Connect with us

Anthony Obi Ogbo

From Texas Southern to Space: Tigers and the Strahan Success Story

Published

on

TSU’s offer was therefore the foundation of the confidence that invoked his NFL prospects in his junior season. By his senior year with the Texas Southern Tigers, Strahan was already positioned for his unexpected expedition to stardom.

All through last week, NFL Hall of Famer Michael Strahan dominated the news media. Every news outlet featured him on the screen and in print because of his latest career endeavor. Strahan, who won Super Bowl XLII during his 15-year career with the New York Giants, will join Laura Shepard Churchley, the eldest daughter of astronaut Alan Shepard, on a December 9 mission aboard the New Shepard, a spacecraft named after her father and the first American in space.

It was exciting to find out that Strahan, an African American who is also with ABC’s Good Morning America, will fly as a guest of Blue Origin with Churchley. They will join four paying customers: philanthropist Dylan Taylor, investor Evan Dick, Lane Ventures founder Lane Bess and his son, Cameron. But the media has been agog with this event, projecting Strahan’s success from the NFL through his mainstream media confraternity.

Strahan’s life and career success are a household story. We know, of course, that he was born in Houston; we know that at the age of nine he moved to Germany to join his father, who was stationed there as a major in the U.S. Army. We are familiar with his family’s football history: his mother, Louise Strahan, was a basketball coach whereas his uncle, Art Strahan, is a retired NFL defensive lineman. Strahan’s career is notable for several positive highlights that are well known to media outlets.

However, there seems to be something missing from the stories and documentaries that trail Strahan’s latest landmark: his college background. Strahan attended Texas Southern University (TSU) and would be the first alum of this institution to explore space. As we know, TSU is a historically Black public university and is one of the largest and most comprehensive in the nation, with more than 10,000 enrolled students engaged in over 100 academic programs.

But there is something in TSU’s culture that propelled Strahan to his latest career and life endeavors

But there is something in TSU’s culture that propelled Strahan to his latest career and life endeavors and that is the institution’s unyielding desire to nurture and offer opportunities to prospective students of color. He was offered a scholarship by the Tigers of TSU; the very same opportunity that signaled the beginning of what is now celebrated as history.

TSU’s offer was therefore the foundation of the confidence that invoked his NFL prospects in his junior season. By his senior year with the Texas Southern Tigers, Strahan was already positioned for his unexpected expedition to stardom. He chronicled 68 tackles and broke the school record with 19 quarterback sacks. He was selected as Division I-AA Defensive Player of the Year by The Poor Man’s Guide and Edd Hayes Black College Sports Report. By 1992, Strahan was named the Team All-Southwestern Athletic Conference’s Player of the Year for the second consecutive season. He was inducted into the Black College Football Hall of Fame in 2014.

But the lessons of the Strahan success story are a reflection of the core significance of Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) in the nation’s advancement and future. According to the National Center for Education Statistics, in the academic year 2018–19, some 48,400 degrees were conferred by HBCUs. Of those degrees, 73 percent were conferred to Black students.

Indeed, the philosophy of HBCUs is not about African-Americanizing the education system at all. HBCUs were created to provide Black Americans with a route to higher education and, for the record, it was not until the 1960s that more primarily white colleges began admitting Black students. There is also a psychological relevance. Because their historical background is based on a system that is more or less antagonistic to their prospects, African-American graduates from HBCUs are more likely to prosper in career determination than non-Black students attending HBCUs.

The philosophy of HBCU is liberty and equality in providing access to quality education for people of color. Strahan remains a success story of this, benefitting both his alma mater and the entire nation. Strahan understands his role as an HBCU alum and has facilitated several programs to benefit his hometown of Houston as well as his alma mater, TSU.

Finally, TSU, just like any other HBCU, has a story tied to racial inequality that affected the education system during the 19th century, which was an era of intense and systemic discrimination against Black Americans. In a system where exceptional prospective Black students and athletes struggle to gain entrance to traditionally white colleges and universities, it might be fair to state that TSU provided Strahan with the inclusive route not only to an impeccable career path but also to space.

