism-fuelled criminality exploiting weak law enforcement They are mostly Muslim-on-Muslim, or Hausa-Fulani-on-Fulani violence, driven by economic or criminal motives rather than ideology. The Lakurawa phenomenon has been a low-level insurgency that got foothold in the zone during Nigeria’s frosty relations with Niger Republic after the military toppled the latter’s civilian government. This sharply contrasts with Boko Haram and ISWAP, which are animated by Sharia-state ideology and territorial ambition.

Lakurawa in Sokoto axis is, in fact, a case of marriage gone sour. Years back, the local communities used to engage them for security and protection against livestock rustling in the absence of an orthodox government security system in the area. In return, the group was given unfettered access to the people for religious preaching and missioning until the cookie crumbled. A case of “those who ride on a tiger’s back may end up in its stomach.”

Boko Haram under Abubakar Shekau was initially aligned with al-Qaeda. Tactical disagreements later produced a splinter faction—ISWAP—led by Abu Musab al-Barnawi, son of Mohammed Yusuf, Boko Haram’s founder ISWAP pledged allegiance to ISIS and became its West African franchise. Since then, rivalry between the two has been fierce, with ISWAP appearing to be gaining the upper hand.

ISWAP now controls strategic locations in the Lake Chad Basin—Damasak, Ngala, Malam Fatori—as well as parts of the Gwoza mountains and Sambisa Forest. It has grown increasingly sophisticated, deploying drones, high-calibre weapons, and effective social-media propaganda. A capacity that the Nigerian army is still grappling to match up, given its disastrous experience with deployment in Tudun Biri on the outskirts of Kaduna, Ran in Borno State and a village in Zamfara State.

The group has recently overrun military bases in Kukawa and Damboa (Borno State) and Buni Yadi (Yobe State). Key highways to Maiduguri-Damboa-Biu and Biu-Damaturu-Maiduguri—have remained unsafe. In fact, the Maiduguri/Damboa/Biu corridor has been closed down for years. And it was around this same axis that the military lost senior officers, including Col. Danladi Bako, Brig-Gen. Dzarma Zirkusu, and Brig-Gen. Musa Uba. The latter was reportedly executed in cold blood and filmed by the insurgents for propaganda purposes.

Against this backdrop, it is baffling that Sokoto was chosen for the first strike. Nigerian authorities claim that “structured security cooperation with international partners, including the United States,” led to “precision airstrikes on terrorist targets in the Northwest,” (MFA, December, 2025).

In reality, the decision was unmistakably American. Otherwise, Nigeria might have prioritised strikes on the Northeast or North-Central terror hubs to send a clearer message. Indeed, the very need for U.S. intervention is itself an indictment. Why should it take American drones and missiles to strike targets in Nigeria when ISWAP itself often deployed drones to dislodge Nigerian military bases. Whatever marginal benefits may arise from this so-called “structured cooperation,” they are temporary. Nations invite partners for international crises—not to resolve internal security failures.

Ultimately, the price of failure is national sovereignty. Sokoto may represent the opening chapter in Nigeria’s gradual devaluation. The same U.S. doctrines of “offensive realism” and “flexible realism” have left deep scars in Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, DRC, Sudan, Somalia, and Libya. Used and dumped. Nigeria must avoid joining that grim list.

The footprint of such “liberation” carries more blood than any diagram of peace.
Sokoto was struck not because it was the epicentre of terror; it was because Nigeria has lost the moral and strategic control of its own security narrative. When a sovereign state becomes unable to clearly define its enemies and acts accordingly, others will define them for it—and strike where symbolism matters more than substance. The first bomb did not merely hit a target; it exposed a vacuum of authority, coherence, and national will.

This is the danger of a country fragmented along ethno-religious lines and governed by permanent appeasement. In such a state, terrorism mutates, criminality flourishes, and foreign powers find justification to intervene under selectively moral banners. Once sovereignty is subcontracted, it is rarely returned intact.

If Nigeria does not urgently reclaim control of its internal security, intelligence architecture, and national narrative, it risks sliding from partner to project, from state to theatre. History shows that foreign “liberation” rarely ends in peace; it ends in prolonged instability, bloodshed, and regret. Nigeria, should be guided.
A. G. Abubakar
agbarewa@gmail.com