Jingir’s Words and the Challenge of Religious Tolerance, by Boniface Ihiasota 

Nigeria’s greatest strength has always been its diversity. Muslims, Christians, traditional worshippers and citizens of other beliefs have lived, worked, traded and built families across the country’s complicated social landscape. That is why recent utterances attributed to Sheikh Sani Yahaya Jingir deserve more than partisan applause or condemnation. They demand reflection.

At an event attended by, among others, Kano State Governor Abba Yusuf and Jigawa State Governor Umar Namadi, Sheikh Jingir renewed his support for a Muslim-Muslim presidential ticket ahead of the 2027 elections. He argued that Muslims should mobilise behind such a ticket and urged his audience to obtain their Permanent Voter Cards. He also referred to those opposed to his position as “infidels” and said Muslims should “show the infidels their limit.”

There is, of course, nothing inherently undemocratic about a Muslim advocating for Muslim candidates. Democracy gives every citizen the right to support candidates according to personal convictions, including religious convictions. The problem begins when political competition is framed as a contest between religious communities, particularly in a country where religious identity has historically been capable of provoking suspicion, fear and violence.

From the perspective of many Nigerians in the diaspora, this language is especially troubling. Those of us watching Nigeria from abroad understand that the country’s image is not determined only by government policies or economic statistics. It is also shaped by how Nigerians treat one another. When influential religious voices appear to portray fellow citizens as outsiders or enemies because of their faith, the damage extends beyond politics.

Nigeria is constitutionally a secular state, and Section 42 of the 1999 Constitution prohibits discrimination against citizens on grounds including religion. The implication is important: political participation is a citizenship right, not a privilege reserved for members of the religious majority.

This is where religious leadership carries an enormous responsibility. A Sheikh, pastor or traditional religious leader does not speak only to those seated before him. His words travel through social media, enter homes, influence young people and can be repeated long after the original gathering has ended.

Femi Fani-Kayode, Nigeria’s ambassador-designate to South Africa, made precisely this point in his reaction to Jingir’s comments, describing the rhetoric as provocative and warning that Nigeria is neither a Muslim nor a Christian country but a secular, multi-religious state. Human-rights lawyer Deji Adeyanju similarly warned on August 10, 2026, that religious rhetoric capable of deepening divisions between Christians and Muslims threatens national cohesion.

The lesson should not be that religious people must abandon their convictions. Quite the opposite. Strong faith should make Nigerians more committed to justice, dignity, compassion and peaceful coexistence. Nigeria does not need religious leaders who pretend that differences do not exist. It needs leaders mature enough to acknowledge those differences without turning them into political weapons.

The 2027 elections will come and go. Presidents will change, parties will win and lose, and politicians will eventually leave office. But Nigeria will remain. Muslims will continue living beside Christians; Christians will continue doing business with Muslims; and millions of families will continue to transcend religious boundaries. That enduring relationship is more important than any political ticket.

From the diaspora, therefore, the message is simple: Nigerians may disagree passionately about candidates, parties and policies, but we must never allow political competition to convince us that our fellow citizens are less Nigerian because they worship differently. Religious freedom means the freedom to believe. Religious tolerance means allowing another citizen to believe differently without treating that difference as a threat. Nigeria needs both.

Lessons from the Catholic Bishops’ Visit to Tinubu, by Boniface Ihiasota 

The recent visit of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria to President Bola Ahmed Tinubu at the Presidential Villa was more than a ceremonial engagement. It became one of the clearest illustrations yet of the widening gap between official optimism and the daily realities confronting millions of Nigerians. The discussions that followed—and the public reactions they generated—have once again underscored the indispensable role of religious institutions in shaping national conversations on governance, accountability and social justice.

Led by the President of the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria, Archbishop Matthew Man-Oso Ndagoso, the bishops used the opportunity to raise concerns over insecurity, economic hardship, unemployment and the general welfare of Nigerians. They also urged President Tinubu to formally invite Pope Leo XIV to Nigeria, arguing that such a visit would strengthen peace, unity and national reconciliation.

President Tinubu, on his part, defended his administration’s reforms, insisting that the difficult decisions taken since assuming office were necessary to rescue the economy from years of structural distortions. He maintained that security architecture was being repositioned and that prosperity would eventually follow the current sacrifices.

Ordinarily, such exchanges between government and faith leaders are healthy in every democracy. However, the conversation assumed greater significance after Cardinal John Onaiyekan publicly disclosed that the President disagreed with many of the bishops’ assessments. According to the Cardinal, the bishops told Tinubu that “the economy is not helping our poor people,” while the President maintained that the economy was improving. The revelation immediately triggered widespread debate across political and religious circles because it exposed two sharply contrasting narratives about the state of the nation.

