I. THE FIRE IS REAL

History will not forgive silence dressed up as neutrality.

In the Middle Belt of Nigeria, in Plateau State, Benue, Kaduna, Zamfara, communities are being erased. Villages burned before dawn. Farmers slaughtered on their own land. Women taken. Children orphaned or conscripted. Churches reduced to ash and memory.

This is not a political abstraction. This is not a distant conflict too complex to name. This is a humanitarian catastrophe unfolding in real time, in Africa’s most populous nation, while the world adjusts its tie and looks the other way.

The victims are not only Christians. They are also moderate Muslims, animists, indigenous communities, and farmers of every faith who simply want to plant and harvest in peace. But let us be honest, and geopolitical honesty demands we say this clearly, Christian communities in Nigeria’s Middle Belt and South have been disproportionately and systematically targeted. The Global Terrorism Index has ranked Nigeria among the world’s most affected countries by terrorism for years. The Open Doors World Watch List consistently places Nigeria among the top five countries where Christians face extreme persecution.

These are not opinions. These are documented facts. And facts demand a response.

II. WHY THE UNITED STATES MUST ACT

Some will ask: why America? Why should Washington intervene in a sovereign African nation’s internal affairs?

The answer is neither simple nor sentimental. It is strategic, legal, and moral — and all three arguments point in the same direction.

Strategically, Nigeria is the engine of West Africa. With over 220 million people, the largest economy on the continent, and oil reserves that remain significant to global supply chains, Nigeria’s destabilization does not stay within Nigerian borders. What begins in the Middle Belt spreads, into Niger, into Chad, into Cameroon, into Burkina Faso, into Côte d’Ivoire. The Sahel is already on fire. We in West Africa feel the heat every single day. A failed or fractured Nigeria would be a catastrophe without precedent for the entire region. The United States, which has spent trillions countering instability in the Middle East, cannot afford to ignore a comparable implosion on the Atlantic coast of Africa.

Legally, the United States has both the framework and the precedent. The International Religious Freedom Act, the Responsibility to Protect doctrine endorsed by the UN, and America’s own foreign policy commitments to human rights all provide legitimate pathways for engagement, not military occupation, but targeted pressure, diplomatic muscle, sanctioned support for civilian protection, and accountability mechanisms for perpetrators. The U.S. designated Boko Haram and ISWAP as Foreign Terrorist Organizations. The infrastructure of response already exists. What is missing is the political will to use it.

Morally, the United States was built on a founding promise: that all people are endowed with inalienable rights. That promise was imperfect in its origins and remains imperfect today. But it is the standard by which America judges itself and by which the world judges America. A nation that spent billions protecting communities in Kosovo, in Kuwait, in South Korea, cannot justify indifference to mass atrocities in Nigeria on the grounds of sovereignty. Sovereignty is not a license for governments to permit the annihilation of their own people. Nigeria’s federal government has repeatedly failed to protect its most vulnerable citizens. That failure creates both a moral vacuum and an international obligation.

The ask is not boots on the ground. The ask is engagement, real, sustained, consequential engagement. Sanctions against identified militia leaders. Intelligence sharing with Nigerian security forces who are actually doing the work. Diplomatic pressure on Abuja to treat these attacks as the national emergency they are. Humanitarian corridors. Accountability before the International Criminal Court. These are not radical demands. They are the minimum that civilization requires.

III. THE LESSON FOR CÔTE D’IVOIRE

I say all of this not only as an analyst. I say it as an Ivorian. As a pastor. As a man who has watched what creeping instability does to a country — because Côte d’Ivoire lived through it. We know what it costs when communities are played against each other. We know what it costs when the state fails to protect the vulnerable. We know what it costs when the church stays quiet and lets politics be handled by those who do not share our values.

We paid for that silence in blood and years of crisis.

Nigeria is not Côte d’Ivoire. But the patterns rhyme — and those who know the melody should not wait for the full song to play out before they speak.

