Two attacks in local villages, leaving 17 dead in one and eight in another, says my teacher friend from Kaduna State in Nigeria in one of his latest letters. He writes regularly about the threats that he and his family and students face from Islamist militias. But what stays in my mind, apart from the horror of the details, is his steadfast refusal to demonise his Muslim neighbours and his eagerness to find resources to think (and pray) through what he needs to do and to communicate. He wants to learn what it is that stops cycles of retribution; he wants to break out of the mentality which assumes that what matters is to have enough firepower to intimidate and silence what threatens you. You may ‘win’ tomorrow, and in doing so condemn your grandchildren to another murderous round of conflict later.
Some conflicts – like these local atrocities in Nigeria – hardly break the surface in our news media. But there is for me something of immense authority in the determination of someone like my friend to go on asking what breaks the cycle. It’s impossible not to contrast this with the frenzied rhetoric of Vladimir Putin’s clerical allies in Russia. Paint yourself as the helpless victim driven, alas, to extreme measures by the inevitability of an assault that has not actually happened. Deeply entrenched power loves to depict itself as fragile and easily victimised. Quite a bit of US politics seems deeply wedded to this mythology of the persecuted majority, the vulnerability of the vastly wealthy and resourceful (Donald Trump fantasising about being marched to court in handcuffs). Or, for that matter, the vulnerability of a powerfully endowed progressive establishment in many institutions, busily weaponising grievances and creating fresh tribal markers, new sins against the Holy Ghost.
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