Yet, facts remain stubborn. Nigeria continues to face severe economic challenges. Inflation has remained elevated over the past two years, food prices have climbed dramatically, and millions of households continue to struggle with declining purchasing power. The World Bank has repeatedly warned that while reforms such as fuel subsidy removal and exchange-rate liberalisation may improve long-term fiscal sustainability, they also impose painful short-term costs on vulnerable citizens unless accompanied by robust social protection measures.

This explains why the bishops’ intervention resonated beyond the Catholic faithful. Religious leaders occupy a unique position in Nigerian society. They interact daily with ordinary citizens who seek assistance through churches, mosques and community organisations. Consequently, their assessment of public suffering often reflects grassroots realities that official statistics may not immediately capture.

The reactions also revealed an important democratic principle. Criticism of government should not automatically be interpreted as political opposition. Throughout Nigeria’s democratic history, both Christian and Muslim leaders have consistently spoken against corruption, insecurity, injustice and poverty irrespective of which party occupies Aso Rock. Their constitutional freedom to speak truth to power remains essential to democratic accountability.

At the same time, government officials equally have the responsibility to explain policies and defend their decisions. Democracy thrives not when everyone agrees but when disagreements are managed through dialogue rather than hostility. The exchange between Tinubu and the bishops should therefore be viewed as evidence that democratic engagement remains alive, provided both sides continue to listen respectfully.

The larger lesson is that perception matters almost as much as policy. Economic indicators may improve on paper, but if ordinary Nigerians cannot afford food, healthcare, education or transportation, public confidence will remain elusive. Governments ultimately earn legitimacy not through optimistic speeches but through measurable improvements in people’s quality of life.

As Nigeria journeys toward the 2027 elections, the meeting between the Catholic bishops and President Tinubu should remind both leaders and citizens that governance is not merely about defending statistics or winning arguments. It is about restoring hope. That hope will be strengthened only when policy outcomes begin to match the lived experiences of the millions whose voices the bishops sought to amplify.

Obasanjo, Atiku and the Burden of Broken Trust, by Alabidun Shuaib AbdulRahman 

In politics, alliances are often built on interests, sustained by necessity and destroyed by distrust. Few relationships illustrate this reality more profoundly than that of former President Olusegun Obasanjo and former Vice-President Atiku Abubakar. What began as one of the strongest political partnerships in Nigeria’s Fourth Republic gradually degenerated into one of its most bitter rivalries, leaving enduring consequences not only for the two principal actors but also for the country’s democratic evolution.

Their story is not merely about two ambitious politicians. It is a study of trust, betrayal, power, succession and the burdens of political ambition. More importantly, it explains why Atiku Abubakar, despite his enormous political network, financial resources and national appeal, has remained one of Nigeria’s greatest political nearly-men.

Politically, the relationship predates the return to democracy in 1999. During the military era, Atiku had become a leading figure in the Shehu Musa Yar’Adua-led Peoples Democratic Movement (PDM), arguably Nigeria’s most organised political structure at the time. Following General Sani Abacha’s death on June 8, 1998, General Abdulsalami Abubakar initiated a transition programme that opened the way for democratic elections.

As political parties emerged, the newly formed Peoples Democratic Party became the dominant platform. Within the PDP, Atiku was among the strongest presidential aspirants. He had built an extensive grassroots network through the PDM and enjoyed significant support among party delegates.

However, circumstances changed dramatically when former military Head of State, General Olusegun Obasanjo, who had recently been released from prison by General Abdulsalami Abubakar, entered the presidential race. Many influential political leaders believed Nigeria required a Yoruba president to heal the wounds created by the annulment of the June 12, 1993 presidential election won by late Chief Moshood Kashimawo Olawale Abiola.

At the PDP presidential convention held in Jos in December 1998, Obasanjo defeated Alex Ekwueme to secure the party’s ticket. Atiku, recognising the prevailing political mood, aligned with Obasanjo and reportedly mobilised substantial support from the PDM machinery for the former military ruler.

To reward both political loyalty and strategic value, Obasanjo selected Atiku as his running mate ahead of the 1999 presidential election. Together they defeated the Alliance for Democracy-All People’s Party ticket of Chief Olu Falae and Dr Umaru Shinkafi.

Initially, on what appeared a perfect political marriage, Obasanjo concentrated on governance and Nigeria’s re-engagement with the international community, while Atiku chaired the National Economic Council and the National Council on Privatisation. The vice-president became one of the principal architects of Nigeria’s economic reform programme, overseeing privatisation policies that fundamentally reshaped sectors such as telecommunications, banking and manufacturing.

Obasanjo’s military background inclined him towards centralised authority, discipline and firm control of government. Atiku, by contrast, was a consummate coalition builder whose strength lay in negotiation, consultation and political networking.

Interestingly, the first visible cracks appeared shortly after their inauguration. Several influential figures accused Atiku of maintaining an independent political structure outside Aso Rock. Rather than functioning merely as the vice, he continued nurturing relationships with governors, legislators and party leaders across the federation. For Obasanjo, this increasingly looked like preparation for succession rather than loyalty and by 2002, mutual suspicion had become impossible to conceal.

