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Christian perceptions of Islam and society in relation to Boko Haram and recent events in Jos and northern Nigeria
p. 85-109
Résumé
The rhetoric on and around religious conflict in Nigeria has revolved around the two main religions of Christianity and Islam. Although the growth of the two religions in the country has afforded them the latitude of being instruments for broad national negotiations, the growing diversity within them has led only to growing antipathy between their adherents. This has been further worsened by the emergence of Boko Haram, a phenomenon which has not only added new perspectives to the discourse on religion and national unity in Nigeria, but has also encouraged strong desires for reciprocal action among those affected by the movement’s violence, and a growing militancy within various agencies of Christianity. This work gauges the various perceptions and perspectives of Christians towards Islam in contemporary Nigeria, considering factors such as identity, geography, and the growing dynamism in Christian belief and doctrine concerning ‘the other’. It argues that there are four main divisions into which Christianity in Nigeria has evolved based on issues surrounding Islam. These divisions (Conservative Hierarchical, Conservative Egalitarian, Liberal Political, and Radical) have presented various reactions based on their histories and present predicaments. And although it cannot be conclusively argued that Christians have a single, general point of view on Islam’s ‘bloody corridors’, the increasing violence, which has affected Christians, has created an atmosphere in which the rhetoric can easily slide towards calls for revenge, even when there is no true logic for it.
Texte intégral
Introduction
1Recent violent events in northern Nigeria, and worldwide generally, seem to reaffirm Huntington’s hypothesis of a ‘Clash in Civilisations’. Although the phrase itself has attained cliché status from both its opponents and proponents, there is little denying the fact that historically dynamic identity leanings have become the major factors for conflict in contemporary times; and even where they do not seem to be present, they in one way or the other emerge subliminally in the wider configurations and designs of belligerents of almost all contemporary conflicts.
2The case of Islam and Christianity in Nigeria presents a compelling thrust to this argument. In general, since 2001 after the World Trade Center bombings in New York, many Christians in Nigeria have joined in the fray of the narrative about ‘the bloody corridors’ of Islam. This was significantly more so for Christians in the north-central state of Plateau. Just three days before the New York events, their own violent event occurred. The Jos Crisis, as it came to be known, occurred on a Friday, and significantly after the Jum’maat prayers of 7 September. Although different narratives, both remote and immediate, have been presented, quite a number of Christians in Jos conclusively alleged that a Muslim agenda to overwhelm a predominantly Christian area was in the offing. Hence, just before its internationalisation on 11 September 2001, the perceptions of Islam’s bloody corridors had begun to sow a seed within the rhetoric in Jos and the neighbourhood of Central Nigeria. This ignored Christianity’s own bloody past, a past upon which the average Nigerian Christian has hardly been enlightened. Christianity in Nigeria came with more of a promise of individual opportunity in Western values and systems than with the collective promise of heavenly bliss and community which Islam gave. Therefore, while Nigerian Christianity carried an air of civility, it looked down upon the traditionalism of Islam and its adherents – most especially in northern Nigeria – who had initially rejected Western opportunities. In contrast, northern Islam looked down on a people they saw as gullible to the West and its values. This conflict of perceptions, which should have phased out with time, has only been transformed into a variety of instruments which are now the roots of new conflicts and even new negotiations.
3Although the symbolisms of the two religions have become the main instruments for broad negotiations and the general building of perceptions, these symbolisms present false pictures of strong unified religious civilisations, powerful enough to control their adherents and thereby holding forth the flag of their people. In reality, the religions do not hold forth these flags; instead, shattered fragments within them have torn apart their unity, dividing them into small groups in attrition, which, although bearing definite features of the religious civilisation, wave the different pieces of the flag to the gallery. These different flags in relation to the perception of a religion being a unified civilisation have primarily prompted the reasons by which conflicts have not only emerged but are escalated. Nigeria presents an interesting case in that its size and the proportions of the various adherents of the two religions have further increased the complication of its religious perceptions and determinations. This has further placed the nation’s politics onto the platform of the two religions.
4Modern Christianity, unlike Islam in most secular states, has come to terms uncomfortably with the realisation of modernism’s anti-religious stance on society and on the apparatus of the state. Islam’s theology, on the other hand, legitimately places it within the organs of society and state (Falola 1998). This has thereby placed it in direct conflict with secularism in quite a large number of states and with both modernists and peoples of other religions. In defining politics in Islam, there are considerations on whether one deals with the relationship between Islam, its history, and politics in societies as a whole (Hassan 2002), or singles out various cases and relationships observed from different circumstances of “dissent to dissidence” of some purveyors of the religion based on their desire for reform within the religion (Last 2013). In both cases, one thing stands out: the question of tolerance by Islam for certain Muslims or of Muslims for non-Islamic tendencies both politically or individually. In the latter case, what predicates an acceptable level of ‘the other’s’ points of view by Muslims, and vice-versa? Do these determinations encourage a sort of reciprocity of perceptions between Muslims and non-Muslims, or does it plunge the two into polarities? Furthermore, how does the discourse around Islam in the case of Nigeria affect the credo and the perspectives of ‘the others’?
5For the most part, Nigeria’s case brings to mind Huntington’s ‘clash’ – but is it the clash of ‘civilisations’ or, as Abdu (2010) argues, of ‘identities’? The localised Nigerian conflict discourse has encouraged the migration of identity groups into the arena of ‘civilisations’. It is common for most of the distinct (and even hardly distinguishable) linguistic groups to carry the mantra of a ‘nation’. And since Nigerian Independence in 1960, smaller groups have continually struggled to ‘emancipate’ themselves from the narratives and perceived influences of the dominant groups. This struggle has propagated hybrids of identity which have relied on various re-creations of history and legend (Mang 2012). Among these various categories of identity delineations, Christianity and Islam have carved out not just polarising niches, but have also inscribed within their adherents new constructs about themselves and of ‘the others’. These two religions have, in many cases, either fused with the narratives and traditions of the emerging ‘civilisations’ or ‘identities’ or, in other cases, have eased out conflicting narratives or traditions. These fused identities have helped to establish a larger Nigerian polarity between Christianity and Islam, and thus there is a convenience of symbolising most conflicts as either religious or carrying ethnic strings.
6This chapter analyses Christian perceptions of the influence and impact of Islam on society since the 1999 issues of Shariah, and relates the various issues with the present events concerning Boko Haram. What do Christians perceive as the politics of Islam, in the light of what they assume are the emerging and re-emerging attempts at asserting Islam and Islamic values in northern Nigeria’s polity and society?
