By Kayode Adebiyi

On Feb. 28, the U.S. and Israel launched a coordinated military campaign against Iran, codenamed “Operation Epic Fury” and “Operation Roaring Lion” respectively, conducting nearly 900 joint strikes on Iran within the first 12 hours.

Since then, the world could barely keep up with happenings in the Gulf region.

The opening bombardment on Iran successfully targeted a high-level meeting in Tehran, resulting in the death of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei and several top military commanders.

President Donald Trump, who entered into the war while negotiations with Iran on shutting down its nuclear programme were ongoing, has been threatening fire and brimstone.

He said that the goal was to “raze the missile industry to the ground” and ensure that Iran never achieves nuclear capability.

According to reports, more than 2,000 strikes have targeted the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) facilities, air defenses, and nuclear research sites.

Iran has responded with hundreds of ballistic missiles and unmanned combat aerial vehicles and loitering munitions developed by Shahed Aviation Industries.

The Iranians have expanded their target list to include Gulf Arab states (Bahrain, Kuwait, Qatar, UAE, and Saudi Arabia), striking civilian infrastructure like desalination plants and airports to pressure the U.S. into a ceasefire.

Although this round of conflict has shifted from a shadow war into a direct, large-scale military confrontation, it has its roots in a previous crisis.

In June 2025, the long-simmering hostility between Israel and Iran erupted into overt military confrontation, putting the Middle East on a razor’s edge and sending shockwaves across the globe.

For weeks, the two regional powers exchanged deadly blows, with each strike pushing the spectre of a wider regional war closer to reality.

What began as a shadow war of proxies and covert operations has escalated dramatically, with resultant destruction of lives and property.

On June 13, 2025, Israel launched a series of targeted airstrikes on Iranian military infrastructure and nuclear facilities.

After the attacks, Israel claimed to have set back Tehran’s nuclear programme significantly and decapitated key military leadership.

As expected, Iran swiftly retaliated with barrages of missiles and drones, hitting Israeli cities and towns.

By the time the smoke of bombardments cleared, both parties had suffered significant casualties, with Iran’s Health Ministry stating more than 220 people had been killed, and Israel confirming more than 20 fatalities.

The audacious nature of Israel’s strikes, targeting nuclear sites like Natanz and Fordow, and even the headquarters of Iranian state TV, signified a profound shift in the intensity of the conflict.

Raphael Cohen, an expert at RAND, a nonprofit, nonpartisan think-tank, said then that Israel viewed Iran’s proxy attack as an existential threat.

“Israel believed it was almost out of time to stop an Iranian bomb and that the time was right for a preventative strike,” he said.

According to the White House, Trump framed the war as a “dawn of a new season” for the Iranian people.

Trump has also called for Iran’s “unconditional surrender” and stated that he intends to play a direct role in selecting Iran’s next leader, famously dismissing the late Supreme Leader’s son, Mojtaba Khamenei, as “unacceptable”.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu also justified the strikes as an “act of necessity against an existential threat”.

Polish President Karol Nawrocki and some leaders in the Baltics have also offered clear political backing, viewing the operation through a security lens similar to their stance on Russian aggression.

However, the UN Secretary-General, António Guterres, has repeatedly condemned the strikes as a violation of the UN Charter, warning that “when force replaces law, barbarism takes its place.”

Notably, he said that the conflict now directly impacts 16 countries.

While China and Russia have been observing the situation from afar, yet condemning the U.S. and Israel, analysts say they could determine the future of the conflict.

Many of the U.S. allies in Europe oppose or stay neutral, citing the violation of the UN Charter. However, Spain has been the most vocal Western critic of the U.S.

Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez vehemently refused to allow U.S. forces to use Spanish bases and doubled down even after threats of diplomatic retaliation from President Trump.

Regardless of support, neutrality or opposition to the war, conflict analysts are debating whether the world will, again, be plunged into an unending regional conflict.

The International Institute for Strategic Studies said the U.S. has transitioned from a state that uses diplomacy to one that chooses results over rules.