♦ Anthony Ogbo, PhD, Adjunct Professor at the Texas Southern University is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015)  and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us

Texas Guardian News

Anthony Obi Ogbo

When Air Power Becomes a Christmas Performance: The Illusion of Success in Trump’s Nigerian Strike

Published

on

Bombs alone do not defeat ideology. Precision without intelligence is noise. —Anthony Obi Ogbo

When President Trump announced his authorized United States air strike against ISIL (ISIS) fighters in northwest Nigeria on Christmas Day, there was an immediate burst of celebration on Nigerian social media. For a country exhausted by years of kidnappings, massacres, and territorial insecurity, the announcement sounded like long-awaited international support. Memes circulated, praise poured in, and some Nigerians hailed Trump as a decisive global sheriff finally willing to act where others hesitated.

But after the initial euphoria settled, a sobering assessment emerged: the strike appeared less like a strategic military intervention and more like a made-for-television spectacle designed to burnish Trump’s international strongman image.

This was not the first time the United States has launched air strikes in Africa or the Sahel under the banner of counterterrorism. From Libya to Somalia, from Syria to Yemen, U.S. “precision strikes” have often been announced with confidence and celebrated with press briefings—only for the targeted groups to regroup, mutate, and, in some cases, expand their reach. In Nigeria itself, years of foreign-backed security assistance have failed to decisively neutralize Boko Haram or its ISIS-affiliated offshoots. Instead, violence has fragmented, spread, and grown more complex.

No verifiable evidence has been produced to confirm high-value ISIS targets were eliminated

The Nigerian strike followed a familiar pattern. U.S. officials framed it as a blow against ISIS-West Africa Province (ISWAP), a group aligned with the global ISIS network. Trump’s language suggested a decisive intervention—an act of muscular diplomacy signaling that America still projects power where it chooses. Yet no verifiable evidence has been produced to confirm high-value ISIS targets were eliminated, leadership structures dismantled, or operational capacity degraded.

What followed was a digital smokescreen. Social media accounts, many anonymous and unverified, began circulating gruesome images of dead bodies and destroyed villages—photos long associated with banditry in Nigeria’s northwest. These images were quickly repurposed to “prove” the success of Trump’s strike. However, this is where the narrative falls apart under scrutiny.

Trump’s mission, as publicly stated, was to target ISIS. Not bandits. Not kidnappers. Not rural criminal gangs. ISIS is a transnational terrorist organization with ideological, financial, and operational links across continents. Bandits, by contrast, are primarily armed criminal groups—motivated by ransom, cattle theft, and territorial control, not global jihad. Conflating the two may be politically convenient, but it is analytically dishonest.

Killing or displacing bandits does not equate to dismantling ISIS. In fact, indiscriminate or poorly targeted air strikes often worsen the situation, pushing criminal groups to radicalize, splinter, or align with extremist factions for protection and legitimacy. This pattern has been observed repeatedly in conflict zones where military force substitutes for intelligence-driven strategy.

A truly successful counterterrorism raid is not measured by dramatic announcements or viral images. It is measured by clear, verifiable outcomes, including the confirmed elimination of high-ranking commanders, disruption of recruitment and financing networks, seizure of weapons caches, and—most importantly—sustained reductions in civilian attacks. None of these benchmarks has been credibly demonstrated in the aftermath of Trump’s Nigerian air strike.

Instead, Nigeria wakes up to the same grim reality: villages remain vulnerable, highways unsafe, and communities terrorized. The strike did not change the security equation. It did not empower Nigerian forces. It did not restore civilian confidence. And it certainly did not neutralize ISIS as a strategic threat.

This air strike offered Nigerians symbolism, not security.

In that sense, the air strike was not merely ineffective—it was a failure dressed in the language of strength, executed for optics, and amplified for political gain. It offered Nigerians symbolism, not security.

If the goal is truly to eliminate ISIS and its affiliates in West Africa, the path is neither theatrical nor unilateral. It requires robust intelligence sharing, sustained training, and real-time coordination with Nigerian and regional forces. It demands targeted arms assistance, logistical support, and investments in surveillance capabilities that allow local militaries to act decisively and lawfully. Above all, it requires a long-term commitment to strengthening state capacity—not fleeting air shows announced from afar.