7The paper first briefly looks into historical cases of post-colonial Islamic dissent in northern Nigeria, discussing approaches towards dissension from secular authority and the immediate causes of uprisings which occurred. It also looks at how Christians and other non-Muslims have been affected in these cases. In relation to this, it further discusses the perceptions of contemporary Christian society and tries to relate how much their insight into the history of Islamic dissent in the country has affected their present perceptions since the emergence of Boko Haram. The chapter revolves around the following questions:
Is there a general Nigerian Christian view of Islam’s influence in politics? If there is, what is it?
How much of the history of Islam in Nigeria has influenced these views?
Do Christians see deprivation or the lack of “entitlements”,1 as is being asserted by many, as an integral reason for some Muslim scholars calling for dissent, or do they see the cause of dissension as arising from a broader agenda(s)?
What is (are) the broader agenda(s)?
What are the changing Christian perceptions of traditional Islam when considering the effect of violence by Boko Haram?
Is contemporary Christian leadership (most especially the fast-growing Pentecostal Church) influencing a radical change in tolerance and dissension within Christian society and politics against political Islam?
8There is a growing quantity of literature on Christian–Muslim relations in northern Nigeria, mainly historical and focusing on the central areas. This is based on the fact that the spread of Christianity in the area was in essence limited to areas that had less contact with Islam or where there were non-Muslim populations. Boer (1979: 161-163) and Crampton (1976: 72-80) describe the process by which access to various northern groups by missionaries was restricted, and how restrictions on missionary work or any show of Christianity were imposed within the emirates, with exceptions in areas designated as sabon garuruwa (Hausa for “visitors’ quarters”; sing.: sabon gari) and within Zaria. Ozigi & Ocho (1981: 18-27) give detailed accounts of the process in Zaria and other predominantly Muslim areas. In general, Christian scholars, whether from the West or Nigeria, have argued there was a concerted effort by the colonial authorities to sustain the status quo and support the Muslim North. In contrast, scholars such as Ayandele (1966: 129-133) differed on the Christian narrative of a concerted process by the colonial government to restrict Christianity and missionary activity in the North. He instead points out that there was a realisation of the possibility that liberal Christian perspectives would conflict with Muslim society – which had an organised, controlled hierarchy and social structure that provided a relatively better system of pre-colonial rulership than other areas, a situation which added value to colonial bureaucracy (Last 2008: 43-44).
9Nevertheless, some authors, mainly northern Christian scholarly elites and largely from within the minority ethnicities (Ozigi & Ocho 1981; Turaki 1993; Logams 2004), have emphasised an obvious identity demarcation based on both ethnic and religious divides. Logams, for example, argues that Christian identity within the minorities helped foster a bond which was built upon the following tripod: Christian evangelism, which tried to homogenise the minority groups; Western medicine, which showed promise and worked its own miracles; and education, which helped to produce a new social class of egalitarian minorities, who saw themselves on a par and even higher than certain classes within the North (Logams 2004: 246-273). These elites of the Christian North regularly attempted to raise issues about the dominance of Islam and Islamic traditions, questioning the convenience of the relationship between the Muslim hegemony and colonial authorities. Even where the colonial authorities tried to balance these seeming imbalances,2 animosities and complaints continued and, with time, various missionary and church organisations in these minority areas began to emerge as homogeneous monoliths, garnering collective support within a growing group. Although Christian populations in northern Nigeria are relatively fewer than Muslims, there are indications of a slight increase in the number of Christians between 1950 and the present (see Ibrahim 1991: 116; Ostien 2012: 3). Some have postulated that this growth might have been greater if not for the process establishing the colonial North, which protected and propped up Islam above other religions. This eventually continued even after Independence, restricting most of the North to Islamic tradition (Turaki 1993: 143-175).
10These views of the protection and propping up of Islam and Islamic traditions to the disadvantage of Christianity have been held mainly by Christian scholars (most of them theologians, clergymen, and prominent northern Christian apologists). And at no other time before now did the narrative become louder than during the events propagating Shariah from 1999 onwards. Ostien bluntly (and rightly) states that Nigeria’s Christians deplored the revival of Shariah from 1999 and have postulated “many theories about its causes” (Ostien 2006: 221). He further argues that “Christians missed an opportunity to settle with the Muslims the place of Islamic law in Nigeria on reasonable, honorable, and stable terms” by continuously fighting, from the time of Independence, against legislation which would have created a balance between the inherited British legal system and Shariah (Ostien 2006: 224-229). Whether this argument holds water, considering current events, depends on a sense of objectivity uncommon in the discourse on religion in Nigeria generally; but even more so, it depends on the various perceptions Christians have of Muslim reactions to, and narratives for, the insurgencies instigated by fundamentalists carrying the flag of Islam.
Christian narratives and views of Islam
11In recent times, Christian churches and umbrella bodies in northern Nigeria have found it difficult to agree on a common perspective on political Islam. Although there is a general perspective that Islam in Nigeria has historically had a violent past, with trickles of it still existing (Tyoden 1993: Logams 2004), Christians in Nigeria present a variety of narratives around issues of the theocracy of Islam in contrast to the ‘Christian’ attempt at separating religion and state. A large number point to issues of political dominance and in some cases violence indicative of Islam in the North. This seeming threat is interpreted differently within the Christian population in Nigeria. Most conservative Christians take a cautionary look at pockets of Islamic dissent as unitary actions which must be addressed as such, through either dialogue or soft threats. The more radical Christian groups present the narrative of a jihadist game plan to overwhelm Nigeria with a religious and ethnic agenda. The latter find dialogue rather deceitful, and this demography mainly comprises a largely youthful population that has grown up in a Nigeria that has acquired with time new identity constructions, which have revolved around ethnicity and religion.
12The customary divide between Catholics and Protestants has given way to more fundamental Pentecostals or Pentecostal-like groups. The growth of Pentecostalism (which has virtually invaded both Catholic and Protestant churches) has inspired a growing extremism. With the Christian rhetoric of ‘salvation’ propped up with a heavenly mandate to conquer the world with God-given success, Pentecostals view themselves as placed between the nexus of salvation and conquering the world. A completely different worldview is found among the pious conservatives, who desire heaven as their final goal and see the world’s pleasures as ephemeral (Marshall 2009: 81). Although, since colonial times, Western influences and modernism have influenced a perceived class elevation for Christians relative to Muslims, the relative poverty and deprivation evidenced in the North compared with the South has encouraged an illogical but evidentiary sense of advantage in one religion relative to the other. The dominant narrative of prosperity and success through faith attracted a “new thinking” and eventually new class stratifications (ibid. 84-85).