It warned that, while air superiority is near-complete, the shift toward targeting the 1.2 million-strong IRGC and Basij forces will require a massive increase in strike capacity.

The Center for Strategic & International Studies reported that the cost of the first 100 hours of the war was 3.7 billion dollars, most of which was unbudgeted, posing a significant long-term fiscal challenge for the U.S.

Middle East Institute (MEI) labelled the war as an intelligence gamble, questioning if the decapitation of leadership would lead to a collapse or if the regime would prove adaptive and resilient potentially leading to a protracted insurgency.

Others, such as the Just Security, argue that the preemptive justification of the war fails the legal test of imminent assault, setting a dangerous global precedent for unilateral regime change.

Meanwhile, a consensus is emerging among analysts that, while the military campaign has been seemingly successful, the political endgame is murky.

They claim that 80 per cent of Iran’s air defence system has been destroyed.

However, other analysts, such as those at the Council on Foreign Relations, point out that, by excluding allies from the initial planning, the U.S. may find itself without a coalition of the willing.

This, they warn, might disrupt the management of the post-war humanitarian and governance crisis that follows a regime collapse.

There are also consequences for global trade and cooperation, even in regions not directly affected by the conflict.

Already, oil prices have surged due to the crisis, with global supply chain disruption and economic growth decline further forecast by analysts.

According to the BBC, crude oil prices surged over 20 per cent to exceed 100 dollars to -114 dollars per barrel; the highest level since 2022.

It further reported that the trend is threatening regional and global shipping, causing sharp declines in global stock markets.

In Nigeria, the impact of the conflict has started to tell on citizens, with oil prices going up since the conflict started.

Of course, with oil price hike comes an increase in commodity prices, cost of living crisis and, ultimately, domestic inflation.

With conflicts in the eastern flank of Europe and elsewhere, public affairs analysts, including Azubuike Ishiekwene, believe that the U.S and Israel’s action amounts to war mongering and a deliberate destabilisation of global peace.

While Tehran’s regime is not far from blame, the urgent question remains: Can the international community sustain the cost of another protracted, unending conflict? (NAN)

By Ebuka Ukoh

Nigeria is once again arguing about whether election results should be transmitted electronically from polling units in real time.

At first glance, this sounds technical. Network strength. Server capacity. Connectivity gaps.

Recent comments by a former Resident Electoral Commissioner, Barr Mike Igini, have brought this issue back into sharp focus.

This is not a minor legislative tweak. It is about whether Nigeria moves forward or backwards in electoral transparency.

I do not claim expertise in electoral technology. I am neither an engineer nor an INEC official. I occupy the office of a citizen … concerned enough to invite us to reason together.

When the rules governing the transfer of power become unclear, everyone should pay attention. If anyone believes this conversation is exaggerated or premature, they only need to revisit the theatrics that unfolded during the recent elections in Abuja.

Confusion, accusations, narrative battles, and public distrust filled the air long before final declarations were settled. That alone shows this is not a technical footnote. It is a stability question.

Electoral credibility is not a cosmetic issue. It belongs in the national security infrastructure. When citizens believe their votes count, they invest in ballots. When they believe outcomes are negotiable, frustration seeks other channels. No country can sustainably police its way out of democratic distrust. The cheapest form of stability is credible elections.

What e-transmission means

Many Nigerians hear “e-transmission” and imagine fully automated polls. That is not the case. Voting remains manual. Ballots are counted manually at the polling units. Party agents and observers are present. The result is entered on Form EC8A and jointly signed by all of those concerned.

The difference comes after counting. Under real-time electronic transmission, the presiding officer uploads a photograph or scanned copy of the polling unit result directly to INEC’s central server and the public viewing portal. That means the result becomes visible almost immediately.

Why does this matter?

Historically, the greatest and most recurring vulnerabilities in Nigerian elections have little to do with the polling units. It’s more to do with the collations. When results move physically (offline) from polling units to the wards, to the local governments and to the states, they pass through multiple hands. Each stage creates opportunities … and opportunities in a weak system invite unwholesome interferences.

Electronic transmission reduces that ugly window, creating a digital timestamp, a public record, and a trail. That is not perfection, but it is protection.

