In a stark illustration of Nigeria's fractured social fabric, a profound diplomatic and theological schism has emerged between two of the nation's most influential religious bodies—the Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria (PFN) and the Nigerian Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs (NSCIA). At the heart of this rift lies a fundamental disagreement over the nature of the pervasive violence plaguing the country, particularly in its northern and central regions. The PFN, representing a significant portion of Nigeria's Pentecostal Christian community, has vociferously declared that a systematic genocide against Christians is underway. In contrast, the NSCIA, the umbrella organization for Islamic groups across the federation, has vehemently dismissed these assertions, framing the crisis solely as a national security predicament devoid of religious undertones. This public exchange of accusations and rebuttals not only highlights the deepening polarization but also raises critical questions about national unity, foreign influence, and the root causes of insecurity in Africa's most populous nation.
The PFN's stance was articulated with unflinching resolve by its National President, Bishop Francis Oke, during a press conference held in Ibadan, the capital of Oyo State in southwestern Nigeria. Bishop Oke, a prominent figure in Pentecostal circles known for his advocacy on social issues, pulled no punches in describing the attacks on Christian communities as nothing short of genocidal. "The scale and persistence of these assaults on Christians, especially in parts of Northern Nigeria, can no longer be debated or denied," he asserted, his voice carrying the weight of years of documented atrocities. He warned that any attempt to downplay or reframe the violence would amount to a "desecration" of the memory of the victims—a sacrilegious act against the spilled blood of innocent Nigerians.
To bolster his claims, Bishop Oke invoked high-profile cases that have lingered unresolved in the national consciousness, serving as poignant symbols of the crisis. "Where is Leah Sharibu?" he demanded rhetorically, referring to the Christian schoolgirl abducted by Boko Haram insurgents in 2018 from Dapchi, Yobe State, and still held captive despite international pleas for her release. He extended the query to the Chibok girls, over 200 of whom were kidnapped by the same group in 2014 from their school in Chibok, a predominantly Christian community in Borno State. Many remain missing, their fates a grim reminder of the insurgents' targeting of Christian education and symbols. These abductions, Oke argued, are not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern of deliberate persecution.
The bishop also drew parallels with international recognition of the crisis, citing concerns raised by United States President Donald Trump. Trump's administration had previously highlighted Nigeria's religious freedom issues, placing the country on a watchlist for severe violations. Oke noted that these foreign observations align with the grim realities witnessed by Nigerians on the ground, particularly in the wake of recent massacres in Plateau State, where farming communities—many of them Christian—have been repeatedly targeted by armed groups. "President Trump's concerns reflect what many of us are living through daily," Oke emphasized, pointing to fresh killings that have displaced thousands and left villages in ruins.
Crucially, Bishop Oke was careful to delineate the perpetrators, distancing his critique from the broader Muslim population. "We are not accusing the Muslim community—get me clear on that," he clarified. "Nigerians of different faiths have coexisted for generations in mutual respect and harmony." Instead, he pinpointed the blame on extremist factions such as Boko Haram and the Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP), which he described as a "violent sect of Islam" that misappropriates the religion's name to justify attacks on churches and Christian gatherings. This distinction underscores the PFN's effort to avoid inflaming interfaith tensions while insisting on precise identification of the threat.
Quantifying the toll, Oke painted a harrowing picture: hundreds of churches razed to the ground, tens of thousands of Christians slaughtered, and hundreds of pastors brutally murdered. "It would be a desecration to the blood of these Nigerians to call it any other name than genocide," he declared. He challenged the notion of reciprocity, stating emphatically, "There is not a single instance of a Christian group attacking Muslims. It is always the other way round." To drive home the point, Oke employed a medical analogy: "You don’t call cancer a headache." Proper diagnosis, he argued, is essential for effective treatment; mislabeling the crisis as mere banditry or farmer-herder clashes obscures the ideological and religious motivations driving the violence.
The bishop's narrative was enriched with a litany of specific incidents that form a consistent thread of targeted aggression. He referenced the perennial killings in Benue State, where Tiv farmers—predominantly Christian—have clashed bloodily with Fulani herdsmen, resulting in thousands of deaths and mass displacements. Similarly, the violence in Southern Kaduna, a region with a mixed but significantly Christian population, has seen churches burned and communities decimated. The Owo church massacre in June 2022, where gunmen stormed St. Francis Catholic Church in Ondo State during Pentecost Sunday service, killing over 40 worshippers, was cited as a particularly egregious example of sacrilegious assault on Christian sacred spaces. These events, Oke contended, reveal a pattern that transcends economic or environmental disputes, pointing instead to a concerted effort to eradicate Christian presence in certain areas.
In a sharp counterpoint, the NSCIA convened its own press briefing in Abuja, the federal capital, to dismantle the genocide narrative. Leading the charge was the Council's Secretary-General, Professor Ishaq Oloyede, a respected academic and former Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ilorin, who also serves as Registrar of the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB). Representing a coalition of all major Islamic organizations in Nigeria, the NSCIA condemned what it termed recent threats to the country's stability and categorically rejected allegations from the United States and Western entities that Christians are facing genocide.
"We have not been emphasizing the killings of Muslims—not because we are unaware that Muslims are being killed, but because we do not view what is happening as a religious war," Professor Oloyede explained. He framed the violence unequivocally as a "national security issue, not a religious one," attributing it to a confluence of factors including environmental degradation, widespread poverty, and opportunistic criminality. This perspective positions the crisis within broader socio-economic and ecological challenges, such as desertification in the Sahel region driving herder-farmer conflicts, rather than sectarian hatred.
Oloyede directed pointed criticism at external actors, accusing President Trump and his circle of being "misled" by biased information. Labeling the genocide claims as "dangerous, unfair, and undermining to a sovereign nation fighting terrorism," he argued that such rhetoric jeopardizes Nigeria's efforts to combat groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP without international interference. The NSCIA went further, alleging a concerted campaign by foreign-backed lobbyists and separatist sympathizers operating abroad. These entities, Oloyede claimed, exploit Nigeria's insecurities for personal gain, flooding Washington with "doctored videos and fake statistics." He accused them of fabricating figures on Christian deaths to propagate narratives of religious persecution, thereby securing asylum for individuals, attracting donor funding, and garnering global attention. "This is a betrayal of our nation," he proclaimed, warning that such actions sow division and hinder domestic solutions.
This exchange between the PFN and NSCIA encapsulates broader tensions in Nigeria, a country roughly divided between a Muslim-majority north and a Christian-majority south, with significant minorities in each region. The violence, which has claimed tens of thousands of lives over the past decade, often intersects with ethnic, resource, and political fault lines, complicating any singular interpretation. While the PFN's call for recognition of a "Christian genocide" seeks to mobilize international pressure and domestic accountability, the NSCIA's insistence on a secular security framing aims to preserve national cohesion and sovereignty.
As Nigeria grapples with these competing narratives, the human cost continues to mount. Displaced persons camps swell with survivors from affected states, economies stutter under the weight of insecurity, and trust between communities erodes. The rift between these religious giants not only mirrors but exacerbates the nation's challenges, underscoring the urgent need for dialogue, accurate data, and holistic interventions that address both symptoms and root causes. Whether this divide widens into further instability or spurs unified action remains a pivotal question for Nigeria's future stability and interfaith harmony.