13The value of Western education and exposure and other attributes of modernism have encouraged the relativism of dynamic or progressive religion mainly among Christians, both within the religion and outside it. The church in the North was even more prone to this, because, to many converts of Christianity in northern Nigeria, the religion came with these modern opportunities, thereby making it a rich alternative to Islam. Considering that most of the groups which accepted Christianity in these northern areas had one story or another of alienation from the Islamic establishment throughout history (Tambo 1978: 213; Turaki 1993: 63-79; Logams 2004: 29-53), the new religion did two things principally: firstly, it helped remove the nomenclature of denigration that had been used for a long time for the minorities; and secondly, Western education further elevated their social status. Most of the early missions were established in areas already exposed to Islam either through peaceful relations or through a history of conflict. Also, in most cases, these new Christians had, before conversion, been labelled “pagans” and “heathen” (Tambo 1978: 203-205; Ibrahim 1991: 116), and therefore Christianity not only presented itself as an avenue for finding God but also as an instrument for elevating these pagans and heathen up to a higher social class of monotheism and modern European values (Ibrahim 1991: 119). This narrative further helped to strengthen a pro-Christian identity within the minorities in the North. Thus, within the more evangelical groups which became established in these areas, there grew a commonality. These evangelical groups had a distinct identity leaning, from the more elitist Anglican and, in some cases, Catholic churches which had carried with them a large following from the South. In most cases (with exceptions in the case of the Church Missionary Society (Anglican Church) and Roman Catholic Missions in Zaria, Kano, and the Benue/Plateau areas) these churches had very little contact with natives in these northern minority areas. The more proactive Sudan United Mission/Sudan Interior Mission groups, both promoted by evangelical groups in the UK and US, and splinters of the Baptist, Lutheran, and Methodist missions had greater depth within the remote areas of the minorities, with most of them working on and assimilating aspects of these societies with a blend of Christianity which more or less encouraged piety and submission.
14This modernism associated with Christianity now turned the tables in terms of perceptions. The pagans and heathen now became an elite class, transiting from obscurity to an internationalised religious identity, comparable to Islam and with a padding of modernity. A large proportion of Christians, not only in northern Nigeria, but also in the South, have perceived the slow growth in modernity in most northern areas as a product of the peoples’ adherence to a rigid Islamic tradition with restricted options for modernity. Western education was a prized prospect and was aggressively acquired by the minorities (largely Christian) relative to the Hausa and Fulani (mainly Muslim). This growing number of educated elites in these areas, further spurred by developments in the south of the country, encouraged a persona of ‘Christian modernism’, relative to ‘Muslim inflexibility’.
15The other issue, referred to earlier, is that of a common fear by most Christians of the theocratic character of Islam. Although evident throughout the late colonial era and most especially in relation to the politics of Independence and the First Republic, two events stood out over time. The first was the controversy surrounding Nigeria’s membership of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) in 1986, with a resurgence of the issue in 2001 (Falola 1998: 69, 89-94). This controversy not only raised concerns about the secular identity of Nigeria, but also invigorated the claims by Christian apologists of the seeming growth and dominance of Islamism in Nigerian politics. These apologists and quite a number of non-Muslim intellectuals had fought throughout post-Independence against what they saw as a threat from Islam, first in the strength of a northern party led by an influential religious hegemony, and secondly, the already established Shariah judicial system which was prevalent in the North. Quoting Anderson (1976), Ostien presents the fact that modernity tried to overshadow a long-standing religious tradition unique in the Muslim world at its time:
The case of Northern Nigeria was, indeed, almost unique, for up till (1960) this was the only place outside the Arabian peninsula in which the Islamic law, both substantive and procedural, was applied in criminal litigation – sometimes even in regard to capital offences. [Ostien (2006), citing Anderson (1976: 27-28)]
16The growing modern (Christian) perspective, mainly among the largely non-Muslim educated elite, stifled any attempt at enabling a compromise between English law (generally perceived by the Muslim North as ‘Christian’) and the existing Shariah (which was the norm). This was further worsened by the constitutionalism of 1976-78, which seemed to relegate Shariah to the realm of small unitary customary litigations and, worse, limit its space (Ostien 2006: 240-241). This ‘Debacle of 1979’, in Ostien’s (2006: 241) view, spurred a re-strategising of options in 1999 and a new wave of discontent and fear of a subtle attempt at political Islamisation of the Nigerian state. Most Christians in post-Independence Nigeria, irrespective of their inclinations, have perceived Islam (more specifically, northern Islam) as an overwhelming force on the polity generally (Ibrahim 1991). It has become convenient to see any symbolism of Islam as a threat to an established modern and secular system. This is seen in the context where secularism in the Nigerian case revolves around the two main religions. Christianity and Islam dominate the religious system, and other beliefs, although not necessarily harshly discriminated against, hardly stand on the same level of recognition. Muslims in Nigeria, as with Muslims the world over, jealously guard their traditions; and this jealousy, combined with the strong influence which belief generally wields, often creates fear within other groups. Kukah (1993: 9) describes this jealous guarding of Islam in northern Nigeria by using Hiskett’s (1975: 109) Islamic verse:
As for the Christian, what he desires is gain
To cast you, our Mallams aside,
And to cause you to stop applying our Sharia
Which Allah sent down through our Prophet.
17This sort of rhetoric and the continuous issues around Nigeria’s secularism and Shariah have increased the fears of Christians in Nigeria; and because of the contemporary history of Islam in the Middle East and North Africa bearing theocratic potency, Christian apologists and secular jingoists within the Nigerian state have harped on the likelihood of an Islamisation agenda, most especially in cases where structures and elements of the state open up to Islamic symbolisms.
The politics of Christianity and Islam in Nigeria
18In commenting on issues surrounding the Shariah controversy in 1978 (an issue we discuss in detail later), Laitin (1982: 412) pointed out with a somewhat visionary phrase that “the politics of religion, where there is no room for flexibility, can rock a political system to its very foundations”. The Shariah controversy, since Independence, not only exacerbated tensions between the north and south of Nigeria, but seemed to be the groundswell to which outbursts of violence over issues like the unholy use of the Muslim holy book by a non-Muslim or the hullabaloo over a beauty pageant could be released. Although incomprehensible to Christians, it made perfect sense to quite a number of Muslims, who assume that the alleged abuse and decadence of non-Muslims in relation to Islamic symbols or the moral statutes of their religion goes to show the lacuna which their loss of Shariah from colonial times had caused within the context of Islamic theocracy. Additional perceptions, of greater socio-economic leverage of the South relative to the North, and the convenient stereotype of southern educated and professional elite relative to peasant northerners, further opened doors to grievances (whether appropriate or not) towards both government and the largely Christian South.