The Christian communities of West Africa are not victims waiting to be saved. We are citizens, voters, professionals, builders, thinkers, and believers with a right and a duty to participate fully in the political life of our nations. For too long, we have ceded that space — to those who use faith as an instrument of division, and to secularists who would prefer that believers leave their convictions at the church door before entering public life.

That era is over.

IV. THE CALL — TO MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN CÔTE D’IVOIRE

I am announcing today what many of you already know is necessary: the formation of a structured Christian political movement in Côte d’Ivoire — not a party built on exclusion, not a movement of hatred toward any faith or community, but a movement rooted in the values of human dignity, justice, servant leadership, and the common good.

We believe that the Word of God has something to say about governance. We believe that the teachings of Christ — on the poor, on justice, on truth, on accountability — are not private convictions to be hidden but public commitments to be lived. We believe that a nation built on those values will be more just, more stable, and more prosperous for every citizen, regardless of their faith.

Our movement will speak for the farmer in the north who fears tomorrow. It will speak for the young woman in Abidjan who cannot find work. It will speak for the entrepreneur strangled by corruption. It will speak for every Ivorian who believes this country can be better than it has been — and is willing to do something about it.

We will be organized. We will be peaceful. We will be disciplined. And we will be heard.

To the pastors across this country who have felt the call to do more than preach on Sunday — the moment is now. To the Christian professionals, the lawyers, the doctors, the teachers, the entrepreneurs who have wondered whether faith has a place in the public square — the answer is yes, and the door is open. To the young Ivorians who are hungry for a politics that means something beyond tribe and personal enrichment — we are building something for you.

Nigeria is burning. The Sahel is fracturing. The world is being reorganized by those with the boldness to act. West Africa needs a voice that speaks with moral clarity, strategic intelligence, and deep roots in the communities that make up the heart of this region.

That voice will rise from Côte d’Ivoire.

That voice starts now.

Dr. Agnini Jean Baptiste Zekre is a geopolitical analyst, CEO of Kabowd Investments Group International, and pastor based in Jacqueville, Côte d’Ivoire. He holds a doctorate from the Université Félix Houphouët-Boigny, Abidjan-Cocody.

“Je puis tout par celui qui me fortifie.” — Philippiens 4:13

From Chicago’s West Side

I’ve lived on Chicago’s West Side my whole life. I’ve watched elected officials come and go, each one promising change, each one leaving us with the same broken promises. So when I first heard about P. Rae Easley—a young woman, first-time candidate, running as a Republican in Illinois’ 7th Congressional District—I’ll admit I was skeptical.

But here’s what changed my mind: she’s actually talking about the things that matter to us.

For years, I’ve listened to Patricia—or P. Rae, as most know her—on WVON 1690am’s “Black Excellence Hour.” She’s not some political insider parachuting into our community with focus-grouped talking points. She’s been working in Chicago politics since she was twelve years old. She’s one of us, and she’s fed up with the same systems that have failed us for decades.

The 7th District has been a Democratic stronghold for as long as anyone can remember. And what do we have to show for it? Rising crime that goes unsolved. Nearly 18,000 public housing units demolished with promises of replacement—promises that ring hollow while the Chicago Housing Authority sits on nearly $1.8 billion in reserves and tens of thousands of families still wait. Safety-net hospitals struggling to keep their doors open because they serve Medicaid patients, contributing to a shocking life expectancy gap right here in our own district.

P. Rae isn’t running on theory. She’s running on reality.

Her platform tackles the issues we talk about every day in barbershops, at church, in our living rooms. She wants every demolished unit of public housing rebuilt—not eventually, not when it’s politically convenient, but now, with real accountability and enforcement of the Right of Return. She’s fighting for fair credit access for community hospitals so they can upgrade and stay open. She’s pushing for community-based safety partnerships that actually improve police response times instead of leaving our neighborhoods vulnerable.

And yes, she’s taking controversial stances. Her opposition to sanctuary policies protecting undocumented immigrants won’t win her points in every room. But she’s making an argument rooted in what she sees happening on our streets: “International narco-terrorism has become the norm in our district,” she says, due to policies that prioritize ideology over the safety of the people who actually live here.

