To pray or not to pray for Uganda

One idle idea that is frequently repeated goes like this: If thousands of Ugandans converged at an agreed spacious venue – say, Kololo Airstrip – and they prayed for the country, Uganda would be redeemed.

It is an idle thought; for except (maybe) in biblical folklore, there is no nation that was redeemed by one exhibition of mass prayers.

Biblical folklore is of course an ancient version of fake news. That is why you do not hear serious religious organisations or serious religious thinkers advocating mass prayers as a credible practical solution to the major crises that are faced by nations in our times.

The people obsessed with the idea of mass prayers are the usual suspects; our spiritual quacks masquerading as prophets, seeking another few minutes of fame; the glorified appearance of being relevant; the media coverage. And because this is a vampire state, perhaps material benefit as well. You cannot design and stage such a mega event in today’s Uganda without including conduits for financial haemorrhage. God does not drink the ‘blood’ of nations. Those who masquerade as his prophets do.

Paradoxically, it is possible that the idea of turning large public spaces into places of hysterical mob religious experience has a Bacchic reference; the pagan festivals of Bacchus, the Greek and Roman god of wine. But now without the wine. Instead, the ‘drunken’ state is induced by amplified music, repetitive psychedelic sound effects and other manipulative devices mastered by the priest-figure.

Like Bacchus, God supposedly responds to the riotous emotional state of a sprawling mob more readily than to the meditative state of a composed congregation in a restricted space.

When talking on Impact FM radio, Pastor Joseph Serwadda often argues that his God is not the same deity as Allah. He is right. Christian and Islamic theologians identify their (biblical) God and (Koranic) Allah as the same deity. It is the Pentecostal (or at least Serwadda’s) God who is alien, pagan and divisive.
Sober Christians and sober Muslims generally believe that their Creator ‘works’ quietly through subtle effects on the conscience. He cannot be pushed. He cannot be manipulated by ad hoc theatrics to deliver miracles, whether on the personal or the national scale.

They are satisfied that the prayers for their leaders and their country in their established liturgical forms, and in their private prayers at home, are sufficient to nudge the conscience of the nation.
But they acknowledge that religious worship is not an alternative to politics; nor even (in demonstrable reality) a cure of bad governance. They know that running a country is ultimately a human enterprise.

When Mr Serwadda, a self-confessed non-democrat, calls for a special mega prayer event, as he did again last Sunday, it may irritate the ruling clique by implying that the regime has failed the citizens; but the regime could at the same time buy into the call, because a theocentric interpretation of governance shifts much of the responsibility from the shoulders of the rulers to the power and will of the (Pentecostal) God; and, perhaps, to the evil and stubbornness of the (Pentecostal) Devil.

In short, if we have a vampire state that is not afraid of sliding into fascism, blame whoever is God; or whoever is the Devil; or both; but not the prayerful rulers.

A gullible populace can very easily be led to fake altars, if they are big and showbiz-like enough. And it is not surprising; failing regimes have embraced stranger allies than men and women wielding their Bibles.

Mr Tacca is a novelist, socio-political commentator.
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