Remi Ladigbolu/
When the American President announced the re-designation of Nigeria as a Country of Particular Concern, suspended economic aid and threatened possible military action over alleged persecution of Christians, many took the move at face value as a principled defence of the persecuted.
In truth, the timing and theatrics of the intervention suggest something else. This was not simply foreign policy, it was political theatre, a manoeuvre that fits a broader pattern in which dramatic foreign gestures are used to shift attention away from growing domestic problems.
This is not the first time a president has sought to distract public attention from scandals at home through sudden military or diplomatic manoeuvres abroad.
The term “Wag the Dog moment” comes from the 1997 film, Wag the Dog, based on Larry Beinhart’s novel, American Hero. In the film, a president caught in a sex scandal weeks before an election fabricates a foreign war to rally patriotic support and shift the headlines. The phrase itself, older than the film, refers to the absurd situation in which the tail wags the dog — the minor dictates the major.
The idea found a chilling real-world echo almost immediately after the film’s release. When President Bill Clinton faced impeachment proceedings over the Monica Lewinsky scandal, he ordered missile strikes in Sudan and Afghanistan, and later a bombing campaign in Iraq. Critics accused him of creating a diversion to draw attention away from his domestic crisis. Since then, “wag the dog” has become political shorthand for using foreign policy drama to hide domestic disarray.
Michael Paarlberg, a Senior Non-Resident Fellow at the Centre for International Policy, laid this pattern bare in his essay, Trump’s Wag the Dog Moment. He recalled how the American President ordered a massive naval deployment and an airstrike on a small vessel in the Caribbean shortly after the House Oversight Committee released new Jeffrey Epstein documents.
Official accounts described the target as a drug smuggling boat, but critics noted the disconnect between a single four engine go fast boat and the eight warships, an attack submarine, a Marine Expeditionary Unit and air support that assembled nearby. The regional build-up close to Venezuelan waters only added to the spectacle, transforming what might have been a routine interdiction into one of the most visible shows of force in the Caribbean in recent memory.
Viewed together these moves make more political than strategic sense. The Caribbean operation and the broader naval presence near Venezuela produced dramatic footage and headlines that crowded out the Epstein revelations.
The same logic now applies to Nigeria. The re-designation, the suspension of aid and the threats were delivered while the American economy was showing fresh signs of strain, while monthly jobs figures were described within government circles as vulnerable to delay, and while pressure in Congress mounted for release of the full Epstein files.
Claudia Grisales of NPR reported that House Speaker, Mike Johnson, delayed the swearing in of Adelita Grijalva, the Democrat whose signature would have secured the decisive vote to force publication of those files. That delay itself fed growing public suspicion that elements of the U.S. political system were working to keep the Epstein material from public scrutiny.
The renewed foreign posturing also came on the eve of two state-wide elections in New Jersey and Virginia, races that analysts described as an early barometer of public sentiment and a potential indicator of President Trump’s popularity ahead of the 2026 midterms. By escalating a high-profile foreign controversy, the President appeared to be recalibrating the national conversation, seeking to unite his base around moral outrage and religious solidarity while shifting attention away from domestic vulnerabilities that could be amplified by unfavourable results in those states.
That is the context in which Nigeria was placed on the front page. For the President’s conservative base the story lands easily. Accusations of Christian persecution resonate and rally support in ways few domestic policy arguments could.
But Nigerian realities, though complex, do include credible and distressing evidence of targeted attacks against Christian communities, particularly in parts of the North Central and neighbouring regions where thousands have been killed, displaced or subjected to systematic destruction of churches and villages. These atrocities often occur alongside other drivers of violence such as land disputes, farmer–herder conflicts, criminal banditry and governance failures. Recognising the role of these overlapping factors should not obscure the undeniable reality that many victims are targeted because of their faith, and that religious persecution forms a central, not incidental, part of the wider security crisis.
Still, if this were a genuine, sustained campaign to protect religious freedom, it would look different. It would be built on careful diplomacy, on coordinated work with regional partners, on assistance that strengthens institutions rather than spectacle that raises the risk of escalation. Instead we see public threats that are unlikely to be backed by realistic operational plans. No plausible arrangement exists by which Nigeria’s neighbours would open their territory to a large American forward base for a punitive strike. The naval build up near Venezuela showed how the President stages force to create headlines. Threats to Nigeria function the same way.
That said, Nigerian authorities should not treat this analysis as licence to call Trump ’s bluff. His temperament is volatile and his instincts unpredictable. A measured response is essential. Abuja should not gratuitously escalate, it should not pour oil on a diplomatic fire, but it should also not be passive. The best course is steady, professional diplomacy, a calm appeal to facts and to allies in Washington who understand the danger of turning foreign policy into domestic distraction.
Nigeria should also document and present objective evidence about the local security situation, invite independent observers where appropriate, and work multilaterally to reduce the chances of miscalculation.
The American President’s recent pattern demonstrates the political utility of theatrical foreign interventions. Four instances in recent months and years underline the point. The Caribbean strike, the naval build-up near Venezuela, the use of unconventional tariff threats in trade disputes and now the public pressure applied against Nigeria each serve the same function. They generate headlines, they focus public emotion on external enemies and they shift scrutiny away from domestic scandals and weak economic indicators. Those tactics can buy time and command attention, but they do not resolve underlying problems.
Ultimately the Wag the Dog dynamic shows the fragility of a politics that substitutes spectacle for policy. It also underscores the responsibility of those targeted by such spectacle to respond with prudence. Nigeria must defend its sovereignty and protect its citizens, but it must also guard against being dragged into a theatre intended primarily for consumption by a foreign audience. Diplomacy, strategic communications and careful engagement with Washington are the best safeguards.
President Trump’s declarations about Nigeria are best understood as acts of convenience rather than conviction. They tell us more about the political demands he faces at home than about an urgent foreign policy imperative. Nigeria should take every step to calm the situation, to engage with allies and to let facts, not headlines, determine the response.
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