19Central Nigeria, or what is commonly called the Middle Belt, introduced a further dimension to the circumstances. The groups in this area, which had in pre-colonial times and even during colonial times been of little political value, began to become more assertive towards the time when Independence came. Their assertiveness gradually developed into antagonism, owing to the growth of Christianity in these areas. During the events leading to Independence in 1960, Logams (1993: 11-20) describes a concerted effort by the Hausa- and Muslim-dominated Northern People’s Congress (NPC) to stifle any attempt at a growing opposition in the North, which was largely composed of ethnic minorities who were mainly either animists or Christians. A phrase he coined was ‘internal colonialism’. Areas like the Tiv Division, which comprised the present Benue and Kogi states, saw a series of politically motivated acts of violence in the 1960s, among mainly Tiv groups. Their primary anger was what they saw as an attempt by the Hausa/Muslim-dominated NPC – using a few rogue elements from within the Tiv Division – to hijack the political structure of the United Middle Belt Congress (UMBC), then led by a Tiv Christian, Joseph Tarka (Logams 1993: 644).
20In the Plateau area, on the other hand, the politics was more subtle. First of all, from the late 1950s, Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto (a Muslim), began a proselytisation drive in the central region. His main aim then was to convert the traditional heads, who would subsequently encourage the conversion of their subjects. A particular case in point is made by Joseph Garba, a prominent military officer from Plateau, whose father, a traditional ruler and animist, was caught in a dilemma as to whether or not he should convert to Islam after being entreated to by emissaries of the Sardauna, preceding a visit by the latter to Garba’s domain. Mallam Garba felt he needed his son’s advice, his son being educated and working as a top military officer (Garba 1982: 55-58).
21From elder statesmen to local politicians, and from radical Christian clerics to youth leaders and even academics, there have been calls within the Middle Belt groups to fight these attempts at internal colonialism; and even though the area has been highly heterogeneous, their largely Christian identity has been a source of homogeneity.
22In Plateau State most especially, the attempt at deconstructing Islam and its politics, and the problem of ethnic and religious conflict in the state, have become arduous. To make matters worse, the rhetoric and incursions of Boko Haram in recent times have only further bolted the hinges in the doors of Christian historical memory of a large concerted Islamic agenda. Since 2011, the perspective has been that the Muslim North in Nigeria has been uncomfortable with the politics of Plateau State. It is a fact that apart from Benue and Plateau states in the political northern Nigeria arena, in every other state either both the governor and his deputy are Muslim, or, in most cases, there is a compromise of one or the other being shared between Christians and Muslims (Imo 2001: 109). The case of Plateau is even more complicated by the sequence of changes in political dimensions and determinations. In earlier work (Mang 2012) I tried to highlight these dynamics in relation to changes in geopolitical space in Plateau State. Between 1967 and 1994, Plateau State was broken down into smaller states, and in all cases, most especially in the latter two, ethnic and religious instrumentations laced the geopolitics of the state, leading to a wave of gerrymandering (Mang 2012: 275-279).
23The loudest chord was struck in 2011 in the contentious politics of Plateau State; and since then, the causes and dimensions of the violence have continually changed, and with them, the rhetoric. By 2008, the diameter of the violent arena had increased from the cities into villages, and also, the frequency of occurrences increased. The rhetoric, which had been political, between the autochthonous ethnic groups – the Afizere, Anaguta and Berom and the Hausa – transited into one of Christians versus Muslims. Allegations on both sides described harrowing experiences of violence and other human rights abuses, dividing Jos and Bukuru, the main metropolitan areas, into pockets of religious identity communities. Furthermore, the violence in the villages between the Berom and Fulani was alleged to have escalated owing to the appearance of foreign mercenaries. Events led to the death of serving senator Gyang Dantong and member of the state house of assembly Gyang Fulani after trying to bury the dead from an alleged Fulani invasion, which took place on Saturday 7 July 2012 leading to the death of over sixty people. Both men were of Berom extraction and prominent within the Plateau Christian community. This occurrence inflamed passions and further intensified the rhetoric of a grand Muslim design to overwhelm Plateau State as a whole through a concerted ‘terrorist incursion’ (Olagunju 2011; Online Nigeria 2013). With this, and over four incidents of bomb blasts in the state, for which Boko Haram itself claimed responsibility, Christians in Plateau State fed better on the narratives of a concerted Muslim agenda (The Messenger Voice 2012). This and the growing Boko Haram threat encouraged a new wave, in which random violent attacks on any Islamic symbol or persons with such symbols became acceptable within the Christian community. The rationale to deconstruct the religion from its fundamentalism was lost, since as one pastor put it: “You can not distinguish Islam from its politics, so how can you distinguish it from its violence?”3
Perspectives of Christians on fundamentalist dissensions like Boko Haram
24There seems to be a convenience for Christians in alluding to the inflexibility of Islamic doctrine in cases where Islam (which is wrongly seen by many Christians as a unified system) seems to be imploding. The common assumption is that Muslims, unlike Christians who hold on to denominational values, are relatively more homogenous. This assumption is not necessarily true. The different sects and dogmas of these sects have caused more conflict within Islam than outside it (Last 2012). But even these (most especially in contemporary times) have been seen by Christians as plans gone awry. One common phrase, ‘confusion in the enemy’s camp’,4 dominated the interviews used for this work when questions were asked in relation to the fact that cases of violence (most especially in the case of Boko Haram) indicate that Muslims are the relatively more affected. The idea behind the phrase was that even though it was true that more Muslims have died, it was only indicative of a common plan gone awry owing to either clashes between ideologues and politicians or even between contending ideologues. This argument is commonly associated with the narratives surrounding the death of Mohammed Yusuf. Yusuf’s death, most especially, has shaped new myths, not only among Muslims but also to a large extent among Christians, who like many Muslims build their knowledge on word from the street. The media too, in certain ways, has helped in hyping up the rhetoric of the birth, growth, and present nature of Boko Haram (Ayoob 2008; Idris 2011; Salkida 2011). Most Christian respondents primarily rely on two mediums for information about Islam: the clergy or the growing number of para-clergy5 that now wield various spheres of influence; and the news media. These two mediums, most especially the former, have highly influenced the Christian laity into taking an ‘us’ versus ‘them’ stance in the events related to the two religions and Boko Haram. Relatively few Christians in southern Kaduna and Plateau states distinguish Islam and Muslims from Boko Haram. In Plateau State particularly, in the few cases in which bomb blasts