Divided by God: Extremism and the fight for Nigeria’s soul

In a nation as diverse as Nigeria, where faith often intersects with politics and daily life, questions about the spread of extremist ideologies demand urgent attention. The notion of a “Quran Atlantic” evokes fears of radical Islamic influence expanding beyond borders, potentially fueling jihadist agendas aimed at dominating non-believers.

This concern stems from ongoing violence that many see as part of a broader strategy to impose strict interpretations of religious law on secular societies. In Nigeria, the integration of Sharia law into the constitution since 1999 has sparked debates about fairness and equality.

While intended to govern personal matters in northern states, its application often appears selective, targeting the vulnerable while sparing the powerful. Residents in these areas complain that poor individuals face harsh punishments for minor offenses, such as theft or adultery, leading to amputations or stonings, yet corrupt politicians escape scrutiny despite embezzling billions.

This disparity raises serious questions about justice in a country where economic inequality already strains social bonds. For businesses operating across Nigeria, such inconsistencies erode trust in the legal system, deterring investments in regions where rule of law seems arbitrary and could disrupt operations.

The rise in blasphemy cases highlights how religious fervor can override legal processes, posing risks to social stability and economic growth. Consider the chilling statement from a senior lawyer in a Kano blasphemy trial, who declared that even if the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the accused, Yahaya Sharif-Aminu, the community would execute him anyway. Sharif-Aminu, a musician sentenced to death for sharing a song deemed offensive, represents a broader pattern where accusations of insulting the Prophet lead to mob justice.

This impunity undermines the judiciary, a cornerstone for business confidence. In 2022, the lynching of Deborah Samuel, a Christian student in Sokoto, shocked the nation when a mob burned her alive over alleged blasphemous remarks in a WhatsApp group. The incident not only exposed deep-seated intolerance but also revealed political cowardice.

Former Vice President Atiku Abubakar initially condemned the killing on social media, only to delete the post after backlash from northern supporters threatened his presidential ambitions. Such deletions signal that electoral politics can silence voices against violence, fostering an environment where extremism thrives unchecked. For Nigeria’s business community, these events translate to heightened risks, as religious tensions can spark unrest that halts trade, damages infrastructure, and scares off foreign partners.

Even in supposedly progressive urban centers, religious zealotry infiltrates institutions meant to uphold civility. In 2018, at the Nigerian Law School’s Lagos campus, students threatened to lynch a classmate accused of blasphemy, requiring security intervention to prevent tragedy.

This incident in a hub of legal education illustrates how overzealous devotion can permeate educated circles, turning future lawyers into potential vigilantes. It challenges the narrative of Islam as inherently peaceful, especially when practitioners justify harming others over perceived slights against a historical figure.

While many Muslims live harmoniously, these acts of violence question whether the faith’s teachings are being twisted to endorse annihilation of dissenters. Businesses must navigate this carefully, as such incidents can lead to boycotts, protests, or supply chain disruptions in a market reliant on interfaith cooperation.

The scale of violence attributed to jihadist groups like Boko Haram and Fulani militants adds a grim layer to these concerns. Since 2009, reports indicate over 100,000 Christians have been killed in systematic attacks, with more than 18,000 churches destroyed, as highlighted by U.S. comedian Bill Maher on his HBO show.

Maher criticized global media silence, suggesting the story lacks attention because it does not involve certain geopolitical players. However, outlets like Al Jazeera counter that claims of genocide oversimplify complex conflicts, including farmer-herder clashes driven by resources rather than pure religious hatred. In Nigeria’s Middle Belt, attackers raid villages, forcing residents to flee and renaming conquered lands, a tactic seen as land grabbing under the guise of jihad.

This has displaced millions, crippling agriculture—a key economic sector—and inflating food prices nationwide. The election of a Christian president in 2015 intensified tensions, with unrest persisting under subsequent Muslim-led administrations, including the current Muslim-Muslim ticket of President Bola Tinubu and Vice President Kashim Shettima. Critics argue this ticket alienates Christians, exacerbating divisions that could deter investors wary of instability.

Compounding these issues is the murky role of figures who mediate between terrorists and the government, raising alarms about security lapses. Cleric Sheikh Ahmad Gumi has often positioned himself as an intermediary with bandits, yet his son was recently commissioned from the Nigerian Defense Academy, sparking questions about vetting processes. Policies like reintegrating “repentant” Boko Haram members into society, or recruiting ex-convicts into police units, suggest intentional porosity in security systems.

The federal government’s response to Christian killings has been criticized as inadequate, with Al Jazeera coverage often framing narratives as propaganda against Muslims, flipping stories to downplay targeted persecution. As an African adage goes, truth is like oil; no matter how much water you pour on it, it will always float. This reminds us that attempts to obscure facts through denial or biased reporting cannot hide the reality forever.

Communities bear the brunt: Southern Kaduna has endured repeated massacres, Bokkos in Plateau saw deadly Christmas attacks, while Saki and Eruwa in Oyo face endless farmer-herder fights. In Benue, towns like Agatu suffer invasions, and in Kogi, areas such as Dekina report similar violence. Recently, Oke-Ode in Kwara saw residents fleeing after bandits killed vigilantes, underscoring the spread southward. These assaults not only claim lives but devastate local economies, halting farming and trade in regions vital to Nigeria’s GDP.

Nigeria stands at a crossroads. To safeguard its future, leaders must enforce impartial justice, bridge religious divides, and bolster security without favoritism. Businesses thrive in stable environments; prolonged extremism could lead to capital flight and economic stagnation. Awakening to these threats means prioritizing unity over division, ensuring faith serves humanity rather than harming it. The discussion must continue, for silence only invites deeper crisis.