Analysis
Beyond The Rhetoric Of “Christian Genocide”: Our Reality
By Citizen Bolaji O. Akinyemi

Our Reality Beyond the Rhetoric of “Christian Genocide”
By Citizen Bolaji O. Akinyemi
After my earlier article, “Muslim/Muslim Ticket: Bearing the Cross of Injustice, Expecting Political Productivity,” and Barr. John Apollos Maton’s analysis titled “Restructuring the Cross: From Religious Lamentation to Constitutional Liberation,” I thought we had done justice to the matter and put it to rest.
However, the recent statement by the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN)—admitting that killings are ongoing but denying the existence of a Christian genocide—has reignited anger across religious divides. My inbox has been flooded with demands to address CAN’s position.
A Northern Muslim politician, reacting to the development, remarked:
> “The Christians in the North are docile. They have made several attempts to liberate themselves, but each effort is met with crises.
The Northern Christians are designed to be subservient. This age-long agenda is perpetuated through the Emirate system in the North and through lopsided employment recruitment. Northern Christians are living in conquered territories.”
That is not rhetoric but the reality behind why Deborah was stoned to death under the supervision of an educational institution and an indifferent government in Sokoto. The Sokoto ideology seeks to reclaim power from our so-called liberal Muslim president, whose reign has not reduced the killings. Yet, CAN appears willing to continue with a leadership that has failed to protect Christians. What a dilemma indeed.
The Noise and the Numbness
From Washington to Ottawa, foreign legislators and lobbyists now speak more loudly about the “Christian genocide” in Nigeria than many Nigerian pulpits. They cite numbers, pass motions, and threaten sanctions, while thousands of kilometres away, the blood on Africa’s fertile soil still glistens.
Farmers no longer till their fields; hunger has replaced harvest. Yet our lawmakers are too busy unpacking padded budgets to hear the cries from villages while Abuja sleeps securely behind armored gates.
The blood of the innocent has become the ink with which Nigeria’s tragic story is daily rewritten. From Plateau to Benue, from Southern Kaduna to Borno, crosses drip blood and altars turn to ashes.
Ironically, while elected leaders trade silence for political convenience, many anointed of God trade truth for access. The Church—meant to be the nation’s conscience—has become an echo chamber of caution, afraid to offend power while its flock is devoured by wolves.
From Prophets to Protocol Officers
Once, the Church spoke with moral thunder. Across history, men like Martin Luther King Jr. and Archbishop Desmond Tutu faced injustice armed only with conviction. In Nigeria today, Christianity has been reduced to a competition of cathedrals and crusades. The prophetic voice has been replaced by choirs of political convenience.
The rot did not start yesterday. Its seed was sown in the fiery confrontation between Rev. Yakubu Pam and President Olusegun Obasanjo. As Northern Chairman of the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), Pam accused the president of indifference to Christian killings. Obasanjo, visibly irritated, barked: “CAN my foot!”—a phrase that immortalized the contempt of political power toward the Church.
That clash marked CAN’s descent from prophecy to politics. The once-moral platform became a bargaining desk for access and appointments. “Northern CAN” and “National CAN” soon divided into factions—one seeking truth, the other proximity to the throne. The tension fractured Christian unity and contributed to the fall of Goodluck Jonathan’s Christian-led government in 2015.
Then came Muhammadu Buhari, who, in political irony, appointed Yakubu Pam—the once-prophet of protest—as Executive Secretary of the Nigerian Christian Pilgrims Commission (NCPC). The lion of resistance became the chaplain of the state.
Fast forward to 2023: another administration, another reward. The loudest defender of the Muslim/Muslim ticket, Bishop Stephen Adegbite, now occupies the same NCPC seat once held by Pam. History repeats itself—proof that political loyalty, not prophetic labour, earns promotion.
So, we must ask: Has the genocide stopped? Have these appointments ended the slaughter in Plateau, Benue, or Southern Kaduna? Have they healed the wounds of widows and orphans—or only healed the Church’s relationship with power?
CAN’s Tragic Drift
The Christian Association of Nigeria now denies any “pattern” in the killings, insisting that bullets do not discriminate. True—but bullets fired in impunity always find the powerless. When the conscience of a nation excuses murder as “patternless,” it becomes complicit in its people’s peril.
CAN was not created to serve presidents; it was created to serve Christians. It was never meant to negotiate for offices but to advocate for life. The NCPC cannot remain a gold medal for political loyalty. The Executive Secretary of a pilgrims’ agency should be a civic appointment, not a reward for ecclesiastical endorsement.
