Kukah, national question and interfaith dialogue

On the one hand, one of the successes of religion derives from its capacity to open up the mind of men to the beauty and mysteries of the universe and hold them in awe of the transcendent. On the other hand, religion, according to MLK, ought also to achieve a horizontal purpose: ‘At the centre […]

On the one hand, one of the successes of religion derives from its capacity to open up the mind of men to the beauty and mysteries of the universe and hold them in awe of the transcendent. On the other hand, religion, according to MLK, ought also to achieve a horizontal purpose: ‘At the centre of any worthwhile religion therefore is a deep spiritual awareness of our lives as a conduit for the intervention of a transcendent force in the betterment of the world and the lives of fellow humans.’
Unfortunately, one of the sad experiences of our modern existence is that the dynamics of religious affiliation seem to justify Karl Marx’s and the modernisation theorist’s dark perception of religion than the bright requirement of Martin Luther King. Religion, according to modernisation theorists, is negatively atavistic; and that atavism, for Marx, serves a dark political purpose in the hands of unconscionable political elites. And they both seem to be right. The evidence is the strong wave of religious resurgence all over the world. Unfortunately, this resurgence has nothing to do with horizontal human interest everywhere. Fundamentalist religion is not concerned with aligning transcendence with humanity; the knowledge and worship of transcendence has not awed us into a humble love of fellow humans who are equally lost in the mysteries of the universe. Rather, fundamentalism wants to annihilate humanity to preserve the transcendence. Al-Qaeda and Boko Haram are two recent examples of how bad religion has become.
I suspect that most of us ageing Nigerians came to know religious violence as adults. That is my own experience, and that is why I strongly believe that inter-faith dialogue must ultimately become a solid block within our attempt to build a strong and virile nation. My growing up was almost idyllic. I am a child of what Professor Ali Mazrui refers to as Africa’s triple heritage comprising of the Islamic, Judeo-Christian and traditional religious and cultural dynamics all confluencing within one continent. My experience was exciting. I had a Christian grandfather and a Muslim grandmother. So: I went to the church regularly; I visited the mosque even more regularly carrying my grandmother’s praying mat; and I participated in the usual cultural festivities of masquerades and the new yam. It was simply impracticable not to eat the delicious Salah meat from my Muslim cousins who were the only brothers and sisters I grew up with! As the two religious faiths got more entrenched within our communal space, adherents began defining their relationship to the traditional beliefs around the imperative of values and culture as the conversation platform that supposedly excluded the “idolatrous” practices defined by traditional rituals.
As a convivial confluence, Aáwé, as I recently expounded, poses a significant challenge to Nigeria’s national project. And just as values and culture served as the mitigating framework for tempering volatile religious temperaments, so also must civil secular virtues temper the violence of religious fundamentalism in Nigeria. No one understands this urgent necessity more than Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah, the charismatic Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Sokoto. Bishop Kukah is a lone voice crying in the wilderness. And his message is untiring: Repent and be patriotic! He is unique in the sense that he has remained consistently singular in his adroit combination of priestly and civic energies. He is conveniently at home in religious as well as civil society circles. He has no reason at all, like most clergies, to retreat into the obscurity of Episcopal responsibilities; rather, he sees the priesthood as a robust platform to launch the will of God onto the national stage. The Kukah Centre for Faith and Leadership Research is a committed vision of inter-faith dialogue in Nigeria. Founded in 2008, the Centre has three-pronged strategic objectives: (a) to deepen the quality of national discourse on coexistence in Nigeria; (b) to strengthen the capacity of citizens to engage government at various levels and promote inclusive governance processes; and (c) to expand the relationship between faith and public policy.
As he said recently at the Soyinka at 80 lecture, he is always very glad to confound those who consider that he has no business with ‘unbelievers’—politicians, Muslims, and atheistic writers. What they superficially fail to see is the underlying energy that drives Rev. Fr. Kukah. Combining priestly and activist functions immediately revealed the liberation theology credentials of this man of God who believes that religion serves a political function of mobilising against injustice anywhere.
