The U.S. is cutting short a training program for Nigerian soldiers following a request by the West African nation’s government less than a month after Washington said it refused to sell the country Cobra attack helicopters.
“At the request of the Nigerian government, the United States will discontinue its training of a Nigerian Army battalion,” the U.S. Embassy in the capital, Abuja, said in an e-mailed statement. The program was designed to help Nigeria battle the Islamist militant group Boko Haram.
The U.S. turned down the helicopter request “due to concerns about Nigeria’s ability to use and maintain this type of helicopter in its effort against Boko Haram and ongoing concerns about the Nigerian military’s protection of civilians when conducting military operations,” State Department spokeswoman Jen Psaki said in Washington on Nov. 12.
Nigeria’s military, under the leadership of President Goodluck Jonathan, is struggling to deal with intensifying attacks by the Islamist militant group Boko Haram.The insurgents have killed more than 13,000 people since 2009, according to Jonathan. Suspected Boko Haram members carried out two attacks on cities in Nigeria’s northeast today, killing at least five people.
“We regret premature termination of this training, as it was to be the first in a larger planned project that would have trained additional units with the goal of helping the Nigerian Army build capacity to counter Boko Haram,” the embassy said. Culled From Bloomberg
 |
|
More than 76 ISWAP terrorists have abandoned their enclaves and surrendered to troops within the North-East theatre of operations as part of the Joint Task Force (North East), Operation HADIN KAI (OPHK), and continued operational successes.
The North East geopolitical zone comprises six states: Adamawa, Bauchi, Borno, Gombe, Taraba, and Yobe.
In a statement by the Acting Military Information Officer, Headquarters Joint Task Force North East Operation Hadin Kai, Captain Mohammed Goni, revealed that among those who surrendered were key members of the terrorist network, due to relentless military pressure.
“The development highlights the devastating impact of the sustained offensive by Operation HADIN KAI, which continues to dismantle terrorist strongholds, disrupt command and logistics structures, and deny the insurgents freedom of action across the theatre”.
“Persistent military operations have continued to degrade the terrorists’ combat capabilities while eroding confidence within their ranks and leadership. Within the last week alone, a total of 76 terrorist foot soldiers with some families surrendered to troops”
“They are currently in a secure location undergoing profiling, debriefing, and other established procedures in accordance with extant operational protocols,” the statement reads in part.
According to Captain Goni, the operational gains demonstrate the effectiveness of the Nigerian military’s comprehensive counter-terrorism and counter-insurgency strategy, combining precision combat operations, intelligence-led engagements, and coordinated joint efforts with partners.
He added that “the Operation HADIN KAI remains resolute in its mission to completely defeat terrorism and restore lasting peace and security across the North-East and the pressure on the remaining terrorist elements will continue unabated until they are completely neutralised or forced to surrender”.
For decades, the financial elite of Zurich and London viewed international drug trafficking as a coarse, localized problem. It was a menace measured in street corners, plastic baggies, and gang rivalries. However, a major global sting operation has smashed this illusion. The arrest of Nigerian billionaire Amadi Simon in Switzerland, alongside his female co-conspirators in West Africa, reveals a much deeper issue. It exposes a sophisticated, multi-billion-dollar network where modern fintech, West African drug wealth, and Russian sanctions evasion meet. This case is not just about a single drug bust. It serves as a modern lesson in how easily global finance can be weaponized. When illicit drug cash from European streets can flow smoothly into the Russian financial system through Swiss fintech firms, Western regulators must face a harsh truth: their digital anti-money laundering systems are failing.
The Mirror of the Network
At the center of this web sits Amadi Simon, a high-profile tycoon who lived luxury lives in both Nigeria and Western Europe. While he presented himself as a legitimate businessman, international investigators saw a different reality. They uncovered a massive, globe-spanning drug baron. The network operated with corporate precision: The African Anchor: In Nigeria, female kingpins Jecinta Amara Ikechi and Blessing Ngozi Amadi managed the local footprint. They ran operations in Anambra and Delta states to handle logistics and secure assets. The Swiss Conduit: In Zurich, Sergey Salpanov, a Russian-trained lawyer turned tech founder led Swiss Remit. This fintech firm provided the crucial financial pipeline for the group. Together, these players linked West African networks with European drug markets and eastern financial systems.
