The Ghost of Deborah Yakubu: How One Ignored Killing Became the Mirror of Nigeria’s Christian Genocide Debate -By Prof. John Egbeazien Oshodi

A psychologist’s counsel on how Nigeria can respond wisely, not defensively, to growing international concern over faith-based violence

The Case That Should Have Healed the Nation

It began with one case — the death of a young woman named Deborah Samuel Yakubu.

If that case had been handled with justice, transparency, and moral courage, we would not be here today — explaining our nation’s soul to the world.

On May 12, 2022, Deborah, a 200-level student at the Shehu Shagari College of Education in Sokoto, questioned why a class WhatsApp group meant for academic discussion was being turned into a pulpit. Her message was neither hateful nor provocative. It was a simple request for focus:

“What do you hope to achieve with this?”

That question was her last. She was dragged out of class, beaten, stoned, and burned alive by her classmates — while others filmed and chanted.

If Nigeria had stood still that day, if it had wept publicly, if the killers had faced justice without excuse or delay, perhaps the world would not be labeling our pain today as “genocide.”

When nations fail to heal small wounds, they grow into moral infections. Deborah’s death was not only a tragedy; it was a psychological case study in what happens when justice collapses into silence.

When Justice Folded Its Arms

Deborah’s killers were not charged with murder. They faced minor, bailable offenses: “criminal conspiracy” and “incitement of public disturbance.”

A team of 34 lawyers volunteered to defend them — among them, professors, politicians, and religious scholars. None appeared for Deborah.

When prosecution lawyers failed to show up, the suspects were acquitted.

A young woman was burned alive, and Nigeria moved on.

Psychologically, that day, the national conscience took a sedative. The mind of justice went numb.

Since then, the pattern has repeated: moral paralysis, official defensiveness, public denial.

Deborah’s unburied truth became Nigeria’s unhealed wound.

The Unhealed Wound and the Echo Abroad

Three years later, her name now echoes in places she never imagined — the U.S. Congress, European parliaments, and human-rights hearings across continents.

When a nation refuses to listen to its victims, their ghosts begin to speak in foreign tongues.

In 2025, U.S. lawmakers — Ted Cruz, Nancy Mace, Riley Moore — cited Nigeria as the world’s deadliest place for Christians. Their arguments were not abstractions; they were reactions to Nigeria’s refusal to react.

The Nigeria Religious Freedom Accountability Act of 2025 was not written because of Western arrogance — it was written because of Nigerian silence.

Defensiveness as Policy: When a Nation Argues with Reality

President Bola Tinubu’s government inherited chaos — a land wounded by banditry, terrorism, and distrust. But instead of healing through humility, it has often responded with hostility.

When U.S. lawmakers expressed concern, Nigerian officials called their statements “reckless,” “false,” and “anti-Nigerian.”

Instead of empathy, we sent anger. Instead of facts, we sent pride.

In psychology, this is collective denial — when a nation builds a wall of words to protect its ego from truth.

But denial does not heal; it festers.

In a nation of over 200 million people — almost evenly divided between Christians and Muslims — where both the President and the Vice President are Muslims, this defensive tone does not only sound insecure; it looks symbolically imbalanced.

Even when intentions are good, repeated defensiveness in such a context makes the whole leadership appear detached from the suffering of half its citizens.

When national pride replaces moral responsibility, governance becomes emotional rather than ethical.

Every defensive press statement widens the gap between Nigeria and the world — between truth and perception.

The Cost of Over-Defensiveness: America Acts Quietly

Americans rarely shout back — they act.

Each dismissive response from Abuja becomes a policy draft in Washington.

Each insult to a U.S. senator becomes a reason for sanctions, visa restrictions, or frozen aid.

Diplomacy does not punish mistakes — it punishes arrogance after mistakes.

Americans are pragmatic people; they respect humility and action, not prideful denial.

When Nigeria defends instead of dialogues, it loses both sympathy and strategy.

