By Lanre Ogundipe
Nigeria’s approaching 2027 election is already revealing an old and dangerous temptation: the attempt to turn religious identity into an instrument of political power.
The latest controversy surrounding Sheikh Sani Yahaya Jingir deserves attention, not because it is a contest between Islam and Christianity, but because it raises a more fundamental question about the place of religion in a constitutional democracy.
Reports of the cleric’s recent remarks have triggered condemnation from the National Human Rights Commission, Christian bodies and political figures. The controversy centres on statements reportedly urging Muslims to mobilise politically, coupled with language describing adherents of other faiths in exclusionary terms. The precise words, context and full recording should remain matters for verification. But the political implication of the reported intervention is already sufficiently serious to warrant public interrogation.
The first distinction must be made immediately.
Sheikh Jingir is not Islam.
Nor is any Christian cleric Christianity.
A cleric speaks from within a religious tradition, but his political pronouncements do not automatically become the doctrine of every adherent of that faith. To attribute the conduct of one religious personality to millions of Muslims would be as intellectually indefensible as attributing the utterances of one Christian preacher to every Christian in Nigeria.
The issue, therefore, is not Islam.
It is not Christianity.
It is the politicisation of religious identity.
That distinction is essential in a country as religiously diverse and historically fragile as Nigeria.
There is nothing inherently undemocratic about a Muslim supporting a Muslim candidate. There is equally nothing inherently undemocratic about a Christian supporting a Christian candidate. Citizens are entitled to make electoral choices according to their conscience, convictions and preferences.
The difficulty begins when religious preference is transformed into a claim of political superiority.
A numerical majority may win an election. It cannot create a superior class of citizens.
That is where the current controversy deserves careful examination.
If the argument is that Muslims have the democratic right to vote for Muslim candidates, that right is unassailable. But if the argument becomes that Muslims should dominate political power because they are numerically stronger, the conversation has moved beyond ordinary electoral preference. It enters the dangerous territory where citizenship begins to acquire a religious hierarchy.
That cannot be the constitutional Nigeria.
The Nigerian Constitution does not recognise first-class citizens and second-class citizens according to faith. It protects freedom of religion and conscience and prohibits discrimination on religious grounds. Political power is obtained through the constitutional electoral process, not inherited from religious numbers.
The ballot paper does not ask whether the voter is Muslim or Christian.
It asks whom the voter chooses.
That distinction should remain inviolable.
Jingir’s advocacy of the Muslim-Muslim ticket is also not entirely new. Public reporting has documented his sustained support for the arrangement, including an earlier declaration that he would continue to support a Muslim-Muslim ticket despite criticism of the Tinubu administration. More recently, he has publicly expressed support for President Bola Tinubu’s re-election bid in 2027.
That history makes the present controversy more significant, but it does not make his political preference illegitimate.
A religious leader is a citizen too.
He has the same right to vote, persuade and participate in democratic politics as any other citizen, subject only to the same laws governing everyone else.
The harder question is where persuasion ends and religious mobilisation becomes exclusionary political messaging.
That is the line Nigeria must examine without fear or favour.
There is another important distinction.
A Muslim-Muslim ticket is not, by itself, evidence of an Islamic state. Nor is a Christian-Christian ticket evidence of a Christian state. The constitutional character of Nigeria is not determined by the private faith of the occupants of political office but by the constitutional framework within which they exercise power.
Indeed, the more important test is not the religion of the president and vice-president but whether government treats citizens equally, protects freedom of conscience, applies the law impartially and governs for everyone.
Religious identity cannot become a substitute for competence.
Neither can it become a certificate of entitlement to public office.
This is where the political class must also examine itself.
Religious leaders do not operate in a vacuum. Politicians court them. Political campaigns seek their platforms. Religious gatherings sometimes become electoral arenas. Politicians appear beside clerics, clerics endorse candidates and followers are encouraged to translate spiritual allegiance into political behaviour.
The danger lies in the reciprocal relationship.
The politician borrows religious authority.
The cleric acquires political influence.
The congregation becomes an electoral constituency.
Before long, the ballot box begins to look like an extension of the pulpit.
That is unhealthy for both religion and democracy.
Nigeria has witnessed enough of this cycle to understand its consequences.
Religious mobilisation can produce votes, but it can also produce fear. Once citizens are persuaded that the political success of another faith represents an existential threat to their own community, ordinary electoral competition becomes communal confrontation.
That is the point at which responsible religious leadership should intervene.
Not to tell citizens whom to vote for.
But to remind them that the opponent at the ballot box remains a fellow Nigerian.
There is also a danger in the reaction to the controversy.
The answer to provocative religious rhetoric cannot be counter-religious hostility.
If a Muslim cleric crosses the line, the appropriate response is not to condemn Muslims. It is to interrogate the statement, establish the facts and apply the law where necessary.
If a Christian cleric crosses the same line, precisely the same standard must apply.
Two wrongs do not become a constitutional right.
That is why this debate should not be allowed to become another contest between religious camps.
The National Human Rights Commission’s intervention is significant precisely because the issue should be examined through the principles of equality, non-discrimination, peaceful coexistence and the protection of citizens, rather than through competing religious claims.
Nigeria’s challenge is bigger than Sheikh Jingir.
It is bigger than any Christian or Muslim organisation.
It is the temptation of political actors to discover that religious identity is an easier route to electoral mobilisation than explaining how they intend to create jobs, secure communities, improve education, reduce poverty, strengthen institutions and make the economy work.
The 2027 election should not become a referendum on which faith deserves Nigeria.
Nigeria belongs equally to all its citizens.
Muslims belong here.
Christians belong here.
Traditional believers belong here.
Those who practise no religion also belong here.
Their citizenship is not conditional upon religious conformity.
The country therefore needs religious leaders who understand the weight of their microphones and political leaders who understand the danger of borrowing sacred authority for secular contests.
A cleric may support a candidate.
A voter may support a cleric’s preferred candidate.
A political party may build its campaign around issues that resonate with religious communities.
All of that remains within democratic politics.
But the moment political persuasion suggests that one faith possesses a superior claim to the Nigerian state, the constitutional red line has been approached.
That red line must remain visible.
The question before 2027 is not whether Muslims will vote for Muslims or Christians for Christians.
The question is whether Nigerians will allow religion to determine the worth of citizenship.
That is a question neither mosque nor church should answer for the nation.
The Constitution already has.
And the Constitution belongs to all of us.
Lanre Ogundipe Public Affairs Analyst, former President Nigeria and Africa Union of Journalists writes from Abuja.
