Okey Okwusogu
JNIM’s entry risks spilling over into coastal West Africa, exacerbating migration crises and straining Nigerian forces already stretched thin. Social media propaganda, including TikTok recruitment drives, targets northern sympathies for Sharia, potentially swelling ranks among marginalised youth.
In the vast expanse of West Africa’s Sahel region, where jihadist insurgencies have long simmered, a new shadow is lengthening toward Nigeria’s borders. The Group for the Support of Islam and Muslims, known by its Arabic acronym JNIM (Jama’at Nasr al-Islam wal Muslimin), an al-Qaeda-affiliated militant outfit, has begun probing Nigerian territory. This expansion marks a perilous escalation for Africa’s most populous nation, already grappling with Boko Haram, ISWAP, and rampant banditry. As JNIM seeks to embed itself in Nigeria’s northwest and north-central states, it exploits porous borders, local alliances, and governance voids, threatening to ignite fresh cycles of violence.
JNIM, formed in 2017 as a merger of several al-Qaeda-linked factions, including Ansar al-Din, al-Murabitoon, and AQIM’s Sahara branch, has solidified its presence in Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger. Led by Iyad Ag Ghaly, a Tuareg jihadist veteran, the group pledges allegiance to al-Qaeda’s global leadership and pursues a Salafi-jihadist agenda: expelling “foreign occupiers,” imposing Sharia law, and addressing local grievances like ethnic marginalisation and resource disputes. Unlike the more indiscriminate Islamic State affiliates, JNIM adopts a calculated approach, building alliances, providing rudimentary governance in controlled areas, and targeting security forces primarily, though civilians often suffer collateral damage.
Nigeria first felt JNIM’s tendrils around 2024-2025, when the group used the country as a transit corridor for smuggling and logistics. This opportunistic entry leveraged alliances with local actors, notably the Lakurawa, a nomadic Fulani militia that evolved from community defenders into predatory extremists with jihadist leanings. JNIM also eyed connections with Ansaru, an al-Qaeda-aligned splinter from Boko Haram, hiding in northwestern forests like Kainji National Park. These partnerships blur the lines between criminal banditry and ideological insurgency, allowing JNIM to infiltrate without immediate large-scale confrontations.
By mid-2025, JNIM’s ambitions crystallised. In July, the group released a video featuring seven militants claiming operations inside Nigeria, having entered via Benin. This signalled a shift from mere passage to active footholds. Then, in October, JNIM claimed its first direct attack on Nigerian soil: a raid on a military patrol in Kwara State, near the Benin border, killing one soldier. Reports suggested plans to establish a “katiba” (brigade) in Nigeria as early as June that year. These incursions focused on border regions in states like Kebbi, Sokoto, and Kwara, targeting patrols, herders, and security outposts. JNIM’s strategy mirrors its Sahel playbook: gradual integration, exploiting discontent over poor governance, and tapping into resources like artisanal gold mines for funding.
The recent massacre in Woro and Nuku villages, Kaiama Local Government Area of Kwara State, on February 3-4, 2026, underscores the volatile context. Gunmen, arriving on motorcycles and posing as preachers, demanded adherence to their strict Sharia interpretation. When villagers resisted, the assailants unleashed horror: at least 162 killed, many executed or burned alive, and dozens abducted, mostly women and children. While mainstream reports attribute this to Boko Haram or ISWAP, some analysts point to possible JNIM involvement through blurred alliances with Lakurawa or other bandits. The attackers’ warning letters and ideological demands echo jihadist tactics, and Kwara’s proximity to JNIM’s entry points raises alarms. Even if not directly orchestrated by JNIM, such violence amplifies the group’s opportunistic expansion amid Nigeria’s security gaps.
This southward push benefits from regional instability. Coups in Niger, Burkina Faso, and Mali have weakened counterterrorism efforts, including the withdrawal of French forces and UN peacekeepers. Nigeria’s borders with Niger overrun bases like Air Base 101 serve as launchpads. JNIM clashes with IS affiliates like Islamic State Sahel Province (ISSP) in borderlands, turning areas into frontlines of jihadist rivalry. In Nigeria, this could converge: heightened kidnappings, displacement, and economic sabotage, particularly in gold-rich zones.
The implications are dire. JNIM’s entry risks spilling over into coastal West Africa, exacerbating migration crises and straining Nigerian forces already stretched thin. Social media propaganda, including TikTok recruitment drives, targets northern sympathies for Sharia, potentially swelling ranks among marginalised youth.
To counter this, Nigeria must bolster border security, foster regional cooperation, perhaps reviving the Multinational Joint Task Force and address root causes like poverty and ethnic tensions. Intelligence sharing with the US, which has conducted airstrikes against suspected JNIM targets in Sokoto, is crucial but must navigate internal challenges like compromised sources.
JNIM’s foray into Nigeria is not yet a full insurgency but a probing threat that demands vigilance. If unchecked, it could entwine with existing conflicts, birthing a hybrid monster harder to slay. As Abuja deliberates, the nation’s security hangs in the balance— a reminder that jihadism knows no borders.
* Okwusogu, an intelligence analyst Writing from Abuja
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