Real fear behind e-transmission resistance

The argument against mandatory e-transmission usually rests on infrastructure concerns, such as poor network coverage, power outages, and rural connectivity.

Legitimate as they are, these concerns must be tested against evidence. After all, Nigeria conducts electronic banking across remote communities, SIM registration is centralised, BVN verification works nationwide, telecommunications companies operate 3G and 4G networks covering most populated areas, and INEC uploads voter registration data and has tested electronic transmission before. If we can electronically verify bank transfers in real time, why can’t we transmit a polling unit result sheet? The deeper concern may not be connectivity, but control. Manual collation allows discretion.

Discretion allows negotiation. Negotiation allows influence. Technology narrows discretion. And systems built on discretionary power rarely surrender it willingly.

What is ahead if e-transmission dust doesn’t settle?

If the legal framework remains ambiguous going into 2027, several consequences are predictable:

Voter turnout rate will drop further. Litigations will multiply. Every disputed election will centre on whether electronic transmission was required or optional. Public trust will decline further. Citizens already sceptical of outcomes will interpret delays or technical failures as manipulation.

Post-election unrest may intensify. Where transparency is weak, conspiracy fills the vacuum.

International credibility will decline. Electoral observers evaluate transparency architecture, not speeches. Nigeria cannot afford another credibility crisis in 2027.

Governance gap

This e-transmission controversy exposes something larger than election procedure. It reveals how reform is often negotiated in fragments rather than explained in full. The public watched as tensions flared within both chambers of the national parliament over electronic transmission, with amendments proposed, resisted, reframed, and debated in ways that appeared more political than technical. The optics were troubling. When lawmakers publicly clash over transparency mechanisms without clearly communicating the evidence behind their positions, citizens are left to interpret motive rather than substance.

Democratic reform must not feel improvised or strategic. It must be evidence-driven and transparent. If parliamentarians believe electronic transmission is impractical, they must publish the data supporting that claim. If INEC believes it is feasible, it must present detailed technical assessments and infrastructure mapping. Democracy does not run on assumptions. It runs on clarity.

Actionable recommendations

If Nigeria is serious about credible elections, the following steps are urgent:

Make Real-Time E-Transmission the Legal Default

The Electoral Act should stipulate that electronic transmission from polling units is mandatory, not conditional. Where connectivity fails, the presiding officer should be required to post and/or move to the nearest viable transmission point within a defined time window. Ambiguity is the enemy of credibility.

Publish a National Connectivity Audit for Elections

INEC, with the Nigerian Communications Commission and mobile network operators, should release a publicly accessible map showing transmission readiness by polling unit cluster. Transparency builds confidence.

Build Redundancy Systems

Where network gaps exist, satellite uplink devices or portable signal boosters can be deployed. Other developing democracies use layered redundancy to protect election data.

Failure planning is part of system design, after all.

Conduct Nationwide Public Education

Citizens must understand how results move from the polling unit to the final declaration.

The more voters understand the chain, the harder it becomes to manipulate it quietly.

Democracy requires informed participants and Establish Criminal Penalties for Deliberate Non-Transmission

If a presiding officer fails to upload without a documented technical reason, clear sanctions must follow. Rules without enforcement are decorative.

Bigger question

Nigeria’s democratic future will not be determined only by who wins the polls. It will be determined by whether citizens believe those wins are legitimate. Technology is not magic. It cannot repair weak institutions or substitute for political will. But it can narrow the space for abuse. And in fragile democracies, narrowing that space is meaningful progress.

Nigeria is not technologically barren. According to data from the Nigerian

Communications Commission, the country has over 200 million active mobile subscriptions, with penetration extending deep into rural communities. Millions of Nigerians in villages conduct mobile transfers, receive alerts, use USSD codes, and verify identities electronically. Market women process digital payments. Farmers check prices on basic phones. Technology already mediates daily economic life far beyond major cities.

The question before us, then, is not whether electronic transmission is perfect. It is whether we are prepared to apply the same digital confidence we rely on in banking and commerce to the protection of our votes.