Among the Yoruba, it is said, “Bi òṣà o bá gbé ni, ṣe à sí ṣe ẹni bó ṣé bá à ni”—if a deity will not lift you up, it should at least leave you where it met you. Today’s clergy cult within CAN has lifted a few and left the body of Christ lower than it met it.
Our ecclesiastical hierarchy is heavy on politics, light on purpose. Every election cycle we hear: “Christians are being killed!” Yet once ballots are counted and bishops are courted, silence returns—and the killings continue.
We do not need a negotiating CAN; we need a protective CAN. We do not need bishops who queue at the Villa; we need shepherds who stand in the valley. Nigeria requires a Church that speaks truth to power, not one that waits for power’s permission to speak.
Beyond Outrage: What the Church Must Do
1. Build a Strategic Christian Security and Justice Desk
CAN and its denominational blocs must establish a permanent Security and Justice Commission—not to issue statements, but to collect data, document cases, support victims, and lobby the National Assembly for legislation that protects communities under attack. Documentation is defense; statistics speak louder than lamentation.
2. Forge Alliances Beyond the Pulpit
This is not a Christian-versus-Muslim war; it is a citizens-versus-impunity crisis. Extremists exploit poverty, politics, and failed policing. The Church should collaborate with Muslim clerics, civil-rights groups, and traditional rulers who also crave justice. Joint action can isolate fanatics and compel state accountability.
3. Hold Christian Politicians Accountable
It is not enough that public officers bear Christian names; their policies must bear Christian values—justice, mercy, and integrity. Churches should track performance, publish scorecards, and withdraw endorsement from underperforming “brothers” in office. Representation without righteousness is betrayal.
4. Reclaim the Moral Voice
When prophets grow silent, blood cries louder. The pulpit must again become a platform of truth, not entertainment. Messages that challenge power are not rebellion; they are redemption. A Church that fears losing presidential invitations more than losing its prophetic credibility has already lost both.
5. Transform Outrage into Organization
Every local church can be a cell of civic education and humanitarian response—training volunteers for relief, mediation, and early-warning systems. Tears must turn into tactics; prayers must produce policies.
Why the World Should Listen—but Nigerians Must Lead
Foreign advocates from Bill Maher to Senator Ted Cruz may raise alarms about Christian persecution, but they cannot rescue us from the consequences of our own apathy. External pressure may expose injustice, yet internal courage alone can end it. When outsiders speak louder than our pastors, the world sees our weakness, not their compassion.
America’s sanctions will not save Nigeria; accountability will. What we need is not foreign pity but domestic policy. Let our Senate hold hearings on rural insecurity. Let state assemblies legislate community policing frameworks. Let churches partner with data scientists and media houses to track every incident, name every victim, and follow every case to conviction.
Restoring the Prophetic Mandate
The Church must rediscover its threefold calling: Priesthood, Prophecy, and Policy.
Priesthood comforts the afflicted.
Prophecy confronts the oppressor.
Policy converts compassion into law.
A Church that prays without planning will keep burying its members while waiting for miracles it should manage. Faith without works is dead; faith without justice is deadly.
The Cry That Heaven Hears
“The voice of your brother’s blood cries to me from the ground,” God told Cain. That cry has reached heaven—but has it reached Aso Rock? Has it reached CAN’s executive chambers? Or has it been drowned by the applause of political appointments?
No president will stop the killing if the Church itself prefers comfort to confrontation. Heaven’s intervention waits for earthly obedience. Nigeria’s revival will not begin in crusades; it will begin in courage.
If we will not cry to the Sultan, let us at least cry to our own conscience. For the day we normalize genocide—against Christians, Muslims, or anyone—we crucify humanity again.
Conclusion: A Call to Rise
The blood of believers is not just a Christian tragedy; it is a national indictment. Every bullet fired at a worshiper tears a page from our constitution and our conscience. Unless the Church rises—not to trade influence but to defend faith—the next memorial will not be for victims but for the death of our collective soul.
Our task is clear:
- Silence no more!
- Strategy, not sentiment!!
- Faith that speaks, not fear that negotiates!!!
Only then will Nigeria’s story move beyond the rhetoric of “Christian genocide” to the reality of collective redemption.
Analysis
It is time to let Nyesom Wike go
By Onwuasoanya FCC Jones, PhD.