occurred and Boko Haram claimed responsibility, violent reprisals erupted against anyone suspected to be Muslim. In a 2012 focus group discussion with Christian youth involved in violence at Anguwan Rukuba and Gada Biyu (Jos), there was a clear indication that to be Christian primarily meant not being Muslim. By implication, one’s Christian link or identity was a sort of shibboleth. He or she could choose to take on occult, ‘magic’, or ‘primitive religious’ agencies, if their cause was against any form of Islam.6 Muslim converts or those with Muslim backgrounds were still not within the Christian circle, even though they were tolerated. To members of this group, Christianity and Islam were principally about identity and not necessarily about belief. As seen with the commerce of meat in Jos and its environs, owing to the agency of conflict, meat has built on an identity (Mang 2012).7 And when the violence stretches out to these non-Muslims, the narrative harps on that as the main agenda. This narrative in the recent past has been further encouraged by the seeming silence or ambiguity of the Muslim ummah and ulama on the subject of violence against others. The argument here by some Christians is that Muslim violence is their personal matter; and whatever the cause may be, they should not drag Christians into it. Ibrahim (1991: 122-124) gives clear examples of these intra-religious crises which Muslims have been contending with for a long time. Christians have been aware of these and have, in most cases, been left out of them. After all, even Christian sects have these issues. But the disturbing issue has been the rhetoric and actions of Boko Haram against Christians. Considering the already built-in constructs by Christians of what they choose to see as ‘Islamic tendencies’, Boko Haram appears as a mouthpiece for Islam, most especially in Nigeria’s North. Rarely do Christians see the situation as the product of any sort of grievance that should affect them. That is why the once growing narrative of deprivation of the north-east of the country as a primary factor is rejected by most Christians. As one clergyman informant put it: “Poverty is like a common cloth in Nigeria; in fact, most Africans wear it, so they cannot bring the issue of too much poverty in their areas.” Poverty, although a predisposing factor to violence, cannot account for issues surrounding what Christians view as an Islamisation agenda by the North. This is not helped by the historical narratives of the proselytisation agenda of the late Sardauna of Sokoto from the 1950s in the minority areas (Garba 1982). This, and the largely one-track politics of the Hausa-dominated Northern Peoples’ Congress (NPC) after Independence, have only helped to shore up the already-fed fears of minorities, as expressed in the Willink’s Commission Report (League for Human Rights 2003).
25Owing to this general insinuation of a grand design, narratives within the various Christian communities are rarely presented only within the local situation. The narratives are extended to include the existing narrative of Islamic terrorism worldwide. This narrative expands most especially when dissidence by Muslims leads to large-scale violence against Christians, such as attacks on churches and specific targets in predominantly Christian domains. This allusion, which thrives with the increased violence perpetuated by groups like Boko Haram, ignores the fact that Christianity has also had its bloody corridors, and similar narratives can be linked to Christian violence. Why has the narrative on Islam increasingly become bloodied and given a highly generalised rhetoric, instead of being assessed as incidental?
Strands and cords in Christian perspectives of Islam and Islamism
26There is in truth no general Christian perspective on the influence of Islam on Nigeria’s society and politics; and judging from recent conflicting comments by various members of the clergy, the Christian church is obviously divided into several strands of perspective, with the potential to form cords as the Boko Haram issue seems unlikely to abate. A further latency is provided by the silence or ambiguity of the Muslim ummah and ulama towards the violence which has affected Nigerian Christians.
27Four observable strands seem to have emerged within the context of the Boko Haram issue among Christians in Nigeria. Although all express grievances towards violent actions against Christians, each strand argues a distinct view and process for making headway in these trying situations. I have grouped them into the following:
Conservative Hierarchical
Conservative Egalitarian
Liberal Political Christian
Radical Christian Identity
Figure 4.1. The divisions of CAN (Christian Association of Nigeria)

Diagram showing the divisions of CAN, showing colours indicating the classifications discussed in this work.
Source: Mang (2013).
Conservative hierarchical
28Issues of hierarchy both within and between churches, and the level to which these hierarchies are influential on the laity, present us with this construct. But it does not just stop there. The level of exposure of those in this group is another determinant, because even within Christian groups that are seen to be egalitarian, hierarchies exist between institutors and guardians of doctrine, and the laity. Exposure is the strong point of this group. By exposure here, we refer to the levels to which these hierarchies have interacted with Islam and Muslims. For this group, their interaction with Islam is not just superficial; in most cases they have in-depth knowledge of Islam and its traditions. One can conveniently place the Nigerian Anglican Communion and the Nigerian Catholic Church within this group. Apart from their being some of the oldest church organisations in the country, their background knowledge both within and outside the Bible has encouraged a relatively higher sense of discretion when it comes to issues of inter-religious dialogue. These churches, owing to their history, growth, and following in Nigeria, have claimed a traditional sense of superiority over less-established churches. Their history has also encouraged the state to, in more cases than not, relate more with them where the need arises. They are seen as conservative in relation to the dynamic doctrinal and philosophical character of Pentecostals. In relation to Islam and its politics in Nigeria, this group presents a high sense of maturity in its desire for dialogue, even when it seems that the other side has the upper hand. Two significant pieces of evidence stand out for them: their calculated placements of significantly influential strategists in conflict-prone areas and in areas where Islamic power reigns.8
Conservative egalitarian
29These groups in most cases comprise localised church organisations based on certain identity leanings such as ethnicity, linguistics, or culture. They are in most cases Protestant evangelicals, brought up within the confines of certain mixed doctrines combining Christianity and traditions of their identity. To these groups, identity is quite important, even though they are open to outsiders in limited circumstances. With their common sense of identity arises a level of egalitarianism, and because they are relatively sparse geographically and are in many cases surrounded by larger Muslim communities, they are bound by the need to be cohesive and do not necessarily adhere to doctrinal or canonical restraints. This group is prominently influential in the minority non-Muslim areas of northern Nigeria. Their main perception of Islam in northern Nigeria, unlike that of the Conservative Hierarchical group, is one of an ethnicised religious domination which subjugates them. Their drive for equality has become influential in their changing theology; therefore, they have less desire for dialogue, even though they are open to it if it seems genuine.
