by Ebenezer Obadare
The controversy triggered by Mallam Nasir el-Rufai’s comments about Jesus Christ on Twitter
is instructive on several levels. Here, I shall limit myself to two
immediate implications. In the first instance, it is a sordid
demonstration of the deterioration of public debate in Nigeria. Given
the quality of most of the arguments (sic) on display, especially from
so-called “Born Agains”, it makes perfect sense that successive
governments continue to get away with frequent assaults on our
collective intelligence. Second, and more poignantly, it perfectly
encapsulates the capacity of religious bigotry to detract from what is
important about politics and social life in the country (or any country
for that matter), substituting in its place an indulgent moral outrage
over a purported injury to the sacred. This is an unfortunate situation,
especially when one takes a long-term view of things.
In the short term though, what the Christian Association of Nigeria’s attack on the former FCT Minister (for retweeting a sarcastic tweet
on how President Goodluck Jonathan’s aides might have reacted to Jesus’
criticism of the current administration) has accomplished, is to create
a farcical diversion from the real issue: former Education Minister Oby
Ezekwesili’s comment on the fate of funds said to have been left by the
Obasanjo administration in the country’s Excess Crude Account, and the
totally obtuse response by some of President Jonathan’s spokespersons.
As a result, and no thanks to CAN, what should have been a timely
opportunity to discuss the administration’s overall fiscal strategy has
been allowed to mutate into a sterile debate about the definition of
blasphemy.
The role of CAN in this process of
perverse trivialisation should worry all Nigerians. As the pre-eminent
organisation of Christians across the country, CAN wields enormous
symbolic power, and it is precisely because of this that its word
carries a lot of weight. At least there was a time it did. However, over
the past two decades, CAN has all but surrendered its moral right to be
taken seriously as an institutional intercessor on behalf of
long-suffering Nigerians — Christians and non-Christians. The el-Rufai
controversy, specifically the statement released last week on CAN’s
behalf by Dr. Musa Asake, its National General Secretary, is proof that
the association has totally lost its way.
For a proper appreciation of what is at
stake here, let me recapitulate briefly the chain of events that
eventuated in the current controversy- and CAN’s statement. Clearly
worried by the reported depletion of Nigeria’s foreign reserves under
this and the immediate past administration, Mrs. Ezekwesili, delivering
the convocation lecture at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, had
challenged the Jonathan administration to explain the whereabouts of
Nigeria’s oil revenues. The response of President Jonathan
spokespersons, mainly Information Minister Labaran Maku and Senior
Special Assistant for Public Affairs Doyin Okupe, was classic ad
hominem. Both spent more time divining the former minister’s political
motives than grappling with the substance of her accusation.
This of course is totally in character
with this administration. Its record of ascribing abstruse political
motives to the fairest criticism has become legendary, hence Ogunyemi
Bukola’s comment on Twitter that “If Jesus criticises Jonathan’s
government, Maku/Abati/Okupe will say he slept with Mary
Magdalene…LWKMD.” “LWKMD” here basically translates to “Laugh wan kill
me die,” a Nigerian Internet slang indicating that the affected comment
is offered- and should be taken- lightheartedly.
El-Rufai most probably got the message, hence his retweeting
of what, essentially, was a joke cracked at the expense of the Jonathan
government and its spokespersons. Does the decision by the FCT Minister
to retweet (a decision that helped bring the original tweet to a
larger audience and the attention of the media) translate into an
endorsement? Probably. After all, el-Rufai is a relentless critic of
this government, and he has never disguised his contempt (which millions
of Nigerians happen to share) for the way President Jonathan goes about
the business of governance. In any case, in the hierarchy of jokes out
there about the Jonathan administration, Bukola’s certainly does not
rank very high. I have come across some deadly ones, and believe me,
this one does not even come close. But that is beside the point. The
non-funniness of a joke may stain its aesthetic quality. In the digital
age, it most certainly will stymie its capacity to go viral; but who
cares? A joke is a joke, and, after all is said and done, it is its
political import that matters. In the specific case of this joke, the
political target is obvious. It is the Jonathan administration and its
bumbling ways, and the fact that it went instantly viral must have
caused the administration considerable unease.
