Davide Casciano

Lagos, Nigeria, is a megacity teeming with people and paradoxes. Despite the existence of underprivileged areas, recently built or renovated residential, business, and administrative areas boast architectural styles as opulent as the lifestyles they represent. The residents of these areas, in addition to skyscrapers and luxury villas, demonstrate their success by purchasing expensive cars, luxury items, and last, but not least, by participating in upscale and exclusive nightlife activities. During these parties, wealth accumulation, often acquired through equally exclusive channels and flamboyant intermediaries, is exhibited in all of its grandeur, even to those who can only admire it through social media. On these nights, those who are seen as “successful” are acknowledged and celebrated for their capacity to control and transform a world from which they may gaze down. It is a world in which, for them, anything is possible, even and especially what would otherwise be forbidden. However, as I will show, without referring to the long historical record of socioeconomic disparities, numerous neoliberal reforms, and how “the public” is perceived in Nigeria’s postcolonial context by elites, it would be difficult to understand this conspicuous consumption and who is the target of these ostensibly blatant acts of defiance. While these socialite nights are marked by extravagance, luxury, and exceptionality, the ability to make the impossible achievable requires, in addition to money, constant social negotiations, and the preservation of valuable social networks. During these performances, violations or corruption of norms and values (as defined by state rhetoric), in addition to showing to whom one feels entitled to be “special”, may thus create (extra)ordinary moral realms, deviant and external to many, but deeply connected through willing or even forced forms of reciprocity to others, whose identities and formations are constantly shifting within the fabric of Nigerian society.

This paper describes how different Neo-Pentecostal churches inscribe themselves in the history of the aftermath of the Niger Delta oil related struggles, in Nigeria, imagining a peaceful future for the population and explaining the present state of daunting ambiguities. The crisis of the Niger Delta, rooted in the exploitation of crude oil by many multinational oil companies, reached its peak with the rise of armed groups and the steep increase in violence. If in the first place the government responded by deploying special security forces, it then proposed a Disarmament, Demobilization and Reintegration Programme, the Federal Amnesty, to those groups who would lay down their weapons. Even though this effort was partially successful, everyday insecurities in the form of robberies, kidnappings and sabotages of oil pipelines are still on the rise. The history of the struggles and the Amnesty programme as a peace-building initiative has been cogently presented by many scholars; however, during my ethnographic fieldwork in Port Harcourt, in 2016, I encountered a quite different narrative. Not only many Neo-Pentecostal pastors claimed to have played an active, though not recognized, role in the genesis of the Federal Amnesty Programme, but they also proposed a creative reading of the history of the crisis, imbuing it with different meanings and presenting a possible and more effective alternative peace model. By blurring the line between physical and spiritual struggle, Neo-Pentecostal discourses and practices challenged both the armed groups and the state, instilling new hope in the hagridden population.

This contribute aims to describe the micro-politics of suspicion and accusation in the context of the oil struggles in the Niger Delta, Nigeria, showing the role of some of the Pentecostal discourses and practices in Port Harcourt. Through an historical and ethnographic study, I will describe the contemporary rise, in the Seventies, of some University confraternities and the first wave of Pentecostal churches within the same campuses. While some of the confraternities gradually became part of an armed opposition to the Nigerian governments and the oil companies, the Pentecostal churches expanded their influence referring to them not as ‘freedom fighters’, as they often did, but as ‘secret cults’ who were conspiring and fighting to control the world. Since the Nineties, the increased violence, the rise of kidnappings, the Federal Amnesty Program and the endless daily life hardships framed practices and discourses aimed to solve the physical and spiritual insecurity experienced by everybody, even the (former) armed youth, by overcoming the ambiguity of the petro-naira blessings and the evil plot of the Other.

My paper explores the role played by Neo-Pentecostal Christianity in the violent conflict of the Niger Delta (Nigeria). Since the beginning of crude oil exploitation in the Niger Delta by Shell, Chevron, ENI/NAOC and other oil companies, an increasing pattern of robberies, kidnappings and violence committed by chronically unemployed youth, called ‘freedom fighters’, ‘militants’ or ‘cultists’ has turned Niger Delta into a ‘red zone’, not only for expatriates, but also for local citizens. Because of the risks involved, no fieldwork has been conducted in the area since 2009; moreover, even if in terms of adherents Nigerian Neo-Pentecostalism is second only to the United States, no one has studied the role it plays in the crisis. Drawing on examples from my doctoral fieldwork in Port Harcourt in 2016, I aim to show how Churches operate both in line and in partial dissimilarity with the peace efforts made by the State. While Neo-Pentecostals, like the State, have always been against the ‘cults’ or the ‘militants’, they also offer an alternative way of rescuing people, transforming them in being ‘born-again’. Neo-Pentecostal rhetoric and practices performed by pastors and activists provide common ground to promote a non-violent and spiritual alternative to the armed struggles and toward prosperity for many disappointed youth. Finally, the paper address how, in a context of everyday life insecurities for both ex-‘militants’ and ‘civilians’, Neo-Pentecostalism provides a restored sense of protection, divine planning and social interactions in order for its adherents to feel safe again.