Liberal political Christian
30This group comprises either clergy or non-clergy who build constructs which relate together the state, politics, and Christianity. When they become involved in politics, their primary constituents are usually Christians who purposely or inadvertently campaign using the rhetoric of domination or of an ungodly world which needs the reform that Christianity can supposedly give. This group refrains as much as possible from promoting any form of division which presents itself in the wider church. Instead, their rhetoric is filled with calls for Christian ecumenism as a starting point in fighting the ‘forces of evil’. This group, being politically driven and ecumenical in its outlook, seeks dialogue with Islam only as a route to fostering political and religious power bases. Its whole agenda in the end is to produce what have come to be called ‘prominent Christian leaders or politicians’, most of whom stand as symbols of Christianity within the secular system of the state, which itself has permitted the two religions (Christianity and Islam) to dominate.
Radical Christian identity
31This group thrives on the symbolism which Christianity provides and not necessarily on its significance or value. To them, Christian identity presents a vehicle for either ethnic or traditional authority or protest. By being Christian, they claim a commonality with others, while still pursuing other agendas. Even within this group there exist two distinct groups. One thrives on the syncretism of Christianity and local traditions, while the other thrives on its claim to a long history of Christian identity due to pre-colonial interactions with the religion through explorers and voyagers in the Niger Delta.9
Strands that separate
32New issues surrounding Boko Haram have emerged since I began writing this chapter. The most prominent has been the call for an amnesty for the group, as an avenue of pacifying them and also as a means of correcting certain social issues attributed to influencing people to join the group.10
33Calls to government for amnesty for Boko Haram were made by well-known Muslims, the most prominent being the Sultan of Sokoto. These calls sparked off a series of dismissals and counter-dismissals, and this drew a main dividing line between two sides. Christians, on the one hand, dismissed it as an excuse by the northern oligarchy to institutionalise the situation for economic advantage, following the line of the Niger Delta situation, which led to a similar amnesty. Some Christians have harped on the fact that a call for amnesty is callous, considering the fact that criminal elements have killed and maimed many innocent people, with the government doing hardly anything to provide proper restitution. Now it seems as if the same restitution will be given to the criminals in the form of an amnesty. Most Muslims, on the other hand, argue that the north-east of the country particularly has been underfunded within the federation, thereby fostering extreme poverty and leading to a high level of gullibility towards preachers and politicians, who in turn provided seemingly valid reasons for things being hard and society unfriendly. This lack of a social contract has been worsened by what most Muslim politicians and religious leaders see as the heavy hand of government through the use of its own instruments of violence.
34The plan for amnesty helped to further broaden Christian perspectives about Boko Haram and Islam, introducing a cohort of philosophically inclined views, expressed mainly by the clergy and a number of politicians. These views have varied, and looked at from the perspective of the divisions created for this work, the discourse can be viewed thus:
35The Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), which has served as an umbrella for Nigerian Christians since the 1980s, became embroiled in a battle of wits since June 2010. Although CAN has always had its own dose of intrigues, 2010 introduced a new dimension. For the first time, the influence of the Pentecostal Church was being felt. Previously, the presidency of CAN revolved around the mould of the Conservative Hierarchical group. From Catholic archbishops to Anglican or Methodist primates, the authority of CAN revolved around these more accommodating elite of the clergy, and they found it convenient to moderately relate with government and Islam, with a sense of reciprocity.11 The Pentecostal Church in Nigeria had during this time preoccupied itself with building a followership. Their growing numbers, which had emerged from the activity of adherents mainly of the more conservative churches, became their major pre-occupation until the political system provided an avenue through growing corruption and radicalism, a system which with time became highly influenced by the Pentecostals. With this new influence, a more politically Pentecostal movement emerged.
36As an informant pointed out: “We [Pentecostals] have hardly been interested in politics or even ecumenism, but we realised that Christianity was not well represented in Nigerian politics.”12 The choice of Pastor Ayo Oritsejafor, a popular Pentecostal preacher from the South-South of Nigeria, had a strategic attraction. First of all, the fact that he was from the same region as the president encouraged a growing political support for Oritsejafor. Unlike the era of old, a large support grew from both the Pentecostal clergy and laity which could be found within the Conservative Egalitarian and the Liberal Political Christian groups. This triggered great discomfort within the Conservative Hierarchical group, which had previously held sway. This group had attained a political status quo which was acceptable to all groups, government and Muslims included. Their non-radical stance and their propensity for dialogue made them amenable and convenient for the politics of Nigerian religious dialogue. Unlike them, the Pentecostals had a narrower view, both of religious dialogue and tolerance, because they had a close-knit and family-like feature which encouraged a collective will. As Lamle (2013) puts it:
Through the [Pentecostal] church, people that had come together from different socio-political and socio-economic status are brought together into one family. They come together in one brotherhood that helps them to withstand the socio-political and economic chaos in Nigeria. This bond becomes the crutch upon which the people are able to come together into one single-family unit and domesticate their problems together.
37Thus, choices and debates, ranging from domestic issues to national politics, have been influenced by the nature of the bond which Pentecostalism – or as Lamle (2013) calls it, “neo-Pentecostalism” – has created, with its extension into the more established churches.