I was trying to write something more extensive about how the current crisis ravaging our country’s supposed main opposition Party started, but as I wrote, I realised that it was becoming too lengthy, hence, I decided to take out an important part of that long essay and publish it as a separate post, to avoid the message getting lost in the voluminous write-up, that I might still conclude and publish.
Politics, especially, democratic politicking cannot be played without factoring in public opinion. The public opinion might be informed by propaganda or outright fake news, but if it is the popular opinion, then, a responsible government must take it seriously and work to correct the wrong opinion or the actual reality.
Even in Communist States like North-Korea, Cuba and China and authoritarian democracies like Russia, Belarus and elsewhere, people’s opinions are not discarded as worthless, but they are closely monitored, and while these governments invest huge resources into State propaganda, they do not also fail to take important actions to defuse tension when public opinion is getting too negative concerning a particular action.
Nyesom Wike’s endorsement of Mr. President and his subsequent contributions towards the successful election of the President in 2023, cannot be denied, and the President has shown enough gratitude by appointing him as the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, an appointment that should have been originally reserved for top members of the ruling Party.
While it must be acknowledged that the FCT Minister is doing some fantastic jobs in the FCT, it is also obvious that he is being distracted by his involvement in the tussle for the control of his own Party. His actions have also brought immerse reputational damage on the APC administration at the federal level, as he regularly puts himself forward as an untouchable appointee of the President, even as some of his actions could not have been possible without his access to some presidential protections.
The FCT Minister wouldn’t have had the resources and security to challenge sitting governors of his own Party to the extent of attempting to evict them from the Party’s secretariat, if he didn’t have access to enormous federal government accessories. His insistence on remaining in the PDP, while working openly for the APC, is outright political treachery, which the President must not continue to condone. If the Minister loves our Party so much and detests his own Party that much, then, he should quit the PDP officially and join the APC.
Mr. Wike is ruining our Party’s reputation before Nigerians and the international community, and the sooner the President relieves him of his job as FCT Minister, to enable him focus more resources and attention to “rebuilding” his Party and pocketing its structure, the better for us as a Party and as a nation.
Onwuasoanya FCC Jones, PhD is a former State Publicity Secretary of the All Progressives Congress.
It was difficult to miss the trending videos, photos and reports of Nigeria’s Federal Capital Territory (FCT) Minister Nyesom Wike and Naval Officer Lieutenant A. M. Yerima staring each other down at a property site in Abuja, the Nigerian capital, recently.
The full picture may never be known, but there are many versions of the narratives, which may or may not be from Wike’s office or the military establishment. There are numerous write-ups and analyses on whether Wike or the officer was right or wrong.
Perhaps, one day, an opportunity will present itself for various sides to tell their own versions of the event. In this digital age, there are many possibilities to colour stories, or even mislead the public.
But what happened between Wike and the naval officer was yet another portrayal of a power show (thanks to Fela Kuti, the Afro-beat King), and a failure of law and order in the society. It started a long time ago, and it is getting worse.
Individuals, institutions and governments use and misuse their authorities, their wealth, and their instruments of power including positions, guns, uniforms, security personnel… – to force their way, and achieve their objectives. Whether the objectives are right or wrong, it does not matter.
The use of established, official adjudication process is disregarded, and not even explored. Might is right.
There are real-life examples of how it happens every day. At levels small and big.
A soldier stands by the side of the highway and waves down every truck (or trailer, as we call it) that passes by. He needs a lift, after all, he is in uniform, purportedly serving the nation. Wrong! He is on a mission for illegal extortion. He is one of the many service personnel in uniform who accompany trucks across the country on highways. It is not official business. But they profit from the fact that there are many roadblocks manned by police, customs, immigration agents, and other unformed entities.
Some of these entities extort “monies” from truck drivers for “assisting” them through the roadblocks. A soldier sitting next to the truck driver means that the truck gets a through pass without paying an illegal toll. Instead, the soldier is “settled” by the truck driver for the “service”. It is cheaper and faster for the truck driver.
Some individuals with strong connections in the military can obtain the services of soldiers to help them secure their properties against intruders. Whoever can mobilise soldiers to secure the property has a higher claim, irrespective of whether the property is illegally acquired.
A tenant who fails in his financial obligations but can pay his way through the police or the court can scare his landlord away.
Policemen accompany criminals and “big men”, who break the law, and provide cover or security to keep others at a distance.
The rogue behaviour of these military or unformed persons are not necessarily backed or approved by their superiors or their organisations.
