President Donald Trump shakes hands with Nigerian President Muhammadu Buhari during a news conference at the White House in 2018. (Jabin Botsford/The Washington Post)
ABOUT THE AUTHORS: Will Walldorf is a professor at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, N.C., and a Senior Fellow at Defense Priorities. Alessandro Perri is a research intern at the Stimson Center foreign affairs think tank in Washington.
President Donald Trump is threatening to go “guns-a-blazing” into Nigeria to destroy Islamic terrorists for killing local Christians, which Trump labeled a “genocide” last week. This is classic Trump. He often blusters in public to try to get what he wants.
With Nigeria, though, he could mean it. Since returning to office, Trump has quietly ramped up U.S. counterterrorism operations in Africa — especially in Somalia — and has ordered up war plans for Nigeria. Pressure is building for action and important meetings underway. U.S. airstrikes and a ground incursion are reportedly now on the table.
Is force a good idea here? Not at all. The United States has no vital interests in Nigeria. The use of force against African terrorist groups generally doesn’t work, as Nigeria and Somalia both show, and the dangers of escalation are high.
Trump needs to learn the lesson China did with its wolf-warrior diplomacy: excessive arm-twisting through brash public threats is a counterproductive strategy.
Violence against Christians and Muslims in Nigeria is tragic, but the United States has no strategic interests in going after terrorists there. Fighting jihadi groups in Nigeria won’t tangibly make Americans safer. Why? Because neither of the two main Islamic terror groups in Nigeria — Boko Haram and ISIS West Africa — have ever attacked, or conspired to attack, the United States. According to standard threat measures used by the U.S. government, that makes both groups local insurgencies, not global-reach terrorist organizations that threaten U.S. citizens.
War against terrorists in Nigeria, then, would be a waste of U.S. military assets, and might increase threats to U.S. forces. U.S. counterterrorism policy tends to fuel anti-Americanism that both aids terrorist recruitment (e.g. al-Shabab in Somalia) and sometimes threatens U.S. military personnel directly. Last year, for instance, American troops in Niger were left stranded, short on supplies and reinforcement, after the government there cut off outside access to their bases. Why risk U.S. lives like that when there’s nothing to gain?
A renewed U.S. fight against Nigerian terrorists today is likely to fail and also do little to protect Christians there. Despite $650 million of U.S. counterterrorism aid pouring into Nigeria since 2017, the Nigerian government hasn’t eliminated terrorism and has been sharply criticized for corruption, ineffectiveness and human rights violations. Kinetic strikes sometimes bring immediate successes, but long-term gains are fleeting. Boko Haram was virtually destroyed by Nigerian security forces in 2009. A year later, the group was fully operational, more brutal and effective than before.
Direct U.S. military action in Nigeria is unlikely to be any more effective than Nigeria’s own efforts. Washington’s track record on counterterrorism in Africa since 9/11 is abysmal. This is especially the case with Nigeria’s West African neighbors. Despite robust U.S. military operations in the region, deaths from terrorism increased 2,000% between 2007 and 2022.
Likewise, in Somalia, where the U.S. has invested heavily in air and ground operations since 2017, the picture looks a lot like Nigeria — every surge of success is soon followed by a resurgence in terrorist strength. Today, the leading terrorist group in Somalia, al-Shabab, is arguably stronger than ever.
If the U.S. uses force in Nigeria, the danger of escalation is high. Trump may think he can keep military action limited to some airstrikes. But it’s never that easy.
All U.S. counterterrorism wars in Africa since 9/11 started small, only to expand to U.S. boots on the ground. The Niger operation began as a logistical support mission for French aircraft but within a couple of years, the United States had 1,000 troops there fighting terrorists directly. Today, there are close to 30 U.S. military bases in Africa — there were none prior to 9/11.
More troops on the ground means more danger for U.S. personnel. The Black Hawk Down incident in which 18 American soldiers lost their lives in Somalia came after a humanitarian mission – not too different from saving Christians in Nigeria – expanded into a manhunt for a local warlord. In 2017, four U.S. soldiers died in Niger on a mission they weren’t adequately equipped for.
All told, Trump should opt against military action in Nigeria. As an offramp from his recent threats (i.e., to show he’s doing something), Trump might consider increasing existing levels of U.S. intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance (ISR) cooperation to help Nigeria combat terrorism. But that should be about it.
Trump also needs to stop blustering threats in public. They yield little when countries think they aren’t credible, put the U.S. on the hook to act when the target refuses to capitulate (e.g., the Houthis in Yemen recently), and often drive states away from the United States.
China learned these lessons the hard way with its abrasive wolf-warrior diplomacy a few years back, which created severe international backlash. Today, it’s dropped all that and is now thriving in Africa through almost exclusively economic, not military, means.
Concerns about neocolonialism have already led countries across Africa to turn away from the West toward Russia and China — a trend that unilateral force in Nigeria would only exacerbate. What’s best is for Trump to take a page from China’s playbook. Drop the big talk and find ways other than military force, like diplomacy and economic engagement, to pursue U.S. interests abroad.