CAN’s Intervention: The Church Steps into the Therapist’s Role

On October 8, 2025, the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) issued its clearest, most painful truth yet.

In its statement titled “Christian Genocide — CAN Clarifies Position,” Archbishop Daniel Okoh wrote:

“Many Christian communities in parts of Nigeria, especially in the North, have suffered severe attacks, loss of life, and the destruction of places of worship… The pain of Christian families torn apart by violence must never be treated as mere statistics.”

CAN detailed its letters to the International Criminal Court, global faith networks, and national authorities — yet, as Okoh lamented, “the cries for justice are too often met with delay or denial.”

Then came a line that should be inscribed in Nigeria’s leadership handbooks:

“Nigeria’s healing will not come from denial or blame, but from courage — the courage to face our collective failures, to grieve together, and to rebuild trust within our communities.”

That is psychological truth expressed in spiritual language — healing requires honesty before hope.

When the World Began to Listen — and Believe

Sean Nelson, Legal Counsel for Global Religious Freedom at ADF International, praised CAN’s courage, saying:

“It’s simply undeniable that there are mass, disproportionate, and targeted atrocities being committed against Christians in Nigeria.”

His statement echoed what Nigerians have whispered for years — insecurity touches everyone, but Christians, especially in the North and Middle Belt, are being hunted at a different frequency.

Riley Moore and the Arithmetic of Atrocity

Appearing on Fox & Friends, U.S. Congressman Riley Moore read out numbers that should haunt every moral conscience:

“Since 2009, over 18,000 churches have been burned, 50,000 Christians killed, and five million displaced. More than 7,000 have been murdered in 2025 alone.”

He called for halting arms sales to Nigeria and for its re-designation as a “Country of Particular Concern.”

Television host Rachel Campos-Duffy added sharply,

“If a government is not protecting Christians, the United States should not be giving them money, weapons, or training.”

When morality meets data, diplomacy follows numbers, not narratives.

Nancy Mace: When Language Meets Moral Certainty

Rep. Nancy Mace spoke with unsparing clarity:

“What’s happening to Christians in Nigeria is genocide — and pretending it isn’t happening won’t make it stop.”

Then she added the line that dismantled all defensiveness:

“You don’t have to be a Christian to see evil for what it is.”

Her words became the world’s mirror — showing how Nigeria looks to outsiders: a nation more eager to defend its image than its innocents.

The Unequal Safety We Pretend Not to See

Both Muslims and Christians have suffered from Nigeria’s insecurity.

Both herders and farmers have bled.

But the geography of fear is not equal.

A Muslim northerner can live freely in Enugu, Lagos, or Port Harcourt — build mosques, trade, and call the adhan without fear.

A Christian southerner in Sokoto or Zamfara whispers hymns, avoids evangelism, and teaches children silence.

That is not coexistence — it is quiet survival.

Meanwhile, Hisbah police raid hotels, destroy alcohol, and arrest university students for “immorality.”

There is no equivalent force in the South policing Muslim behavior.

That imbalance is the psychological architecture of fear — unequal freedom disguised as religious morality.

The Mayor’s Report: When the Evidence Came from Within Nigeria

At the Abuja Hilton, former U.S. mayor Mike Arnold, founder of Africa Arise International, presented six years of investigative work on Nigeria’s religious violence.

His report, “Formal Statement on Widespread Violence and Displacement in Nigeria,” described the crisis as “a calculated, current, and long-running genocide against Christian communities and other religious minorities.”

He had visited Nigeria fifteen times, documented eighty hours of survivor testimonies, and even prepared his will before returning — fearing he might be killed for speaking truth.

He accused government actors of “complicity in crimes against humanity” and alleged that internally displaced persons’ camps were being bulldozed to erase witnesses — “witness repression,” he called it.

“This is not politics,” Arnold said. “This is truth-telling.”

He also exposed a grim economic layer — “blood mineral extraction”: the illicit mining of gold, tin, and lithium worth billions, which he claimed funds armed groups and perpetuates violence.

