By TOOCHUKWU OBIOTIKA
In the 1960s and ‘70s, during Nigeria’s earliest attempts at nation-building, many Christian leaders discouraged their members from taking active roles in politics. To the fathers of faith in that era, African politics was too dirty, too manipulative, too immersed in struggle and moral compromise. Political engagement, they believed, would stain the garments of their spiritual mission. In their absence, the political space became dominated by others who embraced governance not as a moral duty but as an instrument of conquest, patronage, and control. Decades later, the tide shifted.
As Nigeria moved toward the new millennium, the same church that once rejected political participation now urgently encouraged it. Christians were persuaded to join politics in hopes of redeeming a failing nation. Many answered the call. They ran for office, served in committees, and accepted appointments. But the results were disappointing. Despite their growing presence, the changes expected—the revival of integrity, fairness, justice, and national transformation—barely appeared.
This should have taught us something vital: the problem of the heart is a heart problem. When the interior life of a people is polluted, when values erode, when self-interest replaces service, the mere presence of religion cannot save a nation. Whether Christian or Muslim or traditionalist, what fills the offices of power are human beings—and governance ultimately expresses the condition of the human soul. Today, Nigeria faces one of its most destabilising periods since independence. The escalation of insurgency, militancy, ethnic violence, and religious extremism has not happened in a vacuum. The rise of Islamic insurgency across parts of the North—intensified by political decisions such as the Muslim-Muslim ticket—reflects something deeper than elections. It reveals a nation where many have settled for less. Less vision. Less truth. Less unity. Less accountability. Leadership that settles for less produces citizens who settle for less. And a whole generation raised on lowered expectations soon forgets the higher calling of nationhood. Religion, though profound in shaping personal morality, becomes an inadequate foundation for state-building whenever its practice is reduced to identity, numbers, and power. When people turn to religion for political advantage instead of moral transformation, it loses the essence that makes it a force for good. This is not because religion is weak. It is because religion without character becomes an empty label.
We can no longer deceive ourselves: Religion has not saved Nigeria. Religion cannot save Nigeria. Only truth, integrity, justice, and responsibility can. The tragedy before us is not merely political failure—it is moral decay. We see it in bribery normalised as “appreciation.” In leadership rewarded without performance. In citizens demanding favours instead of insisting on accountability. In the worship of wealth, even when its source is suspicious. In a society where churches multiply but virtues diminish, and mosques expand but compassion thins out. When individuals settle for less—less excellence, less honesty, less sacrifice—the consequences are personal. But when a whole generation settles for less, the damage becomes national. Personal needs of people we meet get overlooked.
Extreme needs in our communities and across the world go unmet. Promises of democracy become hollow. The character and motives of God get called into question—not because He has failed, but because those who claim His name fail to reflect Him.
This is the heart of Nigeria’s crisis: we mistake religious identity for moral depth. We assume that the presence of religious symbols in government automatically means righteousness in leadership. We imagine that praying in public compensates for failing in private. But nothing replaces character. Nothing replaces conscience. Nothing replaces compassion. Religion does not automatically make people better. It only gives them a lens through which to become better. Whether they choose to use that lens is another matter entirely. So as insurgency swallows communities, as poverty grips households, as corruption deforms institutions, the question confronting us is not whether Christians or Muslims should dominate politics. The question is: Will Nigerians—regardless of faith—rise above mediocrity and reclaim the values that build nations?
When we settle for less, we lose delight. We lose fulfilment. We lose purpose. We lose sight of the higher calling that gives life meaning and gives societies direction. Our nation cannot be healed by religion used as a badge. It can only be healed by truth practiced as a lifestyle. If Nigeria is ever to rise beyond insurgency, beyond corruption, beyond its internal fractures, a new generation must refuse to settle for less. We must expect more of our leaders. More of our institutions. More of our communities. But above all, more of ourselves. Religion may inspire us. Faith may strengthen us. But only character can rebuild us.
*Obiotika wrote from the Living Grace Restoration Assembly Inc., Nkono-Ekwulobia Anambra State.
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