38The June 2010 emergence of Oritsejafor13 jolted the hierarchical groups. Before this time, all CAN presidents had emerged from the hierarchical group, and the doors revolved around them. In fact, when the growing rate of ethnic and religious conflict caused President Obasanjo to inaugurate The Nigeria Inter-Religious Council (NIREC) on 29 September 1999, the co-chairmanship on the Christian side was shared by two people, both of the Conservative Hierarchical group.14 The subsequent emergence of the Catholic Archbishop of Abuja Dr. John Onaiyekan presented an opportunity for another from this group. Coincidentally, Onaiyekan was to co-chair with a new Muslim leader, Alhaji Muhammad Sa’ad Abubakar, the Sultan of Sokoto. The relationship between the sultan and the archbishop was a highly praised one; with these men at the helm of affairs, there was a high level of tolerance and wide acceptance of the need for dialogue. Thus, it was not surprising when, in a strategic move, one of the Nigerian church’s most vocal and cerebral priests, Matthew Hassan Kukah, was appointed Bishop of Sokoto. Furthermore, the Vatican, under the papacy of Pope Benedict XVI, appointed Bishop Kukah as a member of the Pontifical Council for Inter-Religious Dialogue, a 13-member council primarily geared towards dialogue.15 Kukah’s academic and public profile has made him and the Catholic Church a veritable tool for dialogue in Nigeria. The church’s nationwide presence has enabled it to gain wide acceptance from both government and the Nigerian Islamic community. But the Catholic Church’s largest opposition seems to have emerged from two groups particularly: the Conservative Egalitarian and the Liberal Political Christian groups. Each group obviously had its own reasons for having reservations about the Catholic Church, but in the context of this chapter, both groups have had histories which places them at variance with religious dialogue. Mbachirin (2006a: 174-188), in discussing the history of CAN, introduces the arguments between various Christian groups on who should take the credit for the formation of CAN. From the narrative he presents, there was a clear indication that the arguments were between the evangelicals (mainly present in northern Nigeria) and Catholics. The evangelicals from the North claimed that CAN emerged from the Northern Christian Association (NCA), an association which emerged from northern fears:
Christian operation in the North was different from that in the South because the South was just mainly for church Unionism [meaning CCN’s16 attempt to form a Union Church] but the North saw the threat of the Sardauna’s policies of Islam coming. So [the northern Christians] felt that for anything that had to do with Government, the Christians of all denominations must come together and speak with a similar voice. So, usually the Christian operation was relatively strong in the North and a little weak in the South because the problems were different. (ibid. 176)
39Most Catholic and southern Nigerian scholars, on the other hand, saw CAN as emerging from the collaboration between the Christian Council of Nigeria (CCN) and the Catholic Secretariat of Nigeria (CSN), both of which financed and housed CAN at its inception and for a long time after its formation. With this parenting, it became traditional for these groups to share the leadership of CAN over the years. But the fight over claims of origin became a reason to wrench authority in 2010 when the competition for the presidency of CAN saw factions emerging. The Conservative Hierarchical groups were insistent on maintaining the status quo, while the Conservative Egalitarian and the Liberal Political Christian groups strove to change the pattern. The Radical Christian Identity had in most cases found it difficult to join the mainstream owing to questions about their integrity arising from the others; therefore, they had little influence in these determinations. The success of Pastor Ayo Oritsejafor over Archbishop John Onaiyekan indicates the growing strength of a more liberal leaning, even among the historically conservative. Two things have accounted for this. The first is what seems to be the growing threat of Islamism and, as earlier discussed, a threat narrated as a concerted process of Islamising Nigeria (mainly the North). The second is the growing Pentecostal Church, which has less tolerance for dialogue even with fellow Christian groups, let alone with Muslims. As Ojo (2007: 176) points out: “Ideologically, while Islamic groups seek to solve the problems of the ambiguities of the modern state, Pentecostal groups are concerned with solving problems confronting the individual.” This can also be likened to the relationship between Pentecostalism and the other Christians in Nigeria. Pentecostalism in the north of Nigeria, as Ojo notes (ibid. 181), became highly politicised when its presence in northern universities during the 1970s and 1980s encouraged a radical defence of Christianity and Christian values against what they saw as the fundamentalist orientation of Muslim organisations in the institutions. Although the North’s Christians had lived for a long time with this, their stance was primarily not one of collective physical violence against Muslims but either ideological or political rejection. Events which led to violence in institutions of higher learning were indicative only of radical Christians who saw themselves as having to fight to defend Christianity, very much unlike the generality of Christians in the North at that time. But this influence grew with the growth of Pentecostalism and the seeping of its values into the largely evangelical North.
40Northern Christians, mainly within the evangelical groups, had for long been weary of what they perceived as the friendliness and tolerance of the Conservative Hierarchical groups towards Islam. Most clergy and laity from this hierarchical group in colonial times were either European, from English West Africa, or from Nigeria’s South. These people were little influenced by the history of Islam, unlike the indigenous minorities who eventually converted to Christianity had been, and therefore, under the convenience of Pax Britannica, they held their own in northern Nigeria. The indigenous minorities, on the other hand, had to contend with both history and the colonial rhetoric of their being a lower class. The Catholic and Anglican churches did not experience as rapid a growth as the evangelicals owing to the former’s search for convenient converts, while evangelicals took on the more uphill task of searching the interiors for converts. Therefore, the relationship of the Conservative Hierarchical groups with Islam was one of a sense of mutuality, while that of the Conservative Egalitarian and Liberal Political Christian groups with Islam was not. This could explain why it has been easier for the Conservative Hierarchical groups to emphasise the need for dialogue and tolerance, in contrast to the others.
41Apart from the obvious attempt of the Catholic Secretariat of Nigeria to encourage dialogue and to present light at the end of the tunnel, Anglicans – primarily through the Archbishop of the province of Kaduna (northern Nigeria), Josiah Idowu-Fearon – have also argued for Christians to avail of the routes for dialogue. Being a co-founder of the Centre for the Study of Islam and Christianity at Kaduna, the archbishop has introduced a significant pathway for dialogue with Islam – but not without criticism. His background as an academic is a rare one in Nigeria. With a PhD in Islamic Studies and fluency in Arabic, Idowu-Fearon stands out amongst his peers in both religions. Like some bishops and archbishops of the Catholic Church, Idowu-Fearon has been highly criticised by the Conservative Egalitarian, Liberal Political Christian, and Radical Christian Identity groups as being rather romantic about the situation of Islamism in northern Nigeria, and their insistence on a less radical Christian approach (Mudashir 2012; Idowu-Fearon 2013; Midat 2013). He, like Onaiyekan and Kukah, has in recent times supported the call by the Sultan of Sokoto Alhaji Muhammad Sa’ad Abubakar for an amnesty to be granted to Boko Haram. While Onaiyekan and Kukah harp on the twin issues of politics and the economy as the primary cause of Boko Haram (Aminu 2013; PM News 2013), Idowu-Fearon argues that there is a growing intolerance among Christians, which he blames on individuals and groups with ethnic or economic agendas who use the platform of Christianity to influence even genuine Christians towards violence (Kawu 2012). Although these views are tenable, the meta-narrative amongst a large number of northern Christians has been that of a resurgence of Ahmadu Bello’s proselytisation drives, but this time without the subtlety of the Sardauna. A series of events have helped intensify and strengthen perceptions supporting these sorts of narratives. With the return to a more extended version of the Shariah legal system in 1999, equating it with the inherited Western legal system, the coming of a new Shariah jolted most Christians, most especially Christians in the North. According to Alubo (2006) – who does not provide consistent data to support his claim – of thirty major violent incidents, based on magnitude, between 1999 and January 2012, only two were not in northern Nigeria and only one did not involve Muslims and Christians. Within the Middle Belt areas, continuous conflict between the mainly Muslim Hausa or Fulani majority and other ethnicities (in some cases mainly Christian) has further increased the fears of domination by a network of the more northern groups connected by Islam.
