By Michael Onjewu
In an era where multilateralism is increasingly vital for addressing transnational challenges like climate change, food insecurity, and human rights violations, the United States’ recent foreign policy decisions have raised alarms across the international community.
As of early 2026, under the current administration, the U.S. has pursued a series of actions that prioritize national interests over global cooperation, including withdrawals from key international frameworks, stringent visa restrictions on several nations, and threats of unilateral military interventions.
These moves, while framed as protective of American sovereignty and security, carry significant risks not only for the directly affected regions like Africa but also for the broader geopolitics and the rules-based international order.
One of the most contentious aspects of recent U.S. foreign policy is the withdrawal from international organizations, conventions, and treaties deemed inconsistent with American interests. This approach echoes past patterns, such as the U.S. exit from the Paris Climate Agreement in 2017 (later rejoined) and the Iran nuclear deal, but has intensified in 2025-2026 with targeted pullouts from frameworks supporting global development and humanitarian efforts.
For instance, the U.S. has scaled back or withdrawn support from entities like the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) initiatives and certain World Health Organization (WHO) protocols, citing inefficiencies or biases against U.S. agricultural and pharmaceutical industries.
These decisions have direct repercussions for Africa, a continent already grappling with acute vulnerabilities. Africa’s food security is precarious, with over 20% of its population facing hunger according to recent UN reports. U.S. withdrawals from treaties like the International Treaty on Plant Genetic Resources for Food and Agriculture could limit access to shared seed banks and technologies, exacerbating famine risks in drought-prone regions such as the Sahel. Similarly, on climate change adaptation, the U.S. retreat from funding mechanisms under the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) hinders Africa’s ability to build resilient infrastructure against rising sea levels and extreme weather, which disproportionately affect sub-Saharan nations.
Moreover, the safeguarding of marginalized groups’ rights is at stake. Pullouts from human rights conventions, such as selective non-compliance with aspects of the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities or refugee protocols, signal a diminished U.S. commitment to global norms. In Africa, where conflicts and displacement affect millions, particularly women, children, and ethnic minorities, this creates voids that authoritarian regimes or non-state actors might exploit, leading to increased instability.
From a geopolitical lens, these withdrawals project poor optics by portraying the U.S. as an unreliable partner. Historically, America has positioned itself as a champion of the liberal international order, promoting democracy and collective problem-solving. However, such unilateralism fuels accusations of “America First” isolationism, alienating allies in Europe and Asia who rely on these frameworks. This erosion of soft power weakens the international order, as it encourages other nations to similarly cherry-pick commitments, leading to a “might makes right” paradigm where global challenges like climate change go unaddressed.
Compounding these issues are the U.S. imposed restrictions on visa applications for citizens of Nigeria and 18 other countries, primarily in Africa, the Middle East, and Latin America. Announced in late 2025, these measures expand on previous travel bans, citing security concerns, economic reciprocity, and immigration control. For Nigerians, this has resulted in prolonged processing times, higher denial rates, and requirements for additional documentation, creating substantial travel difficulties for students, business professionals, and families.
While the U.S. justifies these as necessary for national security, the policy has sparked widespread criticism for potential discriminatory undertones. Many of the targeted countries have Muslim-majority populations or histories of conflict, raising questions about whether the restrictions disproportionately affect certain ethnic or religious groups. Human rights organizations, including Amnesty International, have highlighted how such policies echo the 2017 “Muslim Ban,” which was ruled unconstitutional in parts, and could violate international norms under the UN’s International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.
The human impact is profound. Nigerian entrepreneurs face barriers to U.S. markets, students miss educational opportunities at American universities, and diaspora communities endure family separations. Economically, this stifles bilateral trade; Nigeria, Africa’s largest economy, relies on remittances and tech collaborations with the U.S., which could decline amid these hurdles.
Geopolitically, this policy exemplifies bad optics by reinforcing narratives of U.S. hypocrisy. America promotes itself as a beacon of opportunity and inclusivity, yet these restrictions suggest a fortress mentality that alienates emerging powers. In Africa, it bolsters anti-Western sentiment, making it easier for rivals to portray the U.S. as xenophobic. This could erode alliances, such as those in counterterrorism efforts against Boko Haram in Nigeria, and contribute to a fragmented international order where visa diplomacy becomes a tool for coercion rather than cooperation. As global mobility becomes key to economic integration, such isolationist stances risk positioning the U.S. as a pariah, diminishing its influence in forums like the African Union or G20.
Perhaps the most alarming development is the U.S. signaling of potential additional strikes in Nigeria if violence against Christian communities persists. This stems from escalating attacks by Islamist militants and herdsmen in Nigeria’s Middle Belt and North, which have claimed thousands of lives in recent years. In 2025, the U.S. conducted limited drone strikes under the guise of counterterrorism, but recent statements from U.S. officials indicate readiness for escalation if the Nigerian government fails to curb the violence.
Analysts stress that any further U.S. military engagement must secure explicit consent from Abuja to respect national sovereignty. Without it, such actions could be seen as violations of international law, reminiscent of past interventions like those in Iraq or Libya, which led to prolonged instability. Nigeria, as West Africa’s powerhouse and a key oil producer, views its security as a sovereign matter; unilateral U.S. strikes might inflame anti-American protests, empower extremists, or even strain relations with ECOWAS.
The optics here are particularly damaging. By threatening intervention framed around protecting Christians, the U.S. risks appearing to engage in selective humanitarianism—intervening based on religious affiliations rather than universal principles. This could alienate Muslim-majority nations and fuel perceptions of a “clash of civilizations,” undermining U.S. efforts in global counterterrorism coalitions. Geopolitically, it signals a return to unilateral militarism, eroding the post-World War II order built on UN Security Council consensus and respect for borders. In Africa, it might encourage other powers, like France or Turkey, to pursue their own interventions, leading to proxy conflicts and a breakdown in regional stability. Ultimately, without Nigerian buy-in, such moves could backfire, portraying the U.S. as an imperial actor rather than a partner, thus weakening its moral authority on the world stage.
Collectively, these U.S. policies paint a picture of retrenchment that harms American interests in the long term. They project bad optics by highlighting inconsistencies: a nation that lectures on human rights while restricting access, champions multilateralism while withdrawing from it, and advocates for sovereignty while threatening interventions. This hypocrisy erodes trust, making it harder for the U.S. to rally coalitions against shared threats like pandemics or great-power rivalries.
In geopolitics, the fallout is a more multipolar world where middle powers like Nigeria pivot toward alternatives. This fragments the international order, reducing collective action on pressing issues and increasing the risk of conflicts. For Africa, the continent risks becoming a battleground for influence, with its development goals sidelined.
To mitigate this, the U.S. must recommit to diplomacy, seeking inclusive reforms in international bodies rather than exits, and ensuring policies align with professed values. Failure to do so not only isolates America but accelerates the decline of the rules-based system it helped build. As global interdependence grows, such isolationism is not just bad optics, it’s a strategic misstep with lasting consequences.
Michael Onjewu is a journalist based in Abuja, Nigeria
