We’re ignoring Nigeria's hellish underbelly

Why the West averts its gaze from anti-Christian violence there.

Chris Wadibia

Chris Wadibia is an academic advising on faith-based challenges. His research includes political Pentecostalism, global Christianity, and development.

A burnt out motor cycle and car stand amid charred debris in a dusty compound.

Burned vehicles after Good Friday raid on April 7, 2023, in Ngban, Benue state, Nigeria.

Justice, Development, and Peace Commission.

Moments ago a Christian was killed in Nigeria—again. For the 100 million Christians living in Nigeria, news of brutal murders of their fellow worshippers has become commonplace. Every day 14 Christians in Nigeria die because of their faith. Nigeria is a land of extreme paradoxes known for many things. It’s one of the world’s leading oil producers. It’s home to the globally popular Afrobeats music scene. Its distinguished citizens include director-general of the World Trade Organisation Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, president of the African Development Bank Akinwumi Adesina, Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations Amina Mohammed, and former president of the International Criminal Court Chile Eboe-Osuji, just to name a few. Its global diaspora of 17 million consists of Nigerians working in positions of power in virtually every industry imaginable. From banking, finance, and tech to professional sports, higher education, healthcare, culinary arts, and consulting, there is not a single major industry in the world whose list of leaders does not include a Nigerian name.

But just as every coin has two sides, so does Nigeria. Nigeria's story is incomplete without explaining its hellish underbelly. Well over 60 per cent of Nigeria's population, or at least 133 million of its citizens, live in a state of multidimensional poverty. The vast oil wealth generated by its oil industry only benefits a minuscule sliver of its elephantine population.

Nigeria is the global leader in anti-Christian violence. Since 2009, over 52,000 Christians have been killed in Nigeria by Islamist extremists. In the last 15 years, over 18,000 churches and 2,200 schools in Nigeria have been set on fire. Open Doors, a charity whose mission focuses on providing support to persecuted Christians globally, estimates that 90 per cent of murders targeting Christians across the world in 2022 took place in Nigeria. Islamist extremists killed at least 145 Nigerian Catholic priests in 2022 alone.

Anti-Christian violence is evil just like antisemitic and Islamophobic violence are both evil.

For people enjoying religious freedom in Europe and the United States, violence against Christians feels like a thing of the past. The concept of anti-Christian violence in the West triggers thoughts of Europe's religious wars in the 16th, 17th, and early 18th centuries, or The Troubles between Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland in the 20th century.

However, the scale of anti-Christian violence in Nigeria puts it in a league of its own. In the West we take for granted the freedom of religion because we have had it for so long. It is human nature to take for granted the aspects of life we have grown most accustomed to. Ongoing war between Israel and Hamas has reignited in Western public debate the pervasive, threatening existence of antisemitism and Islamophobia in Western societies.

But why has the consistent, monstrously murderous Christophobia in Nigeria that has unfolded in the last two decades not cemented its place within Western public discourse? Do Christians in the West only demand action when White Christians get murdered? Are 52,000 brutal, gory killings of Black Christian bodies in Sub-Saharan Africa not sufficient reason for the powers that be in global Christian society to mobilise their vast political, military, and economic resources to intervene, protect, and bring peace?

Christians running for their lives in Nigeria are as much part of the bride of Christ as Southern Baptists sipping sweet tea in Alabama on a Sunday afternoon.

Violence against Christians is not a thing of the past. It is as real a phenomenon today as it has ever been. Few states in the Majority World have developed for themselves a reputation for institutional ineptitude and malfeasance more so than Nigeria. Solutions for ending Nigeria's anti-Christian violence will not come from the Nigerian state. Instead, they must come from the religious sector, civil society, foreign governments, and private actors. Anti-Christian violence in Nigeria is not motivated solely by extremist Islamist zealotry, albeit the influence of this element certainly plays a part. Poverty, competition for scarce resources, and relative deprivation along with educational underdevelopment and political profiteering on the heel of Christophobia are collectively responsible for these violent acts.

In Christian theology, Jesus Christ has a bride; this bride is the church, or all who believe in Christ and follow his teachings. Christians running for their lives in Nigeria are as much part of the bride of Christ as Southern Baptists sipping sweet tea in Alabama on a Sunday afternoon, Anglicans enjoying a Sunday roast, or Pentecostals in São Paolo playing football on the beach after a midweek worship service. The killing of one Christian in Nigeria is an assault on the 2.4 billion Christians living across the world. Christ has only one bride, and He lovingly cares for each member of His bride equally, overwhelmingly, and powerfully.

Anti-Christian violence is evil just like anti-semitic and Islamophobic violence are both evil. Western media’s reluctance to report about these murders and offer platforms to activists, clerics, and stakeholders whose voices can help galvanise support for ending this violence cannot be separated from irreducibly influential Western religious gazes that dehumanise and deprioritise the lives, experiences, and sufferings of non-White Christians globally. Until anti-Christian violence in Nigeria comes to an end, the collective dignity of Christians worldwide will remain tainted by a scourge those with power are too apathetic to eradicate.

Conviction politics is changing morality

Political dialogue gives way to animal-like culture war.

Barnabas Aspray

Barnabas Aspray is Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at St Mary’s Seminary and University.

A severed doll head, resembling Donald Trump, lies on dirty ground.

Max Letek on Unsplash.

“We're gathering 100 MILLION signatures to OVERTURN Trump's wrongful conviction!”

I received this SMS message, along with a link, on Monday 10th June. It was the fourth message of its kind I’d received since the verdict convicting former US President Donald Trump of felony. This time, out of curiosity I followed the link. I found a lot of words in capital letters conveying a sense of extreme urgency, but I did not find any evidence or argument for the injustice of the verdict.

