There is a time for everything. Now is the time to confront, with moral urgency, the organised killing of Christians in Nigeria — particularly across the northern and Middle Belt regions. To deny these tragic and recurring realities is to deny that the sun rises in the East and sets in the West.
True, these atrocities did not begin under President Bola Tinubu’s administration. Yet, since Nigerians — including millions of Christians — accepted the Muslim-Muslim ticket that brought him to power in 2023, it is only fair to demand that his government be remembered for breaking the cycle of impunity. Let his administration be the first in which perpetrators of religious killings and arson are arrested, prosecuted, and punished.
President Tinubu’s personal life reflects a rare tolerance for religious diversity; his immediate family embodies harmony between faiths. But the larger Nigerian family desperately needs the same spirit of fairness and courage he displays at home.
For decades, the Nigerian state has denied the existence and plight of indigenous Christians in Borno, Gombe, Sokoto, Zamfara, Bauchi, Kano, Kebbi, and other states across the North. These communities are often subjected to humiliation, deprivation, and persecution without protection or acknowledgment. Many have been forced to choose between survival and their faith. Still, countless others — in the face of terror — hold steadfastly to Christ.
This persecution starkly contrasts with the atmosphere in southern Nigeria, where Muslims freely practice their faith and enjoy protection from state authorities. Southern governors often go to extraordinary lengths to ensure Muslims are safe and respected. Unfortunately, there is no corresponding gesture in the North.
Akaluka’s beheading: The warning Nigeria ignored
In December 1994, Gideon Akaluka, a young Igbo trader in Kano, was accused of desecrating the Qur’an after his wife allegedly used a page of it to clean their baby. Detained by police for his safety, he was nevertheless dragged from his cell by a mob, beheaded, and paraded through the streets.
The savagery shocked the nation. Yet, nearly 30 years later, not one person has been punished. That silence became more chilling than the murder itself — an announcement that in Nigeria, killing in the name of religion carries no consequence.
‘When institutions fail, emotions rule’, a senior cleric observed at the time. Akaluka’s death told the mob it could act with impunity.
From Kano to Sokoto: History repeats itself
On 12 May 2022, the same story played out again — this time in Sokoto. Deborah Samuel, a Christian student at Shehu Shagari College of Education, was accused of blasphemy after making a comment in a WhatsApp group. Her classmates dragged her from a safe room, stoned her, and set her body ablaze.
The video of her murder shocked the world, yet the outcome was predictable: arrests, followed by silence. No one has been convicted.
The Catholic Bishop of Sokoto Diocese, Bishop Matthew Hassan Kukah said: ‘The killing of Deborah is a test of the soul of this nation. Those who commit this inhuman act must be punished according to the laws of our land’.
His words capture Nigeria’s recurring tragedy: no one has ever been successfully prosecuted or jailed for burning churches, beheading Christians, or carrying out religious mob killings. Impunity has become a culture.
The woman in Kano: Mob justice in the 21st century
In June 2016, 74-year-old trader Bridget Agbahime was lynched in a Kano market after a misunderstanding. Accused of insulting the Prophet Muhammad, she was beaten to death as her husband watched helplessly.
Arrests were made, but soon dismissed “for lack of evidence.” Once again, the law stood still — and mob rule marched on.
Kukah’s warning: Moral courage and the rule of law
Bishop Kukah has long warned that religion, while central to Nigeria’s identity, has been weaponized by opportunists. ‘Religion in Nigeria has become a weapon of mass destruction when it should be a tool for peace’, he once said.
He insists that Nigeria’s survival as a plural society depends on moral courage and justice. ‘Our silence is complicity. Those who hide behind religion to kill or burn must be unmasked by justice’, he warns.
Rev. Ladi Thompson: Bearing witness to the persecuted
Rev. Ladi Thompson, founder of the Macedonian Initiative, has spent years documenting and aiding victims of religious violence — widows, orphans, and displaced Christians whose stories rarely make national headlines.
He said: ‘Many children are now orphans, many women are widows. We are raising a generation traumatised by hatred’.
To him, Nigeria’s elite — both political and religious — have failed the nation by allowing corruption, greed, and hypocrisy to overshadow morality. ‘There’s a conspiracy between the Church, the Mosque, and politics to loot the nation’, he lamented.
For Rev. Thompson, the unending cycle of bloodshed — from Akaluka to Deborah to Bridget — exposes a deeper national illness: a state unwilling to protect its citizens from religious extremism.
The numbers behind the tragedy
According to the International Society for Civil Liberties and Rule of Law (Intersociety), thousands — perhaps tens of thousands — of Christians have been killed in Nigeria over the past decade. Most of these deaths occurred in attacks by armed groups and mobs. Yet, not a single person has ever been jailed for burning a church or executing Christians in mob killings.
Each unpunished atrocity emboldens the next. Each unanswered cry for justice feeds the flames of extremism.
Faith, fear, and the Nigerian state
Nigeria’s Constitution guarantees freedom of religion, yet in several northern states where Sharia law operates alongside federal law, accusations of blasphemy can trigger deadly violence within hours.
Political leaders often respond with caution — or silence — fearing backlash from powerful religious interests. The result is a dangerous fusion of faith and politics that threatens the nation’s cohesion.
A cry for justice and renewal
The stories of Akaluka, Deborah, and Bridget are not just tragedies; they are indictments of Nigeria’s moral and legal order. They reveal a nation still uncertain whether law or sentiment defines its justice.
Rev. Thompson calls for ‘wisdom, not weapons’ to rebuild the nation. Bishop Kukah insists that only the fearless application of justice can heal Nigeria’s wounded soul. Both men agree: silence and selective outrage will not save Nigeria.
A nation cannot call itself just when faith becomes a death sentence. From Kano to Sokoto, the blood of the innocent still cries out for justice. Until someone is held accountable, Nigeria’s conscience will remain on trial.