As the 2003 election approached, rumours circulated that Obasanjo considered replacing Atiku with another running mate. It was further rumoured that Atiku’s political associates equally questioned whether the President intended to honour what they believed was an understanding that power would eventually pass to the vice-president. Neither man publicly admitted the existence of such an agreement. The crisis intensified after the 2003 elections, which returned both men to office. The second term proved far more turbulent than the first.

Cabinet meetings reportedly became battlegrounds of competing interests. PDP leaders increasingly aligned themselves with either Obasanjo or Atiku. Government gradually transformed into two competing political camps operating under one administration.

Then came the defining episode. The proposed constitutional amendment that would have allowed a third presidential term for Obasanjo became the turning point. Although Obasanjo repeatedly denied personally sponsoring the amendment, many political actors believed forces loyal to him actively supported it. On the other side, Atiku vehemently opposed the proposal.

Going forward, on May 16, 2006, the National Assembly rejected the constitutional amendment, effectively ending any possibility of a third term. That single event irreversibly destroyed whatever trust remained between President and Vice-President. The aftermath was brutal.

Obasanjo publicly accused Atiku of disloyalty and corruption. The Federal Executive Council recommended investigations into allegations arising from the United States-based Jefferson bribery scandal involving former Congressman William Jefferson and Vice-President Atiku’s former wife, Jennifer Douglas. Atiku consistently denied wrongdoing and was never convicted of corruption either in Nigeria or the United States.

The administration also attempted to exclude Atiku from contesting the 2007 presidential election through the Independent National Electoral Commission, INEC, after the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission, EFCC listed him among politicians allegedly indicted for corruption.

However, in a landmark judgment delivered on April 16, 2007, the Supreme Court ruled that INEC lacked constitutional powers to disqualify candidates without a court conviction. That judgment remains one of Nigeria’s most significant electoral precedents. By then, however, political damage had already been done. Atiku had left the PDP for the Action Congress, contested the presidency against the late Umaru Musa Yar’Adua and finished third.

Since then, Atiku has contested the presidency repeatedly—in 1993 (Social Democratic Party primaries), 2007 (Action Congress), 2011 (PDP), 2019 (PDP) and 2023 (PDP)—without success.

Many factors explain these defeats, but the collapse of his relationship with Obasanjo remains among the most consequential. Since Obasanjo described Atiku as unreliable and overly ambitious, many Nigerians began viewing the former vice-president through that lens.

Perhaps the most quoted criticism came from Obasanjo’s 2019 public letter in which he wrote that “Atiku is not the person to entrust the future of Nigeria with.” Ironically, only weeks earlier, the same Obasanjo had publicly endorsed Atiku’s presidential ambition after reconciling with him under the Coalition for Nigeria Movement.

For Atiku, the consequences have been profound. The very networking ability that made Atiku indispensable to Obasanjo’s emergence in 1999 later became one of the reasons their partnership collapsed. Obasanjo reportedly interpreted Atiku’s independent political influence as a direct threat rather than an institutional asset. Trust, once broken, rarely returns unchanged, they say.

Although both men occasionally reconciled for political expediency, notably, before the 2019 elections, the warmth of their earlier partnership never fully returned. Ahead of the 2023 presidential election, Obasanjo endorsed Labour Party candidate Peter Obi instead of Atiku, reinforcing public perception that the former President had permanently lost confidence in his erstwhile deputy.

Even though to some extent, Obasanjo restored Nigeria’s global standing after years of military dictatorship and implemented significant economic reforms. Atiku played a pivotal role in driving those reforms and expanding Nigeria’s private-sector economy through privatisation and investment promotion. Together, they achieved more than either is often willing to acknowledge.

However, their fractured relationship offers broader lessons for Nigeria’s political class. Institutions suffer when personal distrust supersedes constitutional responsibility. Democracy weakens when political partnerships collapse under the weight of suspicion rather than being managed through dialogue and internal party mechanisms.

For Atiku personally, the Obasanjo years permanently shaped his political identity. He emerged as a formidable coalition builder, an indefatigable presidential contender and one of Nigeria’s most recognisable democratic figures. Yet he also carried the enduring burden of questions about loyalty, consistency and political trust—questions amplified by his multiple party defections between the PDP, Action Congress and the All Progressives Congress before returning to the PDP and now ADC.

Whether those perceptions are entirely fair remains debatable. What is beyond dispute is that the Obasanjo-Atiku rupture altered the trajectory of Nigeria’s Fourth Republic and influenced every presidential election in which Atiku subsequently participated.

As the ancient Roman philosopher Cicero observed, “Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable than fidelity.” In politics, as in life, trust is difficult to build, easy to lose and almost impossible to restore. The Obasanjo-Atiku story remains Nigeria’s most compelling reminder that political alliances may win elections, but only trust can sustain leadership.

Alabidun is a media practitioner and can be reached via alabidungoldenson@gmail.com