When results are clear at the source, they do not need to be defended later. When votes are protected at the polling units democracy becomes harder to manipulate.

If we get this wrong now, 2027 will not revolve around campaigns. It will revolve around credibility. And credibility, once lost, is far more expensive to rebuild than any server infrastructure.

Mr Ukoh, an alumnus of the American University of Nigeria, Yola, and PhD student at

Columbia University, writes from New York.

Dele Giwa: Alive in Words

By Sam Akpe

Finally, here it is! Dele Giwa, the late journalism icon, is back — in prose. It’s breaking news! The Dele Giwa Journalism Research Centre — a digitalised archive that features the works of the late journalism legend, is now available.

The online construct is a research hub exclusively dedicated to exhibiting Dele Giwa’s intellectual contribution to the growth of the society — a confirmation of the unceasing impact of his journalistic exploits.

The virtual Centre is still work-in-progress. But since my first visit, I have not been able to take my eyes off the screen.

The website — a friendly ecosystem devoid of advertorial distractions — is designed to host everything — almost everything — written by Dele Giwa since he arrived in Nigeria from the United States of America in late 1979.

For example, his first column in the good old Daily Times, headlined, “Golden Fleece—I Think I Got It”, is as juicy in context and style as though it was published this morning. The story captures the day he arrived in the US, his academic pursuits, work experience, and his return to Nigeria.

For the post-1986 generation of Nigerians, the name Dele Giwa might sound strange, and even archaic. Someone is likely to ask: Who the heck was he? This is because some may not have heard of him or read any of his articles.

Prior to Dele’s unnatural death in 1986, the internet was still an unheard-of phenomenon waiting to be invented and used across the world. In its absence, the publication, storage and retrieval of information was comparatively in the analogue form. Dele was a pre-internet happening in Nigeria.

Until his return to Nigeria in 1979, even among the old generation journalists, the name Dele Giwa made no meaning to them, in spite of the fact he had spent more than four years as a news assistant at the New York Times — regarded as the world’s most influential newspaper.

Therefore, the web domain is constructed to honour his life, intellect, and legacy. More than that, it is meant to preserve the memories of Dele — as he was known by friends and colleagues — because he remains indisputably one of Nigeria’s most brilliant and courageous journalists.

The website comes as a relief to most of his colleagues who for 40 years — since his death — had tried every option, within limited resources, to keep his memory alive by publishing his acclaimed columns, which covered his tour of duty at the Daily Times, the Concord, and Newswatch magazine.

In 1997, Nyaknnoabasi Osso, the pioneer Newswatch librarian, who is regarded as the trusted custodian of Dele’s collection of published columns, had experimented on a book entitled, Parallax Snaps: The Writings of Dele Giwa. It was not a success story. In his autobiography, Osso narrates how he got to know Dele through Ray Ekpu, who was Dele’s close friend, long before Newswatch started.

I learnt that it was about a year ago that Nyaknnoabasi started discussions with Dele’s first son, Billy, on the need to preserve and promote Dele’s intellectual inheritance by creating an open podium for research, historical documentation, and scholarly engagement.

Dele’s family was excited by the idea. With Billy bankrolling the process, the Biographical Legacy and Research Foundation (BLERF) — a global information powerhouse founded by Nyaknnoabasi — was endorsed to power the innovation which today is gradually gaining world-wide attention.

The Centre, according to the mission statement of the founders, is fully dedicated to advancing the doctrines of ethical journalism anchored on truthfulness, integrity, and courage, while inspiring future generations to pursue excellence and principled reporting.

Before someone wonders why I am celebrating the innovation, let’s briefly look back at who Dele was and what he means to journalism. I never met Dele one-on-one. I was too insignificant in journalism at the time he flourished in the profession, after his return from New York Times to Nigeria’s Daily Times.

When he accepted the challenge of returning to Nigeria in 1979, he did so armed with a rock-solid professional credibility, which he earned at the New York Times. He was aware that not much had changed between when he left home and when he returned.