Bombs alone do not defeat ideology. Precision without intelligence is noise. And celebration without results is self-deception. Trump’s Nigerian air strike may have produced headlines, but history will remember it for what it was: a failed mission masquerading as success.

♦ Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015)  and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us

Texas Guardian News
Continue Reading

Anthony Obi Ogbo

Trump’s Nigeria Strike: Bombs, Boasts, and the Illusion of Victory

Published

on

With Obama, Al-Qaeda was not eliminated by noise; it was suffocated by intelligence. —Anthony Obi Ogbo

It has now been confirmed that the United States acted in collaboration with Nigeria in the recent strike on Islamic State elements in northwest Nigeria. That cooperation deserves recognition. Intelligence-sharing between Washington and Abuja is necessary, overdue, and welcome. Terrorism is transnational; defeating it requires allies, not isolation.

But let us be clear: bombs alone do not defeat terror. And Donald Trump’s strike—trumpeted loudly on social media before facts, casualties, or strategy were disclosed—was less a turning point than a performance.

Trump’s announcement was a classic spectacle: “powerful,” “deadly,” “perfect strikes.” No numbers. No clarity. No accountability. Just noise. It was the same choreography America has deployed in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Libya, Yemen, and Somalia—places where U.S. airpower landed hard, headlines screamed victory, and instability deepened afterward. Violence escalated. Militancy adapted. Civilians paid the price.

History is unkind to airstrikes sold as solutions.

Nigeria knows this better than anyone. Long before Trump’s tweet, the Nigerian military had already conducted multiple operations in the same terror corridor. At least five major strikes and offensives stand out:

  • First, Operation Hadarin Daji, launched to dismantle bandit and terror camps across Zamfara, Katsina, and Sokoto, involving sustained air and ground assaults.
  • Second, Operation Tsaftan Daji, which targeted terrorist hideouts in the Kamuku and Sububu forests—precisely the terrain now in the headlines.
  • Third, repeated Nigerian Air Force precision strikes in the Zurmi–Shinkafi axis, neutralizing commanders and destroying logistics hubs.
  • Fourth, joint operations with Nigerien forces, disrupting cross-border supply routes used by ISIS-linked groups.
  • Fifth, recent coordinated offensives involving intelligence-led raids, special forces insertions, and follow-up ground clearing in the northwest.

These were not symbolic gestures. They were Nigerian-led, Nigerian-funded, Nigerian-executed. And yet, there were no fireworks on social media. No flag-waving hysteria. No intoxicated praise of Nigerian commanders as saviors of civilization.

Why? Because there is a dangerous segment of Nigerians who suffer from what can only be called the American Wonder mentality—a colonial hangover that applauds anything louder simply because it comes from Washington. The same Nigerians who ignore their own soldiers dying in silence suddenly abandon Christmas meals to celebrate Trump’s tweets, typing incoherent praise, mangling grammar, and mistaking spectacle for substance.

It is embarrassing. And it is intellectually lazy.

Terrorism is not defeated by volume or virality. It is defeated by intelligence—quiet, patient, unglamorous work. The United States knows this. Barack Obama understood it. Al-Qaeda was not dismantled through social media theatrics or chest-thumping declarations. It was weakened through intelligence fusion, financial disruption, targeted operations, local partnerships, and relentless pressure on leadership networks—mostly without fanfare.

Obama did not tweet. He acted. So what actually works against groups like ISIS in Nigeria?

First, intelligence supremacy. Human intelligence from local communities, defectors, and infiltrators matters more than bombs. Terror groups survive on secrecy. Break that, and they collapse.

Second, financial and logistical strangulation. Terrorists run on money, fuel, arms, and food. Cut access to smuggling routes, illicit mining, ransom flows, and cross-border trade, and their operational capacity withers.

Third, community stabilization and governance. Terrorism thrives where the state is absent. Roads, schools, policing, and justice systems matter. People who trust the state do not shelter terrorists.

Fourth, regional coordination, not episodic strikes. Nigeria, Niger, Chad, and Burkina Faso must sustain joint pressure, not reactive operations driven by headlines.

Airstrikes can support these strategies—but only as tools, never as substitutes.

Trump’s strike may have killed militants. It may have disrupted camps. That is commendable. But it is not a solution. It is a moment. And moments, without strategy, fade.