Yet, there are too many examples of the use/misuse of uniformed security officials for illegal purposes. It is not limited to the uniformed services. Politicians also use their positions to bend rules and circumvent normal processes and procedures.
Some senior government officials assume all manner of powers. A well-connected politician can take over public roads, public facilities and access areas, and “nothing will happen”. Having a political title is power.
Such power is used to determine who votes and how. Hence, snatching of ballot boxes and disenfranchising voters in so many ways has become the norm.
A wealthy person can “buy” security officials, or pay for the rights of ordinary persons to be taken away. An innocent citizen can be arrested for any reason, jailed or detained illegally for a long time.
If and when the citizen musters the means to go to court against the wealthy or money bag, the case could go on for years until the highest bidder prevails.
It is not a new trend, but it is wrong, and it must stop. It may not be easy to stop, but it can be minimised. Unfortunately, the trend is rather on the increase.
In full public glare, Wike and the naval officer demonstrated the use of “power” to determine who/what is right.
Sadly, it degenerated into another “two-fighting” power play – the one representing government power and the other, a decoy for his Oga, representing the power of the military uniform. A regular citizen could not have stood against either of them. S/he would be destroyed and “nothing will happen”.
By shouting at each other in public, Wike and the naval officer represent the unqualified use of authority that has effectively replaced the application of due process for adjudication of contending claims.
The FCT authorities and the former Chief of Naval Staff, Vice Admiral Awwal Zubairu Gambo, who is said to be the owner of the property in question, could have used other legal and dignified mechanisms of adjudication to settle the matter, without unnecessary drama. There was no need for the “show of power.”
This legitimate process of adjudication is no longer attractive to those who have the power to determine the outcomes of their own matters. They use their positions, wealth, uniforms, and paraphernalia of office to force their way through. Those lacking such powers are denied justice.
Both Wike and the naval chief will ultimately sort out their differences. The bravado in public only reinforces the “powerlessness” of the ordinary citizen.
Citizen Nigerian has no standing against Wike and his arsenal, or the naval officer and his boss. Under these circumstances, it is immaterial whether Citizen Nigerian has genuine documents or legal claims; S/he is the loser in the game between and among the powerful in society.
Bunmi Makinwa is an Analyst and CEO, AUMIQUEI Communication for Leadership.
An unlikely coincidence of elections in over a period of 45 days period from the middle of September to the end of October 2025 has cast a new light on the state of democratic governance in Africa and now threatens to unscramble the ritual hollowness that has become the fate of elections on the continent under the indifferent watch of the African Union and other regional institutions in Africa. How the continent’s leaders and institutions handle the aftermath could have serious implications for the stability of the continent.
On 16 September 2025, Malawi went to the polls to elect their president. The last time the country did that in 2019, it produced results that were so transparently rigged that five judges of the Constitutional Court of Malawi wearing bullet-proof vests were needed to set aside the result declared by the electoral commission. That was only the second time in Africa’s history that a court would nullify the declared outcome in a presidential election.
The annulled result had favoured then incumbent and fifth president of the Republic, Peter Mutharika (a long-serving law professor and brother of Malawi’s third president, Bingu wa Mutharika), in a contest against Lazarus Chakwera, a theologian and pastor with the Assemblies of God Church in Malawi. In the re-run that followed the judicial nullification in 2020, Chakwera prevailed, and the people ousted Peter Mutharika from the presidency.
The contest in September 2025 pitted 85-year-old Peter Mutharika in a sequel against his nemesis, Lazarus Chakwera. In the preceding five years, President Chakwera had managed to implausibly squander the considerable civic goodwill that powered him into office. Despite being 15 years younger than President Mutharika, President Chakwera lost resoundingly to his older opponent who secured 56.8% of the vote.
Malawi may have vindicated the trust of both the voters and of the candidates in a test of the will of the people but it is an outlier in a continent that has grown used to seeing elections as charades. This reluctance for credible ballots was evident when the central African country of Cameroon went to the polls nearly one month later on 12 October 2025, to elect their president. The incumbent, Paul Biya, was a 92 year-old whose sojourn in Cameroon’s government dates back to his appointment as Chief of Staff in the cabinet of the Minister of Education in 1964. In 1975, President Ahmadou Ahidjo made him Prime Minister. On 6 November 1982, two days after the resignation of President Ahidjo on grounds of ill-health, Biya ascended to the presidency and has ruled the country for 43 years since.