In order to justify our faith in the possibilities of democracy, Fr. Kukah seems to be saying, we need to bring the various manifestations of faith to a democratic rapprochement. Democratic excellence does not come easy; as President John Kennedy once remarked ‘Democracy is a difficult kind of government. It requires the highest qualities of self-discipline, restraint, a willingness to make commitments and sacrifices for the general interest, and it also requires knowledge.’ Democracy can benefit immensely from the spiritual capital embedded in religious energies of the likes of Fr. Kukah. The spiritual should first be charitable; charity considers others first. Shouldn’t the spiritual therefore instil a patriotic feeling in religious adherents? What is the point of spirituality and a religious craving for God if it doesn’t decree living at peace with all men, as the Scripture prescribes? The Bible indicts our religiosity: If you don’t love this fellow Nigerian you can see, how can you love God that you can’t see? Patriotic love is the manifestation of spiritual humility.
Kukah took his extended mission from a conviction that religion will not wither away as modernisation theorists posit; yet, it is still violently atavistic. It instinctively fuels hatred rather than love and compassion in us towards fellow citizens, and it challenges our secular foundation. The fundamental question at the heart of the mission of Kukah et al therefore is: Why can’t we see eye to eye in the name of the same God? Why does spirituality excite violence rather than compassion?
We can take the interrogation further by asking: In what sense can spirituality ensure that a person becomes a good citizen? In what sense can inter-faith dialogue become possible in spite of the absolute nature of our basic religions? If collective interaction stands at the basis of citizenship, how can inter-faith dialogue provide the framework for such a national conversation that will activate religion as a positive contribution to national development? If we are the sole owner of God, then what relationship can we have with the so-called ‘non-God people’? What would be the point of our conversation?
The best argument for inter-faith dialogue in Nigeria is therefore a simple one: We are all Nigerians, and we all rise or fall together in spite of our different religions. The Boko Haram insurgence is actually not favourable to Muslims and Christians. We are all under fundamentalist fire. By this fact, it implies that as Nigerians we all have an overriding interest in speaking to one another in a bid to provide the framework for a viable coexistence. The alternative, as Boko Haram is teaching us presently, is nationally unpalatable. To be truly spiritual, we all have an obligation to reproduce heaven in Nigeria. Heaven is reciprocal affection for the other person as a human creation of a humane God.     
It is in that sense that inter-faith dialogue begins from the necessity of spiritualising our existence as Nigerians. This essentially requires that we secularise the religious values central to each religion and transform them into civic virtues. Islam springs from a fundamental ‘Submission to the will of Allah,’ and Christianity implies the followership of the ‘Prince of peace.’ The traditional religion prides itself on its non-violent and humanist foundation. All three further pride themselves as the repository of cardinal virtues that make for spirituality—love, compassion, mercy, hospitality, temperance, justice, prudence, diligence, kindness, humility, etc. It is not difficult to see how these virtues can become civic. Civic virtues are those behaviour, temperaments, attitudes and habits that are critical for the survival of any community. They include: trustworthiness, reciprocity, friendliness, politeness, cooperation, political participation, honesty, brotherhood, and so on.
As Rick Warren once noted, ‘A truly free society protects all faith, and true faith protects a free society.’ I read secularism as a framework that allows for the flourishing of several religious expressions of human beings to coexist with a democratic context. Yet, secularity is not enough for dialogue; the various religions must secularise. This simply implies, without any deep philosophical analysis that the various religious leaders must work assiduously to moderate their theological absolutism in favour of civic peace and national coexistence. If Providence and historical necessity have placed Muslims, Christians and Traditionalists together within the national space we call Nigeria, then it stands to reason that we either move on together or we fall together. One outcome is obviously better than the other.
James Baldwin noted poignantly that ‘The future is like heaven—everyone exalts it but no one wants to go there now.’ I revel in the optimism that the Nigerian national project is an attempt to create a future that is heavenly for us and future generations of Nigerians. Moving on together to that heavenly future requires an active cultivation of those civic virtues that do not in any way detract from whatsoever way Muslims, Christians and traditionalists conceive of the dynamics of their own heaven. The idea is to begin creating the possibility of heaven in Nigeria first.
If we must achieve unity in diversity, we need to harness our spiritual energies. We need to arrive at the egalitarian conviction that we are all created equal by one God. Heaven is harmony; and I doubt anyone can draw near the Pearly Gates if they fail to live peaceably with others right here and now. Mahatma Gandhi once said, ‘God has no religion.’ Once we grasp the profundity of that simple statement, we should be right on the way to a national spiritual awareness that can enlarge our sensibility and bring us to a patriotic understanding of our collective responsibility as citizens of this great country and our shared destiny.
 
Dr Olaopa is Permanent Secretary, Federal Ministry of Communication Technology <[email protected]>;