Trump’s conviction has been met with a torrent of reactions from people across the political spectrum. Everyone sees the event as an episode in the upcoming US election in which Trump plans to run for president. For those on the left, it’s final and conclusive proof that he is unfit for office; the evidence is clear, the courts have decided, end of story. For those on the right, it’s a further sign of the depraved depths to which the Democrats will go to discredit him; the jury was rigged, and the whole thing was a political stunt to win the election. The legitimacy of the court ruling is something nobody on the left questions and nobody on the right admits.

To me, these responses are another sign of the ever-widening gap between left and right that eats up all common ground, even the rule of law. Political victory now takes priority over truth or justice – or perhaps more accurately: victory for my side is identical with truth and justice. To concede anything to the opposing side is seen, not as praiseworthy, but as betrayal.

My comments in what follows are nonpartisan: I want to point to what is true of both sides equally: the failure of dialogue and its replacement by a warfare mentality. This change affects even what we consider moral and admirable behaviour. It is not only a problem in the US. Ever since Brexit, things have become increasingly polarised in the UK as well.

That is what “culture war” means. War and dialogue are opposites; war is what happens when dialogue has failed.

Formerly in Western nations, rival political parties offered different means to achieve the same end: a flourishing society of justice, peace, prosperity, and freedom. Politicians disagreed but they respected each other. They had faith in the political process in which they all participated. Consider as an example the letter George Bush Senior left Bill Clinton after losing the 1992 US election.

“Your success now is our country’s success,” he wrote. “I am rooting hard for you. Good luck.”

The fact that he was now president was more important than which political party he belonged to.

In such a cohesive society, the legal system was a trusted arbitrator whose decisions would be accepted by victor and loser alike. This does not mean the system was perfect. Everyone knew that justice could sometimes miscarry. But the public did not see themselves as qualified to judge that either way. How could they expect to know more than the jury?

What we are witnessing now is a return to a more animal-like state in which the goal is that my team wins no matter what. If the arbitrator rules in favour of my tribe, they are seen as executing justice. If they rule against my tribe, their ruling must by definition be unjust.

That is what “culture war” means. War and dialogue are opposites; war is what happens when dialogue has failed because both sides have been unable even to “agree to disagree.”

Reasoned debate is seen as no longer effective in light of the vile underhanded tactics of the other side (but not, of course, of my side).

In dialogue, both sides aim to uncover the truth even if the truth turns out not to be what I wanted or thought. Prioritizing the truth means that I might realise I was wrong and concede the point, even at some material cost. For example, in a property dispute, I might become persuaded of the truth of my opponent’s case and give up my claim. That may be painful, but winning was less important than justice being done. In dialogue, both ‘sides’ are really on the same side because they both ultimately want the same thing.

In war, on the other hand, the goal is to defeat the enemy and it makes no difference whether they are right or wrong – or rather, it is assumed without question that they are wrong. If words are used in war, they are weapons in disguise, not meaningful communications.

This transformation from dialogue to war changes morality itself. You are now judged, not by the sincerity of your pursuit of truth, but by how loyal you are to your tribe. Even to take seriously the opposing position is viewed like reading a propaganda flyer dropped from a Nazi airplane: don’t even read it, it will only twist your mind!

Even seven years ago, fans of Jordan Peterson were fond of the phrase “all I want is to have a reasoned debate.” Regardless of your opinion of Peterson or of whether he exemplified this, those who used this phrase revealed a desire for dialogue rather than war. But today, many of those same followers no longer say that. Now they say, “the left is out to get us and must be stopped” and their counterparts say, “the right is out to get us and must be stopped.” Reasoned debate is seen as no longer effective in light of the vile underhanded tactics of the other side (but not, of course, of my side).

What do we want from our political opponents? We want them to listen to us and to take our arguments seriously.

What role can Christianity have in this polarised society? Sadly Christians are often seen as part of the problem rather than the solution: sold out to one political party. But we should be clear that Christianity does not sit neatly on either side of the divide. That does not mean Christians should be moderate or “centrist,” as if none of the issues matter much. Christianity comes down strongly on many things, but those are spread across the political spectrum. The way Christians vote depends on which issues they judge to be the most important or pressing in the current circumstances.

Second, Christians are called to make peace in time of war. “Blessed are the peacemakers,” Jesus said, “for they will be called children of God.” Christians are called build bridges rather than burn them, to seek common ground rather than trying to obliterate their opponents. This can start with showing love and respect for the person behind the argument; by celebrating our common humanity before trying to argue a point.

Third, it means exemplifying the kind of attitude we want to see in our opponents. “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you,” Jesus told his disciples. What do we want from our political opponents? We want them to listen to us and to take our arguments seriously. We want them to stop making cheap caricatures of us and represent us at our best. We want them to break out of their echo chambers and read news from a variety of political leanings. We want them to open themselves to persuasion and be prepared to change their minds. Jesus suggests leading by example and doing those things first.

Fourth and finally, the Christian’s allegiance is to truth and justice above any tribe, any agenda. The real political situation is almost certainly complex, with much to be said for and against both sides. There are awkward facts that don’t fit our own political position; let’s admit them. The Christian commitment to truth means being ready to acknowledge the weaknesses, failings, and faults on our own side before we point the finger. It’s hard, I know. I am not perfect at it myself. But it’s a more Christlike moral standard to aim for than that of the culture warrior who excels at demolishing the enemy.

Restoring dialogue won’t be easy and may come at a high personal cost. But the cost is greater if we don’t try. My own desire is to see Christians taking the lead in the restoration process and showing the world what Christlike peacemaking can accomplish.