The era of the unipolar world order is over. The conflict between Russia and Ukraine marked the beginning of its final chapter, while the U.S.–Israeli aggression against Iran signals a new dawn—one after which the world may never be the same. What is emerging is a multipolar order, defined by multiple centers of gravity.

For now, the dollar remains the world’s dominant reserve currency, effectively unchallenged. Countries rely on it to conduct international trade and to purchase energy, particularly oil. This dominance did not happen by accident. In 1974, following the Yom Kippur War—when Egypt and Syria launched a surprise attack on Israeli forces occupying the Sinai Peninsula and the Golan Heights—Arab states, led by Saudi Arabia, imposed an oil embargo on Western nations in protest of their support for Israel. The embargo sent oil prices soaring to unprecedented levels.

In the aftermath, the United States brokered an arrangement: Gulf oil would be priced and sold exclusively in dollars. In return, Washington would provide security guarantees to those states. This understanding, in various forms, largely persists to this day. It explains the extensive network of U.S. military bases across the region and underpins America’s long-standing role as the most influential external power in the Middle East.

But the current conflict may be testing that foundation. If the current trajectory of the U.S.–Israeli aggression against Iran continues, the global financial order could shift more rapidly than many expect. Within a short span, the dollar may face meaningful competition in international trade, with China’s yuan gaining broader acceptance as an alternative.

The Dichotomy

In West Africa, Nigeria stands to benefit significantly from this conflict. First, there is the prospect of unprecedented revenue driven by rising global oil prices. Second, by consolidating its influence across Africa and beyond, particularly through its growing capacity to refine crude domestically. This creates a strategic opening: Nigeria can secure new markets for both its crude and refined petroleum products, with gains that could endure long after the conflict subsides.

Alas, the country’s leadership appears preoccupied—not with seizing this moment, but with consolidating power ahead of the 2027 general elections, and courting Western backing they believe may help secure that ambition. In effect, what passes for democracy in many African states increasingly resembles a system driven by external interests—of the highest bidders, by self-serving elites, and for the compromised.

While Iran resists a global order it perceives as constraining its legitimate ambitions, mobilizing every resource at its disposal, Africa presents a stark contrast. Across much of the continent, states are either indifferent to consequential global shifts or reduced to willing pieces on a larger geopolitical chessboard. The underlying problem is agency: in many cases, it does not reside with the people. Consider the conflict between Russia and Ukraine. Across the Sahel and wider West Africa, many citizens remain disconnected from the motives and implications of the major political decisions shaping their countries’ trajectories.

Take the destruction of the Nord Stream 2 pipeline in Europe. In September 2022, just months into the Russia–Ukraine war, a key energy artery capable of supplying a significant share of Europe’s gas demand was rendered inoperable. Whoever sabotaged it likely sought to deny Russia a critical source of revenue while cutting Europe off from relatively cheap Russian energy—thereby deepening the strategic rift between them despite their shared geography. It raises an obvious question: who stood to gain the most?

Around that same period, and in the months that followed, a wave of coups swept across parts of West Africa, including Niger. Whether by coincidence or design, several of these new military governments tilted toward Moscow. Yet there is a deeper geopolitical layer often overlooked. Nigeria had been advancing plans for a transnational pipeline linking its gas reserves to Europe, routing through some of these now coup-affected states. Since then, the project has effectively stalled—what could be interpreted as a significant geopolitical checkmate.

This brings us to the central question: what agency do ordinary citizens in these African states truly possess within such high-stakes maneuvers? More pointedly, what practical difference does it make whether they live under a nominal democracy or an outright military regime? In both scenarios, the outcome often appears the same—the people remain distant from the levers of power, with little meaningful influence over decisions that shape their future.    

Bound to a Dying Order

In the weeks leading up to the confrontation with Iran, the United States appeared preoccupied with tightening its grip over key oil-producing states—a move that can only be read as a prelude to a looming, engineered global energy shock. Then, almost overnight, Washington crossed a line few thought imaginable. In a lightning-fast operation, U.S. special forces seized a sitting president in the Southern Hemisphere—Nicolás Maduro of Venezuela—and transported him to the American mainland to face charges. An extraordinary act, without precedent in recent history.

No sooner had that dust settled than discussions in Washington turned openly toward securing oil supplies for the U.S. interests. And then came Nigeria—Africa’s largest oil producer. Suddenly, the United States seemed animated by a newfound concern for the country’s Christian population.

In what could only be described as a crusader-like posture, prominent voices within the U.S. Republican establishment began amplifying claims of mass persecution of Nigerian Christians. The phrase “Christian genocide” quickly entered the political bloodstream. Then, without warning, Washington escalated further, striking positions in northern Nigeria.

What followed was inevitable. Faced with the consequences of direct confrontation, the Nigerian government folded—choosing appeasement over resistance, and compliance over sovereignty. Within weeks, American boots were on the ground. Soon after, Reaper drones were deployed, ostensibly for surveillance—marking not just a military presence, but a new reality.

Nigeria is now entangled in Washington’s tentacles of influence in its security domain, shielded from ever fully drifting into the orbit of Russia or China, and bound to the Western security architecture for the foreseeable future.