Weaponizing the Fintech Frontier
The cartel successfully bypassed traditional global banks by exploiting the gaps in modern financial technology. Traditional banks use slow compliance systems that flag suspicious transactions days after they occur. Fintech apps like Swiss Remit, however, pride themselves on instant, cross-border transfers.
The network exploited this speed to stay ahead of the law. They poured cash into virtual banking platforms through complicit money transfer businesses. Once the dirty paper money became "digital ledger cash," the fintech infrastructure quickly routed it into Russian financial systems or crypto assets.
To hide their digital tracks, the cartel used a strategy known as "nested banking." They passed funds through a confusing maze of foreign exchange businesses, shell companies, and virtual wallets. This completely hid the original owners of the cash. They also broke up large deposits into small amounts using "money mule" accounts opened with fake or stolen IDs. By the time computer algorithms flagged the transactions, the money had already cleared and disappeared into another country.
From Laundromats to Luxury Hotels
When the money returned to Nigeria, it was poured directly into the local economy to look like legitimate profit. The cartel relied heavily on high-end luxury hospitality assets to blend their drug wealth with clean, mainstream commercial cash flows. Following Simon's arrest, Nigeria's National Drug Law Enforcement Agency working closely with the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), moved swiftly to seize his multi-billion naira real estate portfolio: Jovi Hotel Asaba: a prime hospitality property used as a major commercial footprint in the Delta State capital. Jovi Hotel and Suites Agbor: a prominent multi-story hotel venture built to absorb massive amounts of cash. Jovi Apartment Abuja: a luxury residential complex in the upscale Mabushi district used as an administrative front. Alongside these physical properties, authorities froze numerous traditional bank accounts and cryptocurrency wallets. These accounts held hundreds of billions of naira in digital ledger cash before they could be moved out of the country.
The Geopolitical Trap
The most alarming aspect of this case for Western security agencies is how organized crime intersects with geopolitics. By routing hundreds of millions in drug wealth directly into Russian financial systems, these networks do more than just clean dirty money. They create alternative pipelines of hard currency into Russia, bypassing traditional banking guardrails and international sanctions. For the Kremlin, cash-heavy networks like Simon’s are highly useful. They offer a steady supply of Western currency that is completely hidden from the eyes of global regulators. This exposes the fatal flaw in the West's current economic defense system. While governments impose strict sanctions on paper, the digital backdoors remain open. A fintech startup in Zurich can accidentally undermine the foreign policy of major world powers, simply by failing to verify the identities of its users.
The Way Forward
Dismantling this network required an extraordinary international coalition, including the NDLEA, the U.S. DEA, and Swiss and Greek federal authorities. This level of cooperation shows that law enforcement can successfully work together across borders. However, chasing criminals after the money has already moved is no longer enough. If governments want to protect the global financial system, they must change how they regulate the fintech sector. Fintech platforms can no longer be allowed to prioritize speed and user growth over basic security. Regulators must enforce strict, real-time identity checks and treat virtual banking platforms with the same scrutiny as traditional banks. Until the digital loopholes are closed, global syndicates will continue to exploit the international financial system—laundering drug money, evading sanctions, and hiding their wealth in plain sight.
In The Spotlight
President Bola Tinubu's Democracy Day address was an exercise in a peculiar form of political optimism: the sort that flourishes most luxuriantly when reality is at its bleakest. One almost admired its audacity.
The address read more like a dispatch from a parallel republic, blissfully detached from the grim realities of the nation he governs. To praise twenty-seven years of unbroken civilian rule is a fine thing for history books, but it offers cold comfort to citizens who cannot afford bread. Nigeria is currently caught in a vice of worsening socio-economic misery and pervasive insecurity, making the president's lofty rhetoric feel not just out of touch, but deeply offensive.