You might not agree with everything P. Rae stands for. I don’t agree with everything she stands for. But here’s what I do know: she’s not afraid to tell the truth as she sees it. She’s not beholden to the same political machine that’s taken our votes for granted. And she’s young enough to understand that we can’t keep doing the same thing and expecting different results.

The West Side deserves someone who will fight for us, not just pay us lip service during election season. We deserve someone who understands that our graduates are losing career opportunities while companies prioritize visa pipelines over local talent. We deserve someone who will push for targeted Justice Department intervention when carjackings and mass shootings devastate our neighborhoods and most cases go unsolved.

P. Rae Easley may be a first-time candidate, but she’s not a political novice. She’s a policy expert who’s been studying these systems long enough to know exactly where they’re broken. And she’s brave enough—or maybe stubborn enough—to run as a Republican in a district that hasn’t elected one in generations.

Maybe that’s exactly what we need. Not someone who promises to work within a system that’s already failed us, but someone willing to challenge it entirely.

I’m supporting P. Rae Easley because the West Side can’t afford another generation of the same old politics. We need integrity. We need accountability. We need someone who loves this community enough to tell us hard truths.

Visit praeforcongress.com to learn more. Whether you end up supporting her or not, at least listen to what she has to say. Our community deserves that much.

By A Chicago West Side Resident

President Trump’s push to acquire Greenland—complete with hints that military or economic pressure might be on the table—feels like watching two very different worldviews crash into each other. There’s a strategic logic buried in there somewhere. But the way it’s being framed? That’s where things go off the rails.

Let’s be clear about one thing: Greenland actually matters.

As the Arctic warms and ice melts, Greenland has become genuinely important. It’s sitting on rare earth minerals we need for everything from smartphones to missiles. New shipping routes are opening up through Arctic waters. And there’s critical defense infrastructure already there—early warning systems, missile defense, the works. Meanwhile, China’s been quietly making moves in the region, and Russia’s not exactly being subtle about militarizing its northern frontier. So yeah, Washington paying attention to Greenland? That makes sense. We even tried to buy it back in 1946 for $100 million. The strategic logic hasn’t gone away—if anything, it’s gotten stronger.

But here’s the thing: strategy isn’t just about grabbing valuable real estate. It’s about understanding the actual situation on the ground—and this is where the whole plan starts falling apart.

Denmark isn’t some struggling country looking to unload territory. They’re our ally. Our NATO ally. And Greenland isn’t just a frozen chunk of rock waiting for someone to claim it. It’s home to 57,000 people who govern themselves and have made it pretty damn clear they’re not interested in becoming American. When Denmark’s prime minister said “Greenland is not for sale,” she wasn’t playing diplomatic games. She was stating an obvious fact.

And then there’s the military force talk. That’s where this goes from questionable to genuinely counterproductive.

We don’t operate in the Arctic by ourselves. Our whole advantage up there comes from working closely with allies—Denmark, Norway, Iceland, the countries along NATO’s northern edge. When you start throwing around the idea of pressuring a NATO ally, you’re not showing strength. You’re breaking trust. You’re undermining the exact alliance system that helps us keep Russia and China in check.

The frustrating part? We already have what we need in Greenland—without owning it. Pituffik Space Base (most people still know it as Thule) is proof that American and Greenlandic interests can align just fine when there’s mutual respect involved. Greenland’s dealing with real challenges—economic pressures, infrastructure needs, climate change hitting them harder than most places. There’s so much room for deeper partnerships on defense, mining, energy, logistics—all of it. But only if we approach it like partners, not like we’re planning a takeover.

That’s the conversation we should be having.

Instead, we’re talking about annexation and pressure tactics, which turns a genuine opportunity into a mess. It hands propaganda victories to Beijing and Moscow on a silver platter. It makes our European allies nervous about whether they can count on us. And it pushes Greenlanders away from us instead of bringing them closer.

The really frustrating part? A softer approach could actually work.

