IN a country as diverse and complex as Nigeria, where a greater number of the population in the Northern part is Muslim, with a paltry number as Christians, religious tolerance should be seen as a strategic asset. Yet the reality on the ground tells a different story: cycles of violence, mistrust and fear have repeatedly shredded the fabric that binds religious communities together.
Against this fraught backdrop, the recent passing and subsequent national tributes, including by the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) to Imam Abubakar Abdullahi, a Muslim cleric who risked his life to shelter 262 Christians during a brutal attack in Plateau State, deliver a rare reminder of what real interfaith coexistence should look like in Nigeria.
On that fateful day in June 2018, as attackers descended on multiple villages and gunfire echoed across Barkin Ladi Local Government Area, hundreds of terrified Christians fled for safety. Rather than turning them away or hiding behind sectarian divisions, Imam Abdullahi opened his mosque and his home, determined to protect those who sought refuge under his roof. When gunmen demanded he surrender the refugees, he refused, even offering his own life in exchange for theirs.
Nigeria has endured decades of violent ethno-religious clashes, from the catastrophic Miss World riots in Kaduna in 2002, where more than 200 people died in religiously charged riots, to the recurring cycles of religious violence, including the 2022 lynching of Deborah Yakubu over accusations of blasphemy.
This is where Nigeria’s religious leadership must confront an uncomfortable truth. Both Islam and Christianity, in doctrine, emphasise peace, sanctity of life and compassion. Yet both have followers, and in some cases clerics, who tolerate, rationalise or remain silent in the face of extremism. Every time a preacher dodges the responsibility to call out violence from his own side, he weakens the moral credibility of his faith and strengthens the business case of extremists. Abdullahi stood out precisely because he refused that culture of evasion.
The conversation on religious tolerance in Nigeria is also dangerously skewed. It is often framed as a “northern problem,” a narrative that quietly absolves the rest of the country. While high-profile incidents may cluster in certain regions, prejudice, stereotyping and sectarian mistrust are national in scope. The South is not immune to religious bigotry; it simply expresses it in less explosive but equally corrosive ways, through discrimination, exclusion, political mobilisation and social media radicalisation. Therefore, tolerance cannot be regionalised. It must be standardised.
Moreover, Nigeria must stop treating acts like Abdullahi’s as anomalies. They should be institutional benchmarks. Interfaith engagement cannot remain at the level of courtesy visits and condolence statements. It has to be operationalised into joint community structures and coordinated religious messaging that is proactive, not reactive. The private sector understands this logic well: values only matter when they are embedded into systems, incentives and leadership behaviour.
The state also carries heavy challenge and responsibility in propagating religious tolerance. When justice is selective, security is inconsistent, and prosecutions are rare, tolerance becomes harder to sell. Communities retreat into religious identities because national identity feels bankrupt. Government must therefore treat religious violence not just as a security issue, but as a reputational and nation-building crisis. Transparent investigations, impartial enforcement and victim-centred responses are key to foundational reforms. Without them, even the sincerest clerics will struggle to persuade their followers that coexistence is rational.
We also join the rest of Nigerians in honouring Imam Abdullahi. But the honours should not end with tributes, plaques, anniversaries or emotional headlines. His legacy should be integrated into school curricula, clerical training institutes, and national orientation programmes. His story should be mainstreamed as evidence that moral clarity is possible even in chaos. More importantly, religious bodies must use his example as a performance standard. Leaders who incite, excuse or ignore extremism should be isolated, not accommodated. The market for hate and intolerance only thrives where regulation, moral and institutional frameworks are weak.