In his words, he knew that armed robbers were still sending notices of their visits to their victims. Public water supply was non-reliable. Electricity still flickered. Travelling by road was like being hell-bound. Still, he was persuaded by Dele Cole and the late Stanley Macebuh to return home.

My distant knowledge of Dele started during his ebbing days at the Sunday Concord, through his weekly column. Later in 1984 when I found myself in journalism school, my lecturers talked about him and Ray Ekpu with unhidden deference. That was when Newswatch magazine came on the scene.

Required by different instructors to do assignments which involved mass media content analysis, I found myself drawn to Dele’s writings. I discovered that his journalism was awe-inspiring — bold, scholarly at times, truthful, intellectually exciting, and stylishly yummy.

Even as a student reporter at the then Nigerian Chronicle where I did my internship, though I hardly understood the implied meanings of most of his thoughts captured in his weekly striking prose, I desired to write like Dele — I am still trying to.

From my findings, it was clear that the moment Dele appeared in the Nigerian journalism scene, something shifted. He was refreshing and unpretentious. Though disdained by the system, he was adored and even worshipped by others.

His column in the Daily Times, where he spent about a year, was a must-read. He was professionally tempestuous, because as they say in the local parlance, he was always shaking the table. He became a navy seal in the infantry squad — tough, demanding and fearless.

It was and still remains a wonder how Dele and Uncle Ray lasted so long at the Concord. At Newswatch, Dele led a pack of well-tested and dazzling news hunters. His was a generation of journalistic intellectual poster boys who paraded professional credentials that separated them from mere run-of-the-mill reporters.

The team reinvented journalism with excellent investigative reportage. Collectively and individually, they tried to be super ethical — disciplined, focused, and even rich. They pioneered the era when journalists started driving Mercedes Benz cars.

Analysis of Dele’s journalism style exposed the fact that he never liked satire — an evasive literary device which, for fear of repercussions, mocks a subject through indirect name-calling and mud-splashing. Dele loved to say what he wanted to say directly and fearlessly.

His journalism was designed to embody what the profession was intended to be — ethical and revolutionary. When you think about Dele’s journalistic style, you think boldness, think self-confidence, think facts, think ethical adherence, think audacity, and think influence.

Those who did not like Dele’s brand of reporting — and tried to label him the bogeyman of Nigerian journalism — were actually in love with his style, even when they were targets of his unsparing narratives. His words had enormous weight. He chose them carefully.

Dele did not seem to have permanent friends. This is however based on a distant perception. He had an enduring vision of practicing rule-based journalism without emotionally-induced distraction based on friendship. To him, what was right was right, and what was wrong was wrong — no strings attached.

On 19 October, 1986, a parcel was delivered to Dele’s home. His son received it from the strange delivery man and took it to him. It was a deadly gift item. Dele must have thought the parcel contained some document that would give Newswatch another exclusive story.

Seated with Dele in his study was the London correspondent of Newswatch magazine, Mr Kayode Soyinka, who was on a visit to Nigeria. Kayode has given a brief insight of what unfolded that moment in his memoir, Born Into Journalism—Memoir of a Newspaper Reporter.

Oddly, Dele was instructed by the sender, in writing, to open the pack by himself. With the parcel placed on his lap, he tore it open. Instantly, a loud explosion shook the entire building. Kayode narrowly survived to tell the story. Dele did not.

They killed him and created an evil metaphor: here was a man who stormed the Nigerian journalism scene with a detonated intellect and uncommon boldness expressed in his unputdownable prose, only to be bombed to death through an uncommon device.

There is a spine-chilling saying among the United States elite military group called the Navy Seals: “live fast, die young, and leave (behind) a good-looking corpse.” Dele lived fast, died young, and left behind an impeccable professional integrity.

It would demand a study in a field beyond human psychology to establish how, at age 39, when he died, Dele had achieved so much in his chosen career that those who tripled his age would never dream of in any discipline. He was still climbing when they cut him down.

His death signalled an increase in organised death sentences against journalists across the world. With tears in our eyes, let’s migrate to delegiwacentre.com for the tasty contents that stood him out of the crowd among his contemporaries.

Sam Akpe, a journalist, wrote from Abuja.