Recently, I found myself reflecting on a statement attributed to the Minister of Art, Culture and Creative Economy, Hannatu Musa Musawa, suggesting that any attempt to replace the Vice President, Kashim Shettima, outside the Hausa-Fulani-Kanuri bloc could carry political consequences for the ruling APC. Whether her intervention was literary, reflective, or a mirror held up to society, one thing was clear: it stirred the waters. Art, after all, is not always meant to comfort; sometimes it exposes.
Yet even when art presents a bitter truth, it often tries to sugarcoat it. In this instance, the coating was thin, and the aftertaste lingered.
What struck me most was not merely the politics of succession but the deeper current beneath it. I argued then, and still maintain that the problem in Nigeria is less about religion and more about ethnicity. If religion were the central fault line, states like Benue, Plateau, and Kogi…largely dominated by a single faith would not be theatres of recurring political tension, rivalry, and exclusion among ethnic groups. The persistence of such conflicts suggests that identity, bloodlines, and cultural affiliations often trump shared beliefs.
Religion, in itself, cannot be blamed for Nigeria’s fractures. The problem is not the creed but the carrier. Sacred texts across faiths preach fairness, justice, kindness, and the principle of wanting for others what one desires for oneself. Yet in practice, many who profess faith become more responsive to ethnic sentiment, emotional loyalty, and kinship ties than to the ethical demands of their religion. As the sociologist Emile Durkheim observed, religion can serve as a moral glue for society, but only when its adherents internalize its values beyond ritual performance. When faith becomes ceremonial rather than transformational, its moral authority weakens.
I am reminded of the imagery once painted by Musawa, which I described as cultural art, a portrayal that subtly conveyed that all animals are not equal. Critics accused her of identity politics. But when one observes the unfolding pattern in NAHCON’s leadership and other national appointments, one must ask: is reality not echoing the metaphor? Are we not, in practice, reinforcing the idea that some blocs must always be appeased because of their perceived numerical strength, historical dominance, or political leverage?
The recent appointment of the Chairman and CEO of the National Hajj Commission of Nigeria has once again exposed the structural disadvantage faced by minority Muslim communities, particularly Igbo Muslims and Muslims from Niger, Kogi, Nasarawa, and the FCT. In theory, Nigeria’s six geo-political zones were designed to foster inclusion and equity. In practice, certain states perpetually fall through the cracks.
Niger, Kogi, and Nasarawa, situated in the North Central, often suffer from a peculiar political invisibility. Muslims from these states are frequently treated as indistinguishable from those in the North West, culturally absorbed into a broader northern identity when it is convenient. Yet when opportunities arise, they are reminded subtly or overtly that they are not quite dominant enough, not quite essential enough.
Kogi and Kwara sometimes benefit from emotional and linguistic ties to the South West because of Yoruba-speaking populations. Niger and Nasarawa, however, often lack such leverage. Meanwhile, the simplistic political narrative persists: the Far North is Muslim; the North Central is Christian. Such convenient assumptions erase complex realities and produce structural exclusions. It may explain why Niger State, despite its size and contribution, has never produced a Senate President, Deputy Senate President, Speaker, Deputy Speaker, SGF, or National Chairman of a ruling party.
Ironically, when federal appointments are made, the North with its 19 states and the FCT is viewed as a single monolith. Critics from the South complain that “the North” dominates. Yet the same critics recognize the South West, South East, and South South as distinct entities. Within the North itself, diversity disappears in national perception but reappears internally when power is shared. Thus, minorities within the North become minorities twice (first nationally, then regionally).
If Professor Joash Ojo Amupitan, though a Yoruba man from Kogi, could legitimately represent the North Central in INEC leadership despite not culturally different from the president, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, why are other minority groups in the same zone: Nupe, Gwari, Eggon, and others, often assumed to have been “taken care of” through appointments given to distant “northern brothers” Representation becomes elastic when convenient and rigid when contested.
Looking at NAHCON’s history deepens the concern. Since its establishment in 2006, its leadership has rotated primarily between certain zones. Muhammad Musa Bello from Adamawa served from 2006 to 2015. Abdullahi Mukhtar Muhammad from Kaduna followed from 2015 to 2019. Zikrullah Kunle Hassan from Osun served from 2019 to 2023 as the first Southern Muslim to head the commission. Jalal Ahmad Arabi from Gombe served around 2024. Professor Abdullahi Saleh Usman from Katsina was confirmed in October 2024 and served until his resignation this February 2026. Now, Ambassador Ismail Abba Yusuf from Adamawa has been appointed as the new Chairman and CEO.
One cannot ignore the symbolism. With the Vice President already from the North East, this was an opportunity to demonstrate sensitivity to diversity by considering qualified candidates from the South East or North Central. Leadership is not merely administrative; it is symbolic. It signals belonging. It reassures the excluded. It tells minorities that the national table has seats reserved for them too.
A friend of mine in Saudi Arabia, a lady who rarely engages in political discourse called me after the announcement. Her question was simple yet piercing: “When will an Igbo Muslim be considered for NAHCON Chair?” She spoke as though addressing a powerful northern bloc, unaware that many of us feel equally sidelined. Her question carried the weight of quiet frustration.
The National Assembly, ideally, should function as an institutional memory and a check against patterns that normalize exclusion. Democracy is not merely about numbers; it is about justice. Alexis de Tocqueville warned of the “tyranny of the majority,” where democratic systems can marginalize minorities under the guise of popular legitimacy. When majority status becomes entitlement, democracy risks morphing into subtle domination.
Beyond symbolism, practical concerns arise. With Hajj preparations already in top gear, what is the strategic logic of appointing someone entirely outside the existing board structure rather than promoting from within for continuity? Institutional knowledge matters. Experience matters. Familiarity with operational challenges matters. Leadership transitions during critical operational periods should prioritize stability.
George Orwell’s famous line from Animal Farm resonates powerfully here: All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others. Orwell’s allegory was about the Russian Revolution, but its lesson transcends time and geography. Power, when unchecked, often redefines equality to suit its custodians. Language becomes a tool of justification. Dominance becomes normalized. Exclusion becomes invisible.
The tragedy is not that inequality exists; it is that it becomes rationalized. Superiority complexes, often unconscious, shape decisions in ways that seem ordinary to those benefiting from them. Yet justice, equity, and religious values consistently warn against such bias. If equality is truly a principle we cherish, then what goes around should indeed come around.
Otherwise, we risk building a society that proclaims fairness in theory but practices hierarchy in reality, a society where equality is celebrated in speeches but rationed in appointments. And when that happens, we must courageously ask ourselves: are we truly equal, or have we quietly agreed that some among us are simply more equal than others?
Bagudu can be reached at bagudumohammed15197@gmail.com or on 0703 494 3575.