This paper, based on my doctoral fieldwork in Port Harcourt, aims to show the role of Neo-Pentecostal Christianity in the conversion of the so-called ‘secret cultists’ or ‘militants’ by transforming and freeing them from threats, including them in a new ‘family’ of ‘born-agains’ and controlling their rebel bodies. Port Harcourt is the principle oil city of the crude exporting region of the Niger Delta, Nigeria. This area became a ‘red zone’ after kidnapping increased in 2009. For unemployed youth, cultism and armed militancy became a fast way to obtain a denied wealth, even at the cost of widespread fear and insecurity for both the victims and perpetrators hounded by law enforcement and rival cultists. Second worldwide in terms of adherents, Neo-Pentecostalism in Nigeria has a long history in opposing the ‘Realm of Darkness’, synonym for secret cults and militancy for many people in the Niger Delta. In fact, as I will show, in concurrence with the State’s security concerns, Neo-Pentecostalism proposes a ‘miraculous alternative’ to search well-being, converting youth’s grievances from those of violence to faith, leading them away from brutalities and giving them a peaceful collective identity, a safe new ‘family’ for the generation ‘arrested by God’.

This contribution seeks to analyse how Neo-Pentecostalism fits into the reworking of dissent and the experience of inequality in the oil producing city of Port Harcourt, Nigeria. After a devastating civil war, the expansion of the oil market in the 1970s was a «blessing» in Nigeria that led to the «rebirth» of the nation with a new found well-being and show of «prosperity». Despite this, growing inequality and lack of infrastructure created the space for a struggle, often armed, against multinationals and the state. Neo-Pentecostal churches, as I will show, although somewhat critical of certain state initiatives, were, in general, supportive. In fact, they offered a popular solution to a well-being that was no longer perceived as the consequence of the fruits of one's own labour, an «economy of miracles» and attempted to calm the armed struggles by shaping individual viewpoints (which were adaptable to unstable working conditions) through narrative and ritual devices.

Il mio contributo vuole mostrare come le chiese cristiane Aladura prima, e le Pentecostali oggi, svolgano in Nigeria un importante ruolo nel definire il senso delle malattie e quindi, il modo di affrontarle. Gli esempi su cui mi baserò emergono da dati d'archivio e dalla mia ricerca sul campo ad Ibadan, capitale dello stato di Oyo in Nigeria, durante il 2011.
Dall’influenza spagnola del 1918 queste chiese hanno ricavato il loro spazio nel campo terapeutico in reazione ai fallimenti della bio-medicina e demonizzando le pratiche locali. Ad entrambe hanno opposto, come superiore, lo "spiritual power in the name of Jesus". Mostrerò come le chiese creano uno spazio di senso per i loro membri all'interno di un flusso globale di eventi e di problematiche moderne, percepite spesso come frustranti: ciò, attraverso un'agency, una lotta, espressa anche tramite tecniche del corpo durante le funzioni rituali. Infine, mostrerò come le chiese ricavino una posizione socio-politica sempre più riconosciuta anche a livello nazionale, divenendo parte, dal 2000, di programmi contro l'HIV; la cui partecipazione, non scevra da ambiguità, sarà analizzata mostrandone gli aspetti e le possibilità.

The topic that I will explore regards the transformation that Pentecostal churches are experiencing in Nigeria, their involvement in policies for dealing with AIDS as faith-based organisations (FBO) and their translation of the Yoruba concept of ‘àjé’ as a malevolent force that can cause, amongst other things, AIDS. Furthermore, I will show the consequences, right up to a national level, of this conceptualization and the role of Pentecostal churches when facing pandemics. My examples and data come from my fieldwork, carried out in the city of Ibadan, the capital of Oyo State, Nigeria, during 2011. Historically, this city was founded and populated by Yoruba speaking people.