42The Conservative Egalitarian, Liberal Political Christian and Radical Christian Identity groups, most especially within the Nigerian North, have outrightly rejected the passive and discursive style of the Conservative Hierarchical groups. The divide created by the struggle for presidency in CAN showed this. Moreover, nationally and internationally, there were indications that individuals and not necessarily the organisations themselves were credited as defenders of peace, and it was alleged that Onaiyekan and the sultan had been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2012. Also, within that period, various awards were conferred on this duo. This served as a clear affront to CAN, considering that while the sultan in his capacity represented Islam in Nigeria, Onaiyekan represented just one faction of Nigerian Christians, and this was at a time when Onaiyekan had stepped down as president of CAN. To a number of Christians, the relationship of this one group (the Catholic Secretariat) with Islam and its leadership provided a symbolic sign which showed that the Catholic Church was ready and available for dialogue, while the other Christian groups were not as friendly and therefore not ready for a path to peaceful coexistence.17 These latter groups, from the general narratives in preparing this study, obviously have less tolerance for Islam and are clearly more weary of dialogue. But even with this, there seems to be a stronger desire for dialogue within the generally more accepting groups, rather than the whole. This partitioning in desire for dialogue has encouraged animosities amongst the Christian groups, with some even alleging a conspiracy by the Catholic Church to destroy CAN (Atonko 2013; Eyieyien 2013). Even though these assertions seem to hold some water, owing to the obvious conflict within CAN over the past few years, there is a need for proper quantitative sampling of opinions from Christians to obtain confirmable data on these perspectives.
Conclusion
43In summary, the clear fact is that Christians have become more apprehensive of Islam since the introduction of the Shariah regime of 1999. Democracy had not only provided freedom for society, but opened doors to a freer expression of grievances. This is now seen as weakened in the light of the stubborn implementation of Shariah and the violence between Muslims and Christians in Plateau and other north–central states, a violence that Christians view as being based on alleged hegemonic tendencies. Central Nigerian Christians, most especially, feel caught between the Biblical call to be at peace and the increasing threat coming from pockets of violence attributed to Islam. In their case, it is easy for narratives to trigger strong emotions.
44This chapter has presented the four main divisions which Christianity has grown into based on issues surrounding Islam. These divisions (Conservative Hierarchical, Conservative Egalitarian, Liberal Political, and Radical) have presented various reactions based on their histories and present predicaments. It cannot be concluded that Christians have a single, general point of view, apart from their rejection of features of Islamism such as Boko Haram’s violence. Reactions have varied, but with increasing violence affecting Christians, the rhetoric can easily slide towards calls for revenge, even when there is no proper logic for it.
Bibliographie
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Notes de bas de page
1 Borrowing from Sen’s (1981) work.
2 A case in point is what happened in 1955, when the British colonial administration instituted the formation of a minority Berom Gbong Gwom traditional institution in Jos. The area, although largely Berom, had traditionally been run by a Hausa chief, a process initiated by the British.
3 A. Dogo, pastor of a Pentecostal church. Interview by Henry Mang, Bukuru, 15 March 2012.
4 In two separate focus group discussions (one in Kaduna and the other in Jos) most Christian youth insisted that the Boko Haram issue was a calculated and largely organised plan by northern Muslims, with political and jihadist ends. To their minds, even though there has been more violence within Islam in northern Nigeria, this has occurred owing to what they see as the failure of evil plans.
5 Those whom Marshall refers to without “standardized or institutionalized process of accreditation of religious authority”.
6 Focus group discussion with youths in Anguwan Rukuba/Tinna Junction area, with Henry Mang at Gondola, Jos North, 15 April 2012.
7 The study looked at the establishment of a new market in a community after aggrieved parties were relocated from another market owing to violent conflict in 2010. This new market creation was influential in inspiring similar occurrences in other markets and could lead to further replication in more areas. This is due to the fact that there are political and economic advantages to the aggrieved or disadvantaged actors, who through the connivance of their power brokers have created their own sphere of influence. In addition, the agency of religion and its position as an instrument within the meat market provides an interesting dimension to the use of religion for economic advantage. In applying systems which mirror the process of Muslim halal practice in the meat market, Christian butchers instinctively created a form of legitimacy for their meat, which was previously labelled as ‘unclean’, thereby increasing the value of their business.
8 Bishop Josiah Idowu-Fearon and Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah in Kaduna and Sokoto, respectively, are the cases in point. This is discussed in further detail in the coming section.
9 It is important for the reader to note that these strands are not necessarily clearly divided. They are present in the same way as all social stratifications: variables which interweave. This categorisation simply helps to provide an idea of the basic variables that help build perceptions by Christians in Nigeria of Islam and politics.
10 There are generally two broad points of view in the arguments on an amnesty for Boko Haram. The first looks at the antecedents of the group in relation to the socio-economy of the area and concludes that poverty, although not the most prominent factor influencing the group, has helped in the intensification of its actions and the growth in its following. The second line of argument looks at the high-handedness of the government’s use of instruments of coercion, at allegations of brutality towards members of the sect, and at the high level of collateral damage. These have led to much outcry from both within and outside Nigeria, indicating human rights violations and, in the case of the outcry within Nigeria, allegations of gross corruption and unaccountability having led to extreme poverty.
11 The case is seen in the 1980s’ demand by CAN for the sponsorship of Christian pilgrims to their holy lands in equivalence to Muslims who were benefiting from a similar service. See CAN (1989: 12-20)
12 Interview with A. Dogo.
13 And his re-election, which occurred while writing this chapter.
14 They were Dr. Sunday Mbang, CON, the Primate of the Methodist Church of Nigeria and Archbishop J. Akinola, CON, the Primate of the Nigerian Anglican Communion. Both were at one time presidents of the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN). http://nirecng.org/history.html.
15 “A special department of the Roman Curia for relations with the people of other religions. Known at first as the Secretariat for Non-Christians, in 1988 it was renamed the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue (PCID).” http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/interelg/documents/rc_pc_interelg_pro_20051996_en.html
16 Christian Council of Nigeria, formed in 1929 as a mainly Protestant body and a mainly southern union, comprising Anglicans, Methodists, Presbyterians, etc.
17 Rev J. Bistu, S. Dasit and P. Gyang: president and executive members of Youth CAN Plateau State. Focus group interview by Henry Gyang Mang at COCIN Headquarters, Jos, 18 January 2013.
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