
When U.S. Senator Ted Cruz declared that “Officials in Nigeria are ignoring and even facilitating the mass murder of Christians by Islamist jihadists,” he did not invent a new accusation, he merely amplified a truth that Nigerians themselves have long whispered, lamented, and, in some cases, publicly confessed. Yet, the fury that greeted his statement from Nigeria’s political class reveals not outrage over falsehood, but fear of uncomfortable truth.
Nigeria’s leaders, from Senate President Godswill Akpabio to the Minister of Information Mohammed Idris, rushed to denounce Cruz’s remarks, describing them as “malicious,” “contrived,” and “a mischaracterization” of Nigeria’s complex security landscape. Their outrage, however, falls apart under even the slightest scrutiny. It is neither Cruz’s imagination nor Western bias to note that, for over a decade, Christians in Nigeria’s Middle Belt and northern regions have been systematically targeted, abducted, and slaughtered under the banners of Boko Haram, ISWAP, and Fulani extremist militias, all operating under explicitly Islamist ideologies.
The heart of Cruz’s argument is simple: Nigeria’s crisis, though complex, is undeniably religious in its essence. Boko Haram’s very name, “Western education is forbidden”, is rooted in an ideological rejection of pluralism, secularism, and modernity. Its leaders have repeatedly and unequivocally stated their goal: to dismantle the Nigerian state and establish a Sharia-based theocracy. That is not an economic grievance; it is a religious project.
Even former Nigerian presidents have confirmed this. In 2012, then-President Goodluck Jonathan admitted that Boko Haram had infiltrated “the executive, legislative, and judicial arms of government,” as well as the armed forces and police. He described the situation as one where sympathizers within the state actively undermined the fight against terrorism. Cruz’s claim that “officials in Nigeria are ignoring or facilitating jihadist violence” is, therefore, nothing new, it is a reiteration of what a Nigerian head of state said more than a decade ago.
The attempt to dismiss Boko Haram’s campaign as a reaction to poverty or inequality, as some analysts like Jibrin Ibrahim suggest, is intellectually dishonest. Poverty does not explain the deliberate targeting of Christian villages, the burning of churches, or the abduction of schoolgirls for forced conversion. If poverty were the motive, Boko Haram’s victims would not be chosen on the basis of faith, nor would their captors declare allegiance to a global jihadist cause.
Indeed, Boko Haram and its offshoots have killed Muslims, but this does not negate the religious nature of their war, it reinforces it. The group views moderate Muslims, who reject their violent interpretation of Islam, as apostates deserving of death. In their worldview, both Christians and Muslims who support secular governance are “infidels.” Their war, therefore, is not against one sect but against religious tolerance itself.
Cruz’s critics also ignore one of the central points in his bill: Nigeria’s persistent blasphemy laws and their lethal consequences. These laws, which criminalize speech deemed insulting to religion, have emboldened vigilante mobs that routinely lynch alleged offenders. From Deborah Samuel in Sokoto to Yahaya Sharif-Aminu in Kano, Nigeria’s silence in the face of such barbarism is deafening. When the government refuses to confront mob violence carried out in the name of faith, it implicitly condones it. Cruz’s bill rightfully calls this out, tying the issue of religious freedom to the broader culture of impunity that sustains extremist violence.
For Nigerian officials to label this concern “a smear” against the nation is to trivialize the suffering of tens of thousands of citizens. The United Nations estimates that Boko Haram’s insurgency has killed over 350,000 people since 2009, while Nigeria’s own former Chief of Defense Staff, General Lucky Irabor, confirms that nearly 3,000 soldiers have died combating the group. These are not mere statistics, they represent shattered families, razed communities, and displaced millions. To insist, as presidential spokesman Bayo Onanuga does, that “Nigeria enjoys religious harmony” in the face of such devastation is not just tone-deaf; it is morally obscene.
Senator Cruz’s insistence that Nigeria be designated a Country of Particular Concern (CPC) under U.S. law is neither an act of hostility nor interference, it is an act of moral clarity. The CPC designation does not punish nations for being imperfect; it holds accountable those that tolerate or enable severe violations of religious freedom. Nigeria, regrettably, meets that criterion.
This is not about smearing Nigeria’s image. It is about calling its leaders to confront a reality they have long chosen to ignore: that religious persecution is a cancer eating away at the heart of the nation. Until this truth is acknowledged, no amount of public relations or diplomatic outrage will restore Nigeria’s global reputation or internal peace.
Ted Cruz may be unpopular among Nigeria’s political elite, but history often vindicates those who speak truth to power. His critics accuse him of misunderstanding Nigeria’s complexities; in reality, it is they who misunderstand the depth of the nation’s wounds. Boko Haram’s atrocities are not random, they are ideological. They are not spontaneous, they are sustained by corruption, complacency, and denial at the highest levels of government.
The sooner Nigeria’s leaders stop seeing international concern as an attack, the sooner they can begin to address the real issue: that a generation of Nigerians has grown up knowing nothing but fear, displacement, and death, all in the name of God.
Ted Cruz may not be a diplomat, but in this case, he is right. And until Nigeria admits that truth, the blood of the innocent will continue to stain its conscience, and the world will keep watching.
Duruebube Chima Nnadi-Oforgu

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