As schoolchildren languish in captivity, as retired generals die in the custody of bandits, as churches and mosques organize national prayers against insecurity, and as vast swathes of rural Nigeria remain subject to the whims of terrorists, kidnappers and armed gangs, the President invited Nigerians to celebrate "the enduring Nigerian spirit" and contemplate a nation moving "from uncertainty to stability". The most striking failure of empathy in the address is the lecture directed at Nigeria’s youth. Tinubu urges them to "build here, code here, work here, and vote here," scolding those who leave as "abandoning ship." This is a rich demand from a political elite whose own children are routinely educated and housed abroad. Young Nigerians are not leaving out of a lack of patriotism. They are fleeing a system that actively stifles their talent, devalues their labor, and threatens their physical safety. To expect the youth to stay and fix a broken ship while the captains lounge in luxury is not leadership; it is rank hypocrisy that stinks to the high Heavens.
Democracy Day is, of course, a suitable occasion for reflection. The heroes of June 12 deserve remembrance. The struggle against military dictatorship remains one of the noblest chapters in Nigeria's modern history. Yet the purpose of democracy is not merely to remember freedom; it is to exercise it. Citizens cannot meaningfully enjoy liberty when they are afraid to travel roads, cultivate farms, attend schools, or sleep in their homes. The President himself inadvertently acknowledged this contradiction when he declared that "democracy without security is a mirage." Quite so. Democratic institutions are empty shells if they cannot provide basic human security. While Tinubu extols the virtues of resolving disagreements in courtrooms rather than through violence, millions of Nigerians face a different kind of daily violence. Wild inflation and a collapsing currency have made feeding a family an act of daily heroism. Bandits, kidnappers, and insurgent groups operate with terrifying freedom across vast swathes of the country. The state's primary duty is to protect its people and their livelihoods. In this duty, the current administration is failing. Celebrating the "ballot" when the state cannot secure the "bourse" or the "boma" is a luxury only the ruling class can afford.
The difficulty is that this statement functions less as a defense of his administration than as its most devastating indictment. For if democracy without security is indeed a mirage, then millions of Nigerians are currently inhabiting precisely such a mirage. The President's solution was familiar: statistics. Thirteen thousand terrorists neutralized. Terror-related deaths down. Thousands recruited into the police and military. Trillions allocated to defense. Governments facing difficult questions often retreat into arithmetic. Numbers possess an attractive quality. They cannot be interrupted. They do not ask follow-up questions. They create the impression of progress without the inconvenience of proving it. Yet Nigerians are not experiencing security through spreadsheets. They experience it through the inability to move freely across their own country. They experience it through ransom payments. They experience it through abandoned villages. They experience it through children kidnapped from schools. They experience it through the extraordinary fact that a retired Major General; a man who once stood near the apex of Nigeria's security establishment could be abducted and die in captivity. If the state could not protect one of its former defenders, what reassurance does it offer everyone else?
There was something especially curious about the President's plea that Nigerians should not "assign blame or point fingers." In ordinary circumstances this might sound statesmanlike. In a democracy it sounds peculiar. Assigning responsibility is, after all, one of the principal functions of democratic government. Citizens elect leaders precisely so that someone may be held accountable when things go wrong. A President asking citizens not to assign blame for a worsening security crisis is rather like a football manager urging supporters not to discuss the scoreline. One suspects the request is made because the scoreline is unfavorable. The address was similarly optimistic about the economy. Reforms have restored credibility. Investment is returning. Revenues are rising. Stability is replacing uncertainty. Perhaps. But the true measure of an economy is not found in ministerial presentations or investment brochures. It is found in kitchens, markets and pay packets. There is a reason the administration repeatedly tells Nigerians that prosperity is coming. It is because prosperity has not yet arrived.
The political danger for Tinubu is not merely that Nigerians are suffering. Nations can endure hardship when they believe sacrifices are producing visible results. The greater danger is that citizens increasingly feel they are being asked to trust official narratives that bear little resemblance to their daily experience. The President spoke eloquently of hope. Hope is a valuable political commodity. But it is not an inexhaustible one. The tragedy of contemporary Nigeria is not that its leaders lack ambition. The speech was full of ambition. It was rich with plans, reforms, initiatives, task forces, strategies and promises. The tragedy is that these aspirations coexist with a mounting sense that the state is losing its monopoly on security in significant parts of the country.
