View / Why Nigeria needs to talk with the jihadists

Obi Anyadike
Obi Anyadike
Senior Africa Editor, The New Humanitarian
Mar 23, 2026, 6:11am EDT
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A police officer walks beside a burnt prison vehicle in Abuja, Nigeria on July 6, 2022, after suspected Boko Haram attack.
A suspected Boko Haram attack. Kola Sulaimon/AFP via Getty Images.

As the US and Israel’s war on Iran enters its fourth week, one unintended consequence is that Washington has been paying even less attention than usual to the security threats facing African countries.

Nigeria is a case in point. Since the beginning of the year, the US has been providing equipment and a small number of specialists to the Nigerian military in its fight against Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP) in the country’s northeast. That arrangement seems to have been paused — superseded by the needs of the Gulf conflict.

Yet even before this interruption, the battle with jihadists was not going well. An ISWAP offensive had been targeting military garrisons, and this month overran five bases and killed three senior officers in a shocking setback for an already overstretched Nigerian army. Boko Haram, ISWAP’s smaller cousin, has also struck — detonating three bombs in Maiduguri, the region’s largest city, killing at least 23 people.

Governments across the continent are struggling with stubborn insurgencies. Nigeria’s conflict has been underway since 2010; in Somalia, the battle against al-Shabab has been going (badly) for more than 17 years; Sahelian jihadist groups have similarly been gaining ground for the past decade. The uncomfortable truth — considering the amount of blood and treasure spent — is that military solutions on their own rarely succeed. Broader political settlements are much more successful at delivering peace.

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Nigeria’s National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu seems to have acknowledged that. He recently said some jihadists were “brothers,” and differences could be settled through “dialogue.” The comments caused outrage, perhaps understandably so. The war has killed 350,000 people and forced 3.5 million from their homes. The violence — from executions to bombings, rapes to forced marriages — has been blood-curdling in its brutality.

Yet in the early years of the insurgency there were talks to try and reach a settlement, until both sides accused each other of bad faith. There have also been quieter negotiations, resulting in financial payments and prisoner releases, that have freed civilian hostages.

A prevailing assumption is that jihadists are absolutists, and can’t be bargained with. But they are not ideologically monolithic and do behave as rational political actors. Boko Haram is more locally rooted, identifying with Nigeria’s pre-colonial history, and ISWAP is more transnational. Yet both groups contain factions and shades of opinion. Jihadist movements can also morph over time. Syria’s Ahmed al-Sharaa has had the starkest transition, from the leader of an al-Qaida-linked group to president of the country.

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Peace is a long-term endeavor. There is no sudden moment for the “ripeness” of political engagement. Evolving internal dynamics within both jihadist groups and governments shape the process, as does the international environment. In 2020, the US was dominant enough to reach an agreement with the Taliban and sell it. When Sahelian countries tried to talk to their insurgents, France fiercely opposed it.

If Ribadu is serious about a dialogue, even as a long-term exercise, there are some fundamental questions to answer. What, if any, are the areas of potential compromise? Harder still, how could a domestic consensus be forged to even begin talks in a multi-faith Nigeria, governed by a secular constitution, where the jihadists are legally designated as terrorists? And will a future peace deal sacrifice women’s rights?

We don’t know how firm Boko Haram or ISWAP’s red lines are. But their basic goals — the establishment of a caliphate and the strict implementation of sharia law — have been constant. Would this mean ceding part of northern Nigeria to form an extra-territorial entity they would administer, and how would that fly?

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There are international examples — like Somaliland — of de facto states that are not formally recognized. But there are so many other parts of Nigeria, unhappy in their union, who would also want that privilege. The result would be the cataclysmic breakup of a country of 240 million people.

The stumbling blocks to dialogue are immense. It’s also worth noting there has been no indication yet the insurgents are keen to engage, especially as militarily they appear to be on the front foot. Were it to ever begin, the saving grace could perhaps be that talking is better than fighting.

Obi Anyadike is Senior Africa Editor at The New Humanitarian, with a focus on violent extremism.

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