Imagine a serious Arctic partnership—infrastructure investment, climate adaptation support, education programs, economic development—designed to genuinely help Greenland while advancing our strategic interests. Respect their right to make their own decisions, and influence follows naturally. Try to strong-arm them, and watch doors slam shut.

What we’re seeing now is basically 19th-century empire-building logic crashing headfirst into how the world actually works in 2026. It doesn’t serve our strategic goals, and it sure as hell doesn’t align with our democratic values.

In today’s Arctic, power won’t go to whoever makes the biggest threats. It’ll go to whoever builds the strongest partnerships.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

By Eric Agnero

The abrupt recall of Jessica Davis Ba, amid a broader drawdown of career diplomats ordered by the Trump administration, is more than a personnel change. It exposes a deeper diplomatic miscalculation—one with consequences not only for Abidjan but for U.S. influence across a rapidly shifting African landscape.

For the authorities in Côte d’Ivoire, Ambassador Ba’s departure represents the loss of a valuable stabilizing asset. During her tenure, she helped preserve strong bilateral relations despite a troubling deterioration in governance and human rights under President Alassane Ouattara. Her presence reassured Washington at a time when international scrutiny might otherwise have intensified.

But stability came at a cost.

By privileging institutional continuity over political reality, U.S. diplomacy under Ambassador Ba failed to fully register a profound transformation underway—one visible across the continent and unmistakable in Abidjan. A new generation of leaders, activists, and politically conscious youth is emerging. They are impatient with managed democracies, exhausted by economic exclusion, and increasingly skeptical of Western rhetoric unaccompanied by action.

This generation is also geopolitically fluid. Where Western partners appear complacent or complicit, alternative narratives gain traction—sometimes opening the door to actors such as Russia, which present themselves as anti-establishment and sovereignty-affirming. Ignoring this shift is not neutrality; it is strategic blindness.

Nowhere was that blindness more evident than during Côte d’Ivoire’s most recent presidential election. Major opposition figures were excluded from the process. Hundreds of opposition supporters were arrested in the aftermath. Many remain detained in overcrowded and degrading prison conditions. Yet Washington’s representation remained publicly silent. For large segments of Ivorian society, that silence was read not as diplomatic restraint but as tacit acceptance of democratic regression.

Symbolism compounded substance. During Independence Day celebrations in Bouaké, U.S. military participation—at an event from which all significant opposition figures were excluded—sent a message that resonated far beyond protocol. To critics, it suggested alignment with power rather than engagement with society.

Equally overlooked was the social desperation fueling mass emigration. Faced with shrinking opportunities and a closed political space, many young Ivorians see only one option: leaving. This exodus is increasingly facilitated by corruption within the civil administration—fake passports, fraudulent identification, compromised registries. The state, unable or unwilling to reform, has become an accomplice in its own brain drain. Ignoring this reality means missing the true drivers of instability.

To be clear, Ambassador Ba’s departure is not a victory for the opposition. It is, however, the removal of a diplomatic equilibrium that helped normalize a closed political order. For the regime in Abidjan, it introduces uncertainty. For Washington, it offers a moment of recalibration.

Africa is not waiting. The streets are speaking. Youth are mobilizing. Political legitimacy is being renegotiated in real time. Diplomacy that listens only to palaces and protocols will find itself increasingly irrelevant—ceding influence not because it is challenged but because it is absent where it matters most.

The question now is whether U.S. engagement will evolve—toward listening, accountability, and genuine partnership—or continue to confuse short-term stability with long-term influence. The answer will shape not only Côte d’Ivoire’s trajectory but America’s credibility across a continent in motion.

Eric Agnero is a Vermont-based journalist, international affairs analyst, and business consultant with over three decades of experience across Africa, the United States, and Europe. A former broadcaster with Voice of America and stringer for CNN, he has worked with multilateral institutions, civil society organizations, and governments on governance, media, and strategic communications. His work focuses on diplomacy, democratic transitions, and the political economy of Africa–U.S. relations.