At 92, Paul Biya is the oldest serving president in the world, only outlasted in office by Teodoro Obiang, president of the neighbouring Equatorial Guinea, who has been in office since he toppled his uncle, Macias Nguema, in August 1979 before executing him. In the election this year, his main opponent was Issa Tchiroma, a 35-year veteran in the cabinet of President Biya, who stepped down from the ruling Cameroon Peoples’ Democratic Movement (CPDM) and from the Cabinet in order to run against his former boss.
It took the Constitutional Council 15 days to tabulate the figures in an election which had 8.1 million registered voters with an average turnout of about 68.5%. When it eventually declared that outcome on 27 October, the Constitutional Council announced Biya as winner with 53.66% of the votes in disputed results and in an election in which he was unable to campaign because of infirmity. Independent analysts who have examined the official numbers insist he “couldn’t have won.”
With the result, Biya, who was born one month after Adolf Hitler assumed office as German Chancellor and in the month preceding the inauguration of Franklin Delano Roosevelt as the president of the United States of America – entered upon his seventh presidential term in a country in which the median age belongs to children who were born in 2006. By the time of the next election, he will be nearly one century old. In the wake of the announcement, United Nations Secretary-General, António Guterres, pointedly declined to extend congratulations to President Biya, instead focusing his attention on the need for a “thorough and impartial investigation” of the “post-electoral violence and…. reports of excessive use of force.”
Paul Biya can at least claim that he had a genuine contest against a genuine opponent. In Côte d’Ivoire, West Africa, the contest two weeks later on 25 October 2025 pitted incumbent president, Alassane Ouattara, whose ambitions drove the country to the brink of fragmentation at the beginning of the millennium – against no one.
When the result
was announced, President Ouattara, a child of the Second World War, having been born on New Year’s Day in 1942, contrived at 83 years to award himself nearly 90% of the vote and a fourth term in office in an election from which he barred every credible competition. That was indeed a generous four percentage points lower than the 94% of the votes that he awarded himself in 2020. In power since 2010, Ouattara was supposed to be term-limited after two terms of ten years in office. At 83, he expects to rule until at least he is 88, which would still be five years younger than President Biya’s current age.
The election in Tanzania four days after Côte d’Ivoire’s took place in a graveyard. The incumbent and candidate of the ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi (Party of the Revolution) was Samia Suluhu Hassan, who inherited the office when her principal, John Pombe Magufuli, died in March 2021.
Ahead of the contest, however, it became evident that Samia would not tolerate a contest. Under her leadership, the government unleashed what Amnesty International described as a “wave of terror” designed to make her candidacy unopposed and the ruling party unchecked in its march to a pre-determined seventh decade in power. On the day of the contest on 29 October, protests unexpectedly erupted in key cities, such as Dar-Es-Salaam, Arusha, Mbeya, and Mwanza. Under cover of a media blackout complemented by an internet shutdown imposed on the day of the ballot, Samia’s government orchestrated a campaign of targeted mass murder in population centres suspected to be opposition strongholds.
President Samia’s electoral commission declared her winner with 87% voter turnout and nearly 98% of the vote. As Tanzanians in different parts of the country woke up to find bodies on their courtyards with fatal injuries from unknown persons and morgues overflowing with fresh cadavers reportedly being disappeared under instructions of the government, President Samia turned up at a military base in new capital city, Dodoma, where on the fourth night following the vote, she was stealthily inaugurated for a new term.
Initial estimates putting the casualty count in the hundreds were quickly eclipsed by more updated tallies of over 3,000 killed in under 72 hours. Fresh reporting by the New Humanitarian put the number over 5,000 and suggests that the casualty count may indeed be over 10,000. Around the country, initial trepidation gave way to alarm at the scale of the massacre. That alarm has now been ousted by outrage.
Meanwhile, for the first time in their histories, official election observer missions deployed by the African Union (AU) and the Southern African Development Community (SADC) both concluded separately that the election in Tanzania “did not comply with AU principles.” This caught many people unprepared. Now both institutions are scrambling to figure out what to do. There is an emerging consensus that President Samia is illegitimate. The leaders of both institutions must articulate consequences and citizens have a right to expect them to do so clearly.
The consensus is also growing around the urgent need for an independent, international investigation and accountability. Meanwhile, Tanzania’s young people prepare for nationwide protests on 9 December 2025. The symbolism is significant: it is World Anti-Corruption Day; it is the anniversary of the adoption of the Genocide Convention; and it is Tanzania’s Independence Day.
A lawyer and a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at chidi.odinkalu@tufts.edu.
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