If Nigerians truly want terror defeated, they should stop worshiping foreign loudness and start demanding disciplined intelligence, consistent policy, and respect for the men and women already fighting on the ground.

Real victories are quiet. Real security is built, not tweeted.

♦ Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015)  and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us

Texas Guardian News
Continue Reading

Anthony Obi Ogbo

Texas’ 18th Congressional District Runoff: Amanda Edwards Deserves This Seat

Published

on

Her persistence and long-term investment make a clear case: she has earned this opportunity. —Anthony Obi Ogbo

In the special election to fill Texas’s 18th Congressional District, no candidate won a majority on November 4, 2025, leading to a January 31, 2026, runoff between Democratic frontrunners Christian Menefee and Amanda Edwards. Menefee, Harris County Attorney, led the field with roughly 29% of the vote, while former Houston City Council member Edwards finished second with about 26%. Both are vying to represent a district left vacant after the death of U.S. Rep. Sylvester Turner.

The 18th Congressional District is far more than a geographic area. Anchored in Houston’s historic Black communities, it is a political and cultural stronghold shaped by civil rights history, faith institutions, and grassroots activism. Sheila Jackson Lee represented this district for nearly three decades (1995–2024), becoming more than a legislator—she was a constant presence at churches, funerals, protests, and community milestones. For residents, her leadership carried spiritual weight, reflecting stewardship, protection, and a deep, almost pastoral guardianship of the district. Her tenure symbolized continuity, cultural pride, and a profound connection with the people she served.

Houstonians watched as Jackson Lee entered the 2023 Houston mayoral race, attempting to transition from Congress to city leadership. Despite high-profile endorsements, including outgoing Mayor Sylvester Turner and national Democratic figures, she lost the December 9, 2023, runoff to State Senator John Whitmire by a wide margin. Following that defeat, Jackson Lee filed to run for re-election to her U.S. House seat, even as Edwards—who had briefly joined the mayoral race before withdrawing—remained in the congressional primary.

At that time, Jackson Lee’s health was visibly declining, yet voters still supported her, honoring decades of service. She defeated Edwards in the 2024 Democratic primary before announcing her battle with pancreatic cancer. Her passing in July 2024 left the seat vacant.

Edwards, already a candidate, sought to fill the seat, but timing and party rules intervened. Because Jackson Lee died too late for a regular primary, Harris County Democratic Party precinct chairs selected a replacement nominee. Former Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner, a retired but widely respected figure, narrowly edged out Edwards for the nomination, effectively blocking her despite her prior campaigning efforts. Turner won the general election but died in March 2025, triggering a special election in 2025, in which Edwards advanced to a runoff.

The January 31, 2026, runoff will hinge on turnout, coalition-building, and key endorsements. Both candidates led a crowded November field but fell short of a majority, with Menefee narrowly ahead. Endorsements such as State Rep. Jolanda Jones’ support for Edwards could consolidate key Democratic blocs, particularly among Black women and progressive voters. In a heavily Democratic district where voter confusion and turnout patterns have been inconsistent, the candidate who best mobilizes supporters and unites constituencies is likely to prevail.

Amanda Edwards’ case is compelling. Although both candidates share similar values and qualifications, her claim rests on dedication, consistency, and timing that have been repeatedly denied. She pursued this seat with focus and purpose, maintaining a steady commitment to the district and its future. Her path was interrupted by the prolonged political ambitions of Jackson Lee and Turner—figures whose stature reshaped the race but delayed generational transition. Edwards did not step aside; she remained visible, engaged, and prepared. In a moment demanding both continuity and renewal, her persistence and long-term investment make a clear case: she has earned this opportunity.

This race comes down to trust, perseverance, and demonstrated commitment. Amanda Edwards has consistently shown up for the district, even when political circumstances repeatedly delayed her chance. Her dedication reflects readiness, respect for the electorate, and an unwavering commitment to service. Voting for Amanda Edwards is not only justified—it is the right choice for Houston’s 18th Congressional District.

♦Publisher of the Guardian News, Professor Anthony Obi Ogbo, Ph.D., is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of the Influence of Leadership (2015)  and the Maxims of Political Leadership (2019). Contact: anthony@guardiannews.us

Texas Guardian News
Continue Reading

Trending