A government may survive economic disappointment. It may survive political controversy. What it cannot indefinitely survive is the perception that it cannot perform the most elementary function of government: protecting citizens from violence. The most revealing line of the speech may not have been the celebration of democracy or the defense of reform. It was the President's appeal to traditional rulers, faith leaders and community heads because "the government cannot do it alone." That was intended as a call for national solidarity. It sounded, instead, like an admission. For governments are not elected merely to join collective efforts. They are elected to lead them. The heroes of June 12 fought so Nigerians could choose their leaders. They did not fight so that elected leaders could explain why they are unable to secure the republic entrusted to them.
The president invites criticism from the press and civil society, calling them the "guardrails of our republic." Yet, these guardrails are being tested to the breaking point by economic mismanagement and official corruption. A democracy cannot be strengthened by speeches alone. It requires a government willing to cut its own waste, secure its borders, and create an environment where business can breathe. Until the Tinubu administration faces these harsh truths, Democracy Day will remain a celebration for the politicians, while the rest of Nigeria continues to suffer. Twenty-seven years after the restoration of democracy, Nigerians deserve more than commemorations of freedom. They deserve the substance of it. And until insecurity ceases to dominate national life, until children can attend school without fear, until citizens can travel without calculating ransom values, until communities no longer depend on prayer as a substitute for protection, the gap between official rhetoric and lived reality will continue to widen. Democracy Day was meant to celebrate how far Nigeria has come. Instead, it served as a reminder of how far it still has to go.
Opinions
In The Spotlight
Yes, Nigeria’s presidential election is seven months away and the campaigns, should there be any, have not begun.
But today, I will tell you how it will play out and who will win.
First, let us recall that Bola Ahmed Tinubu won the contest in 2023 on a nationally embarrassing record-low 26.72% voter turnout.
Of that, he received just 36.61% (8,794,726 votes), the lowest winning share in Nigeria’s Fourth Republic. He is ruling Nigeria on less than nine million votes.
That happened because a fragmented opposition split the anti-incumbent majority three ways. But Atiku Abubakar (29.07%), Peter Obi (25.40%) and Rabiu Kwankwaso (6.23%) together secured 60.7% of the vote, collectively outpolling Tinubu by a wide margin.
Here in June 2026, three and a half years later, that fragmentation has worsened. His principal 2023 contestants, Atiku Abubakar and the Obi-Kwankwaso bloc, are again on separate platforms following the collapse of the Ibadan coalition just two months ago, where they had teased unity and collaboration.
Tinubu enters 2027 with a deeply unpopular economic record (peak inflation above 34%, 643% petrol price rise, 141 million in multidimensional poverty), a worsening security crisis 19,980 killed, 12,362 abducted since May 2023 per CSO data), and an Electoral Act 2026 widely criticized for entrenching incumbency.
Nothing exposes the futility of the administration more than the numbers in its own flagship document, PROMISES DELIVERED, published on its third anniversary last month, a self-indictment and that in normal times would be a major liability in an election year.
But the structural advantages of office, access to resources of all forms and sizes, and his All-Progressives Congress control of 31 states and the National Assembly make him a clear favourite.
The biggest factor granting him that status? The fragmented opposition.
But history demonstrates that even fragmented oppositions can win.
In Zambia in 2021, Hakainde Hichilema, in his sixth presidential run and third contest against Edgar Lungu, defeated the incumbent.
His UPND, which was backed by an alliance of 10 opposition parties, “won with 2,810,777 votes to Mr Lungu’s 1,814,201,” the BBC reported: a landslide of more than a million votes.
But Nigerians do not really need to advance beyond their own boundaries to identify a model that has worked. In February 2015, three opposition parties (ACN, CPC, ANPP) and a faction of the ruling PDP merged and became the APC: not a loose alliance, but a genuine party merger.
To understand what happened eight years earlier, consider that Mr Tinubu, the architect of that merger, did not contest the presidential ticket. It went instead to Muhammadu Buhari, a northerner better positioned to deliver the core North vote, balanced by southern running mate Yemi Osinbajo.
