By Rekpene Bassey
The statement by Michael Freeman, Israel’s ambassador in Abuja, that Jerusalem prefers to support Nigeria’s fight against terrorism through intelligence sharing rather than unilateral military action, is a carefully couched diplomatic language.
It signals respect for Nigerian sovereignty while acknowledging the complex reality that contemporary counterterrorism is no longer won by brute force, Viet armis, alone, but by information: who knows what, when they know it, and what they choose to do with it.
In an era where foreign interventions are increasingly viewed with suspicion, the emphasis on partnership rather than presence is both diplomatically prudent and strategically sound.
At its best, intelligence sharing is the quiet backbone of modern security cooperation. It allows states to pool surveillance, financial data, communications intercepts, and human intelligence without the political costs of foreign boots on the ground.
For a country like Nigeria, battling a complex mix of jihadist insurgency, banditry, and criminal-terrorist hybrids, such cooperation can multiply national capacity without undermining command authority. It is the difference between being assisted and being overshadowed.
Yet the scepticism expressed by some analysts cannot be dismissed as mere cynicism. Their argument cuts to the core of state effectiveness: intelligence is only as valuable as the action it produces.
When credible information is shared, and no visible consequences follow: no arrests, no prosecutions, no disruption of funding networks, the signal sent is not neutrality but weakness. Terrorist groups are keen observers of state behaviour. They quickly learn whether warnings translate into operations or gather dust in government files.
The reference to the United Arab Emirates’ list of alleged Nigerian terror sponsors is emblematic of this frustration. To critics, it symbolises a pattern in which international partners identify financiers and facilitators, yet domestic follow-through appears inconsistent or slow.
Whether or not every name on such lists withstands legal scrutiny, the perception that external alerts are ignored or selectively enforced erodes confidence in Nigeria’s counterterrorism resolve. In security affairs, perception is not a footnote; it is an operational variable.
This tension exposes a deeper structural problem. Nigeria’s challenge is not a lack of intelligence inputs but a fragile mechanism for translating knowledge into consequences. Information often circulates among agencies without triggering decisive, coordinated action.
Bureaucratic rivalry, legal bottlenecks, political sensitivities, and corruption can all interrupt the chain. When that happens, intelligence sharing becomes an academic exercise rather than a weapon.
Israel’s insistence on avoiding unilateral action should therefore be read as both reassurance and warning. It reassures Nigerians that cooperation will not morph into covert intervention. But it also quietly places responsibility squarely on Nigeria’s institutions. If intelligence is shared, the burden of action or inaction falls on the recipient state. Sovereignty, after all, is inseparable from accountability.
The broader regional context makes this choice even more consequential. West Africa is in flux, with coups, strained alliances, and growing anti-foreign sentiment reshaping security politics. Any perception that Nigeria has outsourced its counterterrorism fight would be seized upon by extremists and opportunists alike. Intelligence cooperation, by contrast, allows Nigeria to remain visibly in charge while benefiting from global expertise.
Still, intelligence sharing is not inherently benign. If mishandled, it can leak, be politicised, or even be exploited by adversaries. Terror networks have repeatedly demonstrated their ability to infiltrate institutions and anticipate state responses.
When intelligence circulates without tight controls, it risks becoming a roadmap for the very actors it is meant to stop. In that sense, poorly managed cooperation can make the battlefield more transparent to terrorists than to the state.
What the critics are ultimately demanding is not isolationism but seriousness. They are asking whether Nigeria has built the institutional muscle to act on what it knows. A state that receives lists of financiers but fails to freeze assets, investigate networks, or prosecute offenders sends a dangerous message: that terrorism is negotiable, or at least tolerable, when it intersects with power or patronage.
Counterterrorism history is unforgiving on this point. Groups like Boko Haram and its offshoots have survived not only because of ideology or arms, but because of financial oxygen and local protection. Cutting those lifelines requires legal courage and political will, not just intelligence briefings. Money trails are often more sensitive than gunmen; following them tests the integrity of the state itself.
This is why intelligence sharing must be embedded in a disciplined national framework. Information should flow into a central, empowered structure capable of rapid analysis and tasking.
Every credible alert should trigger a defined sequence: verification, operational planning, financial scrutiny, arrest where warranted and judicial follow-through. Without such a loop, cooperation becomes ceremonial.
Equally important is public legitimacy. Nigerians must see that counterterrorism is governed by law, not vendetta or secrecy. When suspects are named, there must be transparent processes to confirm or clear them. This protects citizens’ rights while strengthening the state’s credibility. Intelligence that leads to lawful action builds trust; intelligence that disappears breeds conspiracy.
Israel’s experience offers lessons here, not templates. Its strength has never been intelligence collection alone, but integration; ensuring that information, operations, and legal authority move in sync. Nigeria’s challenge is to adapt that principle to its own political, legal, and social realities, rather than importing models wholesale.
The danger of dismissing intelligence sharing outright is that it invites strategic isolation. Terrorism today is transnational by design. Fighters, funds, and ideas cross borders with ease. No state, however large, can map these flows alone. Rejecting cooperation because of past failures would be akin to refusing medicine because it was once misused.
At the same time, blind faith in intelligence partners is equally risky. Cooperation should be conditional, structured, and evaluated by outcomes. Partners who share information expect results, not gratitude. When results do not materialise, trust erodes, and the quality of intelligence declines. Insecurity then feeds on institutional disappointment.
The path forward lies in restoring the credibility of action. Nigeria must demonstrate that intelligence received, whether from Israel, the UAE, or any other partner, is fed into a system designed to produce consequences.
That means strengthening financial intelligence enforcement, insulating counterterrorism from political interference, and ensuring prosecutors are as integral to security as soldiers.
It also means accepting an uncomfortable truth: terrorism cannot be defeated while its sponsors enjoy impunity. The battlefield is not only in forests and borderlands; it is in bank accounts, charities, procurement chains, and protection networks. Intelligence that stops at the tactical level but avoids the financial and political apex is incomplete by design.
Ultimately, the ambassador’s offer and the analysts’ scepticism converge on the same question: is Nigeria prepared to turn knowledge into power? Intelligence sharing is neither a waste of time nor a silver bullet. It is a test. It tests whether the state can act decisively, lawfully, and consistently when confronted with uncomfortable facts.
In security, there is an old maxim that remains brutally relevant: information is perishable, but inaction is fatal. If Nigeria can build institutions that respect sovereignty while enforcing consequences, intelligence cooperation will become a force multiplier. If not, even the most detailed lists will remain what critics fear they already are; paper shields against real threats.
*Rekpene BASSEY is the President of the African Council on Narcotics and a Drug Prevention and Security Specialist