The spread of HIV/AIDS began in Nigeria in 1985, and by 2009, 3,6% of adults were living with AIDS, according to UNAIDS. National bio-politics regarding AIDS, which are partially dictated by international donors (such as the USA), are aimed towards more economical neo-liberal models of risk management, that give the highest priority to prevention and individual responsibility. Rather than following these models, some local interpretations view the disease as being the result of social relations damaged by the growing domination of money in current society. By apportioning blame to other conflicting entities, these concepts join with local aspects of witchcraft. Independent Christian churches follow the moral model "ABC" ("Abstinence, faithfulness, condom use"), which imputes moral responsibility to the individual through "faithfulness" while ignoring important practical issues.
My paper, which suggests that any disease must be interpreted by people, shows how this process occurs in Ibadan (Nigeria) through multiple social agents. These agents struggle for exclusive control of the healthcare field and for the right to impose their discourse about the nature and causes of HIV/AIDS. I will explore these different discourses and how they legitimise one social agent rather than another. I will analyse the consequences of different interpretations of risk, the consequences of stigma and local narrative; the social construction of the experience of illness, and lastly, the numerous therapeutic pathways available. By suggesting policies which are based more on everyday life, I will draw attention to "culturally oriented" approaches adopted by some NGOs, which if not clearly thought through, paradoxically may contribute to pragmatically harmful therapeutic choices for people living with HIV.

This chapter examines prominent Nigerian internet celebrities who gained fame on Instagram by flaunting their lavish lifestyles and, paradoxically, retaining large online followings despite legal charges for money laundering and fraud. Through digital ethnography, literature review, and archival research, discussing Hushpuppi’s case will offer insight into how celebrities’ social media narratives reflect and shape Nigeria’s moral economy of fraud and corruption. Social media posts displaying luxury can be interpreted as a response to social pressures on marginalised youth and a subversive act against Nigeria’s postcolonial hierarchies and global structural inequalities. Yet, these posts can also be connected with the emersion of international online networks facilitating illegal cross-border activities. Thus, by analysing the social context of these public digital figures, this chapter will shed light on their strategies for navigating regulatory frameworks, deflecting fraud allegations, and maintaining celebrity status while flaunting luxury lifestyles amidst a neoliberal system bursting with economic uncertainty.

Access to consumption, especially to objects that are challenging to obtain, is one of the features contributing to the successful spread of Pentecostalism in West Africa. Pentecostal pastors have become central public figures, ‘consumer stars,’ whose display of wealth and luxury is key to their social legitimacy as preachers of the Prosperity Gospel. Moreover, their extensive and flexible social networks allow them and other born-again Christians to be part of patronage networks internally perceived as moral. However, while their conspicuous consumption has inspired ecstatic supporters, it has also attracted criticism and accusations of fakery and corruption. This article aims to explore the relationships between consumption, especially conspicuous consumption, and discourses about the corruption of Pentecostalism in Nigeria. Accusations against Pentecostal pastors and their fraud schemes or corrupt practices seem to identify the moral limits between what is considered a righteous and an immoral consumption, describing the potential perils of purely individualistic hyper-consumerism. These popular tales of ‘fake pastors’, willing to do anything to enjoy a luxury life, allow us to understand how the born-again public is scrutinizing the opaque neoliberal entanglements between consumerism and corruption that characterize emerging elite’s actions in Nigeria and elsewhere.

Since the early 1990s, the Niger Delta has been the scene of armed struggles between militants and other armed groups aimed at controlling natural resource revenues in Nigeria. After nearly a decade of violence, the Presidential Amnesty Program (PAP) was successful in disarming and co-opting the militant groups. This article is based on ethnographic fieldwork conducted in Port Harcourt during 2016 with one Pentecostal group instrumental to the PAP’s success. The former militants in this group, now born-again, use Christian language and concepts to discuss the reasons for their agreement with and adherence to the PAP. However, while collaborating with the government on some important tasks, they also use the language of religion to criticize some of its actions. I argue that it is precisely through these ambiguous negotiations that sovereignty, articulated through diverse authorities, is constructed as a representation, replacing trust in government with faith in God’s plan.

The preventive measures implemented to contain the coronavirus pandemic in Italy involve the self-confinement of the population. At the same time, I argue, an ethos of self-discipline is promoted, leading to ambiguous results. Although the pandemic may allow some people to imagine a different future, others have perceived it as the beginning of a war, in which the most critical aspect becomes placing blame and punish the agents responsible for the contagion, the undisciplined ones who threaten social collectivity.