Buhari defeated incumbent Goodluck Jonathan by 2.6 million votes, marking the first time an opposition party unseated a ruling party in Nigeria and the country’s first peaceful transfer of power between political parties. The APC achieved the feat with a nine-point margin.
What made that triumph possible were the factors of a single merged platform, a credible candidate with a fixed support base, elite willingness to subordinate personal ambition, the defection of disaffected PDP governors, and a unifying “change” message amid economic discontent and insecurity. It is these same factors that are about to put opposition political egos in Nigeria on trial.
Related News
Olodo uprising: Tinubu aide faults critics of First Lady’s Akara, Kuli kuli comment
Insecurity: Ex-militant calls for calm ahead of 2027 polls
Obi urges FG to fix existing roads before new projects
The APC merger of 2015 and Zambia’s 2021 UPND coalition are excellent models, but only when rivals subordinate personal ambition to a single ticket early, build a genuinely merged party, and deploy parallel vote protection. As I write this article, Nigeria’s opposition has done none of these.
As last week ended, all the major parties appeared to be proceeding as if they have all the time in the world, not only between themselves, but towards APC, while the Obi-Kwankwaso ADC was dangling from the edge of political exclusion.
Translation: the opposition’s greatest enemy is not Tinubu’s machinery but its own dysfunction.
The way forward for Nigeria’s opposition is clear: learn from APC, and from Mr Tinubu, who in 2015 began to play the long game. That game became “Emilokan” in 2023, executed with his “Grab it, snatch it, run with it” philosophy. From the point of view of strategy, it worked.
For today’s opposition, the time for a merger is now gone, but the long game is still available to the opposition if it wants to be a credible, competitive entity now and in the future.
First, and understanding that fragmentation hands victory to the incumbent, they must now pick one candidate behind one party and let the loser’s ego be bought out the way APC did it in 2015. And no, don’t pretend that personal goodwill will settle the ticket. Resolve the presidential question through a pre-announced method that all major camps sign before the process begins. That method should combine two criteria that matter in Nigeria’s system: electability and spread.
Nobody should be pressured merely to “step down for Nigeria,” but they should sign a political contract that makes stepping down survivable.
Concede that Obi (who has the youth/southern energy and the cleaner brand) and Atiku (who has northern reach) cannot both run.
The 2015 template, where Tinubu ceded the ticket to the better-positioned Buhari and took compensating influence, is the proven path. With the primary window now closed, the only practical plan would be to build a state-by-state non-aggression and joint-ticket framework.
Nigeria is a federation, and opposition strategy should behave like one, pooling and pulling together rather than testing against one another everywhere.
A realistic alliance would pair a single presidential ticket with negotiated zoning for Senate, House, governorship, and state-level endorsements in places where one camp is plainly stronger than the others.
The losing camps should receive guaranteed and written compensation, such as running-mate negotiations, campaign leadership roles, and cabinet-allocation principles.
The second element is to invest in building result-protection infrastructure to neutralise the Electoral Act 2026 loophole, learning from Zambia’s parallel vote tabulation. Because Section 60(3) leaves “communication failure” undefined and removes the real-time upload requirement, the opposition cannot rely on INEC’s IReV alone. It should train, equip, and station paid polling agents in as many of the 176,000 polling units as possible, instructed to photograph and transmit signed EC8A forms and to document any “communication failure” in real time; and run an independent parallel vote tabulation with civil-society partners.
The third element is to expand the base and raise turnout.
Tinubu won 2023 on 26.72% turnout; the opposition’s structural advantage is the hungry, angry and disengaged majority, including the newly registered young voters. A unified ticket should:
Prioritise voter mobilisation and PVC collection drives in high-population, low-turnout urban centres.
Craft a single economic-relief and security message.
Lock in a credible North-South balanced ticket to avoid the zoning resentment that has repeatedly fractured both the PDP and the coalition.
The coalition should avoid trying to write a manifesto that reconciles every ideological difference. It is more realistic to agree on a concise covenant built around five or six issues that cut across region, religion, class and party.
Because while Tinubu is deeply vulnerable, he is not weak. One army can defeat him, but not two or three, no matter how powerful they may individually be.