The lantern that cannot see its own darkness

By Folorunso Fatai AdisaLast month, a mutilated body was found decomposing on thetranquil banks of Loch Lomond, Glasgow. A few weeks later, dismembered bodyparts were discovered in the community around my workplace in Glasgow. And onlythree weeks ago, I woke to flashing blue lights and police tape sealing off mystreet, a 52-year-old man had been stabbed to death right at the doorstep ofthe next house to mine. These are not scenes from a crime drama. They arepieces of Scotland’s recent reality. The cases of violent crime here, thoughrare by global standards, are quietly on the rise. According to ScottishGovernment crime statistics (2024), recorded homicides rose to 57 cases, upfrom 52 the previous year, while knife-related offences remain a persistentconcern across Glasgow and Edinburgh. However, in every tragedy, something profoundly humanhappens: people rally together. They condemn the act, not the people. They donot claim persecution. They do not weaponise grief. They come forward withinformation, assist the police, and help the community heal. Now contrast that with home, Nigeria. There, tragedy toooften becomes a tool of division. Some so-called fundamentalists preach thattheir religion is holier than others, branding dissenters as infidels. Someethnic propagandists have vowed to burn the country down simply because theylost an election. The nation’s pain is politicized; its insecurity, misbranded. Yes, insurgency exists. Yes, people across faiths andethnicities have been killed in Kaduna, Zamfara, Plateau, Imo, and Borno. Butto reduce that complex web of violence to “Christian genocide,” as the U.S.President Donald Trump recently claimed, is both reckless and ignorant. Iterases Muslim victims of banditry, kidnapping, and terrorism, and thosenameless farmers, imams, and children in the North who have also perished underthe same violence. Words matter. The Armed Conflict Location & Event DataProject (ACLED, 2024) shows that over 60% of violent deaths in Nigeria’s northwere from communal, criminal, or insurgent attacks not targeted by religion butby geography and vulnerability. Misnaming such tragedies as “Christiangenocide” only deepens suspicion and fuels fresh hate. What Nigeria truly needs now is not another importednarrative but a collective homegrown resolve where citizens join hands withsecurity agencies, communities sharing intelligence, and leaders confrontingthe monsters of banditry, kidnapping, and terrorism that stalk every region. And as for America lecturing others on peace, one must onlyglance at its own mirror. The Gun Violence Archive (2025) has already recordedover 35,000 deaths this year alone from gun-related incidents. That is morethan Nigeria’s total death toll from terrorism and banditry combined in 2024(Global Terrorism Index, 2025). Add to that the U.S. interventions in Libya,Gaza, and Ukraine, and you see a lantern that cannot see its own darkness,preaching light while standing in shadow. Violence benefits nobody. And those who peddle division inthe name of religion or politics must remember: the fire they ignite might oneday consume them too. Folorunso Fatai Adisa is a communication strategist.He holds a master’s degree in media and communication from the University ofStrathclyde, Glasgow, and writes from the United Kingdom. He can be contactedvia [email protected]

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