When religion becomes political weapon

There is perhaps no more delicate relationship in Nigerian public life than the relationship between politics and religion. Both are powerful forces; both speak to the deepest convictions of human beings; and both have the capacity either to unite society or tear it apart. Politics, properly understood, is the art and science of organising society for the common good, while religion, in its noblest conception, is humanity’s search for the transcendent, the sacred and the ultimate meaning of existence. The problem begins when either is deliberately transformed into an instrument of manipulation.

The word religion itself is commonly traced to the Latin religio, associated with reverence, obligation and a sense of connection to what is sacred. At its moral core, therefore, religion ought to bind human beings to higher values rather than separate them into hostile camps. St. Augustine’s famous understanding of the human heart as restless until it finds its rest in God captures something fundamental about religious consciousness: religion is ultimately concerned with the human search for meaning beyond the immediate world. If that search is genuine, it ought to produce humility, compassion, justice and love of neighbour. Unfortunately, Nigeria has too often witnessed the opposite phenomenon: religion being dragged from the sanctuary into the arena of political combat, while politicians use religious identity to mobilise fear, suspicion and loyalty. The tragedy is that religion is then no longer being used to elevate politics; it is being used to win political battles. The political opponent becomes a religious enemy, and the religious difference becomes a political weapon. This is dangerous for a plural society such as Nigeria.

Nigeria must, therefore, recover the distinction between religion as faith and religion as political instrument. A Christian should be free to bring Christian moral convictions into public life; a Muslim should equally be free to bring Islamic ethical convictions into public life. That is part of living as human beings whose political and moral identities cannot always be separated into watertight compartments. But there is a profound difference between allowing one’s religious values to inform one’s political conduct and using religion to delegitimise fellow citizens. John Locke, in his Letter Concerning Toleration, argued powerfully for religious toleration because matters of faith cannot legitimately become a justification for coercing conscience.

John Stuart Mill, in his defence of liberty, similarly warned against the tyranny of social and majority opinion. These philosophical insights remain relevant to Nigeria because democracy is not the government of people who all think alike; it is the government of people who have learned how to live together despite their differences. The Christian and the Muslim, the traditional religionist and the person of no particular religious affiliation, must all be able to see themselves as equally Nigerian. Religion should therefore become a bridge across our differences, not a wall between our citizens. The central question in politics should not be, “What is your religion?” but “What can you contribute to the common good?” A person should not become more qualified for public office merely because he belongs to the religious group of the majority, nor should another become less qualified merely because he belongs to a minority faith. Political leadership must ultimately be measured by competence, integrity, justice, character and service.

This becomes particularly important whenever Nigeria debates the question of Muslim-Muslim or Christian-Christian political tickets. There is nothing inherently unconstitutional about political candidates belonging to the same religion, just as there is nothing inherently unconstitutional about candidates belonging to different religions. Nigeria’s Constitution does not establish Christianity, Islam or any other faith as the religion of the Nigerian state. Section 10 expressly provides that the Government of the Federation or of a State shall not adopt any religion as a State Religion, while Section 38 guarantees freedom of thought, conscience and religion. Therefore, the political argument should not be reduced to a simplistic claim that a particular religious combination is automatically unconstitutional. It is not. Yet constitutional legality is not the only consideration in a deeply plural society.

Politics is also about perception, inclusion, trust and social cohesion. This is why, in a country as religiously diverse as Nigeria, there is considerable wisdom in encouraging religious balancing and accommodation in political leadership. Where practicable, a Muslim-Christian ticket or a Christian-Muslim ticket can communicate an important symbolic message: that neither of the two major religious communities owns Nigeria and that the Nigerian state belongs equally to both. Such an arrangement does not mean that religion should determine political competence; rather, it recognises that representation can help build confidence in a divided society. The objective should not be to establish a permanent constitutional formula that says every ticket must always contain one Christian and one Muslim, but to develop a political culture in which neither faith feels permanently excluded from the centre of national decision-making.

