You, the man in tuxedo or tie, who mistakes arrogance for destiny, stand before the world again, trying to sell salvation to the same nations your empire has burned for generations. Before you dare to lift your trembling fingers toward Nigeria or any other sovereign nation, first walk through the ruins your kind have left behind. The stench of your interventions still hangs in the wind of nations you promised to save. Your tongue preaches liberty; your hands deliver graves. From the deserts of the Middle East to the jungles of Latin America, from the oil wells of Africa to the rice fields of Asia, the story repeats itself: death, destruction and dismemberment. Every time you invade, someone buries a child and calls it collateral damage. Every time you leave, the earth mourns.
Your country is no city on a hill. It is a fortress built on other people’s bones, a kingdom of illusion standing upon rivers of blood. You come now speaking of defending Christians in Nigeria, yet your own churches burn in silence. Four hundred and fifteen hostile acts, three hundred and eighty-three churches attacked across forty-three of your fifty states. Bomb threats, arsons, gunfire, vandalism, and not a single word from your lips. No prayer, no policy, no repentance. You have not even secured the faith in your own land, yet you lecture the world about morality.
Inside your borders, your holy places burn. Outside, your bombs fall on the holy lands of others. You do not defend religion; you weaponize it. You treat Christianity like an export commodity; something to sell to the gullible and use to justify war. You forget that the terrorist in Nigeria does not conduct a faith base roll call before he kills. He kills Muslims, Christians, pagans, everyone. This is not your Hollywood war of faiths, it is a war against poverty, corruption, and the ghosts of imperialism that your own policies helped create. The same system that armed dictators and crushed genuine patriots now pretends to care about human life.
History is not your ally. It has recorded, in every decade since 1945, the same pattern of destruction dressed up as deliverance. A government overthrown here, a people “liberated” there. Iran, Guatemala, Vietnam, Chile, Iraq, Libya; the map glows with your fingerprints drenched in blood. You call them interventions; the world calls them invasions. You called it strategy; we call it gangsterism. You bombed villages to save democracy, poisoned economies to cure communism, and funded coups to fight tyranny. Every time, you promised a new dawn; every time, the sun rose red with blood. You invaded to “defend freedom,” yet every flag you planted grew from a field of corpses. You never exported liberty, only instability. You created failed states and called it progress.
And now you look toward Nigeria with that same missionary gaze, that same voice garnished with hypocrisy. We have seen what you do to nations that believed your sermons. The Libyans cheered when you promised them democracy, and now their country is a slave market. The Ukrainians believed your talk of freedom, and now they live under rubble. The Afghans trusted your soldiers and woke up to drones. The Syrians tasted your sanctions and learned what starvation means. At the end of every invasion, there is no justice, no peace, only the faint echo of your speeches and the loud silence of the dead.
So do not come here with your gospel of guns and your morality of missiles. Nigeria will not be another photo on your wall of ruined nations. No gangster in a fancy suit will trick us into doing to ourselves what the Libyans did to their homeland, only to discover too late how foolish they were. We have seen your version of human rights. It is the right to be bombed, the right to be looted, the right to mourn in white man’s language. You and your kind should take that doctrine and deliver it where it belongs: on the monster island of imperial deceit.
You have no moral authority left. You lost it when your own police gunned down your citizens in the streets and your politicians turned prayers into campaign slogans. You lost it when you let your own churches burn while you sold weapons to tyrants abroad. You lost it when your silence echoed louder than your sermons. Your civilization is rotting under the weight of its own hypocrisy, and the world no longer believes your lies.
We, the so-called Third World, have learned your language, studied your history, and seen through your smiles. We know that when you speak of peace, war follows; when you speak of freedom, chains appear; when you speak of justice, markets open for plunder. But we have also learned resistance. The same fires that consumed our villages forged our resolve. The same sanctions that starved our children hardened our will. The same propaganda that mocked our faith has taught us how to believe without illusion.
You stand before us pretending to be a savior, but the world knows better. You are the latest mask of an old empire that refuses to die with dignity. You are not a reformer, you are the salesman of decay. So go back to your burning churches and your broken people. Heal them before you pretend to heal the world. Tend to your wounded nation before you prescribe medicine for others. Because this time, the sermon is over. The people you used to pity are now awake.
And if you insist on carrying your gospel of hypocrisy to our shores, remember this: we no longer fear your threats or your drones or your sanctions. We have lived through your wars and buried our dead. There is nothing left to fear. What we have now is clarity. The knowledge that your empire is not immortal and your lies are not infinite. So take your talk of freedom, your flag of convenience, and your moral posturing, and deliver them to the only place that will still welcome them: the island of monsters, where history buries those who thought they could rule forever.
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