On December 16, the United States finally implemented its June warning by placing Nigeria on its travel ban list, confirming that months of supposed negotiations achieved nothing. In practical terms, this is an elite problem affecting a tiny fraction of Nigerians who will ever seek a U.S. visa. However, diplomatically it is a serious blow to Nigeria’s reputation and will likely be muddled with the controversy that came later over Christian persecution.
The deeper reality is that Nigeria is ill; and in denial. When a nation is very close to being terminally sick but refuses to acknowledge its condition, that nation can hardly be helped.
In a social-media-driven world, it is easy to lose sight of the “why” behind an issue, to mistake noise for direction and distraction for progress.
On Monday, April 30, 2018, late President Muhammadu Buhari became the first African head of state received at the White House by President Donald Trump. Buhari’s primary objective was securing American support against Boko Haram Islamist jihadists.
However, in his Oval Office remarks, President Trump raised a different concern: the killing and persecution of Christians in Nigeria.
At the subsequent Rose Garden press conference, Trump reiterated America’s deep concern about religious violence, specifically referencing church burnings and killings. He urged Nigerian authorities to protect civilians of all faiths, stating that the United States had “very serious problems with Christians who have been murdered, killed in Nigeria” and pledging his administration would work “very, very hard” on the issue.
The year was 2018; seven years ago. America’s concern about persecution of Christians and minority ethnic groups in Nigeria did not suddenly materialise in September 2025. The issue has been brewing since before 2018.
Since 2009, the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF) has recommended Nigeria be designated a Country of Particular Concern for “systematic, ongoing, and egregious” violations of religious freedom. This 16-year uninterrupted run places Nigeria among countries with the most persistent CPC recommendation records.
It is good that the Nigerian government has finally begun to engage with the country’s deepening insecurity; recent activity and statements are welcome. However, authorities still avoid confronting the ethical, religious, and governance crises driving the violence. What passes for “active engagement” remains shrouded in half truths and looking more like time buying manoeuvres than a serious strategy.
Critics nonetheless wish the President no harm. What Nigerians want is straightforward: an end to killings and kidnappings, prosecution of perpetrators and sponsors, safe return of displaced persons to their ancestral lands, and a halt to discrimination against Christians and religious minorities.
This last point receives insufficient attention in high-level discussions. At a 2019 inter-faith roundtable in Abuja, an elderly Hausa Christian from Kebbi or Katsina described how his state government denied Christians burial land. “We just want to bury our dead, that is all,” he said simply. In some northern states, Christians face discrimination in employment, education, and healthcare access.
The United States gains nothing from Nigeria’s collapse. Both nations benefit from Nigeria succeeding as a stable regional power. Power blocs within Nigeria and their external allies might profit from state failure, picking through the wreckage. But history teaches that those who “fight to the death” almost always die in the fight.
In classical terms, a modern state holds a monopoly on the legitimate use of force, preventing rivals from sustaining organised violence. Nigeria now fits uneasily within this definition. Jihadists, bandits, and militias control large territories, taxing communities, closing schools, and deciding who may move or trade. Federal and state institutions continue to function, some, superficially but no longer command the core instruments of coercion.
Some states respond by negotiating with notorious bandits, striking “peace deals” and paying ransom. These actions signal that violence is a bargaining chip rather than a punishable crime. As armed groups increasingly police communities, citizens conclude that Abuja cannot protect them. Justice and law become irrelevant in rural Nigeria.
The unpalatable truth is that Nigeria is firmly on the road to self-willed state failure if it continues denying the reasons and sources of its internal wars. No physician can help a patient in denial. Nigeria is critically sick, with multiple insecurity profiles in every region and military operations in 33 of 36 states; still, it refuses to admit it is at war with itself. This denial endangers West Africa and the wider world. American concern should surprise no one.
When South Africa emerged from apartheid, it established a Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Note that Truth came first, then Reconciliation. Rwanda followed the same path. We cannot begin midstream. Until Nigeria confronts its deep religious and ethnic problems, we deceive ourselves. Until perpetrators and financiers are exposed and prosecuted, justice remains unserved.
The current government rides shifting winds, jumping from wave to wave, hoping time will erase memory and restore normalcy. But dressing a putrefying wound in fine rhetoric does not heal the wound. Nigeria is a wounded nation; and badly and for too long.
What must happen now: admit to the seriousness of the problem, accept the ominous consequences if nothing changes, deal with the problem at whatever cost now. The cost of doing nothing is far much higher for the whole nation, whether the persecuted Christians and ethnic minorities receive the much-needed help or not.