Even if his findings await full verification, his words have reshaped the global narrative. The fear of truth-telling in Nigeria is now international knowledge.

The Psychology of Over-Defensiveness

Nigeria has the right to defend its sovereignty, but too much defensiveness is self-destructive.

When the government reacts with irritation rather than introspection, it turns empathy into enmity.

This is reactive nationalism — where wounded pride replaces practical leadership.

America does not argue; it acts.

Sanctions, diplomatic coldness, and funding pauses are silent punishments.

Nigeria’s officials must remember: the world does not condemn mistakes — it condemns arrogance after mistakes.

Softness in tone is not weakness; it is wisdom.

Between Truth and Transformation

This is not about blaming President Tinubu personally.

The rot predates him.

But leadership is not about inheritance — it is about redirection.

Tinubu can still change the tide: acknowledge inequality, set up an independent interfaith inquiry, and invite credible international observers.

That single act of transparency could turn global suspicion into partnership.

In psychological leadership, vulnerability is power. Leaders who say, “We are investigating,” win more trust than those who say, “It is false.”

Therapeutic Counsel for a Wounded Nation

Nigeria’s crisis is not just political; it is psychological.

Healing requires national therapy, not national pride.

1. Acknowledge imbalance — name the pain clearly.

2. Suspend religious policing — Hisbah must obey the constitution.

3. Create an Interfaith Justice Commission — let Muslims, Christians, and traditionalists share truth.

4. Protect the displaced — stop bulldozing IDP camps; record their stories.

5. Train security forces in cultural and religious sensitivity.

6. Begin every government statement with empathy, not defensiveness.

This is what I call therapeutic governance — where leadership speaks like a counselor, not a combatant.

The American Mirror

When America faced its racial trauma, it did not hide behind sovereignty. It faced itself.

Congress held hearings, citizens marched, and change—though slow—became possible.

Nigeria must learn the same courage: to confront its own contradictions, to let honesty be the beginning of healing.

The world is not asking for perfection — only participation in truth.

Closing Reflection: Deborah’s Question Still Stands

The debate over “Christian genocide” will not fade.

It is now global, moral, and psychological.

But beneath the debates lies the same question Deborah once asked — not to mock, not to provoke, but to understand:

“What do you hope to achieve with this?”

If Nigeria answers with humility, it will achieve healing.

If it answers with pride, it will achieve isolation.

The world is not asking Nigeria to kneel — only to heal.

Not to confess weakness — but to confess truth.

Because the measure of moral courage is not in winning arguments —but in facing the mirror when the truth hurts.

About the Author

Prof. John Egbeazien Oshodi is an American psychologist and educator specializing in forensic, legal, clinical, cross-cultural psychology, public ethical policy, police, and prison science.

Born in Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria, and the son of a 37-year veteran of the Nigeria Police Force, he has devoted his career to linking psychology with justice, education, and governance. In 2011 he pioneered the introduction of advanced forensic psychology in Nigeria through the National Universities Commission and Nasarawa State University, where he served as Associate Professor of Psychology.

He currently serves as contributing faculty in the Doctorate in Clinical and School Psychology at Nova Southeastern University; teaches in the Doctorate Clinical Psychology, BS Psychology, and BS Tempo Criminal Justice programs at Walden University; and is a virtual professor of Management and Leadership Studies at Weldios University and ISCOM University. He is President and Chief Psychologist at the Oshodi Foundation, Center for Psychological and Forensic Services, United States.

Prof. Oshodi is a Black Republican whose work promotes individual responsibility, community self-reliance, and institutional democracy. He is the founder of Psychoafricalysis (Psychoafricalytic Psychology)—a culturally grounded framework centering African sociocultural realities, historical consciousness, and future-oriented identity. A prolific scholar, he has authored more than 500 articles, several books, and numerous peer-reviewed works on Africentric psychology, higher education reform, forensic and correctional psychology, African democracy, and decolonized therapeutic models.