It was at this point that CAN entered
the fray, and its intervention was nothing short of a political gift to
the Jonathan administration. At least in terms of sheer diversion, the
administration could not have asked for more. Astonishingly, in its
statement, CAN did not have anything to say about the initial
accusations that prompted the original tweet. It could not be
bothered about the serious allegations of financial mismanagement that
Ezekwesili had levelled against the government. Nor did it see anything
improper or morally repugnant in the fact that, rather than respond to
those allegations, sundry official spokespersons had chosen instead to
draw attention to Ezekwesili’s assumed political calculations. Instead,
CAN was merely enraged that el-Rufai had disparaged the Christian faith,
a capital offence, presumably, for which he had remained “unrepentant
and unremorseful”. Lest el-Rufai did not appreciate the point, CAN
proceeded to remind him that it was barely holding back its horde of
peace-loving Christians from a collective assault on the former FCT
Minister, and that the righteous horde will certainly be unleashed “next
time he makes any other explosive statement that impugns on (sic) the
Person of Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.” In perhaps the most
chilling part of the statement, CAN warned: “We must state that unlike
others, Christians do not shed blood, take life, kill or maim others at
the slightest provocation. Nevertheless, we must warn el-Rufai not to
take Christians for granted and to inform him that it is with great
difficulty that we have had to restrain our youths from taking the law
into their hands; which by extension means bringing el-Rufai to justice
on account of his incitement and insult against the Christian faith.”
And that was that. Actually, no. CAN’s
statement in fact contained other things, mostly of the same threatening
sort, all apparently geared at intimidating el-Rufai, and making him
regret his fine decision to retweet a politically subversive tweet.
CAN’s statement raises more questions
than answers, and says a whole lot more about what CAN itself has
become, than the character of el-Rufai as a supposed blasphemer. For
instance, why did CAN shy away from addressing the issues of fiscal
accountability raised by Ezekwesili? Why is the imagined slander of
Jesus more disagreeable than the fate of the Nigerian treasury, and the
lives and security of average Nigerians? Surely, if Jesus Christ is
all-powerful, as He indeed is, He should be able to handle whatever
issues He may have with those who hold his name in vain. Why then does
CAN get so easily outraged over an apparent slight on Jesus Christ, when
it will not throw a stone in anger over the killing of innocent
Nigerians by Nigerian policemen, pervasive hunger in the land, incessant
power outages, decayed infrastructure, a collapsed educational system,
rampant corruption, or any of the other things that ail us as a nation?
What will it take, for instance, for CAN to show similar anger about the
clear perversion of justice seen in the case of the former assistant
director in the Police Pension Office, John Yakubu Yusufu?
These are important questions.
Fortunately, the answer to them is not far-fetched. The fact of the
matter is that the CAN leadership, having sold its soul for a mess of
pottage, has become an extension of the Nigerian political class. With a
few significant exceptions, its raison detre is, most shamefully, the
shielding of the political elite from legitimate criticism. Thus, when
its members pray for Nigerian politicians, they are basically praying
for themselves and their own material sustenance. That is why, these
days, if you read any story about CAN in a Nigerian newspaper, chances
are it is a story of unwholesome dissension within its upper echelons,
and unbecoming saber-rattling over patronage and political access.
As a de facto extension of the
semi-criminal racket that runs the Nigerian state, CAN epitomises the
moral turmoil in the Nigerian society, and the shameful statement it
released in condemnation of el-Rufai is a perfect testimony to its
ethical surrender. Either it must reinvent itself- or be disbanded.
•Obadare teaches Sociology at the University of Kansas in the United States. He wrote in via obadare@ku.edu
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