The deeper problem, however, is not whether a candidate is a Christian or a Muslim; it is what politicians do with religion after they discover that religion can move millions of people. Political entrepreneurs have sometimes discovered that it is easier to make citizens afraid of one another than to persuade them with a programme. It is easier to say, “They are coming for your religion,” than to explain an economic policy. It is easier to portray an election as a battle between religious camps than to debate unemployment, insecurity, education, corruption, poverty, healthcare and infrastructure. In such circumstances, religion becomes an emotional currency of political mobilisation.

The pulpit can become a campaign platform; the mosque can become a political mobilisation centre; religious identity can become an electoral weapon; and sacred language can be employed to sanctify ordinary political ambitions. This is where religious leaders themselves must exercise extraordinary responsibility. Pope Francis has repeatedly emphasised fraternity, dialogue and the rejection of violence in the name of religion, while the late Sheikh Abubakar Gumi and many other Muslim thinkers in Nigeria have, in different contexts, contributed to debates about Islam, society and public responsibility.

The fundamental principle should be shared by both traditions: no political victory is worth destroying the brotherhood of the human community. The Christian cannot hate the Muslim in the name of Christ, and the Muslim cannot hate the Christian in the name of Allah. Whatever theological differences exist between the two traditions, both possess powerful ethical resources for peace, charity, justice and human dignity. Religious leaders must therefore refuse to baptise political hatred with religious language.

There is also a philosophical truth that Nigeria must confront: difference does not necessarily mean division.

The existence of two major religious traditions in Nigeria is not, by itself, a national problem. It becomes a problem when Nigerians are taught that difference is a threat. The great philosopher Immanuel Kant’s conception of humanity as an end in itself reminds us that human beings possess dignity that must not be reduced to instruments for somebody else’s political ambition. In the same spirit, the Nigerian philosopher and political thinker Claude Ake repeatedly drew attention to the relationship between politics, power and the condition of ordinary people. The question, therefore, should be whether our politics improves the human condition. If Christianity teaches love of neighbour and Islam teaches justice, charity and peaceful coexistence, then both faith traditions possess resources capable of enriching Nigerian democracy.

The National Human Rights Commission itself affirms that freedom of religion and belief is a fundamental constitutional right and emphasises the importance of peaceful association and religious freedom for social harmony. Nigeria must consequently learn to play politics politically and practise religion religiously. Let the politician compete for votes without demonising another faith. Let the priest preach the Gospel without turning the altar into an instrument of partisan hatred. Let the imam teach Islam without turning the mosque into a battlefield of political hostility. Let the citizen vote according to conscience, competence and conviction. Religion may inspire political morality, but politics must never be allowed to corrupt religion’s moral purpose.

Ultimately, Nigeria does not need less religion; Nigeria needs better religion and better politics. We need a Christianity that produces compassion rather than hatred, an Islam that produces justice rather than suspicion, and a politics that produces service rather than bitterness. We need religious leaders who can stand before their congregations and say that the person sitting across the political divide is still their brother or sister in humanity. We need politicians who understand that an election ends, but the nation remains. Political power changes hands, but neighbours continue to live beside one another. A candidate may win an election today and lose it tomorrow, but the consequences of religious hatred can survive for generations.

Nigeria is constitutionally committed to religious neutrality at the state level, not because religion is unimportant, but because the state belongs equally to citizens of different beliefs. Section 10 prohibits the adoption of a state religion, while Section 38 protects freedom of thought, conscience and religion. That constitutional wisdom should become a national philosophy of coexistence. Let us therefore stop asking whether Christianity should defeat Islam or Islam should defeat Christianity in the political arena. Neither religion needs to defeat the other. Nigeria is the common home of both. What Nigeria needs is a politics in which Christian and Muslim citizens can compete without hatred, govern without discrimination and cooperate without surrendering their faith. If we must have political tickets that reflect our plural society, let us encourage Muslim-Christian and Christian-Muslim partnerships where they promote inclusion and national confidence. Let religion teach us brotherhood and let politics teach us responsible citizenship. When religion and politics meet, they should meet at the point of justice, peace, tolerance and the common good-not at the point of hatred. Nigeria’s future depends not on making all Nigerians believe alike, but on teaching Nigerians to live together despite believing differently.